IMPACT (Book 1): A Post-Apocalyptic Tale Read Online Free Page B

with the plastic bag turned towards his group and smirked sarcastically, as if to say that these men, despite their intimidating appearance, obviously posed no threat.
    Then came the first gunshot.
    Its sound was almost completely drowned out by the tumultuous storm. Alice and Adrian felt their hearts stop as the horrific scene unfolded before them: the scavenger walking forward, leaving deep footprints in the wet sand, turning his head, while almost exactly at the same time, as if following some sort of secret choreography, one of the other men raised his arm, the small, dark object in his hand hardly discernible.
    This moment was the longest. From their perspective, the children caught a glimpse of what was to come – an instant’s worth of the future. They witnessed the possibility of the scavenger’s death before he, the victim, was even aware of the gun pointing in his direction. If ever he was.
    Just as the scavenger’s head started turning, the uniformed man (he was standing slightly ahead of the others, although it wasn’t clear whether he carried more importance, within their mysterious hierarchy) raised his pistol. And fired.
    What followed was both terrible and strangely uneventful. A sudden silence. A lifeless body falling to the ground with a muffled thud which the kids didn’t hear, but imagined. Then the stillness of the scavengers, as they realised their life was in peril. Adrian noticed he was holding Alice’s hand (gripping it, actually). He couldn’t remember having reached out for it.
    Now, the other uniformed men raised their arms, each holding a firearm the children hadn’t noticed before.
    “Let’s go , Ady,” said Alice.
    “Y-yes” muttered Adrian, almost incapable of looking away.
    There was something mesmerising about those men. Something terrible.
    Then the firing began. So did the screams. It was nothing short of an execution.
    Adrian felt Alice pulling him up. Yes. It was time to go. While the fight (if one could call it that) ensued, they’d perhaps manage to slip away, unseen.
    They stood up, turned around, and saw the rifle pointed at them.

Chapter 7
A Council Meeting
    “Tea, anyone?”
    Paul smiled as Ms. Brand, a sixty-year-old former school teacher, posed this quintessentially British question to the Council members. Despite it all, and despite the apparent fate of his own Church, some traditions held strong. This was one of the reasons he had returned after all, wasn’t it? The British ability to down-play even the greatest of tragedies, at least on the face of it, by following their odd set of priorities, the first of which was invariably a cup of tea.
    A chorus of ‘yes, please’ and a couple of ‘cheers, Marge’ had Ms. Brand pouring out seven steaming cups. Perhaps, when the last teabag finally runs out, so will their sanity , Paul thought to himself, leaning forward with a smile to accept a heart-warming cuppa .
    They sat in a circle in the centre of what had once been a classroom. Colourful drawings still covered the walls, and Paul’s eyes wandered upon a touching depiction of Bately Castle populated by Norman soldiers and what appeared to be a dragon peering outside of the Eastern tower. The dragon was smiling, and seemingly got along well with its military fellow tenants. Everywhere were hills, trees, and butterflies. A kindly sun shone above it all, indiscriminately dispensing joyous rays of light on everyone and everything. Nature, thought Paul, was indeed indiscriminate, both in its blessings and its curses.
    “So,” started Bill Hughes, a retired Major in the British Army, who now helped coordinate Bately’s patrol and defence squad, which they referred to as the Guard. “If we’re all ready, let’s open the proceedings.”
    Everyone nodded.
    “Good.” Bill said and gestured towards a slightly overweight kid in a black hoodie, by far the youngest attendee in this Council meeting. Sean shuffled in his seat and seemed to shrink as all eyes turned