Rewired: Project Insula

Chapter 18

Meera woke with an agonising pain in her neck. The back seats of the unmarked police car were spacious enough but were not designed for sleeping in mind.

She turned her aching neck to the side and looked at her watch. 26th February/9:02am, it read.

Matt was nowhere to be seen, she remembered making the incredibly dangerous decision of allowing him to drive. She found it duly justified when he said that if he felt unable to continue, he would pull over.

It seems he was true to his word as the car was stopped next to a river, in what seemed like the middle of nowhere.

She slowly unstuck her face from the leather seat and began to push herself up. Her now dirty and ragged vest had risen to her chest, meaning her stomach had to be prized from the seat like Velcro too. She groggily looked out the window to find that they were parked off road, in what seemed like a park or a quay.

She sat upright in the backseat and rubbed her sore neck, before letting out a sigh.

An empty feeling of dread entered Meera's stomach as she began to recount the events from the past few days. She was unsure if life was to ever return to normal and sitting in a police car, parked on a grass field, she did not think it would.

Meera felt clumsily for the door handle on her left, her tired fingers searching for the metal latch. When she came across it, she pulled on it and opened the door. The cold air caused prickly goose bumps to simultaneously appear across her bare arms; the sun shone bright into her eyes, no longer filtered by the tinted back windows.

She could see in the distance a small café, but it was too far to see any movement come from within. She stood up, rubbed her eyes and began heading over there.

…

The “old fisherman's café” stood around 40 feet away now.

She could see through the window that it had just opened for breakfast, the first couple of customers lining up at the till. Maybe life would be returning to normal.

She walked in through the old front door, smelling the sweet essence of sausages and bacon. The café was set out very simply, the left-hand side was full of four seater tables, covered with plastic looking tablecloths, designed with boats and seagulls. A lone man sat in the corner, his back facing Meera, a television mounted on the wall to the right.

On the right-hand side was a diner styled bar, showing off beautiful cakes and pastries. There was a man making drinks and taking orders from an elderly gentleman, stood with his dog.

As the man finished up and went to sit down, Meera approached the order point.

The man looked her up and down and stepped back slightly. Her hair was matted on top of her head, her make up was smudged around her eyes and worst of all; her vest was torn slightly and covered in PC Bailey's dried blood.

“You alright love?” The man said, looking worried.

Meera looked behind him at the dripping tap, thudding into the metal basin slowly.

“w-water” She said quietly, before clearing her throat.

“I need water”. She reiterated.

“Sure” He said, slightly uneasy.

He turned to fill up a glass with the tap water and Meera looked around uncomfortably.

“There you are” He said, handing her the water, still slightly unsure that was happening.

Meera took the drink and sipped it. The cold fluid went down harshly, causing her to splutter slightly.

“How is everything?” She asked, expecting the man to understand.

“Quiet at the moment!” He said chirpily.

Meera nodded and sipped the water some more.

“Don't mean to seem rude love, but you look awful.” He said, showing his concern with a worried expression.

“I… I'm okay.” She said.

“Where am I?” She continued.

The man shot another concerned face her way, this time putting both hands on the counter in front of him.

“You don't know where you are?” He asked.

“No, I fell asleep in the car... I wasn't driving... I woke up here – well just down there.” She said, rambling slightly.

“Do you need me to call anyone…?” He asked, leaving a pause for her to tell him her name.

“I'm Meera and no, I am okay.” She said, rubbing her head.

“What's your story then Meera?” He asked, bending down to grab something.

“I came here from London last night.” She replied as the man continued to search for something.

The man shot back up into shot, this time holding a drink in his hand.

“London ey? Weren't near any of that nasty terrorist stuff, were you?” He asked, piecing together her appearance.

Meera stood silent for a second, digesting what the man said. It was contained in London?

“Sorry, I can't remember if you said... Where am I?” She asked again.

“This is Westerham. If London is home, then you aren't too far.” He said.

He then raised his drink to take a sip, VITA energy plastered along the can.

“No..” She said quietly.

That was the drink that PC Bailey had drunk just before he went crazy; it was also the drink that had been empty in Matt's apartment, where his wife had gone missing; and his baby killed.

“Don't drink that” She said, getting louder.

“Why not?” He replied.

“It's full of vitamins, and it gives you so much energy.”

He leaned closer to Meera.

“This is my third one this morning!” He said, leaning back with a smile.

Meera ignored the mans words and began frantically looking around. The man sat on his own in the corner was also drinking one.

“And you feel okay?” She asked.

“Better than okay!” He replied cheerily.

“Haven't felt any different?”

“Well no not particularly” He replied.

“Are you a Doctor or Police Officer or something?” He continued jokingly, letting off a belly laugh in the process.

“No...” She replied.

“Well actually yes, I am a detective for the Met Police.” She corrected herself.

The man straightened his posture slightly and put the can of drink down. He swallowed slightly as his face filled with remorse.

“That explains the get up.” He said.

“I'm sorry to hear what happened over there.” He continued.

She waved his apologies away.

“It's been a very surreal and hard few days” She said.

“Up til now, I thought it was all to do with that drink you have.” She continued, nodding at his drink.

“This?” He said, dubiously looking at the drink.

“Really?”

Meera nodded.

“But you aren't trying to rip my head off, so that's something.” She said.

“We got it in today, the first shipment is free, so I thought why not?” He said.

“If you want me to answer any questions for you, I'd be more than happy too.” He said.

She shook her head.

“No, it's fine.”

The breaking news tone began to play throughout the café as the television in the corner lit up.

“The death toll for last night's attack in London has risen to 42. With over 20 people missing and 54 suffering injuries.”

The breaking news graphic turned to a lady presenter.

“In the late hours of last night, London was rocked too its core, when an improvised device was set off outside of a barbershop in Camden, killing 9 people and injuring 24. Remaining casualties occurred when 13 assailants ran riot throughout the night, killing a further 33 people and injuring 30.”

Tears began to trickle down Meera's cheeks as she began to relive the events from just hours ago.

“Police have advised anybody near the site, to stay indoors and to stay vigilant. Military and armed police forces are currently sweeping the site, in hopes of eliminating all threats.”

“It's a real f****d up world now” The man behind the counter said, also watching the report.

Meera nodded.

“All of these bloody terrorists.” He said passionately, shaking his head.

Meera shook her head slightly.

“I don't know…” She said.

“Well surely its just some drug that makes people go crazy and kill people! It was only a matter of time before terrorist groups started using them for their own objectives. Just like those bath salts that were around back in the 2010s, you might be too young to remember, mind.”

Meera had to refrain from getting emotional about the situation. She knew so much about it all and she could tell this man everything, but what good would it do. She had already got the source of the problem wrong and she wasn't looking to start fear mongering, just because she got caught up in it all.

“…The missing people tally is up to 20 now, including Barrier detective – Daniel Green and Super Intendent George Triller of the Met Police. For full details on missing persons, please follow this link on your glasses, or alternatively go to missingpersons.police.uk/LA2032, to see the full list of names and to contact us with new information.”

Daniel and George were missing?

“Thanks for the water. I need to go.”

“Not a problem Meera, best of luck with all this.” He replied.

The journey back to the car was much quicker this time, now given the new sense of urgency to her task. She hadn't had time to think about Daniel and George, she was so lost in her own mind and the happenings around her, that she had found it difficult to think rationally about anything. The conversation in the café was the first time she had felt normal since the explosion, and even then, she could barely string a sentence together and was wearing dubiously stained clothes.

She had spent the last few hours with Matt, fully expecting the end of days to be upon them when they woke up. Now she had spent a morning in a very ordinary café and realised that maybe that wasn't quite what was happening, she felt worse than ever.

She wondered what Matt would do now after losing his family; regular day to day life was no place for someone suffering with that amount of loss.

…

Aside from when she had to drive PC Bailey's car down the highstreet, covered in his blood and in shock from taking a life; Meera had only driven once before.

She had been visiting her Grandma's house when she was 12, in India. Her father let her sit on his lap and drive the car by steering the wheel. She was much prouder that day, than she was last night, when she had to sit on the lifeless lap of PC Bailey, steering the wheel and pushing the accelerator using his foot.

It was easier to get to terms with the car now, without the corpse of a man in the driving seat.

…

After about five minutes of figuring out how to stop the car from rolling backwards, Meera got out of the car and looked up into the trees.

She looked up at the lifeless swinging body of the man she had met just hours ago. He had made a makeshift noose out of his shirt and trousers, spit still dripped into the river below him every now and then.

About forty-five minutes she stood there for, just waiting, waiting to feel something; wanting to feel something. She couldn't, she just couldn't find it in her anymore to mourn the passing of another person. That emotion had been fully exhausted, for now it seemed anyway.

She turned back to the car and got in, not looking back once. The closest people she had to her right now were either in India or missing; the latter just a cars journey away.