IMPACT (Book 1): A Post-Apocalyptic Tale by Matthew Eliot Page A

aren’t bad with the Pack. We’re organised, and we have fun,” she looked at him, her eyes serious. “Please, please consider coming with me, too.”
    “I’ll try,” he said. It was all he could promise without lying.
    She giggled and looked outside again.
    “Wow,” she said, “who’s that weirdo?”
    Luke pulled his sweater over his head, joining her by the window.
    Together, they gazed down on the streets below, where an old man with long, braided hair and clothes of a million colours walked along. They watched as he stopped and savoured the damp air, like it was filled with the scent of spring, rather than smell of rotting leaves.
    As if they’d called to him, the old man turned towards them. He held his eyes on the young, sick couple.
    “He’s seen us,” said Luke, feeling a childish need to hide behind the curtain.
    “Luke, he’s smiling at us,” said Ana. Luke had noticed. It was odd, nowadays, to see people wandering around with a smile on their faces.
    “I must say,” she added, “this bloke’s smile is amazing.”
    It was.

Chapter 18
Ashford
    “There it is,” said Moore.
    The warehouse was bigger than Cathy had expected. It sat on the outskirts of Ashford, large and silent in the afternoon mist. The main entrance was concealed by the rooftops of the other, smaller buildings nearby, but they had a clear view of the streets leading up to it.
    They were all lying in the grass, one-hundred yards away. She scanned the building and its surroundings, the silence among them a reminder of the danger they might be facing. If the meteorwraiths were still inside the building, a confrontation was unavoidable. She threw a sideways glance at Neeson and Billings beside her. There was something comforting about their focused, expressionless faces.
    The trip had been pleasant if uneventful. The constant hum of the liquid metal motor had had a mildly hypnotic effect on her and her two companions. As the bleak expanse of what was once ‘the garden of England’ slowly drifted by outside their windows, it had been easy to forget the purpose of their trip. They had talked idly, touching on the strange old man, Jeremy, speculating about his story. It was difficult to imagine he could pose a threat, despite Moore’s apparent hostility towards the old hippy. Although his words – ‘ You do have Afflicted in Bately, right? ‘ – had a sinister ring she couldn’t quite shake.
    As they approached Ashford from the southeast, their chatter had gradually quieted down. She had secretly observed the two men sitting by her side: Moore with his serious, impenetrable eyes fixed on the view ahead of him and Paul, who sat stiffly, only occasionally moving to wipe off the sweat collecting on his upper lip.
    Paul was no coward, she supposed that most of his unrest was likely due to the weapons that were travelling with them in the boot of the Wolf. She had noticed his frown when Neeson placed the firearms inside a metal container alongside three hand grenades. The sight had made her feel uneasy, but the effect had been greater on Paul.
    “This is how we’re going to proceed,” Neeson said, almost in a whisper. All eyes turned to him. “We want to clear the area as soon as possible. We’ll split in two groups. Ms. Abbott,” his chin gesturing to Catherine, “you will come with me. We’ll enter through the main entrance, while Billings and Mr. Moore will approach the rear exit.” Neeson’s eyes flicked over to Paul, who was about to say something. “You, Father, will stay here by the vehicle.”
    The disappointment in Paul’s eyes was plain. He opened his mouth, as if to protest, but was interrupted by Neeson.
    “Your role is crucial, Father. You must ensure the area is clear and alert us if you see anyone approaching.” Neeson got on his feet and, head low, crawled over to the Wolf’s open passenger door. He grabbed something out of it and returned.
    “We’ll use walkie-talkies. They're very easy to use, just