One hour later

In central London

The attack by the tripod on the crowd of refugees moving towards the Thames River had been quick and over in a few minutes, but it had been bloody. Most of the crowd had been vaporized and of many of those that had not been killed by the laser were to fall victim to the bloodsucking instruments of the enormous machine. The bodies of many of the dead were scattered up and down the main street and the streets that came off the main street, shrivelled like prunes and all life gone of any life. This was truly a place of unspeakable death.

Walking down the street was Martin. He had a small bag in his hand that was filled with a few pieces of bread and a few biscuits. The soldier had given it to him earlier this morning when Martin was leaving to continue the search for his daughter. The soldier had decided to stay and continue his digging for what he called a 'New Beginning' under London, but wished Martin luck in the search for his daughter.

Although Martin had not yet found his daughter or his wife, he had found something else. Many of the Martian tripods that had been roaming the streets of London, searching for Humans like predators searching prey, were now gone, not gone by meaning they had left the city but gone by meaning they were mostly lying on the ground or in buildings as if they had all suddenly collapsed for no reason. Why this had happened, Martin did not know, but he did not want to investigate the ruined hulks of the machines. He just wanted to find his daughter and her friends and his wife. They had to be somewhere in London still, but the real question was; were they alive? For all he knew they could have been killed.

He mentally hit himself over the head for thinking something like that.

What kind of an idiot are you?! His mind seemed to growl at him. They're not dead! They're still alive!

"But what if they are?" Martin asked himself.

There are not dead! His mind repeated.

Martin sighed. He was stuck between what might have happened to them and the belief that they were still alive. Any one of the two could be right. After all, so many had died so far and there was no chance that the Martians would spare anyone entirely, even if they were children or fairies. He sighed again and just mentally prayed that they were all okay. They had to be! if they were dead, then he would not be able to go on with his wife, it would have virtually lost all meaning.

As Martin passed a small jewellery shop, the sound of heavy breathing emanated from it. He stopped and looked through the hole in the front of the shop, where the window and the door of the shop had been before being destroyed by a swipe of a metallic tentacle from one of the Martian tripods several days ago, to see a figure leaning against the wall of the shop behind the counter. Curious, Martin stepped towards the shop, gazing at the figure. As he approached, he saw the figure was a man; a large heavily built man dressed in grey top, grey trousers and had a pair of braces over his shoulders. A small hat was placed on his head, partly hiding a messy crop of black hair. The man had a ruddy pockmarked face and a look of anger etched on his face, as if he was frustrated at fighting a cold. He was coughing slightly and every time he did, a ball of spit fell from his mouth, spraying over the wall, the ground or his black shoes or even his small bearded face just below his large round-like nose.

"A-are you okay there, sir?" Martin said to the man.

At once, the man's head snapped up to look at Martin, who knew at once that this man was not happy to see him, which he could tell by the look of anger in his eyes and the way his teeth clenched. He moved menacingly away from the wall towards the hole.

"Bugger off!" he shouted. "Beat it, yer berk! Go on before I drop yer!"

Martin backed away, half raising his hands to defend himself. "I-I'm s-sorry!" he stammered. "I just wanted to-"

"Ya want my food and wa'er don't ya!" the man barked at Martin stepping onto the pavement. The smell of liquor filled Martins' nose, which only heightened the fear in him. "Well, ya can bugger off! Iss mine, ya hear me! Mine! Now Psssoff!"

He advanced towards Martin but stumbled and landed flat on his face. His nose crashed into the ground and began to bleed heavily. The man yelled and cursed as he sat up, glaring up at Martin who shook his head slightly, turned and walked away.

"Thass right, ya piss off, ya berk!" the man shouted at him, waving his fist at him.

Martin sighed. "I bet the Lord would beg to differ," he muttered under his breath.

He walked down the street onto the main street. When he was about half-way down the street, he saw the tower of Big Ben and the spires of the Houses of Parliament in the distance over the rooftops. A sense of relief filled him. Maybe there he would find more people. Maybe he would even find his daughter and his wife and his friends! Those thoughts filled with him a sense of happiness that began to blind him to the outside world, so much so that he failed to notice a body lying on the ground in front of him.

Martin tripped over the body and crashed to the ground. Groaning, he sat up, rubbing his head and grimaced when he saw the shrivelled face of the woman he had fallen over.

"My God!" he whispered under his breath, completely breath taken at what he was seeing.

As he turned to get up, his hand landed on something on the ground and he looked to see a small golden bracelet with tiny stars and fairy wands on it lying on the ground. He picked it up and gazed at it.

"Where have I seen this before?" he asked himself.

He had seen this somewhere before, definitely, but where? He searched his thoughts hard and moved onto his knees as he examined it. There was definitely a time had seen this before, he was completely sure of that, but he just could not remember where! Damn it, come on, he had to figure it out.

"C'mon, where have I seen this before?" he muttered to himself.

Slowly, an idea began to form in his head over where he had seen this before. It was someone he knew well… yes, definitely that, but who? Mrs Perkins? No. Not any of Lizzy's fairy friends because it was too big for them. Who wore this damn bra-

Wait! Martins' eyes grew wide upon realising where he had seen this bracelet before. He shook his head slightly as if refusing the answer, but he knew it very well. He knew the person who had worn this bracelet very well.

That person…was Lizzy!

"No!" he gasped under his breath as tears began to form in his eyes. He stared down at the bracelet in his hand, shaking his head at it as if he was begging it to reveal a different answer to him but it would not. The answer he had been revealed was the true one.

"No! No, this can't be!" he began to whimper.

A tear rolled down his face and dripped onto his trousers. More followed and soon his cheeks were wet with tears. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

"My little girl!" he sobbed. He moved his hands away from his face and looked down at the bracelet through his tear filled eyes. "I'm so sorry, Lizzy!" he said, hoping she could hear him from above. "I should never have left you!"

He wiped away the tears from his eyes, but they were quickly replaced with more. He was filled with complete sadness and grief. His daughter was gone, her friends were mostly likely gone as well. Mr and Mrs Perkins and his wife … Rebecca.

They were all gone!

He buried his face in his hands again and began to cry.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Slowly, Martin looked up from his cradling position on the ground and saw what was making the ground shake.

About seventy feet ahead of him, and advancing up the road on staggering legs, almost falling over several times, was a Martian tripod. It was a complete mess. The armour was now cracked and split and the colour of the silver was completely faded, both of the neon green eyes on the front had been smashed open, the tentacles on the front were no longer waving about as they had done before and instead just hung there as if they were dead, the legs were moving awkwardly as if it was struggling to hold up the weight of the machine and the dome on the back of the main section was cracked and broken. However, what was really noticeable was the orangey colour below the eyes.

At once, a sense of a feeling Martin had not felt for a long time filled him. It was anger! He shot up from the ground, clutching the bracelet tightly in his fist. He choked back several tears on his angered face. He just wanted it to all be over for him now. His daughter was gone, her friends and his wife were also dead. What did he have to lose now?

"Here I am!" he shouted sat the tripod out of blind anger and grief. "I'm right here! Take me!"

The tripod stopped about fifty feet from him and staggered about, struggling to stay upright, but he was too angry and upset to see it.

"Come on! You've taken my wife and my daughter and my friends!" he shouted up at the tripod. "Take me already! Just put me out of my misery!"

Groaning came from the tripod as the metal holding it together began to strain. It began to tilt to one side and its legs tried desperately to keep it upright.

"Come on!" Martin was almost yelling at the tripod. "TAKE ME!"

Finally, the tripod tipped over too far to its right and the legs gave in. With a deafening crash, the enormous machine smashed through several houses on the street next to it. A cloud of dust was thrown up into the air. Martin saw this and covered his face as several bits of rubble and dust flew out towards him.

After about a minute, the dust cloud settled, revealing the enormous bulk of the machine half buried in the rubble of what had been three houses. The legs, twisted and broken, stuck out from the pile of rubble into the street and a large gaping hole was now visible in the side of the head of the machine.

"What the…?" Martin muttered to himself, staring wide-eyed at the machine. Why had it just collapsed all of a sudden? More importantly; what had made it collapse?

Cautiously, he moved towards the machine, tensing himself in case he had to run if it suddenly got back up, but as he neared it, he began to realise that there was little, if any, chance of getting back up. Something as wrong with it, or, if not the machine, then the Martians piloting, but if so either way, what was it.

As Martin approached the hole, he heard a strangled hissing/breathing-like sound coming from inside the head of the machine. Fear gripped him and he began to think of just walking away, but he decided to press on and see what was wrong. He stepped towards the hole and looked inside.

The interior of the head of the Martian tripod was dimly lit with a just visible kind of chair attached to the floor in the middle of the room. A set of control panels were placed around the head, one in front of the chair and another along the wall just below the now smashed open eyes. Four more chairs were placed in front of the control panels. A large hole was visible above the middle chair and a kind of orangey liquid was dripping down from it.

Something moved near the eye of the head and Martin took a step in, his feet thudding loudly on the metallic floor. The shape rose up and pulled itself into the middle of the eye, revealing itself to Martin. It was one of the Martians, but it was much different than to when he had last seen it. Its silver skin was now more of a grey colour, its black colourless eyes were also more of a grey colour as if it was blind and were watering as if it was crying, an orange coloured saliva was dripping from it's mouth rather than the dark green saliva, a kind of green mucus was dripping from its nose and the figure of the creature, particularly the torso, was much thinner than when he had last seen it. It was so thin; Martin swore he could almost make out the very bones inside the Martian.

The creature retched slightly as if it was about throw up. Its breathing was strangled and heavy as if it was gasping for breath. It tried to pull itself into the outside, but its thin arms and body did not have the strength and it collapsed where it was on the eye.

Then, with a final breath, the creature went still and quiet, its head turned on its side and looking up at the sky as it was trying to talk to God, or its home world for rescue, but it would be receiving no help. Not anymore. Where it had gone, it no longer needed help.

"What has done this?" Martin said, looking around the head to see more of the bodies of the Martians lying on the floor, all of them dead and much like their comrade Martin had just watched die. He squatted down near one and saw that the green colour near its nose was actually runny snot, much like you would get when you have a cold or the flu and the water around its eyes had been much the same for when you have a cold. The water would try and get rid of the germs.

Martin's face lit up like a fire. That was why! That was why the tripod had collapsed and the Martians were dying. It was bacteria! Earth's bacteria and germs and illnesses! They were causing these creatures to die!

He stood up and walked out of the head and back into the street. He felt a little relieved. He knew why they were dying. If he could find other survivors, he could tell them what the Martians' weakness was. They could easily defeat the last of them. They could finally win this war.

However, it was then he remembered the bracelet in his hand, and he looked down at it and sighed. He may have found out the weakness of the Martians … but it would not bring back his daughter or his wife of his friends. They were all gone and nothing would bring them back.

Of course, that now left him pondering the question. What now?

What could he do? Everyone he knew and loved was gone, London was overrun, the country, everything he knew … it was gone.

What am I to do now? There's nothing left for me.

Maybe he could … put himself out of his misery. Probably many others had done, seeing that there was no hope for them here. Why not? Maybe he could find another Martian tripod and it would deal with him. Quick and painless.

No! He could not do that. Even if it was going to be the quickest solution to his sadness, it … it just was not the right thing to do. His wife and daughter and others would want him to live, to carry on and build hope for humans everywhere. They would need it if the Martians were well and truly dying.

Martin looked around. If his search for survivors was over, then where was he to go now? Going back home was going to be a no – if it was even still there. What about Rebecca's house here in London? It was further along the river, past Parliament and Big Ben. Maybe he would run into survivors along the way.

With a sigh, Martin walked on towards Big Ben and the spires of Parliament in the distance nearby.