Nice Try John
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John was a little surprised to find himself in the back of an ambulance. He’d been sitting on his couch watching TV when he felt something warm and wet running down his leg, so he got up off the sofa and went into the bathroom where it turned out that there had indeed been some sort of accident involving water and blood.
The paramedics were very nice about everything; they cleaned him up with antiseptic wipes (which stung like hell), gave him painkillers for his leg wound, and then took him away to the hospital. They even let him keep the bandages from their first aid kit as souvenirs!
He spent two days at St Thomas’ Hospital before being discharged, but apart from having lost most of the skin on one thigh and suffering from severe bruising all over his body, he seemed fine.
His parents came around to see him once or twice during those couple of weeks while he recovered, which was good because otherwise, he would have gone stir-crazy stuck inside his house alone. It wasn’t until after Christmas that things started getting really weird again…
The day after New Year’s Eve, John woke up feeling strange – not quite sick, just different somehow. After breakfast he decided to take a walk along the riverbank near his home, hoping that fresh air might help clear his head.
As soon as he stepped outside though, he knew something was wrong: it was cold enough for snow, yet instead of falling gently onto the ground, flakes were swirling through the sky above him. And although he could hear birds singing cheerfully in nearby trees, no matter how hard he listened he couldn’t make out any sound coming from them.
Instead, what sounded like distant thunder rumbled across the city, followed by the unmistakable rumble of car engines. Then, without warning, the world began shaking violently beneath his feet.
“What the fxxk is going on?” shouted John, staggering back against the wall of the nearest building. “Is this another earthquake? Is London under attack?!”
But nobody answered. In fact, nobody appeared to be moving anywhere, least of all towards him. At last, he realized that everyone else must also feel the same way he did – terrified and confused, but unable to do anything about it. All around him people were standing stock still, staring blankly ahead as if hypnotized by whatever was happening.
Even the traffic lights had stopped working, leaving cars parked haphazardly across the road. A few brave souls tried to cross the street anyway, only to fall flat on their faces when the pavement split open beneath them.
After several seconds of complete silence, John heard footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, he saw a man dressed in black walking slowly towards him. He looked familiar too, although John didn’t know why. Maybe I’ve seen him somewhere before? But where…?
As the stranger drew closer, John noticed that his face was covered in blood. There was so much of it that it ran freely down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. When the man reached John, he extended his hand and said, “Hello.”
“Who are you?” asked John cautiously.
“My name is David,” replied the stranger, smiling broadly. “And we’re both dead now, aren’t we?”
Before John could reply, the man grabbed hold of him and pulled him close. Their eyes met for a moment, and then John suddenly found himself looking straight into the barrel of a gun.
“Don’t move!” growled the stranger. “I’m going to shoot you right here and now unless you promise never to tell anyone about me. Do you understand?”
For a second John thought about refusing, but he quickly changed his mind when he remembered what happened to the other people who’d spoken to the mysterious figure. So instead he nodded silently, wondering whether he should say goodbye to his family and friends before he died.
Then the stranger lowered his weapon and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. For a long time afterward, John stood rooted to the spot, trying to work out exactly what had just happened. Was he dreaming? Or maybe he hadn’t actually seen the man with the bloody face? Perhaps he’d imagined it all?
Eventually, he shook his head and carried on walking, heading back home. On his way past the park, he spotted a group of children playing football. One of them caught sight of him and pointed excitedly at his leg, shouting, “Look, someone fell over!”
John smiled awkwardly and continued on his way, thinking about how strange everything felt these days. The whole world seems to have gone crazy!
***
By mid-January, John’s life had returned to normal. Apart from the odd freak weather event, nothing unusual ever happened anymore. Although he occasionally wondered what had caused the earthquakes, floods, and power cuts, there was always some kind of plausible explanation available. Besides, he had more important things to worry about than natural disasters. Like exams, for example.
His first exam was scheduled for February 7th, but he needed to revise for it sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, he kept putting off studying, partly because he hated sitting indoors doing homework, and mostly because he was afraid of what might happen next.
Every time he sat down at his desk, he expected the floor to give way underneath him, or for the walls to come crashing down around him. Whenever he went shopping, he half-expected to find himself surrounded by zombies demanding brains.
And whenever he drove his car, he worried that the steering wheel would turn itself over and start driving without him.
In short, John was beginning to lose his grip on reality. It wasn’t surprising really; after all, he was living through an apocalypse. Still, even though he knew it was irrational, he couldn’t help feeling anxious every single day.
On January 31st, John finally managed to force himself to sit down and study. His parents weren’t due back until late afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to get started. After opening up his textbooks, he began reading the chapters on volcanoes and plate tectonics.
Then he moved on to the chapter on earthquakes, hoping that the subject matter wouldn’t make him feel quite so nervous.
Unfortunately, that proved impossible. As soon as he opened the book, he became convinced that the earth was shaking again. This time, however, it seemed far worse than usual. Not only was he sure that something was wrong, but he also sensed that it was somehow connected to him.
That meant that he was probably responsible for causing the tremors, and that made him very uncomfortable indeed.
He closed the textbook and tried to concentrate on his studies. However, no amount of effort could stop the ground from trembling beneath his feet. Eventually, he decided to go outside and take a walk. If anything bad was happening, surely it would be better if he were standing still?
It took him less than five minutes to reach the end of the road, where he turned left and headed along the pavement. A few yards ahead lay the park and beyond that the river. In fact, the waterway stretched almost two miles across the city, dividing it neatly in half. At this point, the Thames flowed directly under Waterloo Bridge, forming a narrow channel between the north bank and the south side of London.
The bridge looked pretty ordinary from the outside, consisting mainly of concrete arches supported by stone pillars. But inside its archways, the structure was surprisingly ornate. Each pillar contained a series of statues depicting various scenes from British history, including Nelson’s victory over the French fleet during Trafalgar.
To John, they represented a fascinating glimpse into our nation’s past – a reminder of times long since passed.
As he approached the footpath leading towards the river, John noticed a small crowd gathered near one of the bridges. He stopped and joined them, curious to see what was going on. There didn’t seem to be any immediate danger, so he relaxed slightly and waited patiently for the situation to develop.
A minute or so later, a police officer appeared on the scene. She wore her uniform smartly, although she obviously wasn’t happy about being stuck behind a desk. Her expression suggested that she wanted to be out patrolling the streets, not hiding away like some kind of coward.
“What is it?” asked John.
She glanced briefly at him before turning back to address the crowd. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “But we can’t let anyone cross the bridge right now.”
Several people groaned loudly, while others muttered angrily. Some shouted abuse at the policeman, calling her names such as ‘coward’ and ‘traitor’. Others simply stared blankly, unable to believe their ears.
After several seconds, the woman raised both hands above her head. “Please!” she cried. “This isn’t safe. I don’t want to hurt you, but please stay here until the army arrives.”
With that, she walked briskly away. Several other officers followed closely behind, leaving the rest of the group staring after them with looks of disbelief on their faces. One man stepped forward and addressed the remaining members of the crowd.
“We’re trapped!” he exclaimed. “How are we supposed to get home? We’ve got kids waiting for us who need looking after…”
John frowned. The man sounded genuinely upset, but why should he care? After all, there had been no sign of the undead yet, so everyone else must have assumed that the threat had passed. Why shouldn’t these people just relax and enjoy themselves?
Suddenly, he realized how selfish he’d been behaving. Of course, he hadn’t seen any zombies either, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking somewhere nearby. What if someone did wander into town and begin attacking people? Would he stand idly by and do nothing, knowing full well that he could save lives by intervening immediately? No, of course not!
So why was he doing exactly the same thing when it came to the people around him? Perhaps he was afraid of getting involved, worried that he might accidentally kill somebody. Or perhaps he thought that nobody cared enough to listen anyway…
Either way, it was clear that he needed to change his attitude. And fast. Otherwise, he risked becoming part of the problem rather than the solution.
He shook his head sadly and watched as the last stragglers reluctantly returned to their homes, resigned to spending another night alone. Then, once the area was deserted, he began walking slowly toward the riverbank. It felt strange to be heading in the opposite direction, but he knew that things would look different up close.
When he reached the edge of the pavement, he peered down into the water below. Although the river itself was relatively shallow, the banks were steep and covered in bushes and trees. From this angle, he couldn’t tell whether the water level was rising or falling, which made him even more nervous.
Then, suddenly, something caught his eye. Something dark and shiny lying motionless against the muddy bank. Curious, he moved closer and saw that it was an old bicycle, abandoned in the middle of nowhere. As far as he could remember, the bike had belonged to one of the men from the pub, so he quickly lowered himself onto the grass beside it.
Carefully, he picked up the handlebars and examined the frame. Nothing seemed wrong with it, apart from a couple of scratches on the paintwork. So where had it come from? Had someone stolen it recently? If so, then whoever it was probably wouldn’t bother coming back for it. Which meant that it was still perfectly usable, despite having spent months sitting unused on the ground.
And that reminded him of the two children who lived next door. They often played outside, but they never went anywhere without their bikes. In fact, they always insisted on riding them everywhere, regardless of how dangerous it might be.
Yet somehow, neither of them had ever mentioned seeing theirs. Did that mean that they’d lost it? Or maybe they’d hidden it somewhere safe, only taking it out again once the danger had passed…? Either way, it looked like he might finally have found a use for it.
Excitedly, he climbed back to his feet and headed off towards the nearest bridge. When he arrived, he carefully lifted the bike over the railing and carried it across the road. By the time he reached the house, it was already late afternoon, so he decided to wait until morning before trying to find the owner.
He wasn’t sure what he would say to them – or whether they would even recognize the bike’s value. But at least he could take some comfort in knowing that he’d done everything possible to help.
***
The following day, John woke early and hurried downstairs to make breakfast. His parents were due to arrive soon, along with his sister and her husband. There was plenty of food left over from yesterday, so he didn’t think he’d need to cook anything extra today.
Besides, he wanted to spend as much time together with his family as possible; he hoped that they would understand.
As usual, he sat down quietly while his mother prepared the meal. She smiled warmly and said hello, but he noticed that she kept glancing nervously towards the front window.
Even though he’d told her about the zombie attack, he suspected that she was still concerned that something similar might happen again.
Eventually, the moment of truth arrived: his father entered the kitchen carrying a large suitcase and announced that he was ready to go. With great reluctance, John’s mum hugged him goodbye and wished them luck.
Then, after making sure that his dad had everything he needed, she followed him out of the door.
“I’ll see you later,” John called after them. “Have fun!”
His parents waved cheerily as they walked away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room. For a few moments, he remained frozen, unable to believe that they really were gone. Then, eventually, he forced himself to move forward and start tidying up.
The End