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In
another life — and without the crashed cars and debris — she would have found it
a peaceful scene.
     
    They stepped through the garden and up the path onto
the street ahead, cautiously checking left and right up the roads for signs of
life. There were none. The only sound was the happy chirping of a few morning
birds as they flew from roof to roof, completely oblivious to the chaos around
them.
     
    “ It hasn’t spread to animals then?” she
asked, curiously watching the birds fly happily around them.
     
    “Not that I’ve seen, no, just humans.”
     
    They walked in silence up the street, checking the
windows of every house they passed for signs of life or anyone that could have
survived. Mark blocked thoughts of his neighbours out of his head — it had
taken a long time for him to get used to the fact that Mrs. Green would never
be mowing her lawn again, or that the man in the corner shop down from his
house would never again call him ‘Marco’ by mistake. His friend, Simon, who had
died trying to protect a young girl he didn’t even know, would never stumble to
his house at midnight and serenade him with his drunken rendition of The
Proclaimers’ 500 Miles. Oh Simon .
     
    It took them half an hour to walk cautiously from
Mark’s house to the centre of town, a walk that usually took five or ten
minutes. Even though Mark himself had walked here many times after the outbreak
took over, he still kept hope that this time he’d find someone else alive. Or
the army would drive into town and sort this mess out in a matter of hours. It had
never happened.
     
    Sarah’s eyes skimmed the tall buildings, once
shops and apartments, now all skeletal remains of the busy city this used to
be. In the panic and chaos, they had been ransacked —windows smashed and doors
broken as people panicked and stole what they thought would help them survive.
The streets were littered with electrical goods, even in their panic people had
realised that none of them were useful anymore. Instead of mobile phones and
video games, the sought after items would be water, food and anything they
could use as a weapon. The world had taken a dramatic step backwards. A morning
breeze blew rubbish across the street gently, empty cans of Cola and Dr Pepper
rolled into the roads like modern day tumbleweeds.
     
    They nervously walked through the centre, passing
the remains of empty shops and cars that had been abandoned. It really did feel
like the end of the world. Sarah smirked to herself, wondering where all the
graffiti sprayed walls with messages like ‘ the end is nigh’ or ’repent’ were. That’s usually what happened in catastrophic Hollywood movies when the
world ended. There was no crazy man on the corner with a ‘ we r all going to
burn in hell’ board, or escaped zoo animals walking across the road,
enjoying their new territory. Of course, in Hollywood films, America was always
the only country to survive because of their bravery and little England’s
resident posh folk just drank tea or whisky with a stiff upper lip until they
met their demise.
     
     None of that happened either. Apart from vehicle wreckages,
smashed windows and homes left to their fate, the world looked exactly the same
as it had before —minus the inhabitants.
     
    Sarah stopped mid-thought and looked closely
through the windows of the nearest clothing store, bothered by something
inside.
     
    “What’s wrong?” Mark whispered in front.
     
    “I'm just thinking,” she started, turning back to
face him, “where are all the bodies ?”
     
    “You don’t want to know,” he said coldly and
started walking again.
     
    Sarah followed. This was the first time she had
ever heard his voice so flat and without feeling. “What do you mean by that?”
     
    Mark slowed down so she could walk by his side. He
sighed and turned to face her, looking uncomfortable with her question. “They
were burned to stop the infection spreading, in the early days,