The End of the World Running Club Read Free Page A

breathing little stuttering breaths in my ear as I closed my eyes and let the warm light flood over my face. I actually felt happy. I had another hangover of course (wine and telly on my own the night before) but I didn’t mind being up so early. Maybe it was the vitamin D, maybe I was still a little drunk from the night before, or maybe it was just holding my son in a warm sunrise when nobody else was around, I don’t know. Cool, still air, warm sun, the distant roar of a road somewhere... I just felt happy. That’s probably my last real memory of anything normal.
    As I sat on the deck enjoying the warm sunshine and my son’s quiet gurgles in my ear, a breeze suddenly whipped up around us. The plants gave a fierce rustle. The tree in the corner of the garden creaked and its branches twisted and bowed momentarily out of shape. The windows in the house rattled violently. The windows in the houses opposite rattled too. The kitchen door swung open and banged against the cupboards. It stopped. Behind the breeze came a very deep and distant rumble. A split second and then it was calm again.
    Arthur gasped and looked about wide-eyed.
    “What was that, Art?” I said, waggling his hand. “What was that?”
    He giggled.
    What the fuck was that?
    The microwave beeped inside.
    Arthur gave a little shout and pulled his hand out of mine to thwack my nose. He grinned. I grinned back.
    “Come on then, buddy,” I said, and we went inside.
    On the sofa, I plugged the milk bottle into Arthur’s mouth with one hand and found the remote with the other. I stopped. My thumb hovered over the red button. Something made me stop before I turned on the TV. Some flickering half-memory. I couldn’t place it at the time, but I would soon enough.  
    Arthur sucked happily on his bottle and I pressed the ON button.  
    Nothing.
    BBC2.
    Nothing.
    ITV, Channel 4, Sky. Nothing.
    This wasn’t unusual; our Sky box sometimes crashed and just needed a reboot. Still, a little warning light flashed in my mind and gave me an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.
    Arthur gurgled in dismay as the teat slipped from his mouth. I let the bottle drop to the floor and he squealed as I put him back on the sofa behind me. I scrabbled on the floor to the Sky box, took out the card and held the power button. Waited ten seconds, twenty seconds for the box to reboot. Arthur sounded a low warning note behind me, preparing for a full meltdown if I didn't return with his milk. The box finally came back to life and began its cosy introduction video. I grabbed the remote and sat back against the sofa, thumbing through the channels, trying every one in turn, moving through the international news stations: BBC World, CNN, Al Jazeera, the shopping channels, religious, music, adult...all dead.
    I told myself not to panic. All this meant was that Sky was out, maybe just in our area, maybe even just our dish. Still that half memory in the back of my mind, something I should remember...
    Arthur's warning note began to crescendo, so I lifted him down to the floor with me and reinserted his bottle. As he continued his disgruntled sucking, I took out my phone to see if I could get a connection on our Wi-Fi. Nothing. Broadband was out and I could never get a phone signal in the house anyway. I heard my son's last dry sucks as the bottle emptied.
    "Come on Artie," I said, standing up. "Let's take a stroll, mate."
    I slung Arthur in his backpack and hauled him onto my shoulders, stepped into my flip-flops and left through the back garden. We lived in Bonaly, a quiet scattering of small new-builds and gigantic mansions five miles south of Edinburgh at the foot of the Pentland Hills. Our house was a new-build, one of about twenty or so lined in terraces that faced each other across a small path. It was a nice area and they were nice enough houses, but cheap, so we didn’t have a lot of space. This is close living , Beth’s dad had grumbled when he first came to visit.
    I walked down the main