DOWNDRAFT: The Sky's Alight Trilogy - Book 2

By Tam Sturgeon

Downdraft is an action thriller following the life of a young woman, Avril Lurton, whose family perish after a horrific event sweeps across London then England. Avvy turns from a young office clerk into a knife throwing survivor, as the world around her is reduced to a wasteland where the rotting affected easily outnumber the displaced uninfected.
After an encounter leaves her with a strange injury her crusade takes her south, and so she becomes a drifter who is still in a state of confusion but coping as best she can. When she rescues a young American, Rob Lester, who hides a dark secret, they go in search of the cure she craves. The trust in their relationship slowly develops, as does her condition and, although Rob initially threatens Avvy’s very mortality, he lets her stay by his side. Rob sees no need to be worried and takes the opportunity to double his strength.
As the trip continues their skills are honed and refined, they learn to move with stealth as a team, their senses growing alongside their abilities. Avvy knows strange things are happening inside her, even looking at Rob through different eyes. New challenges are faced every day, their strengths and weaknesses to become their new routine. Both Avvy and Rob grow within their new surroundings, the alterations obvious as they utilise their talents.
Their final battle finds them escaping another half dead mass, which in turn opens the door for Rob to tell the truth of his story. There’s a reason why he’s never been infected, and this he explains whilst trying to tell Avvy he loves her. Their lives seem to be over, especially through the girl’s eyes. Rob has to make a choice, so does Avvy. The end leaves them head to head. Though they have both grown into strong individuals, with the ability to survive alone, suddenly they realise they can no longer live without the other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tam Sturgeon
• Release date: Jul 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463500354

Tam Sturgeon

Writing History of Tam Sturgeon1970’sI find myself reciting poetry at middle school in Christmas Assemblies. Pam Ayres a particular favourite (and remembered to this day).1980’sI start writing poetry in Secondary School, after finding a poem in a Sunday Supplement. An emotionally charged home life gives me reason to lose myself when my mother is being all weird and shouty. Poetry takes me away from that. I find it comes easily and is prolific. I write various lyrics and silly ditties for birthdays and weddings.2003-2004I start my first novel, Champagne Hurricane, a rock and roll love story, whilst I’m having an emotional breakdown. The first in the line of my life changing events starts with my Father dying then my first husband leaving me, all within 18 months of each other. I’m awarded Runner-up in a Writer’s Forum Magazine Competition. I start Art College and use my poems as part of my finals. It earns me a Distinction. I find I have enough material to write my 1st and 2nd book of poetry.2004-2009The next three books of poetry are written, one after the other in quick concession. I then relocate to Somerset. The novel is put on the backburner, due to a demanding second husband which ends very badly for me.2010I relocate back to Bucks, finding myself with little to show for my time away. I return to my writing and the first novel, which is finished before the New Year.2011A massive near fatal heart attack in the March leaves me on the verge of another emotional breakdown. I start to write my second novel and take a very level headed look at my life. Being housebound pushes me back into writing once more, and two more volumes of poetry are poured out before the end of the year. A new novel is also started, a Werewolf and Vampire love story, which runs parallel with the second. Six others novels are also dabbled with, but soon fall by the wayside.2012I finish the second, and two more books of poetry are completed. A 10th volume of A-Z Pocket Poetry is then completed. The third novel, still in its infancy, is set aside as the rhythm of the ode becomes my favourite once more. I tell myself the poetry collection will end at volume thirteen.2013With the New Year comes more poetry, the 11th book, 12th, and 13th. Later that year my first novel is ePublished to Smashwords.com and is welcomed with open arms by the readers, gaining 10, 5 star reviews, at this time I also ePublish three volumes of poetry. There is also a 14th book of poetry written. Sadly, it was partly lost due to my hard drive burning out. Some is salvaged, but it remains nameless and unpublished, to this day.2014‘Champagne Hurricane’ continues to gather followers as the poetry collection grows. I spend time in Canada and write the 15th volume, which is then made ready for ePublishing. The 16th book of poetry is started and finished shortly after. Come the Christmas of 2014 I have started yet another novel. Champagne Hurricane is suddenly rendered a trilogy.2015As the storyboard for Book 2, Different Directions, slowly comes alive, more poetry is produced. Lyrics are dabbled with, yet again, and along the way several other projects are started, most of which are all put on the backburner as the novel becomes a constant time-filler. By the end of 2015 Book 2 is a finished novel, plus I have rewritten and renamed Book 1, now known as Never Forever, under The Champagne Hurricane Trilogy title.2016At the turn of the year the 17th volume is started and then finished come the end of spring. A break is taken to travel. Upon my return, things pick up where they left off. The 18th is started, along with the Book 3 in the trilogy, Between Favours. These run side by side and see me through another summer, both finished about the same time. I also start writing a fantasy novel relating to the myth of unicorns and why broomsticks can fly. I get half way and am distracted by the thought I am wasting my precious time with needless thing, i.e. all the stuff I’m cramming into my laptop on a daily basis. I stop writing for the rest of the year, frustrated with not knowing what to do with any of it.2017So, anyway, early in the year I unpublished one novel, due to its lack of interest. I delete it from my back-catalogue, permanently. The 18th volume is then completed before the summer and the 19th is started. With The Champagne Hurricane Trilogy complete, what to do next? I write my first Action Thriller, a Novella, and finish it in a little over six weeks. As the close of the year faces me, I am ousted from my job of three years for highlighting a Toxic Manager case. I am rendered jobless in the New Year, with huge debts and nowhere to turn.2018The first two months of the year are taken up with ill health and what is to become another trilogy. Rewritten for the Young Adult and Teen market, the now gruesome trio, are all based around the same random grisly event but set in different eras, trips from my fingers. This is shortly followed by another short story, which almost touches on Sci-Fi, and is also initially aimed at the Y/A &Teen market, though it could also be enjoyed by anyone into the genre. It is at this point I also finish the 19th Volume of poetry and start the 20th. I diversify yet again, writing my own lyrics to classical and mainstream music. Drawing from my own personal experiences, I compose forty plus alternative ways of wording them. Alongside this, I turn myself into a product and decide I have enough material to approach the Agents and Producers in both the literary and music business.Find me on:TwitterInstagramFacebookThank you

Book preview

DOWNDRAFT

Book 2 of The Sky’s Alight Trilogy

Published by Tam Sturgeon at Smashwords

Copyright Tam Sturgeon 2018

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed within it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or deceased, or any events

mentioned is entirely coincidental.

Tam Sturgeon asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work.

Cover imagery courtesy of the author.

Cover design by Tam Sturgeon.

Copyright Tam Sturgeon 2018

~

Downdraft

Infected: Infection is the process of bacteria, or viruses, invading the body or making someone ill or diseased. Taken from: yourdictionary.com/infected

Affected: To influence or cause someone or something to change. Taken from: dictionary.cambridge.org

Part 1

Without Warning

Spring: 1984: Home counties: England.

‘... Hello, hello ... Does anyone copy? ... Hello ... My name’s Avril, Avril Lurton, I found this radio in a police car ... I hope it’s working and that someone can actually hear me ... I’m not sure where I am, somewhere south of Staines, I think ... My advice, go underground or run while you still can ... Don’t go into built up areas, and don’t go near any cities or towns either, they’re just as bad, if not worse ... I’ve noticed lots of us attract lots of them, so don’t travel in big groups, and try to keep your kids quiet, they’re too noisy sometimes, and those things follow the sound ... What else? Oh, don’t stay in one place too long, and never sleep outdoors, unless you’re up somewhere high, out of reach, otherwise they will get you ... I have to go, it’s getting dark, they move quick at night so I have to cover more ground ... Anyway, stay alert, because they are coming, believe me ... Be safe and good luck ... Over and out ...’

Trying to stay ahead of the droning or screaming masses left an ache that could force you through flames, the depth of despair a bottomless pit. Getting away at speed was the only way to survive what was to follow. There was no stopping to take note or to pass the time of day, for the hour was indeed upon them, and time and tide, as we well know, waits for no man.

For some, time stood still. As anarchy rippled from the cities into the suburbs, it rearranged life into something new, something ugly and decaying, to leave but a shadow of what it was before. Families held together, went below, found a way to beat the infection and, for some, there was a chance, if merely a small one.

The young lady trying to warn others, she had a secret, a big secret, and eventually it would become one she would not want strangers to be aware of. It was inside her, as part of her being, and with that knowledge, she had to face the world and her greatest of fears in order to stay alive. To begin with, before the sweep-clean, she was just an ordinary person with an ordinary life, but things changed, drastically, as they did for one and all, but for this young lady, what she was about to face was beyond imaginable.

Amazingly, when her pretty London suburb was reduced to rubble, after the wall of raging fire ran its course, her sister and she narrowly missed death because the house collapsed on top of them. By chance, they were down in the cellar at the time, sorting through boxes of old junk. This was a punishment for baby sister, who had broken her latest curfew by about four hours. So, it was done, the sorting, but with much moaning and plenty of attitude.

And so it started, the devastation of what remained and the annihilation of the human race, as they were picked off, area by area. If you could run then you would live. You needed to find shelter in those first few hours though, or you were dead by sundown, plus you had to be fast, and you had to be ready. Sadly, no one was ready.

They made it as far as Staines, on roads that crawled with hordes of people who all had that same thought in mind. Then it just stopped, their journey taking them no further. Traffic was backed up for miles, and those far ahead were the first to be taken. The infection spread, car to car, every man, woman and child, regardless of age. Once the blood supply was compromised by the gene altering bacteria, all hell let lose. The screams travelled on a tide, vehicle after vehicle, louder and louder.

Out, as fast as possible, and that way, over the field, towards the unknown town. So that was what they did, they started running, and they dared not stop. When they hit the next roundabout their goal was in sight. Off to the left ran a street of shops, their silent windows dark as the evening descended. Sprinting towards the line of properties, they were about to see just how quiet it really was.

A decaying horde turned to the sound of running feet. Standing in the fading light, making that soulless drone, their net slowly closed around the two girls, the end seeming almost upon them.

‘... HEY ... Over here ... HURRY ...’

A man’s voice shouted to them from a door in an alleyway. Just beyond a chain-link fence, he stood, waving at them.

Grabbing her younger sister’s hand, they ran for the voice, not forty feet away. Never look back, so they did not, they charged forward, desperate to make that door.

Three appeared in the moment the girls hit the other side of the road, as out from behind a double-decker bus they groaned. Pushing and kicking, whilst trying to stay hand-in-hand, was harder than it sounds. Forcing those things over was no hard task, but as soon as one went down, another was there to replace it.

Charging through the gate, and into the building, they were welcomed by several others who were all in the same boat. The two uniformed men, one of whom called them over, worked in the shop out front of the storage area they stood in. A woman and small boy sat to one side, on a large pallet of sacked potatoes, and then over from them was a young man, sat alone. An elderly couple were quietly talking to a small group of teenagers, who all looked petrified, along with everyone else.

The girls took the bottled water that was offered with a smile of thanks, their appreciation for the rescue added at the end. Getting their breath, they joined those sat further into the room, where they perched themselves in a corner, glad to be safe. Food was offered, taken, and consumed, as the light faded, and the noise outside droned off into the distance.

‘Avvy, what are those things? Did you see their faces, and their eyes? Some had bits of them missing ... They should be dead, so how come they’re still walking?’

Her sister spoke as she finished her mouthful. Looking around her first, her glance travelled back to her younger sibling.

‘I don’t know, Nicky, and I don’t care ... Christ, it’s all turned to hell in a handbag ... Did you see that little kid, half his jaw was gone? ... And that smell, and noise ... Whatever it is they have, I don’t want it,’ she almost whispered, trying to keep her voice down.

From the first floor office and the roof they were unable to see much in the dark. Moving front to back, there was no way of telling what lingered out there. It was decided, stay the night, then face the fight tomorrow, because it could only get better, surely.

There was no sleeping. Not with the small boy’s nightmares, for they alone were enough to rip everyone from any possible slumber. Nerves sat as fibres so incredibly thin that with one tweak they were done for. It was uncomfortable too, on their makeshift beds, using old mats as mattresses, and found curtains for covers.

With the dawn came another surprise. Baby sister was running a fever so high she could hardly move. Sweat pooled as her temperature soared, her immune system taking a hit it was not prepared for. There was a point when everything slid away and the truth was there, right before them all. Checking her limbs for bites or scratches, a small rancid wound was located, which hid on the inside her left arm.

Once seen, everyone moved back, as far away as possible, because they all knew what that meant. If she was infected she would soon become the affected, and that was very, very bad.

Into The Darkness

Somehow the young lady managed to remove herself from the worse hit areas. Steering clear of the more troubled streets helped keep her alive too. The non-affected moved as a band of crying misfits, walking nowhere, taking what they could carry. That was when crowds of affected would come. They would hear and follow, feel the vibration of life and the living. It would be a whisper on the wind, ‘This way, this way ... All you can eat buffet ... Hurry, hurry ...’

Learning quickly and moving quickly were two very important skills. With those at hand, she hacked and chopped her way into being a new woman. There were things she did that she’s not proud of, but when she checked out certain places for supplies, she had to be prepared for anything. As she would say, always think the worst, anything above that is a bonus. As her time alone turned day by day, it became her number one code to live by.

Only one small group was joined on her travels. They were mainly men, a few women and kids, plus an elderly couple. Two different families had met up on the road, both trying to escape the devastation spreading across the south. They all had their own stories and ideas, the kids too. One young lad thought maybe something nasty had crash landed from space and was eating them all. Another speculated about nukes going off, maybe the North Koreans were behind it. Another suggested it could be Mother Nature’s way of bumping off the majority of the world’s expanding population.

The quiet new girl kept most of her thoughts to herself, her story too, but it did not stop her from listening to them all talking around the fire-pit, with that big ole full moon above.

One of the older gentlemen, Clive, was sat with his quiet daughter, Jenny, and he was telling his grandson, Dylan, about the good old days of years gone by. He was animated as he recited his stories from a misty childhood. Nearly gone, they were, but not quite.

‘... Course, when it happened before, after the second war, it woulda been just like this, the city burning at night, the running and hiding ... My old Dad said it glowed bright orange against the low clouds ... Families were all bunkered down together, in the tunnels and in their shelters ... It didn’t stop them living their lives then though, and it bloody well won’t stop us now ... Whatever it is, we’ll fight back, we always do, we always will ...’

‘Oh, get a grip, will ya, this ain’t like before, mate, didn’t you get the memo? ... I saw what he did, that army bloke with the gun, the one wearing the gas mask ... He shot that injured kid, in, the, face, as he raised his hands in fear of being accidently killed by a stray bullet ... That’s not them protecting us, that’s them killing us ...’

The butting in had been done by an agitated older man sat alone, his hands fidgeting. He was chubby and pallid, his hazel eyes red and tired, his hand shaking as it lifted another lit cigarette to his lips. That was Bruce Mendel living life on the edge.

‘Bloody hell, you moron, the kid had already been shot how many times? He wasn’t trying to surrender, he trying to eat him. My, God, hadn’t you worked that out? Anyway, we made it, didn’t we? We’re here, and we’re alive, so be thankful for that, if nothing else ... No one was going to stay after seeing what we all saw, but we have to make whatever this is work ... Now, can we, please, keep it together for the sake of the children ... They’re petrified as it is, look at them, so can we stop bloody talking about it?’ the tall woman, Ellie, softy insisted, her face awash with a need for calm.

Lifting from her spot, she took the younger kids into the barn behind, acting as a shelter. They’d all been distant neighbours in their former lives. Suddenly they shared a hay strewn floor at night, along with a bunch of other people.

‘They don’t stay down, the affected, that’s our main problem ... You can’t let them near you ... There’s only one way to stop them permanently, but you won’t like it ... Sadly, it’s the only way.’

The young lady looked around the small group of adults, her voice dropping in volume.

‘It’s nasty, I know, but it’s how you have to do it ... Use anything sharp, and make sure it’s got a long handle, like a spike or an axe, but always to the skull, no point attacking