An abandoned high street in the centre of what was once a thriving city: London. The ground was covered in trash and broken glass where there wasn’t a burned out fire or a toppled over car.
Little Timmy ran out from a back ally, clutching some scrolls of paper to his chest. Every breath was an enormous effort as he wheezed violently, his asthma becoming his biggest threat, growing more and more deadly to him. He looked from left to right and back again, in wonder of which way to go. Stupidly, he looked back at the group of zombie adults rapidly approaching him, only one thing on their mind.
“Foooood,” groaned the leader of this group, the fattest woman. She hobbled along in a torn summer dress, with rusty red hair and blackened eyes, which he imagined could once have been beautiful crimson locks and pretty emerald green gemstones. But the disease had spread through her blood, and she was too far-gone to save. But he knew there was a cure for the newly turned adults, and he had to find someone to help him to create it.
“Back off!” he yelled as loudly as he could (but he wasn’t called Timid Timothy for nothing), before deciding going left would be best.
He ran as fast as his short legs would carry him. Being only 8 years of age and 4ft 2 in stature, this wasn’t very fast at all. But faster than the grown ups was fast enough. They were tall, but brainless, and didn’t have the energy to sprint in their dying bodies.
He ran until he could no longer hear the famished groans of the adults, ending up in a cold, dark room, collapsing to his knees in exhaustion. He took long, staggered breaths, closing his eyes and revitalising himself.
Becca froze as she stared intensely at the boy, her arms up as a barrier to protect the identical infant boys behind her: Jack and Blair, her four-year-old, mute twin brothers. She saw he was small and couldn’t be infected, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t attack. She’d experienced an older girl whom she had befriended, Jill, trying to convince her to sacrifice Blair as nourishment for her, Becca and the healthier twin, Jack. She had lost all trust in anyone since that day.
Timmy opened his eyes and saw the muddy, black dolly shoes belonging to Becca. He dragged his eyes upwards to meet hers, terrified.
“What’s yer game?” she muttered viciously, feeling less weary and taking a step towards him.
“I-I’m looking, I’m-” he stammered timidly. His voice sounded croaky, as he hadn’t spoken to an actual person for countless hours, days, weeks. And this older girl, of about 11 or 12, looked absolutely terrifying.
“Don’t be thinkin’ you can jus’ swan in here like nobody’s business,” she spat.
“I just needed t-to,” he paused to take a breath, and swallow the anxiety. “The adults were following me. I needed to hide somewhere. Please.” He looked from one twin to the other, then back to Becca. “I’m Timmy.”
A cautious Becca examined the boy. “Becca.” She couldn’t take any risks. “And these are my brother’s, Jack and Blair. They don’t talk no more.” She promised her mother she’d look after her brothers, before watching her commit suicide before the disease took her over: with a gun to the head, a click and a BANG.
She gasped, reliving the moment.
“So real,” she murmured to herself, then looked to Timmy. “You can stay with us. But I’ll kill ya if you hurt my brothers, yer hear?”
Timmy nodded and pushed up off the ground, pointlessly dusting off the new dirt on top of the old. He forced a smile as thanks, then picked up his scrolls of paper.
“So, whatchu got there?” Becca questioned casually.
Timmy’s eyes lit up. This was it. Becca could help him create the cure to save the adults! To take the world back to what it was!
“I found them,” he mumbled, unrolling one of his father’s tatty scrolls.
“Yes!” Becca yelled cheerfully, after looking over each scroll and having Timmy explain what he knew. “We can do this, Timmy! We can save the world!”
She had a huge grin on her face as she pulled Timmy in for a warm embrace, and gleeful tears trickled down her mucky cheeks. This was the big break she’d been waiting for. Timmy was her saviour in filthy green Wellington boots.
“We’ve gotta find this stuff,” she thought aloud. She let go of Timmy and headed for the door.
“Wait! The adults are out there!” he yelled.
“So what? I can out run them any day,” she gloated.
“Can’t we go together? It’ll be safer for everyone.”
“But I don’t want to put the twins in danger, mum said-”
“They won’t be in danger, we’ll protect them!”
Becca thought it through. He was right, four of them would be safer in the long run. She sighed.
“Lets go then,” she grumbled. “Before I change my mind.”
Becca carried Blair as she walked nervously down the centre of Baker Street. Timmy followed close behind, holding Jack’s hand. They all halted at the sound of a distant tick tick, tick tick, tick tick.
“What’s that?” gasped Becca. He cuddled a whimpering Blair and glanced back at Timmy.
He swallowed and shrugged, looking back at her cluelessly.
All four of them had heard the sound before. And it was coming closer. A propeller. Like…
“A hellocopper!” yelled Blair, pointing up at the sky.
“Oh my God, Blair!” she laughed and looked to where he was pointing. “It is! It’s a helicopter! There must be healthy adults!”
The helicopter landed and two men, dressed in cream, leathery looking spacesuits, climbed out. They pointed at the scrolls, obviously holding knowledge of Timmy’s father’s work on the cure. Timmy handed them over in exchange for transportation to safety for him and his new friends. It was agreed.
Timmy hugged the spaceman’s waist, joyful tears pouring down his face as he realised his horrific journey was over. “Thank you, sir. You truly are a hero.”
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