The Sharks of Old London

Moonlight washed London with an unaccustomed brightness. The dome overhead had once held such intrusions at bay but little was left of it anymore, just a metallic rib cage of great dull arches. In more recent years thick cloud cover kept the city in perpetual grey.

Moon or not, London was never safe at night. Lou should have been inside, holed up. But Billy hadn’t sealed the boards down properly and a pack of Ash Wolves had got into the factory, with their grey skin flaking from their malnourished bodies, their howling yelps and their broken, yellow teeth they were like things raised from the grave.

She scuttled from shadow to shadow, testing boards and doors where she could. But the city shuts up at night, locks down.

She reached the end of an alley, the dead end. Waste and rubbish were heaped all round, but that was no different from anywhere else. She was exhausted. She thought about just hiding in the refuse, burying herself. No, the wolves would sniff her out.

Something snarled behind her.

“Hello, littling.”

Oh, Lou, idiot.

She turned and looked back down the alley.

“Lookit, littling’s a girl.”

There were three men. The one on the right was thin, in body and features, his lips were twisted in a leer, his little eyes glinted. The one on the left was hunched, his left shoulder all bunched up into his back; his mouth hung open and copious drool slid out between his few remaining teeth, glistening disturbingly in the moonlight.

The man in the middle was bigger in many ways, he was taller but he filled his grubby shirt out too, obviously ate well. He had an Ash Wolf on a chain. Lou had never seen one so subdued, hadn’t really seen many till tonight. Everyone said they couldn’t be tamed.

The big man flicked the chain.

“Not much meat on it. Barely feed the dog.”

They started advancing down the alley towards her. She looked around for some way out. Her breath came in short gasps and her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. This was bad. Damn Billy.

They stopped when the dog was a head’s length from her. She could see it was trembling, its thin body wracked with tension, its eyes wide. She couldn’t look away from its teeth, its curling black lips, the saliva slowly plip, plipping to the ground between them. The men paused as she cowered, watching her, savouring her fear.

She whimpered, her voice tiny and wavering, “Knights save me.”

“Knights?”

The grins above her widened.

“Knights be myths, littling. Ain’t no Knights no more.”

The wolf was breathing misted, fetid breath in her face, and then it wasn’t. A large chunk of masonry drove its head into the hard concrete with a crunch and short whine. Warm blood splattered her thighs.

Something large landed on the thin man. He crunched too, and squeaked, briefly.

A new man, the biggest man Lou had ever seen, launched himself off the thin man’s twitching body at the other two. They fought. The man with the hunch and the gaping grin swung wildly, as likely to hit his friend as the attacker. The third man was more coordinated, but no match for this brutal, new opponent.

When the three lay on the ground, unmoving, the hulking man turned to her. She wished she had run when she had the chance.

“Come.”

He turned away from her and shuttled a ladder down from an old fire escape.

“It’s safer up here, away from the streets.”

He started to climb. He wasn’t forcing her, she could run away. But he had saved her, and he was offering haven. Take a risk on him, or the streets?

She wiped a grubby wrist across her face, smearing damp grime, then climbed. She followed him through an open window three floors up. When she was in he pulled it closed and flicked a dim electric light on. She noticed that the windows were blacked out.

“You a Knight?”

He considered her with dark eyes. His features were strange, broad and misshapen as if his face had been remoulded by clumsy fingers. His pale skin was doughy, marred by a dozen tiny scars and a larger one running across his nose and below his left eye. They were all old scars, white.

“I guess I am.” His voice was rough and low, like distant rubble falling in the night.

“You really immortal?”

“That was the idea.”

“You’re not?”

He sat down on a bed that creaked beneath his weight. A pained expression crossed his face as he stretched out his back and shoulders.

“Do you know what a shark is?”

“A shark?”

“They’re like really big fish. Lived in the sea, probably still do.”

“So?”

“Well, see, we’re all made up of cells, and cells die and get replaced. In humans the process is limited, it runs out, because if it didn’t then things can go bad inside people. But sharks live deep in the ocean and it protects them from things like sunlight and radiation, the process just keeps going, they always heal, and they pretty much live forever.”

Lou concentrated really hard, trying to understand.

He continued, “So some really smart people thought they would make protectors, and make them tough, with bits of shark in their DNA.”

“DNA?”

“The stuff that makes us. This was a few hundred years ago.”

She blinked, “A few hundred?”

“I lost count.” He winced at some hidden ache. “I’ve seen London fall and rise, and fall again.”

“But,” she thought hard, screwing her face up, “what protects you from sunlight, and... radishun?”

“Radiation. Well, there was the dome, and there was medicine. Nowadays I just try to stay out of the sun.”

“What about the other Knights?”

His brows dipped and he looked away from her, “There are no others. Not anymore. Soon enough there’ll be none at all.”

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Blog post: Sharks Never Die

Where I talk about sharks, writing, and ideas that just won't die...

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Recommended Reading: More Than Dreams by Steve Green

Life in the Dome. A three part flash serial and a very refreshing take on the well-trodden dystopia trope.