Gray Vengeance by Alan McDermott Page B

his helmet and secured the strap under his chin before climbing on the machine and starting it up. Thompson climbed on the back and wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled off the pavement and onto the road, heading west for t he M4.

    Tom Gray woke up to a loud ringing in his ears, and at first he was disorientated. He struggled to focus, and when he put his hand to his face it came away crimson, blood seeping from a gash on his forehead. He tried his limbs, seeking signs of damage, but he was able to move them all, and he pushed himself up onto his knees.
    A thin mist of fine powder hung in the air, and the wall three yards away was pockmarked by hundreds of pieces of shrapnel. A hole the size of a car had been punched through the concrete wall, and Gray knew that if he’d been pushing Melissa a little faster, they’d have felt the full force of the blast.
    Melissa!
    He crawled round to see his daughter, whose little mouth was open in a desperate cry that he couldn’t hear. The explosion had damaged his eardrums, and he realised the ringing wasn’t the fire alarm but a result of the blast. He checked his daughter over, but saw no sign of blood. Her arms and legs seemed to be functioning normally. He delicately tested them for breaks.
    Satisfied that she was clear of physical injury, he gently unstrapped her and lifted her out of the contraption, holding her tight to calm her down.
    A nurse stumbled into view, blood pouring from a shoulder wound. She had a large, red stain on the front of her tunic, and she managed a few steps towards him before collapsing to the floor.
    Gray carried Melissa over to the fallen woman, and for the first time he saw the damage that had been done to her back. It looked like she’d been blasted with a shotgun at close range, her clothes shredded and bloodied.
    Gray knew there was nothing he could do for her, and he walked slowly towards the exit, which intersected with another corridor. The left looked clear, but to the right lay carnage. A couple of bodies lay on the ground. He took a few steps past them and looked into the A&E waiting room.
    The scene resembled a horror movie. At least thirty people lay dead, and many more limbs were scattered around, the remains of those closest to the explosion. Three medical staff were already on hand, helping the few survivors. Two of them were frantically applying CPR to a teenage girl, while the other checked the remaining bodies for vital signs.
    Gray felt compelled to help, but when he felt and heard another explosion from within the building, he knew it was time to get his daughter to safety. He ran for the door and pushed it open. He knew his hearing must be returning, for his ears were suddenly assaulted by the sound of a hundred desperate motorists leaning on their horns.
    He realised that if the news stories were right, driving home was out of the question, as would be any other form of transport. He briefly considered a motorcycle, but there was no way he was going to climb aboard one with Melissa in tow.
    He pulled out his phone and checked the distance to his home: slightly more than eleven miles away, a comfortable jog under normal circumstances.
    What troubled him was the large number of explosions in the city, which made him reluctant to take Melissa through densely populated areas. The attacks seemed to have been planned with military precision, and if the objective was to get people out in the open, it had worked. All around him, people were beginning to abandon their cars and make their way on foot, the street already teeming with humanity. One well-timed explosion now would be devastating, and Gray chose not to wait around to see if he were right.
    He decided that for the time being he would head for somewhere relatively safe, and he set off for Minotaur’s offices. As h e mo ved carefully around debris and between panicked citizens, he dialled Len Smart’s number.
    ‘Tom, have you seen what’s going on? It’s crazy!’
    ‘I