Outside

Chapter Sixteen

My brother David ran into the house at five pm on Thursday August 10th.

‘Turn on the news!’ he shouted. I heard the crackle of the TV being switched on in the lounge. ‘Come and look at this, Ellie!’

Everyone else had been at work that day as I lounged around the house in summer holiday mode and daydreamed about Connor. He was also at work, helping Dad at the factory.

‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ I yelled from the kitchen.

‘No, just come and look at this will you! It’s hit the fan!’

I poured a few drops of milk into my tea and dismissed my brother’s over-dramatic tone. I sauntered into the lounge, where David knelt in front of the television. He looked up at me and shuffled backwards to give me a better view of the screen.

An anchorwoman stood in front of what looked like a shopping centre. Behind her, people were running and screaming. A stream of text scrolled across the bottom of the screen: so far there have been explosions in London, Manchester, Leeds Birmingham, Bristol… The list went on. The anchorwoman spoke,

‘It’s the same story throughout Europe. Also, the U.S., Australia, South Africa, India… A global attack, the like of which has never been seen before… thousands feared dead… as I am speaking I am getting reports of still more explosions in Scotland, in Cardiff…’

Sirens screamed behind her and she wore a crazed look, like she couldn’t believe the enormity of the story she was relating.

‘Oh my God.’ I felt sick. ‘David, what’s happening? I’m scared.’

He turned to look at me and we both exhaled slowly through our mouths, at the same time. There had been a couple of terrorist attacks earlier in the summer, but nothing compared to the stories we now witnessed on the screen. I sensed this was something that wouldn’t be forgotten anytime soon.

The next couple of weeks were odd. No one we knew of in our village had been hurt. But we all obsessively focused on the news. Four days after the first attacks, there were more bombings. Again, they were worldwide. Not as extensive as the first round of attacks, but still horrific, and enough to refuel a mass panic of the population. Nobody felt safe. There was none of the distance that normally accompanies big news stories. It all felt real and close. Most of us knew people who had been directly affected.

Because the police had now diverted most of their efforts to stopping the attacks, there were too few of them to deal with the rapidly escalating crime wave that overtook the country. To try to prevent total chaos, the armed forces came onto the streets. Soldiers on the beat meant the police force could concentrate more fully on investigating the terror attacks. But, whilst they had intercepted a couple of plots, the enormity of the task they faced was plain for all to see.

So far, there had been twenty-eight bombings in the first wave of attacks and nine in the second. And this was just in the UK. The devastation had been wrought by a combination of suicide bombers, sophisticated car bombs, plane hijacks and vicious nail bombs left in public areas. The attacks occurred in airports, sea ports, shopping centres, transport systems, office blocks and bars.

The damage and suffering grew beyond anything anyone could have imagined and the world could only watch in horror as the death toll mounted each day.