Capital Falling | Book 4 | Sever Winkless, Lance (most popular ebook readers TXT) 📖

“Yes, thanks. Well done back there, you did well,” I tell Josh.

“Oh, it was nothing,” he replies smiling.

“No, credit, where credit’s due.”

“Your dad’s right, Josh,” Alice agrees.

“Thanks, but we’ve still got a long way to go.” Josh points out.

“Very true,” I agree, telling myself that, I’d better up my game, at the same time.

We pass the newly built, cube-shaped American Embassy and the sights of London become more and more familiar as we travel farther down the Thames. We see ominous-looking figures moving on the north riverbank. Some of the creatures take a passing interest in our small boat but most just seem to stumble around aimlessly. I am not fooled by the subdued creatures, who only need a whiff of human flesh to re-energise. I keep my concentration focused, however, ignoring the sights on the riverbank, not wanting to be caught wanting in my performance again.

The next bridge comes upon us quickly, as Alice takes us around yet another bend in the river, another low bridge, which is all we can expect from here on out.

“God, I don’t like the look of this one,” Josh says, referring to the appearance of the bridge, rather than anything else. Mounted on the red and yellow painted sides of the bridge, statues of people hang, who they are meant to portray, we have no idea. The haunting stone figures give us the chills, whoever they are, and the smoke in the air does little to dispel that feeling as we close in on the bridge.

“It’s Vauxhall Bridge,” I inform Josh, just as a figure dashes across the bridge from left to right.

Looking like it is getting into position to launch itself at us when the boat draws near, the creature stops right above our path. The figure at least shows us that the side barriers next to the roadway are low, giving us good visibility onto the bridge. Both Josh and I have the figure in our sights when a shot rings out from the right side of the bridge, taking us both by surprise.

“A sniper shot,” I announce as the threatening figure drops backwards and out of our sight.

“Yes, it looks like the army has this bridge covered, let’s hope it isn’t the only one they have covered,” Josh replies.

“Hopefully, I would have thought they would all be covered. Perhaps somebody was sleeping on the job at the last one?” I question.

“Just our luck,” Alice says.

I don’t allow myself to get distracted as we motor under the bridge and out of the other side, without further incident. I don’t even afford the statues that peer down at us a second look.

A smoke haze begins to hang heavily over the water on the other side of Vauxhall Bridge. London is certainly still smouldering, at least, after the heavy rainfall the city has had since large parts of it went up in flames.

I resist rubbing my eyes as the smoke is beginning to sting, knowing it will only make the irritation worse. Instead, I look ahead to our next challenge, Lambeth Bridge, another road bridge and one that will cross us into Westminster. The bridge has wrought iron panels next to the roadway, which again affords us a decent view, and it looks clear.

“This is going to be tough to see, I should think,” I say as we come out of the other side of the bridge.

“What do you mean?” Josh asks.

“That,” I say pointing through the dense smoke that is getting trickier to see through.

“Oh God, yes,” Josh coughs after a moment of staring.

We are fast approaching the Houses of Parliament, on the left side of the Thames and the source of much of the smoke that is irritating our eyes and clogging our lungs. The Palace of Westminster has been burning for days, unchecked, save for the rain that dampened its flames for a while. Thick, acrid smoke is still billowing from different sections of the long old building, built along the riverbank, and the fire has done horrific damage to the already delicate structure. A large section of the ornate side of the building has crumbled and fallen into the river, the resulting hole leaving the building's innards exposed showing no window that hasn’t cracked and disintegrated from the intense heat.

We gawp at the damaged building, that was until very recently the seat of government, in silenced astonishment. Through the collapsed side, we can see into its obliterated interior to some extent, through the thick smoke. The view is only made possible by the disappeared roof of the building, allowing extra light in. All we see inside is non-descript black charred remains and rubble, the inferno has destroyed everything.

“Fucking hell, where’s Big Ben!” Alice says in disbelief from behind me.

I was so shocked by the damage to the building I hadn’t even considered Big Ben and my eyes dart to find the massive clock tower. It has vanished, there is nothing but sky and smoke where it once stood tall. The shocking loss churns my stomach. I look again, craning my neck, it can’t have disappeared into thin air and then I see, as the boat moves along, the mighty clock tower has toppled over and is now a pile of rubble, heaped across the adjacent road to it and the bridge we are about to float under.

There is no time to mourn the loss of the iconic landmark, however, my rifle quickly reverts to scanning Westminster Bridge as we approach it, as does Josh’s. Any hope that Big Ben’s rubble will have blocked any access to the bridge disappears, Rabids scramble over the rubble and onto the bridge towards us.

I quickly open fire, aiming for anything that moves and Josh’s rifle erupts almost in unison to mine. We fire at multiple targets, as creatures scurry and crawl over the rubble and burst onto the bridge. Desperately, I take aim and shoot, trying to hold back the wave of Rabids before they can get into position on top of