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The Ape is sitting on one of the wheelie chairs the assistants use at the checkout. He’s pulling himself along the aisles, trying to build up as much speed as he can.
He’s going so fast that by the time we walk through the automatic doors of the very empty Tesco supermarket, he nearly knocks us off our feet. I grab Billie and drag her out of the way as the
Ape shoots past us.

‘Loving this!’ he yells on his way past, clutching a can of beer.

While we wait for him to slow down and then drag himself back towards us, we can see that the Ape has been making himself at home while he waited for us. Half-eaten bars of chocolate and empty
bags of sweets lie scattered on the floor. It’s like he’s opened one packet, taken a bite and then discarded it so he can take a bite out of a new bar.

‘That is so wasteful,’ Billie says, her eyes scanning the huge supermarket looking for more signs of life, but so far there aren’t any. ‘Looks like it’s just
him.’

My heart sinks. Even though the Ape had already texted that he was the only one, I was half hoping he was either joking or just too stupid to notice. He wheels himself back towards us and, in
trying to stop the chair, topples over and crashes at our feet. His beer goes flying and soaks the tobacco kiosk. He lies on the floor laughing.

‘Love, love, loving it!’

Billie and I look down at him as he belches then belches again.

‘So where is everyone?’ he eventually asks.

‘You don’t know? No one told you?’ Billie can barely disguise her contempt for the Ape. ‘They got sucked up by aliens.’

‘Yowza!’ the Ape responds, delighted.

‘Yowza?’ Billie is clearly thrown.

‘Yow-
zaaa.
’ He drags the word out and then climbs slowly to his feet. We are given a flash of the top of his fleshy, hairy buttocks as he gets on all fours before standing.
He then belches again and Billie and I both grimace.

‘Where they sucked them off to?’ he grins.

‘Mars,’ Billie offers.

‘That’s a lot of sucking off,’ he says, milking his sad little joke.

‘Jesus!’ Billie turns to me, and I can tell she’s as deflated as I am to realise that the Ape is the sole person we have met in the last hour or so.

‘She was kidding with you,’ I say. ‘We have no idea where everyone is.’

‘Oh well.’ The Ape truly doesn’t seem to care.

I am staggered. ‘That’s all you can say?’

‘Hey, I’ve got to show you this.’ He lumbers over to one of the tills and searches for a small bag that he has stashed in a cupboard under the till. ‘Look what I
got!’ He grins as he takes some money out of the bag, showing us maybe a thousand pounds in cash. ‘I found it in a bank.’

Billie and I look at him like he’s crazy. Seriously, what is wrong with this boy?

‘You
stole
that?’ Billie asks.

‘It was just lying there. Finders keepers.’

‘And?’ she prods.

‘So, I’m rich. Want to go see a film?’

I swear I can feel my eyes bulging with incredulity. The Ape picks up a bottle of cider, unscrews the cap and takes a healthy swig. ‘I’ve got plenty of time, cos I can’t get
into my flat. Mum hasn’t showed up to let me in.’

‘That’s the point, idiot,
no one
has “showed up”!’ Billie’s practically yelling at him now. ‘Haven’t you noticed the lack of
people?!’

‘Well, yeah, but I thought maybe something was going on and I hadn’t been invited.’

‘So why did you go to a bank?’

‘Door was open. Walked in. Looked around and now I’ve got enough green for a hundred movies plus popcorn. You coming?’

The Ape is so insanely stupid that I truly wish he’d disappeared along with everyone else.

‘D’you have any idea what’s happening here?’ I say

‘Not really. And here’s a question for you. Do I care?’

‘But everyone seems to have disappeared.’

‘So?’

‘SO!?’ Billie screams at him.

‘Anyway, not everyone has gone,’ he counters.

‘You’ve seen others?’ Billie’s instant stab of hope matches my own.

‘Yeah,’ the Ape says.

‘Where? Where are they?’ I say. I want to shake the great oaf.

‘They’re right here.’

Billie and I hesitate and watch the Ape laugh at us.

‘It’s you two. I’ve seen you two.’

Our hopes crash and burn and I know Billie feels like slapping the Ape.

‘That wasn’t funny,’ I say.

‘So was. Should have seen your faces.’ His casual, uncaring tone is wretched. There is no other word for it. It is plain wretched. ‘Look, I’m here. You’re here. We
don’t need anyone else.’ He takes another swig of cider.

‘But your family, your mum—’ I start

‘She’s never home,’ he interrupts.

‘Your friends . . .’

‘Who needs them?’

‘Aren’t you scared?’ Billie looks tired and drawn now. Fighting back our panic and fear has completely worn us out.

The Ape thinks for a moment, then comes to an outstanding thought. ‘I don’t do scared. So who’s coming to see a film?’

I’m ready to grab the cider bottle and bash him over the head with it when we hear movement in another aisle. We immediately fall silent, even the Ape, but I think it’s only because
he’s following our lead.

The movement sounds slow and sludgy, like something being dragged. Something wet.

‘What is that?’ Billie whispers.

‘You said there was no one around.’ I keep my voice low as I look at the Ape.

‘There isn’t.’

The movement is getting closer. ‘I’d say it sounds like there is,’ I tell him.

‘Urgh, what’s that stink?’ he whispers, screwing up his face.

Then I smell it too. A strong odour that attacks my eyes, making them sting.

‘Was that you, Rev? You let one go?’ laughs the Ape.

‘Shut up, it’s getting closer,’ I whisper.

The Ape weighs us up, then takes my arm in his big rough hand and nodding to Billie he moves us quietly behind the fresh vegetable aisle. ‘Move.’

We edge quietly down the aisle, but whatever is moving towards us seems to sense that we have crept away and changes direction.

‘It’s still coming,’ Billie whispers.

The slow, sludge movement continues to suck at the floor.

‘I’ve got this,’ the Ape says and turns the cider bottle upside down, brandishing it as a weapon. His large body looms like a wall in front of us. I am amazed that he is even
thinking of protecting us and it almost makes me feel grateful that he’s here.

The sucking, creeping sound is still coming towards us.

‘Get back.’ The Ape ushers us further into the heart of the supermarket. We go as quietly as we can while he scans the area around us, awaiting an attack. He is clearly better
equipped to deal with terrifying sludge movements than Billie or me, and his big hulking presence and weird instinct for violence and self-preservation suddenly feels like a warm blanket thrown
around our shoulders.

‘What d’you think it is?’ he whispers.

‘How would we know?’ I hiss back.

‘Whatever it is, it seriously stinks,’ says Billie.

‘Thought that was you getting scared,’ the Ape sniggers. He’s clearly a master at milking the same lame joke over and over.

The sludge movement is getting closer and the smell is becoming horrendous, burning my eyes and throat.

The Ape has managed to get us all the way into the drink aisle, but in doing so he has also cut us off from escape. There’s nothing but a wall of wine and spirits behind us now. And still
the thing – whatever it is – keeps coming.

‘Jesus, Rev!’ Billie grips my hand tight.

The Ape whispers. ‘I’ve got this.’

‘You’ve
got
nothing!’ I hiss at him.

The thing sounds like it’s moving quicker now, and the noise is getting louder. It’s closing in on us. The Ape pulls a zippo lighter out of his pocket. A lighter that, legend has it,
he beat up a gym teacher for.

‘Cod four,’ he whispers.

We both look at him.

‘Cod four,’ he repeats.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘
Call of Duty 4.
’ He grabs a bottle of brandy and starts unscrewing it. ‘I’m going to Molotov it.’

He sounds pretty sure of himself, even if we have no idea what he’s talking about. He goes quickly to the nearest clothing aisle, grabs a shirt, then comes back to us and tears off a strip
of material; he feeds half of the fabric into the brandy and gets ready to light it.

‘Stay back,’ he instructs, ushering us back even further. The thing is almost upon us and I can’t believe how much I love the Ape right now. It’s like having a big,
stupid, vicious dog to protect you.

Billie pulls her top over her nose and mouth to try and combat the stench as the Ape lets out a roar and lights the Molotov cocktail.

‘Come on then!’ he yells, and charges out from our hiding place. He hurls the Molotov.

And misses. Completely. He dives back into our hiding place.

‘I missed!’

And I hate him. I hate him like you hate a big, stupid, vicious dog that’s just bitten you.

‘Could you tell what it is?’ Billie asks breathlessly.

‘I dunno, didn’t look!’ he says, while he makes another Molotov.

‘Let me have that,’ I say.

‘My plan, my Molotov.’

‘Give me it!’ I snap at him.

The squelching is louder than ever and the thing totally knows where we are thanks to the Ape and his ludicrous aim. And it’s coming quicker now. Much faster. I grab the Molotov.

‘Make more, as many as you can!’ I yell at him, then leap out, rag burning in the brandy, and I see it, the thing, the foul smelling, lurching creature. It’s like nothing
I’ve ever set eyes on before – it’s not human, it’s not an animal, it’s just a black burned thing.

I am ready to hurl the Molotov, but when I look closer I swear the thing actually
is
human – or was. It’s a person. God alone knows what happened, but it’s a man,
I’m sure of it. The arms are almost shredded completely to the bone, little more than blistered charcoal; the stench we’ve been smelling is burned skin and flesh. Its mouth is opening
and closing. It wants to speak.
He
wants to speak.

I stand in silence, my heart thudding in my chest, with the Molotov cocktail ready to blow any second if I don’t take the burning rag out.

‘What happened?’ is all I can think to ask. ‘What happened? Where did everyone go?’

The man, the thing, the burned human, stares at me and I think he’s probably blind because he has no pupils left. He opens his mouth and his tongue is black and prune-like. I want to
scream but I also want him to sense that I care, so I do the best I can to stifle my fear. There’s something about him, some sort of presence or aura that draws me in. It’s almost as if
I know him.

I manage to yank the burning cloth from the Molotov and even though I burn my fingers doing so I know that my pain is nothing compared to what this poor man is enduring.

He tries to speak, but words won’t ever come out of a mouth like that.

The Ape’s first Molotov cocktail has set fire to the magazine aisle and suddenly the rising smoke causes the automatic sprinklers to turn on. It’s weird but I like the wetness, and
it soothes the burned man, like an ointment on his blackened, blistered skin. I watch him and he almost smiles – maybe it’s just an agonised grimace, I don’t know, but the rain
makes his skin steam. I can’t help but wonder why the sprinklers didn’t go off before if he was on fire? And then I wonder how far he must have crawled in this state. How far did he
come and how much did it take for him to seek out help. Because I’m sure that’s why he’s here, he wants someone to save him.

His ears must be working, because he could hear us moving around the shop, so I squat down beside him.

‘What do you want me to do?’ I ask.

I’m sure that he’s beyond saving and it breaks my heart. Soaking wet, I reach out and touch what I think might have been a hand once. I try to squeeze it to offer some sort of
comfort but my fingers go right through what’s left of his hot flesh and hit bone. I want to jump away, to recoil, but there’s no way he’s going to die without me touching him and
being there for him.

‘What can I do?’ I ask, knowing it’s futile.

‘What the hell?’ Billie has edged out of hiding to see what’s happening.

I ignore her, too mesmerised by the burned man. There is a connection between us, I can sense it and I think he can sense it too.

‘
Rev
,’ Billie hisses.

‘It’s OK,’ I tell her. ‘Just give me a moment. What happened to everyone?’ I whisper to the man.

He raises what’s left of his face towards me, but before he can open his mouth again the last of his life goes out and he gently lowers his head to the floor and falls still.

Which is when the Ape leaps out wielding two more Molotovs – one in each hand – and yells, ‘Come on then!’

He only just manages to stop himself hurling them straight at me. Then, possibly because I’m just sitting here in my wet school blouse that’s now clinging to my chest, he douses the
Molotovs and comes over and asks me if he should fetch a towel and maybe rub me dry. I don’t respond because I’m sitting with a carcass, a human carcass, and I can’t think for the
life of me how any of this can really be happening when everything was so normal just a few hours ago.

Billie can’t help herself and starts to cry at the sight of the dead man, and it’s left to the Ape to lift me under my armpits and pull me away from the poor burned soul. His BO is
overpowering, but kudos to him for showing some sign of humanity and caring.

‘C’mon,’ he says, ‘you can’t do nothing.’

‘It’s a man,’ I say.

‘
Was
a man,’ he replies.

‘But . . .’

‘Dead, Rev. He’s dead.’

I sit back and can’t tell if I’m crying or if it’s just the sprinkler water running down my face. I look at Billie who is equally as confused and lost.

‘I wish it was still yesterday,’ she says quietly.

‘We’re out of here,’ says the Ape.

‘No,’ I say.

‘No?’

‘No,’ I repeat. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but I have a new strength in me now. Maybe it’s come from the burned man – maybe by touching him he
somehow added his life force to mine. ‘He heard us and he came looking for us for a reason,’ I add.