The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel (30 page)

Being late for work was a
paradox in Mumbai—it was at once entirely understandable, yet completely
unforgivable. With so many Western firms looking for cheap, unskilled labour,
and so many Indians looking for employment, you could be replaced in an
afternoon. Yet, trying to get anywhere on the capital’s streets was a
nightmare. If it were not the battling traffic—carts, bikes, cars, and
rickshaws—it was the cows. One cow could claim an entire road as its own if it
wanted. A hundred vehicles would have no choice but to wait while a unconcerned
bovine strolled across the main thoroughfare. That was what was happening right
now.

Monty didn’t own a car, but even on his bicycle it
was slow going. He dodged into gaps wherever possible, but there were a dozen
more cyclists doing the same. The drivers of cars hated the cyclists and did
whatever they could to nudge out and block them. Mumbai was a city under
stress. It wanted so much to be important, but was not yet ready to join the
New Yorks and Londons of the world. It needed to learn to cope with being busy.

It didn’t help that one of the strange gates had
risen on the edge of town. The Indian government had declared it a holy sight
after the Sikh population had claimed it would soon spawn the warriors of their
past to help fix the ills of the present. It was currently an encampment of
tents, pilgrim buses, and food carts—a festival in earnest.

Monty was Hindu, so the last thing he believed was
that a bunch of old, dead Sikhs were about to visit, but he did think that the
gate was from the other world. What Gods would come through it, he did not
know. Maybe Shiva, to destroy the world. Looking at the teeming streets and
garbage-stuffed gutters, Monty wasn’t so sure that would be a bad idea.

He hated his job selling mobile phone insurance to
rich westerners. They were always so rude to him. He was just doing a job, so
why did they call him
paki
and other racist words—just because of his
accent? The fact that Pakistan was another country entirely seemed not to
bother these people. Of course, some of them were very friendly and would
discuss the cricket with him, or tell him what it was like in their town, but
most people were angry that he had called them. It was a hard job to do, but
even so, he needed the money. That was why it would not do to be late. Without
his job at the call centre, he would join the masses of unemployed, and that
was no life to live. Many of his friends had joined gangs, and now murdered and
robbed people for whatever meagre possessions they had. As much as he hated his
job, he would hate having to do that even more.

“Come on!” he shouted at the skinny, brown cow
fifteen yards ahead. He was met by frowns from the open car windows on either
side of him. He respected cows as much as any Hindu, but sometimes you just
have to get a move on.

He edged his bicycle into a gap behind a bus, and
then placed his foot up on the curb. The scent of a nearby snack bar made his
mouth water. They were mixing up soup and ladling it out with bread to the
morning commuters sitting outside. Monty was so certain that his job would be
lost by the time he ever got to his building that he almost considered tossing
his bike into the gutter and having some of the delicious-smelling broth; but
Saira would never forgive him. With the baby on the way, he could not give in
to impulse. He would have to take his telling off from his British born boss
and beg to keep his job.

There was a lot of angry honking up ahead, but
Monty could not see through the fumes enough to peer down the road. So he leant
over the curb and caught the attention of a man in a suit. “Hey, my friend.
What is happening down the road?”

The man shrugged. He was holding a cup of piping
coffee and looked like he was ready to take a sip. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

Monty frowned. “Oh, fuck you too, my friend.”

He caught the attention of somebody else, a boy
wearing an Indian Cricket Team shirt. “Hello, son, do you know what all the
honking is about?”

The boy shrugged as well, but at least he was
polite. “I don’t know, sir. I believe it might have something to do with the
gate.”

“But the gate is outside the city.”

He nodded. “Yes sir, but something has happened.
It opened up and something came through.”

Monty shuddered. “”How do you know that?”

The boy held up his mobile phone. “I get news
updates. It said there’s a major incident happening at the Sikh camp right now.”

Monty looked ahead and saw that several cars and
bikes were breaking off and trying to turn around. Their radios had obviously
informed them of the events up ahead.

The first thing Monty thought was that this might
just provide the perfect excuse for his lateness. The second was that he was
heading right in the direction of whatever
major incident
was happening
at the edge of the city.

Should he turn back?

What was he heading into?

Before he had chance to decide, there was an
explosion in the distance. At almost the exact same time, several helicopters
swooped overhead. They looked like they belonged to the Indian Air Force. They
were jungle green, and had guns hanging off stubby pairs of wings.

The traffic up ahead snarled up. Cars barged into
one another as they tried to turn into side streets or reverse. The bus in
front of Monty began to back up.

“Hey, hey, I am here!”

Monty leapt onto the sidewalk, and just managed to
drag his bicycle out of the way of the bus’s large back tyres in time to save
it from being crushed. The bus rammed into a battered Mercedes and the driver
got out to shout about it.

There was a side street a little further ahead, so
Monty hopped back up on his bike and pedalled for it. It was perilous riding on
the path, but no more so than being amongst the grinding traffic that was
continuing to turn on itself. At one point he almost collided with a stack of
orange crates outside a grocers, but he skidded his back tyre and managed to
miss it.

When he saw the cow up ahead, he shook his head
and laughed. The entire road was full of panicking people, but the cow still
strolled along as if nothing was happening. Even when the gunfire started.

It wasn’t just the distant machine guns of the helicopters
that Monty heard; it was the antique war pistols that often passed hands in the
local bars that made noise too. They sounded like fireworks every time one was
fired.

Monty took the side street, and was dismayed to
find it as chaotic as the main road he was leaving. A police car was parked up
on the curb, with a pair of police officers trying to maintain order. Their
white-gloved hands were raised in the air, but nobody was listening.

Monty pulled his bike up next to them. “What is
going on?”

One of the officers, a Sikh in a turban, gave an
answer. “We’re under attack. The Sikh encampment has been attacked by
something. The army are moving in. People are being told to evacuate, but
there’s no way to get them all out of the city.”

“It’s going to be a nightmare,” Monty agreed.
“What are you doing here?”

“Very little. We’re to help redirect traffic to
the north of the city, but there’s just no way. You should get out of here,
sir. There’s going to be a lot of damage.”

Monty nodded. “Good luck.”

The officer had already turned away to join his
partner, who was arguing with the driver of a van. The old man was leaning out
of his window and pointing his finger. The officer had lost his cool and was batting
the finger out of his face.

Monty got back on his pedals and continued down
the sidewalk. He was heading towards the outskirts of the city now, and after a
few hundred metres the pavement deteriorated into stony dirt. He changed gear and
ignored the mild burning in his calves. The gunfire continued in the distance,
and the only traffic he saw was heading away. Something bad was happening, and
he had to get away too. He needed to get home to Saira. She and the baby could
not be left in danger.

He intended to get on the next street heading
north, as currently he was heading east,
towards
the Sikh encampment.
The feeling that something was going to jump out at him at any moment made his
tummy froth. But nothing did jump out.

The eateries and snack bars disappeared as he
passed into an industrial section of the city. There were employees milling
outside the various units, too nervous of losing their jobs to leave, but also
too unnerved to concentrate on their tasks. The explosion had halted the city,
but the gunfire was what truly frightened everyone. Mumbai might not be pretty,
but it was peaceful compared to other cities in this part of the world. He
wondered if the ISA had attacked, sick of India’s constant fraternisation with
the West and opposition to Pakistan. The thought made him feel sick. He did not
want his son or daughter growing up in a climate of fear.

He kept on peddling, trying to find a street to
take him north. He finally found one a hundred metres ahead, just past a
lumberyard. His feet bore down on the pedals and he picked up speed.

The blow to his face came from nowhere and tossed
him straight off his bike. He hit the dirt hard and clutched at his face. His
vision swam with stars and he felt blood coming from his nose.  He moaned,
rolled back and forth, then yelped as unkind hands dragged him to his feet.

“What happened? I can’t see. My nose is broken.”

“And so will be your knees if you don’t hand over
everything you have.”

Monty pulled his hands away from his face and saw
the blurry images of several men. He was surrounded. “W-who are you?”

“You want to die, man? You give us what you got.
This isn’t your part of town, and you made a big mistake coming here.”

Monty looked down at his shirt and trousers, and
then up at the topless men that stood before him. He moaned. “You’re Dawar
boys?”

“I won’t tell you again, man. Give us your wallet
and your watch.”

Monty reached for his watch. The Dawar boys were a
local gang, responsible for much of the low-level drug dealing in the area.
They hung around the factories, selling to the underclasses. He had never
encountered them face-to-face before. He handed over his watch, not even caring
about it. “There’s been an attack,” he said. “I’m just trying to get out of the
city.”

“Good idea, man. You can leave, just not with your
wallet.”

“You are seriously robbing me?”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like we all need to flee the city and
instead you are wasting time trying to take what little I have.”

The lead thug pulled a knife out of his waistband
and thrust it under Monty’s chin. “One more word, fucker. Your wallet or you
die.”

Monty sighed. He was not carrying much more than two
thousand rupees, so he wasn’t going to risk his life for it. He reached into
his pocket and took out his wallet.

He was just about to hand it over when something
leapt out from a gap between a textiles warehouse and a storage unit.

“What the fuck is that?” one of the thugs shouted.

Monty’s jaw fell open. His hand froze in mid air,
still clutching his wallet, but nobody was interested in his money any more.
There was a monster coming towards them.

The creature was hunched over like an ape, but had
long talons like an eagle. There was no doubting its ferocity, as it sliced
open a textile worker as she tried to get out of its way.

“It came out the gate,” Monty shouted. “I told you
the city was under attack. We need to flee.”

The leader of the gang looked at him. “Yeah, you
warned us. We need to get out of here”

Monty nodded. “Yes.”

“Buy us a head start, will you?”

Monty was confused, but before he asked a
question, he felt a sharp agony in his stomach. He looked down and saw that the
thug had buried his knife up to the handle in his guts.

The thugs took off while Monty fell into the road,
clutching his stomach and trying to take a breath through the burning agony in
his torso. The blood covered his hands in seconds, and his legs shook as if
they were hollow.

The creature saw Monty lying on the ground and
seemed to smile. He crouched down and came towards him slowly, as if it were
enjoying the sight of his fear and suffering.

“P-please?” said Monty, but he knew it would do no
good. He hoped this monster would never meet Saira and their unborn child, but
he knew it was going to have him for sure. If there were any justice it would
catch up to those thugs who stabbed him as well. They deserved the worst kind
of hell for what they had done.

As Monty bled on the ground, he noticed something
at the end of the road. It was the skinny, brown cow, strolling along without a
care in the world.

Monty laughed.

“Clark, I’m going out of my
mind. I can’t leave here. What if they call? We need to stay by the phone.”

“Nancy, we have to get out of here. They’re
evacuating the entire area. Brunswick is gone. We’re going to be next.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Nancy, there is an army of monsters coming this
way. I understand you want to wait and speak to Kyle and Alice, but you won’t
be able to if you’re dead. We have to head for the evacuation centres. They say
the south coast is safer.”

Nancy put her face in her hands and tried not to
cry. Everything that Clark was saying was true, but she felt wrong in leaving.
Guy had told her to stay put, but that was when he had thought it was safe.
With Brunswick in flames, Durham would be next. Most of the neighbours had
already packed up their things and left. The Goldmans next door had piled half
their belongings onto the roof rack of their Escalade before speeding off down
the street.

“Clark, do you think they’re okay? They’re all on
their own in a foreign country.”

“It’s England, not Cambodia. They will be fine.
They’re with the Army.”

“Who have stopped responding to my calls.”

“I’m sure they’re busy,” Clark snapped. “They have
a country to defend.”

“Okay.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m just worried
about us. Soon as we get somewhere safe I will dedicate myself to getting a
hold of the kids. For now, you need to think about your own safety.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” She looked at
the phone. It seemed to mock her by not ringing. “Damn it. Okay, let’s go.”

Clark looked relieved. “I’ve already packed the
car up. Grab whatever you need, because we might not be back for a while.”

Nancy raced into the study. On the desk were several
pictures. She had photographs of Alice and Kyle in her wallet, but wherever
they ended up staying tonight would feel more like home with a picture in a
frame. She looked at the various snapshots and tried to find the one she liked
best. The one that leapt out at her was the one of her, Guy, and the kids at
Busch Gardens in Tampa. It had been one of the best days ever, back before Guy
had become captain of his own ship. After that he never seemed to be around
very often anymore. She knew that Clark had never liked the photograph of them
all, but she was actually
with
Clark, so it only felt right to have a
picture of all the other people in her life she cared about, but were not here.
She grabbed the frame and put it into her handbag, stuffing it down so that it
wouldn’t fall out. Then she closed her eyes and prayed that there would be
chance to take new pictures one day.

She had no idea what was happening in the world,
but it was horrifying. Being evacuated from her own home… A bad sign.

“You ready?” Clark came up behind her. “I want to
be on the highway in five minutes. Traffic is going to pen us in, so we need to
get moving. We have no idea what’s coming this way.”

A deep rumbling shook the house.

“God, what is that, Clark?”

“Grab your things.”

They hurried out to the carport and were struck
dumb by what they saw. An endless convoy of army vehicles trundled down the
quiet residential street as if it were the centre of Baghdad circa 2003.
Massive trucks rolled along behind monolithic tanks, and columns of weary
soldiers marched along the side of the road trying to keep up. Their uniforms
were dirty and many were bloody. Some men carried along their injured comrades,
and one in two sported a bandage or stitches of their own. One of the tanks had
a bent cannon.

“It looks like they got a dustin’,” said Clark.

“I think it was worse than that.”

“Still want to stay here?” he asked her.

“No, I’ve changed my mind. Get me out of here.”

Nancy slid into the passenger seat while Clark
took the wheel. They had to wait for some time for the army to pass through,
but by the time it was gone, she was once again dreading what had happened to
Kyle and Alice. If the US Army—the greatest fighting force in the world—had
been bested so soundly, then what hope did England have? Clark had told her
that their forces were equally as well trained as theirs, but still… Britain
was no USA when it came to modern warfare. Or was she just being ignorantly
patriotic? She hoped so.

Once the army had gone, the street was haunted by
their memory. Lawns were torn up and muddy, oil slicks covered the road, and
the houses all lay empty. It felt to Nancy like they were the last people on
earth. Somewhere down the end of the road, something would be coming their
way—an army of monsters stripping the land of humanity like a swarm of
bloodthirsty locusts. She and Clark would run for now, but eventually there
would be nowhere to go.

She had to find her kids. Alice and Kyle needed
her.

And if she couldn’t get to them, she just hoped that
Guy could. She’d never needed her ex-husband as much as she did now.