Part I: Apocalyptic

Broken glass and the dispersed type of small gravel that one commonly finds in cities grazed Harrison's left temple as he hit the pavement. Just moments prior, he had propelled himself through the window of his near-empty school coach. Marginally concussed and dripping with warm blood from the shallower layers of his skin, he began to agonisingly lift himself up. As he stumbled a slight way to the left, his head started to ring out with excruciating pain. His senses restored, he took one inevitable last look at the window he had thrown himself out of. The awful, squishy sound of flesh being torn apart birthed from that same focus point, before a hunched over figure arose. As Harrison gulped, the figure pivoted swiftly to face out of the window.

The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly on the face of Harrison's adversary. A heavily panting killer, gazing down at him. The more that Harrison stared into his bloodshot eyes, the more Harrison realised how deathly he looked. Whatever that is, Harrison thought, it is not human. Letting out a hiss, the creature vaulted over the broken window frame, landing on its legs and breaking one. While it stumbled towards Harrison, he began to realise that, if anything, it resembled a poorly reanimated corpse, as if it was an undead being that feels no pain.

Previous events had made Harrison oblivious of his surroundings, but he soon snapped out of it. As the creature continued to slowly progress towards him, Harrison noticed others of its kind, eating away at the living. Blackheath Village offered a large variety of places to hide and get the necessary supplies that Harrison would need to patch himself up. With that, Harrison reached behind his waist and upholstered the firearm which had been concealed by the tail of his black blazer jacket. His trusty, silver Taurus PT92 in hand, he aimed at the swaying head of his assailant and took a shot at it. Blood splattered against the beige paint job of the coach from the back of the creature's head.

Having been attracted by the noise, a few more of the now confirmedly deceased threat's kind advanced from the surroundings towards Harrison. Desperate for medical support and protective shelter, he dashed for Blackheath Hospital. However, as he was about to make left into the building, something grabbed at his right arm. Struggling with the little might he had, he attempted to break free, but was instead dragged down the road. His abductor had taken him into Blackheath Station, and began to bandage a wound that Harrison had procured on his left arm. With fluttering eyes, Harrison looked at this person, impatient for his blurry vision to focus.

Much to his surprise, Harrison's saviour had been none other than his vice and fellow agent, Firdaus Arip. Once Harrison's arm had been bandaged, Firdaus helped him up, and began to lead him down towards the platform. It didn't take an exchange of words for Harrison to understand what they were doing. The platform allowed for an easy-to-hold perimeter, and was lined with benches for cover and vending machines for nutritional supplies. Quite curiously, the station was entirely empty, and so the two caught their breaths on a bench.

"Would you like to try," Harrison grunted. "To explain what on earth is going on?"

In order to aid his response, Firdaus exhibited a briefcase and proclaimed all that he had already been informed, "I contacted the main office," he gestured to his silver Docomo Fujitsu F-11C Metal Edge service flip phone. "They advised me as to the situation via my portable command centre," he opened the briefcase, exposing a large monitor with a very technical keyboard. Bringing up an official document, he continued his unsure clarification, "Headquarters has informed me as to what these things are; risen corpses as a result of a virus. Said virus, the KRONUS-07 Virus, was developed by Synergy Genetics and Technologies. It was supposed to revive those who had very recently passed, perfect for sustaining soldiers in wars. However, all it did was reanimate dead corpses into these cannibalistic roamers."

"Roamers, huh?"

"If you will..." Firdaus continued with what he knew, "The rate of infection is a variable dependant on the pressure from the oscillations of sound waves, which disrupt bio-chemical reactions in the host, not curing their infection but instead slowing it. They can rapidly mutate so as to evolve to fit the situation. Therefore, if they fall into water they'll quickly adapt so as to be able to move quickly through it. However, it is at this point of transformation when they are at their weakest."

Normally, Harrison would make some sort of acclamation befitting of his mental state, so as to acknowledge how bewildered he was. In spite of this, he did not, as the pair were interrupted by two dark figures coming onto the platform from the station. Slowly and cautiously, Harrison ducked behind the cover of a nearby vending machine to his left, between the two boys and the two intruders, and began to raise his gun. As the two unwanted guests to the platform stumbled towards the bench, Harrison's right eye fixated down the iron sights of his handgun. However, as they drew near, he realised that they were not infected.

In light of this, he stood up, still pointing his weapon. "Don't move!"

Choking slightly on their dry throats, in shock of what had just happened, the first of the two, who was supporting the shorter, spoke up, "Please don't shoot!" His voice was gravelly with fear and an apologetic tone. "M-my girl's hurt!"

Realising that this could mean that she was carrying the infection, Harrison kept his gun held straight, but covered his nose and mouth with his left hand. "What kind of injury?" he turned to the girl. "Did they get you?"

While the girl was too aghast to speak, her father sprung upon the question with a troubled answer, "No, no! We just need some medical help, those things didn't touch us!"

Cursing himself under his breath, Harrison holstered his gun between his back and belt, and helped to lower the girl onto the bench. As he examined her leg injury, Harrison spoke to the man, "So what's your name?"

"My name's Thomas Fisher, but y'all can call me Tom. This here's my daughter, Alice. And who might you be? It ain't everyday that I see a young Brit running around with a gun."

It wasn't until Tom had said this that Harrison noticed his out of place, American accent. It was then that it occurred to him that he was the only British person of four people in a train station in England. At this, he laughed, and then responded, "My name is Harrison, and this here's Firdaus. I suppose we shouldn't really delve to deep into my possession of a firearm, however." Putting one hand out, he turned to Firdaus who brought out the first aid kit which he had used on Harrison again. Having received it, Harrison opened it up. Luckily, the wound had only been a laceration down her left calf, most likely from a fence or piece of debris.

"C'mon," Tom said. "I'm curious! How old are you anyway?"

Harrison sighed, "Fourteen." As he disinfected the girl's cut, he turned to her, "You?"

Since she was bursting out in pain, her father answered for her, "Same as you," he said. "Me? A bit more!" he chuckled at his joke and then looked to Firdaus. Before he could ask his question, a pack of four roamers entered from the opposite end of the platform. Firdaus knew exactly what the nod Harrison gave him meant, and readied his Steyr Hahn P12.

Harrison gestured to Tom, "Get him out of here!"

The tall man protested as Firdaus began to lead him out, "My daughter!"

"Go," Harrison reassured him. "I've got her." He started to hurry up the bandaging process.

"No!"

Firdaus grabbed Tom, "Mr. Fisher, this way please." Tom struggled to get free, which Firdaus did not take kindly, "Mr. Fisher keep moving or I will shoot you!"

With little choice and teary eyes, Mr. Fisher left, followed by Firdaus, who attempted to gun down the roamers making their way towards them. It wasn't long before they were off the platform and into the station. Firdaus closed the door, and the two listened, awaiting Harrison's arrival. After an unexpectedly long silence, the two heard something. Firdaus had managed to kill one roamer, leaving three on the platform. Two gunshots rang out from Harrison and Alice's location, but then the atmosphere grew heavy and cold, like their souls. It didn't take too much to realise that, while Harrison had pulled off the first two shots, he and the girl had been overpowered.