The closer we got to the city center, the slower we moved. With the city literally isolated over the last month, there was little traffic, but even then, we encountered multiple car wrecks that have been deformed in an unpleasantly deliberate ways. Sharp stone shards and bone splinters were stuck in sheet metal, the doors were forced open and although we saw no bodies, spurts of blood on the pavement did not promise anything good for these people. From the side streets, we continued to hear the screaming. The others felt uneasy, obviously feeling inadequate due to their inability to help. I, however, could sense some of what was happening at the very edge of my perception range, and could only stay silent. Almost every scream marked another disappearance of a human I could feel. At least, that was quick. And there were more beings hidden around us, behind the broken-in windows, on top of the roofs, between the overturned dumpsters. Luckily for us, these seemed to be unorganized, and scared to attack us directly.
Occasionally, there were round stone pebbles and something that looked like cold weapons carefully manufactured using flint, glass, wood, bone and dark metals. Some pieces resembled chitin or crustacean carapaces, although these pieces were notably larger and thicker than the ones I was used to seeing in seafood buffets. Such finds were usually accompanied by puddles of multiple colours, which I logically concluded to be the blood of different supernatural creatures. The dull glints in chipped cement and asphalt around showed that Edinburgh still had people who did not freeze in the face of the sudden attack, and at the very least had no issues multitasking pulling the trigger while soiling their undergarments.
---
“Stop for a moment” - I felt a familiar energy on the balcony of a corner store.
I got out of the van and looked up, while the others used the opportunity to rearrange some of the supplies that had shaken loose during the drive.
After a minute, the door of the store swung open, revealing a pile of shelves that had been used as a makeshift barricade. And a bald older man with grey beard, dressed in military overalls with a rifle hanging on shoulder pivot. It was one of the Long Term Reserve men I had met on the coast where they had shot down a draugr.
He approached while keeping an eye on the sides of the street and nodded: “Old Will tried to call ya, but it didn’t get through and it seems that all wireless signals are down for good. I hope ye truly know what to make sense of this, but we got something through the wired emergency comms right after the hit.” - he shifted his backpack to open a compartment.
“Hello. I am sorry, I did not catch your name during our previous meeting.” - I greeted him.
“Name’s Peter. Corporal Peter Hogg, if that matters.” - he replied, while pulling out a small tape recorder.
“Odd, I haven’t used one of these for years, but I still remember when they were the newest tech one could get.” - he grumbled, as he passed it to me. And added: “So, after the hit, we were all gathered to check the City Chambers, offices and actual government we had left. And at that time, apparently, the comms station got an incoming looping message through an obsolete system that at most would've been used if things had gone nuclear. With the codes of Operation London Bridge, to boot. To make matters worse, we got brief comms from Leith that they are being swarmed, then nothing. And then, nasty fuckers, pardon my French, came crawling out of Water of Leith and Union Canal. ”
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“Operation London Bridge? ‘Nasty fuckers’?” - I was confused.
Peter, or rather, Peter Hogg sighed and explained: “Apparently London bridge, it is a plan to be enacted if the Queen pases away. With the actual message supposed to be ‘London Bridge is Down’. As for these creatures, you know, look like these creepy things in the video games young people play. Unhealthy skin colours, covered in muck, kill people, shout something, sometimes fight each other.” - He motioned for me to switch on the recorder.
So I did.
At first, the tape was a jumbled mess of ending of previous loop, before it restarted and a chorus of voices literally screamed from the recorder:
London Bridge is fallen down!
Fallen down, fallen down!
London Bridge is fallen down!
My grave lady
Build it up with blood and bones!
Blood and bones, blood and bones!
Build it up with blood and bones!
My grave lady
Highlighting the twisted lyrics of the iconic nursery rhyme were the voices that sung with hoarse throats, with muffled whimpering and suppressed sniffles during the brief pauses between the lines. And far in the background, possibly difficult to distinguish for normal human hearing, I could hear deep cackling laughs of those who organized that choir.
I lowered the tape recorder in my hand and looked at Peter Hogg.
He looked in my eyes and shook his head: “I was told to say that we can’t confirm the origin of the message, it was indiscriminately sent through the system, as if all switches in the comms room were switched on, in violation of all protocols. And no reply has been received to any attempt to contact the other side. Logically, it can only be one of the primary communications centers of the Ministry of Defence, most of which are in or around London.”
I shrugged: “ I can hear that there is nothing good going on this recording. And I am sure that the timing for a prank would be too bad and coincidental. I would assume that London has suffered an attack not unlike Edinburgh here. How are the military bases and stations that you have contact with?”
The old corporal thought for a moment before replying: “Yer right. But I think higher ups know better, but I’ve heard that, well, we are only in touch with nearby units. That’s why they got us old men back. To be honest, I should be with the rest of the men holding the line, but we figured that’s the case where knowledge may be the power, so I was sent to wait on the road ye took when leaving the city”
He pulled out his walkie talkie and shook it before putting it back: “Comms still dead. But so ye good people know, they were planning to set up a defence line around the Gardens, making use of the fence and space to set up the heavier guns. Old Will said that these critters we have seen for now, don’t seem to have enough juice to get into bunkers in the capital. Thames is much larger and can definitely fit more ugly monsters into the city center, but we are also closer to sea, so...”
I agreed with such analysis and added: “We encountered some stuff on the way here. The type that go bump in the night. And if the things that bled bright blue are actually fae of Winter Court, which I hope they are not, then there will be many more at night.”
Behind me, approaching Dolores added: “Same with sea creatures you mentioned, since they seem to try to stay in the fog, now they must be able to move around thanks to all the water dispersed into the air. But at night, with lower temperature, they may be coming in hordes like turtles for nesting.”
Corporal Peter Hogg nodded and motioned with his hand: “I’ll get the Jeep and show the way, if that’s alright. It got a bullbar, so ye need not worry about yer van.”