I let out a long depressed whistle when I heard what Miss Perkins had to say. It was an argument that always annoyed me, and made my blood boil beneath my skin in a flush of barely contained rage. “Well, as you aren’t a mother,” she told me, “you wouldn’t know what it was like to make a decision would you?”

                Oh no! As a General Practitioner, with twenty years medical experience I would not have the first clue on basic medical issues. Where as she, on the other hand, as a woman who fell pregnant at the age of twenty three because “she didn’t need a condom because it was the wrong stage of her cycle” is of course an expert at human biology. I bit bake the bile soaked words I wanted to scream at her and instead said:

                “On the contrary, I fully understand your fears. But I’m afraid that the immunisation of your child is not something you should treat lightly, and is not something you should make a decision on because of a half remembered headline. If you want to make an informed decision then I can get you all the materials published on the subject, the report that suggested the MMR jab had a link to Autism, and the three papers that have proven that idea wrong. I will even sit here and explain why many critics feel that the original study used ethically dubious methods to obtain information. I’m afraid I personally don’t know if those claims are substantiated yet though, as the case is still being investigated by the-“

“No.” Miss Perkins said firmly. “I wont risk my kid having autism, I want the single jabs. Would you squirt liquid Autism into your kids veins? I think bloody not!” The arrogance astounded me. I could understand not wanting to take risks with her child, but refusing to make an informed decision was plain ignorant. She had spent the first fifteen minutes of her appointment thinking that the MMR vaccine inoculated her child from a disease called “Emma Are” (named after the biologist who discovered it no doubt), and telling me “The single jab is more likely to give you diseases than cure anything!” I had patiently sat through a well rehearsed discussion that I gave a lot of mothers: That even if the claims against MMR had been true the child was put at a much higher risk of catching Mumps Measles or Rubella with out the jab, than they were of developing autism with the jab. I had explained what the Autism theory was, how the link had been made, what studies had disproved it, and how vaccines in general had worked. I had placed a pile of leaflets and photocopied documents in front of her, for her benefit, and happily reassured her that Herd Immunity was nothing to do with Vets. She had told me I was wrong. Again. It was not just me. Miss Perkins was not a typical patient, far from it, she was a member of a very vocal minority: The ones who are always right. They come in all shapes, all sizes, all genders creeds and colours, but they are all united by one feature: They are absolutely sure of their own opinion, and wont let little things like facts get in the way.

                I know them well, I am one of them myself. The difference being that I am fairly sure I actually am right, most of the time.

“If you read the literature and still want to go with single vaccines for Mumps, Measles and Rubella, then I will put you in contact with a Private clinic. It will cost you though.”

“Why can’t you do it on the NHS?” She thundered, obviously well aware of the cost of a private clinic, and worriedly comparing it in her head to what she could afford.

“The single vaccines aren’t licensed.” I said. “And they aren’t available in vast quantities.”

“So you wont help me.” She sneered.

“If you feel that single jabs are the way to go, I will put you in touch with a clinic. I would advise against it, but I would rather your child had some form of immunisation than none. And the single jab is always available here, if you change your mind.”

“Well, fine. Contact a bloody clinic for me then. I will have to go and explain to my kids why we can’t afford a Christmas this year.”

                She sulked all the way to the door, then turned to give me a choice expletive as she left. Thirty seven seconds after my door slammed shut, it opened again, and Miss Perkins shoved her head back through. I handed her the business card for the private clinic that she had not taken when she stormed away. She blushed, scraped her feet, and sulked away again.

                As soon as the door was shut once more I made the hand gestures I had been bottling up for the best part of an hour, and made  a mental note that I was clearly the better man for actually helping such an obnoxious person and not writing the prescription for the long jump off a sky scraper that she clearly deserved.

                I sat back in my chair, put my feet on my desk and closed my eyes. I took a deep breathe and longed to sleep. Instead I scribbled notes for Miss Perkins file, then pushed a button on the intercom and asked the receptionist to send the next patient through.

                There was no response. I tried again. Once again I was left waiting in silence. I skipped to my feet and crossed my office to the door. I closed a hand on the cold steel handle and pulled the thick fire door open, and poked my head out into the waiting room.

                Miss Perkins was stood eight or ten feet away from the door, her entire body shaking as she rocked back and forth on her heels, sobbing, a pool of fresh urine spilling out by her feet. Both hands were held up to her mouth in anguish. I stepped out into the waiting room. There was something wrong. The air tasted of sweet decay and rot, instead of bleach, mouth wash, perfume and magazines. The air was chilled, and the light was... Well, there was considerably less light than there should have been. The electric lights were flickering, and the light from the windows was milky and clouded.

                There were dead bodies too. Though it took me a while to recognise them. There was Dr Li, and Nurse Williams, both of whom were scattered on the floor where they had obviously fallen. Mr Wick, who was supposed to have been here for a blood cholesterol check was slumped back in his chair, his head rolled back and his mouth open, his eyes staring at the ceiling seeing nothing. Mrs Bentley was going to renew her prescription was slumped back in another chair, and out of date magazine about soap stars, sex and “real life stories of shock!” dropped on her lap, her talon like hands spread out from hr, and her head rolled forwards at an unnatural angle. Two patients I didn’t recognise, the receptionist, and the annoying kid who always came in to swear at us after school were all dead.

“What happened?” I asked Perkins.

“They died.” She whispered.

“They died? How? What happened?”

“The sky went red and they died. I don’t know what it was do I? You’re the doctor!” She turned to scream at me. “What did you do? Was it the vaccination?”

“I don’t think so.” I tried to reassure her. “I’ll call an ambulance, get them to the main hospital. We can’t care for them in a health centre. I’ll call one for you too. You’re in shock.”

“No I’m not!” She snapped. I pointed at her feet. She looked down at her puddle and said a quiet, “oh.” I took her back into my office and made her a cup of tea. I didn’t rush to help the others, they were a little beyond help, but I still dialled 999 for help. There was no answer. The phone rang endlessly. I tried on all three of the phones in reception, on each of our lines. I got no reply. I rushed out of reception to the street.

                The sky had indeed turned red. A terrible blood red, with churning black clouds and a swollen orange sun, much larger in the sky than I remembered. The world was thick with shadows, emphasising every contrast and crack, every dimple and dust on the earth. The air was still, with no breeze to feel, but cold, as though a sharp frost had settled. The air had a bitter taste to it, somewhere between vinegar and a sharp wine. Here too the world was full of dead bodies. Cars had stopped dead in the road, instead of lurching to a stop was they swerved out of control their engines had stopped and their wheels forgotten how to turn. Birds littered the floor where they had simply stopped flying. I began to wonder if aeroplanes and helicopters had done the same.

                The people had fallen where ever they had been sitting, walking, standing, shopping, nagging, drinking, dancing, or living. There were no signs of panic, struggle or a slow death. It looked as though their hearts, their lungs, their brains and their bodies had just shuddered to a stop. As though some one some where had thrown a big switch, and all the little souls in the world had blinked off. All except mine and Miss Perkins. Which, in the odd way that the human mind adapts to situations it simply can not comprehend or handle, seemed a much more worrying prospect. The part of my mind with all the safety valves of the human mind that kept us sane was keeping the fact that every body in town seemed to have died as an abstract mystery to be solved. Something I could worry about later just as soon my veins stopped pumping pure adrenaline and the facts of the situation started to settle in. For now my priorities were survival. And I was grudgingly admitting that did not just mean my own.

                I ran down the street, then to the town centre, then back again by a different route. All along the roads the only people I met were corpses. I hustled my way back into the health centre and found Perkins. She had finished her tea and was occupying herself by being nosey through my knick knacks and mementos, her eyes still glazed and her mind still restless.

“Are you ready for a long walk?” I asked.

“What?” She demanded.

“We can’t stay here. Every one is dead. I don’t think it is safe.”

“So go outside and find some one!” She suggested as though were a cretin or a  child. “It’s not that difficult is it Einstein?”

“That’s what I just did. And everybody is dead.”

“Did you try the police station?” She asked.

“Dead.”

“The Council?”

“Dead.”

“What about the guys in the shop over the road?”

“Dead.”

“What do you mean dead?” She asked, suddenly more worried than before.

                I walked over to Doctor Li, I threw my hands out like a showman. “Ta Da!” I shouted. “See? Dead! Deceased! Shuffled from the mortal coil! No longer in the living. Unlikely to get up and dance. Worm Food. Mortis. Gone the way of flared of trousers and jeans with creases ironed in them. Departed. Gone. Pushing up daisies. Dead!”

“Oh.” Perkins said once more. “Every one?”

“Every one I say. We have to go now. We have to get to the County Hospital.” I tried to smile reassuringly. “If there are other survivors that is where they will head. And if this can be treated they will have more supplies.”

“You think we might die?” Perkins asked worriedly.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “But I’m not waiting here to find out.” I took her by the arm and dragged her to the entrance. “The roads are blocked by cars, so I can’t drive us there, but we should be ok walking.”

                Two painful hours later Miss Perkins gave me her first theory. We were walking down the side of the A road, the duel carriageway, because I theorised, if this disaster was some form of area effect, and we met other survivors we more likely to do so on the main road than by cutting across country on foot paths and bridleways. It was a guess, that was educated entirely by John Wyndham  novels and old disaster movies. It was eleven miles to the nearest city, where the County Hospital sat, and we were making slow progress avoiding the corpses that littered the streets. At least there were fewer dead things in the hard shoulder of a duel carriageway.

“Maybe it’s the Reckoning.” Perkins declared loudly. “Or is it the Respite, or the Revolver, or what ever.”

“The what?” I asked.

“You know. All the good Christians go up to heaven, the devil walks the earth and stuff. One of my mates saw a tv show on it, based on a proper book. It said that the UN was being run by the devil, and was putting microchips in your ear that read barcodes and altered the stock market, then they would start a war with people in the middle east about god, and any one who wasn’t a true believer wouldn’t be taken away to heaven.”Her words almost collided with each other as they spilt from her lips. “Or something.”

“And that makes us what? The only two who didn’t believe in God?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. But perhaps we weren’t good enough people for it. My mate, who saw the film, he was a big time Christian. Had a sticker in his car that said the vehicle would be unoccupied when God came to collect us all.”

“Yeah.” I agreed. “With a humble soul like that he’s a sure fire way in. Besides, what have I ever done that was bad enough to make me one of the last few left behind?”

“I dunno. You aren’t a rapist are you? Or a murderer? Bet you are a thief!”

“No!” I shouted angrily. “Of course I’m not!”

“Bet you are! Keep away from me!” Perkins knelt down and grabbed a stone. “You keep away from me until I know what you have done!”

“Fine!” I laughed, and walked ahead with out her. “But if your theory is right I want to know what you did!”

“What do you mean?” She demanded.”You saying I’m a bad person?”

“Only other person left behind.” I called back.

“Ok.” She admitted. “Maybe it wasn’t that.”

                Another five minutes, that seemed like an ice age.

“Zombies!” Perkins declared. “Bet it was Zombies.”

“Well, glad to see you chose the likely causes before you delved into the realms of fantasy.” I sighed.

“What does that mean?” Perkins asked. “Have you got a better idea?”

“A virus, a bomb, some kind of radiation, a sonic effect, maybe an air born toxin, maybe something to do with why the sky changed and the sun looks different.” A little bit of the haze of shock dropped away from my mind, and some of the cogs started turning normally again. “In fact it would be a bloody huge coincidence if it wasn’t connected to the sun and the sky. You said the sun turned red at the exact time people died.”

“Yeah.” Perkins agreed. “And I think we would have seen Zombies.” She gave a giggle, and I could see some of the shock wearing away from her too. Her foot steps became more casual, as though she wasn’t having to concentrate on getting them right any more. Maybe... maybe it wasn’t shock. Maybe our minds were being fogged by something else as well.

“And why did the cars just stop? Just freeze on the spot. Did every one who was driving apply their breaks and park the cars at the same time? And no one crashed?”

“I don’t know.” Perkins admitted. But she was thinking about it. She was thinking seriously. “What could do that? Can’t nuclear bombs do that? Like a big pulse.”

“Electromagnetic pulses. Screw up electronics, but what about mechanical devices. And again, the cars momentum should have carried them on. This is weird, like...”

“Like magic. Or aliens. Or... I dunno, god...” Perkins finished for me. “We have to turn back.” She declared. “We have to find my son. He was with his nanna. We have to know if they are ok.”

“We find help first.” I told her. “Then we send a rescue party for them.”

“Why?” Perkins demanded turning back around. “Why do I listen to you?”

“Because if he is hurt, we need some one there with paramedics equipment to help him.” I replied, bluntly. “Otherwise, what can we do?” It isn’t much of an answer, but it sounded right at the time, to me at least. There was another reason: I had a horrible feeling that if I did not get as far away from the town as possible I too would soon be dead. Perkins did not listen, she turned and ran away from me, as fast as she could. Retracing her steps back into town.

                I carried on towards Canterbury, following the hard shoulder of the carriageway as best I could. Now and again I got the compulsion to look in the cars, peering through the windscreens for survivors. I found none. I kept walking and walking, until my feet ached and my stomach hurt and my legs were sore. When I reached a service station I helped myself to food and drinks from the shop, and rested before moving on.

                At last I could walk no more, so I made myself as comfortable as I could to rest for a while. I kept expecting to see or hear Perkins racing to catch up with me, but there was no sign. I had another drink, and sat on the crash barrier and watched the sun sunk bellow the horizon. At least, I told myself, the night sky would be familiar, I was confident I could remember enough of my childhood hobbies to recognise the big dipper, the north star and a handful of other constellations. Even the Moon, which by a fluke of rotational speed always showed the same face to Earth at night, would be a small comfort.

                But the face of the moon I saw was a stranger. The constellations were alien and lost me.  I could not pick out a single line of stars I recognised, instead seeing only random pinpricks of light. There was no explanation I could find which felt the least bit rational.

                I awoke with out realising I had fallen asleep. A distant howling noise called out against the violet night sky. It was high pitched and metallic, like a buzz saw touching stone. The ground too began to shake and the trees on the embankment lurched and swayed with the movement. Something big and heavy was moving on the other side of the hill. I pressed myself back into the shadows, a sudden horror holding me. At the brow of the hill above me something moved with lumbering footfalls, something larger than a house, roughly human shaped, but with a vague and oily shape, a loose mess of tentacles and leathery hide.

                I held my breath and willed my heart to stop, but at last the creature moved on. Walking away from me. It was only then, as it stood framed by the moon I saw what it carried on its back. A cage, of ornate green metal, almost like my scary aunts parakeets cage, but built to an immense size. Sitting with in, were six cold and frail figures, sickened by fear and the movement of the cage. One of them was banging on the bars, complaining in a loud voice.

                Perkins. Bugger it. I climbed to my feet, and quickly as I could started to follow the creature. Realising I could not keep up on foot, I was lucky enough to stumble upon a car that had been towing a trailer, and the trailer had been carrying mountain bikes. I stole a bike, and despite my aching body, I rode onwards after the monster that now dominated the horizon.

                I carried on riding past Canterbury, past the villages and traffic lights, for hour after hour, past dawn, and into the new morning, on to Dover, then, down the winding road to the coast. I had no idea how I intended to fight, how I intended to save Perkins or the others. But I rode anyway. At last in Dover I had a respite, as I headed down hill, gravity could pedal for me. From the top of the hill I could see the monster, stood by the sea wall. The cage propped on the harbour wall, while the monster called out to the tides and mists in it’s metallic shrill again. In the distance, carried on the wind was another call, a bellowing reply like caged thunder.

                Another giant footfall shook the earth, and my bike bounced, sending me flying. I met the road in a trail of gravel, cuts and pain. I lay there, my arms and head buzzing with pain, as another of the giant creatures approached me from the direction of Deal. It had seen me. It could hardly of avoided me, and a hand, more like a mass of tendrils than fingers gripped me, binding my hands and wrists and legs and throat. My lungs were filled with the smells of flesh and a bitter chemical taste that was akin to ammonia, and the warm, leathery skin of the tendrils raked my own. It lifted me up, until I was opposite a giant black, squinting eye, that studied me for a few seconds, before tossing me to one side, letting me collide with fir trees before hitting the floor. That giant strode on to join his fellow in the sea. He too carried a cage, this time a domed affair, that also held screaming and sobbing people with in. One held out a hand towards me, begging for me to save them. But I could feel the damage the fall had done to my body and I could barely move.

                I clawed my way back to the road, so I could at least look down to the sea. I could see the two monsters in the waves, now lifting their cages back onto their shoulders.  I squinted, and craned my head. Further around the coast I could just about make out another pair, walking into the sea. And more, if I squinted hard enough, on the opposite side of the sea. Black splotches on the shimmering distant French coast. All of them giving their calls and marching into the sea. Soon they were lost.

                The sun seemed to flare, and burnt my eyes, I screamed until my throat was raw, then opened my eyes. When the splotches of light cleared, and the spots disappeared I could see a blue sky. A glorious blue sky. I could also hear traffic, and shouting, and the wonderful thrumming ignorance of humanity. I clawed my way to my feet. The world was alive. Alive and moving and perfectly normal. Almost as though nothing had happened.

                I rang my practice and told them where I was, grateful beyond belief to hear that the receptionist was her old battle axe self, and that yes, she could send the nurse round to fetch me in the On-Call car. She didn’t believe where I was t first. “At the coast? But you were here five minutes ago... I think... Did I doze off?” Her confusion was matched by the motorists around me, who kept wondering why they had to restart their cars, why their limbs were sore and the muscles tight, and their clocks so far wrong. Their lack of memories and confusion was a blessing.

                Six days later I admitted myself to a hospital of a very special kind. The kind with nice padded walls and very polite nurses. The kind where I could sit in a corner and try to convince myself that what I had seen, what had left me battered and bruised, was some kind of delusion. I feel that should I ever manage to convince myself of that, I might find the world a much easier place to understand.