Hater

just can't believe this…'
    'Think they know what's going on now?'
    'I'm sure they do,' I answer. 'They must have worked it out if they're showing something like this. Someone must know what's happening, and that makes things even worse, doesn't it?'
    'Does it? Why?'
    I shrug my shoulders.
    'Because things must be pretty well fucked if they're still not telling us anything. It sounds to me like they're trying to lock everybody down just to try and keep things under control, and what I've seen this morning makes me think that maybe things aren't under control right now.'
    Lizzie frowns at me for swearing in front of Ellis. I turn back to the screen.
    '…first indication will be a sudden fit of rage and anger,' the disturbingly unemotional voice on the TV continues. 'This rage will typically be directed at one person in particular. Remember that those affected may appear calm again once the initial outburst of anger and violence has passed. Continue to keep your distance. Regardless of who they are or what they say, these people are not in control of their actions. They will continue to pose a threat to you and your family…'
    Lizzie strides past me and snatches Ellis' DVD from my hands. She shoves it into the machine and it starts to play.
    'That's enough,' she snaps.
    'I was watching that...'
    'Will you go and get Dad?'
    My heart sinks. I don't want to leave the flat again but I know I don't have any choice.
    'When do you want me to…?' I begin before she interrupts.
    'Get him now,' she answers, nervously chewing her fingernails. 'If you won't go and get him I will.'
    The thought of Lizzie being alone out there is worse than the thought of going out myself. I have to do it.

22

    The lobby is silent. I shut the door to the flat behind me, lock it and cautiously look around. I've told Liz to make a safe room like they said on TV and then to shut herself and the kids in it. The living room is the obvious place. She's closed the curtains and they've turned the TV down low. From outside it looks like no-one's in.
    I open the front door and cringe as the usual loud creaking sound echoes around the insides of the empty building.
    'Is anyone there?' a voice hisses from the darkness upstairs. I freeze and try not to panic. What do I do? I want to keep moving and pretend I didn't hear anything but I can't. My family is in this building and I can't leave them knowing that someone else is in here with them. It could be anyone. They could be waiting for me to leave so they can get to Lizzie and the kids. But why would they have shouted out like that? I let the door go and it creaks again as it swings shut. I take a few slow steps back into the shadows and, for a second, I think about going back into the flat. I know that's not going to achieve anything. I have to go out and get Harry at some point.
    'Who's there?' I hiss back, cursing myself for my stupidity. I'm acting like a character in a bad horror movie. You're supposed to run away from the monster, I tell myself, not move towards it.
    'Up here,' the voice answers. I look up towards the top of the staircase and the first floor landing. There's a face staring back at me from between the metal struts of the banister. It's one of the men from the flat on the top floor. I don't know whether it's Gary or Chris. I start to cautiously climb the stairs. I'm almost on the landing when the steps beneath my feet become tacky. The floor's covered in sticky puddles of blood. The man from the flat is lying on the ground in front of me, clutching his chest. He grunts and rolls over onto his back. His jeans and T-shirt are soaked through with blood. He turns his head to one side and manages to acknowledge me. He relaxes, relieved that someone's finally with him I suppose. He's in a real mess and I don't know where to start. Is there anything I can do for him or am I too late?
    'Thanks, mate,' he gasps, propping himself up onto his elbows. 'I've been stuck here for hours. I heard someone come in a while back and I was trying to get…' He stops speaking and collapses and lies flat on his back again. The effort is too much. His voice gurgles and rasps. There must be blood in his throat. What am I supposed to do? Christ, I haven't got a clue how to try and help him.
    'Do you want me to try and get you back upstairs?' I ask uselessly. He shakes his head and swallows to clear his throat.
    'No point,' he groans as he tries to prop himself up again. I put my hand on his shoulder to keep him