The Human Condition

along the long west wall of the suite, the stiletto heels of his boots clicking on the marble floor. Where was this going to end, he wondered? Would he stay here at the top of the hotel indefinitely? It wasn't a bad option, in fact he struggled to think of anywhere else that would be safer or more comfortable. The height of the building meant that it was unlikely the corpses down below would ever see or hear him. The only problem would come when his supplies started to dwindle as they inevitably would. Okay, so he appeared to have the entire city at his disposal, but even if he managed to find everything he needed, there then remained the problem of dragging it up literally hundreds of steps to his new home. Maybe he could set up some kind of winch or pulley system? Perhaps he could use the window-cleaner's cradle that he'd seen hanging halfway down the side of the building?

    His mind full of questions and half-considered answers, Bushell reached the corner of the room and stopped walking. He turned round and was about to begin retracing his steps back along the wall when he happened to glance down into the dark streets hundreds of feet below. In silent disbelief he watched the bizarre sight of a fairly ordinary looking bus ploughing through the rotting crowds, sending whole and dismembered bodies flying in all directions and hurtling at speed towards the hotel. He waited for a fraction of a second � just long enough to convince himself that what he was seeing was real � before sprinting out of the suite and down the hallway to the staircase.

    `Next left,' Paul Jones instructed. He'd moved to the front of the bus and was now standing next to the driver's cab, doing his best to guide Wilcox through the mayhem and towards the light. `No, sorry, not this one. Take the next one.'

    Wilcox grunted and pulled the steering wheel back round to his right. Uneasy, Jones glanced down and across at the various dials in front of the driver. The bus was travelling at a furious speed along the debris-strewn streets and its passengers were being buffeted from side to side. The breakneck journey was so unsteady and turbulent that even Doreen Phillips had become uncharacteristically quiet and subdued.

    `Can you see where it's coming from?' Wilcox asked, glancing up for a second to try and catch sight of the light again.

    `Not sure,' Jones admitted. `It's bloody high up though.'

Wilcox braced himself as he forced the bus up and over a mound of rubble and mangled metal at the side of the road. The passengers behind him � not expecting the sudden jolt � were thrown up in their seats as the huge machine clattered up and then back down onto the road.

    `Take it easy,' protested Hamilton.

    `Next left,' Jones said for the second time, his voice now a little more definite than before.

    `You sure?' `Positive,' he snapped, annoyed that he was being doubted. `I can see it. We're almost directly under the light now.'

    Wilcox slammed on his brakes and swung the bus around to the left. The second street was as difficult to navigate as the first. Huge crowds of lumbering, rotting bodies turned and dragged themselves towards the approaching vehicle. Wilcox increased his already precarious speed, knowing that the quicker they were moving, the more chance they had of continuing to make progress through the rancid crowds. Countless corpses were obliterated by the flat-faced front of the heavy vehicle. They smashed into the bonnet with a relentless bang, bang, bang which sounded like rain clattering down onto a flat tin roof.

    `How far now?' he asked breathlessly.

    Jones crouched down low and looked up to his right.

    `Almost there.'

    Proctor got up from his seat and scurried towards the two men at the front of the bus, holding onto the passenger rails and supports and struggling to keep his balance as the vehicle tipped from side to side.

    `It's a hotel,' he said, panting with excitement and nerves. `There's a sign on the side of the building.'

    Wilcox nodded.

    `So where do I go?' he asked, peering hopelessly into the relentless gloom.

    `There must be a car park or something?' Proctor suggested. `Maybe it's around the back...?'

    `Fancy walking out in the open carrying all our stuff, do you?' Jones immediately snapped. `Forget that, it's too dangerous. We need to get as close to the main entrance as we can. We need to minimise the distance we have to cover on foot.'

    `How am I supposed to do that?' grumbled Wilcox. `I can't see a