Autumn | Page 8

a torch in the back of his own car. If he'd only made
the journey in his own car then he would at least have had some light.
All that he had now was the hire car itself. He toyed with the idea of
leaving the front door of the hall open and shining the headlamps into
the room but he quickly decided against it. Although he seemed to be
the last person alive in the city, shutting the door made him feel
marginally safer and less exposed. With the door shut and locked he
could at least pretend for a while that nothing had happened.
Just before nine o'clock Jeffries' solitary confinement was ended. He
was sat on a cold plastic chair in the kitchen of the hall listening to the
silence of the dead world and trying hard to think of anything other
than what had happened today and what might happen to him
tomorrow. A sudden crash from outside caused him to jump to his feet
and run to the front door. He waited for a second or two, almost too
afraid to see what it was that had made the noise. Sensing that help and
explanations might be at hand he took a deep breath, opened the door
and ran out into the car park. To his left he could see movement.
Someone was walking along the main road. Desperate not to let them
go, he sprinted up the bank to the railings and yelled out. The shadowy
figure stopped, turned around and ran back to where Jeffries stood.
Jeffries reached out and grabbed hold of Jack Baynham - a thirty-six
year old bricklayer. Neither man said a word.
The arrival of the second survivor bought a sudden hope and energy to

Jeffries. Between them they could find no answers as to what had
happened earlier, but for the first time they did at least begin to
consider what they should do next. If there were two survivors it
followed that there could be a hundred and two, or even a thousand and
two. They had to let other people know where they were.
Using rubbish from three dustbins at the side of the hall and the
remains of a smashed up wooden bench they built a bonfire in the
centre of the car park, well away from the hall, the hire car and any
overhanging trees. Petrol from the mangled wreck of a sports car was
used as fuel. Baynham set the fire burning by flicking a smouldering
cigarette butt through the cold night air. Within seconds the car park
was filled with welcome light and warmth. Jeffries found a compact
disc in another car and put it into the player in his. He turned the key in
the ignition and started the disc. Soon the air was filled with classical
music. Sweeping, soaring strings shattered the ominous silence that had
been so prevalent all day.
The fire had been burning and the music playing for just under an hour
when the third and fourth survivors arrived at the hall. By four o'clock
the following morning the population of the Whitchurch Community
Hall stood at more than twenty dazed and confused individuals.
Emma Mitchell had spent almost the entire day curled up in the corner
of her bed. She'd first heard the music shortly after ten o'clock but for a
while had convinced herself that she was hearing things. It was only
when she finally plucked up the courage to get out of bed and opened
her bedroom window that it became clear that someone really was
playing music. Desperate to see and to speak to someone else, she
threw a few belongings into a rucksack and locked and left her home.
She ran along the silent streets using the feeble illumination from a
dying torch to guide her safely through the bloody mass of fallen
bodies, terrified that the music might stop and leave her stranded before
she could reach its source.
Thirty-five minutes later she arrived at the Community Hall.
Carl Henshawe was the twenty-fourth survivor to arrive.

Having left the bodies of his family behind, he had spent most of the
day hiding in the back of a builder's van. After a few hours he had
decided to try and find help. He'd driven the van around aimlessly until
it had run out of fuel and spluttered and died. Rather than try and refuel
the van he decided to simply take another vehicle. It was while he was
changing cars that he heard the music.
Having quickly disposed of its dead driver, Carl arrived at the hall at
day break in a luxury company car.
Michael Collins had just about given up. Too afraid to go back home or
indeed to go anywhere that