The woman beside me was screaming, her voice rising above the cries of pain and panic of the other passengers as they were pulled from the wreckage of the coach. I stared, dazed, at the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles as I tried to clear the fog from my head.

I wanted to tell the woman to quieten down, to calm down, but no words would come. One side of my face was damp and when I touched my cheek, my fingers came away bloody. It was hard to remember what had happened, the images and thoughts in my mind were all jumbled together.

“Sir?” It took me a moment before I realised that the voice was directed at me. I looked up into the warm brown eyes of a paramedic. “Sir, can you tell me your name?”

“Cal, ah… Caleb.”

The Paramedic nodded as she shined a penlight torch into my eyes. “You have a last name to go with that, Caleb?”

“Stone.”

“Okay, Caleb, we’re just going to check you over, okay?”

I just nodded as I wondered why the paramedic was ignoring the screaming woman beside me. Dark figures were moving through the gloom, the flashing lights giving them a nightmarish appearance as they approached the injured lying on the roadside.

Mean looking Alsatians were held by two of the figures and the dogs were led to each person in turn. They would sniff at the figure and huff before moving to the next. I stared dumbly at one as it approached me.

The temptation to reach out and pet the dog died as I looked up into the grim face of its handler. There was something about the way he held himself, one hand on the leash and the other on the baton holstered on his belt, as if he was ready to pull it out at a moments notice.

A huff from the dog signalled something to the handler and they moved on to the screaming woman. The dog whined, then growled, and an order was snapped by the handler. Two more uniformed men hurried over to the screaming woman.

One of them placed a canvas hood over her head, while the other bound her wrists and ankles. She didn’t stop screaming, though she didn’t struggle as they lifted her and carried her over to a waiting van.

“Hey,” The Paramedic said, drawing my attention back to her. “Don’t worry about her. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

“Yes.” Though I had questions enough of my own, something told me I wouldn’t get any answers and I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to see what the result of non-cooperation would be. “I’ll try.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “I’m Natalie, you don’t have any major injuries so I just need to ask you a few things before I can tag you for treatment.”

What that meant, I had no clue, but my head hurt and I just wanted to lie down and sleep.

“Where were you seated on the coach?”

A strange question to ask, but seeing no reason not to, I answered, “About half way, ah, on the aisle.” I thought a moment then added, “On the right hand side.”

“Good.” She made a note on a piece of paper. “Did you see what happened just before the crash?”

“Can’t this wait?”

“I’m sorry, we need to know what happened.”

It was hard to focus my thoughts and I squinted down at my lap as I struggled to sift through my jumbled memories.

“I was reading.” A book on my phone, and I had no idea where my phone was. Likely back on the coach. “Just travelling and then some woman began to scream.”

“Some woman, do you remember what she looked like?”

“No.” It was just a blur, it had happened so fast. “She just screamed and jumped out of her seat. She was hitting the guy on the other side of the aisle.”

“Okay, so she attacked him. Did she bite him?”

“No idea.” There had been blood, it had sprayed across the floor and ceiling as the rest of us watched in horror. “I think so, maybe?”

“That’s okay.” She patted my arm. “I know this is tough, can you remember what happened next?”

“Yeah, the driver turned and shouted something at her, and then she leapt at him.” Which was when the shit had truly hit the fan. Travelling down the M1 at speed, she had been throwing her arms around, pummelling him. He’d lost control and the next thing I knew the coach was on its side and people were screaming.

I pressed my fingers to my temple, rubbing it. My head hurt way too much and I was pretty sure a couple of paracetamol wouldn’t quite be enough to get rid of it.

“You’re doing great, Caleb.” She made another note on the paper. “Now, I have to ask, did anyone bite you?”

“Bite… no, why?”

Stolen novel; please report.

“It’s okay, we just have to ask.” Another note. In the distance sirens were growing louder as more help approached. “One last question, did you see any rats?”

“Rats?”

“Yes.”

“No.” A strange question to ask and at any other time I might have been more curious but not right then. Not when sat on the side of a road beside an overturned coach as the emergency services were treating people.

Not when the dead were being laid out side by side.

“Okay.” Another pat on my arm. “Just wait here, transport is on the way and we’ll get you sorted as quickly as we can.”

She pulled out a green strip of plastic which she wrapped around my left wrist. Then, with one last smile she was up and away. She walked over to a police officer and they put their heads together as she showed him the paper and spoke quickly. The police officer glanced at me once, face set, before giving a sharp nod.

As she moved away to talk to another injured person, the police officer spoke into his radio. I strained to hear but there was little chance of catching much with the sounds of the chaos around me.

Something was up though, that was clear. The strange questions, the woman being carried away, bound and hooded, and the large number of police. More than should be attending a crash.

I reached for my phone only to curse softly as I remembered I had lost it in the crash. I would have killed to be able to search the net for answers.

Instead, all I could do was sit and wait, watching the emergency services personnel as they went about their work. While I watched, two more people were hooded and carried away. Once they were placed inside the van, it was closed up and driven away, to where, I couldn’t say.

Perhaps half an hour after the paramedic had left me, another van pulled up. This one a dark blue with blacked out windows set high into the sides. It looked much like the prisoner transfer vans I’d seen on TV shows and it made me more than a little nervous when police officers came down the line of injured people and gestured for some to get up, while others were to stay.

As one of the officers approached me, I held my breath and my heart sank as he gestured for me to rise. I wanted to refuse, but couldn’t think of a good reason to do so. For all I knew, the van was being used because it was all they had available.

It didn’t have to mean something sinister, right?

I allowed him to help me to my feet and I hobbled across the road to join the others as they climbed into the van. My knee, already swollen and sore before the crash due to an old injury, had worsened and every step sent a jolt of pain running up my leg.

When it came time to climb into the van, I had to hold onto the door for support, wincing as I braced myself with my good leg and pulled myself up into the van. I took a seat beside the other walking wounded on the bench that was fitted to the side of the van and exhaled a soft sigh as the door was closed behind me.

Few seemed inclined to talk, which was good as I definitely didn’t want to, so I put my head back against the cold metal of the van and closed my eyes as it set off.

My trip to London was off to a great start. I’d been travelling down to visit friends for a few days while taking the opportunity to attend an interview. If successful, I would have had a ridiculously high paying job, the highest paid in my two decades of employment, and a chance of a new life in the capital city.

Instead, I was going to be spending at least a few hours in the hospital until they discharged me and then, if I was lucky, an expensive journey across London from whichever hospital they had taken me to, to where my friends lived.

All in all, not an ideal situation.

On the plus side, my head seemed to be clearing, the fog lifting as I recovered a little from the shock of the crash. It probably helped knowing that I hadn’t sustained any real injuries since the last thing I needed was to deal with that.

The journey wasn’t long and soon enough the van slowed to a stop and the doors were opened. I stared out into the gloom, seeing little but the uniformed officers waiting. The nearest gestured with a thumb, and I climbed out.

Wherever we were, it wasn’t a hospital, I was sure of that. I looked around the loading bay, frown deepening. The rolled metal door had been closed behind the van, and there was a group of desks off to one side with uniformed officers seated behind large stacks of paper.

“What’s going on?” I got nothing but a grunt from the nearest officer and a wave towards the tables.

I took the hint and limped over to the closest desk. The woman seated behind it gave me a humourless look as she glanced at the wrist band I wore.

“Name?”

“Caleb Stone.”

“Any bites?”

I stared at her blankly and her eyes flicked up to mine, one eyebrow arching. “No,” I said.

“Feeling hot or feverish?”

“No.”

“Any breathing difficulties, or a cough?”

“No… look, what the hell is this?”

“Please just answer the questions. The sooner we get through them, the better for everyone.”

Others from the van were forming lines behind those of us who had reached the desks first and the officers formed a rough semi-circle around us. It was clear that I wasn’t going to go anywhere unless I answered the questions, so I gave a nod of acquiescence.

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.”

“Have you been out of the country in the last four weeks?”

“No.”

“Where is your place of residence.”

“Hull, do you need my address?”

“No, sir.” She made a note on the form. “Reason for visiting London.”

“Seeing friends and a job interview.” I scratched at my head, trying to make sense of the questions.

“Who is your next of kin?”

I stared blankly at her for a moment before rattling off my sisters name and number. Since she was my only living relative, it seemed like she was the best option.

“Okay, please proceed to door six.”

Her tone made it clear we were done, so I limped past her towards the rear wall which had doors set all along its length. I reached the one marked with a large, black, number six and it was opened by a big man in white scrubs.

“Straight ahead, third door to the right,” he said.

I gave him a curious look but his face gave nothing away. With little choice, I went along the brightly lit corridor beyond the door. In each side of the wall, white painted doors were set. Each had a small glass panel set near the top and an electronic lock.

They were all empty and I reached the third door to the right and stopped. A grunt from the man following was all the indication I needed to pull it open and step inside.

A stainless steel toilet and sink had been installed, along with a firm cot with a single blanket and pillow. There was nothing else in the room other than a speaker set into the ceiling beside the light. I glanced back over my shoulder as the door was closed behind me.

“What’s going on?”

“Quarantine,” the man said with a tight lipped smile. “You’re green banded, so you get seventy-two hours.”

“What!”

There was no other answer and he turned away before heading back towards the door leading back to the loading bay. I pressed my face up against the glass but could see little more than the door opposite my own.

A few minutes later, a woman came into view and the door opposite opened. She stepped inside and turned back to face the door as it closed. Through the glass panel I could see a face as frightened and confused as my own.

I slammed my fist on the door but was ignored by the orderly as he headed back to get the next poor sap.

Just what the hell was going on?”