The Fog - James Herbert [110]
Holman pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator, sorry for the action he had to take but knowing it had to be done. He remembered Winchester and had less sympathy for the men and more interest in his own survival.
The car leapt forward and the startled men jumped back. Others were slower and disappeared beneath the wheels. Holman felt the car bump as it passed over their bodies, but he kept his foot down hard on the pedal, gathering speed, sending the men on the roof flying off. It ploughed through the thronging mass and Holman closed his mind from thoughts of his unfortunate victims. Perhaps it was because he regarded them as a threat rather than human beings. Perhaps he thought they were less human because of their madness. Or perhaps it was because he didn’t have time to think at all that enabled him to carry on.
At last, they were clear of the mob and travelling up the hill towards St Paul’s. Only then did Holman’s hands begin to shake.
Mason noticed and said, ‘Here, let me take over. You’ve had enough.’
‘No,’ said Holman, ‘I’ll be all right. I’d rather drive than sit and think. You check your instruments; make sure we’re still going in the right direction.’
Mason clapped a steadying hand on his shoulder then turned his attention towards the panel of instruments in front of him. He reported their position back to the underground base and related some of the incidents they had run into and the fact that the fog seemed much thinner. Holman glanced at his watch and saw that they had only been out for thirty-odd minutes. It seemed like hours.
He heard over the speaker a voice telling Mason that people were fleeing from the town in their thousands; large internment camps had been set up and police and troops from all over the country had surrounded London with blockades, and were trying to hold everyone who was leaving, imprisoning them for their own protection. It was an impossible task, of course, to save everyone, but fortunately, most of those that had fled were unaffected as yet by the disease and willingly turned themselves over to the authorities in the hope they would be protected when the madness struck them.
Helicopters above the cloud had reported that the fog seemed thickest around the river and thickest of all around the dockside area past the Tower of London. Although it had spread further, they confirmed that it did seem to be thinning particularly on its outer fringes. They could also see the glow of many large fires all over London.
The voice informed them that aircraft from all over the country were already on their way, loaded with calcium chloride in an attempt to avalanche the city with the chemical, but it would take hours for the operation to be put into effect.
It promised to send any further information that would help them and wished them both good luck.
Mason switched off and said to Holman, ‘It all checks. We’re going the right way – it’s somewhere down by the docks.’
They were now passing St Paul’s Cathedral and were amazed to see scores of people sitting on its steps, their faces expressionless, their lips unmoving.
‘Switch on the sound again,’ said Holman.
Mason did so but they heard no noise from the gathering.
‘They remind me of a flock of birds,’ said Mason. ‘One loud noise and they’ll be fluttering all over the place.’
Holman remembered the pigeons in Trafalgar Square and told Mason of it.
‘Christ!’ said Mason. ‘It gives me the creeps – let’s move a bit faster.’
He increased the speed as much as he dared and they soon left the historic building behind.
‘You notice how they seem to be mostly grouping together,’ observed Mason.
‘Yes. It’s as though with the breaking down of their brain cells, they’re losing their individuality, flocking together the way animals do. Look how they’re gathering at bus stops, a natural grouping place for people. At first, I thought in their shocked state they were queuing, but now I realize they’re grouping together at spots that are familiar to that idea.’
‘Look at him!’ Mason was pointing at a figure that had suddenly emerged from the