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Prologue
Diary entry of Caroline - age 13 (almost)
21st October 2025
Dear Diary
The rain is red! No, I didn’t write that wrong. RED! Can you believe it? Dad says it must be some sort of weird atmospheric anomaly, whatever that means. I don’t think he really knows what he’s talking about. He went on for ages about something called The Great Smog of London in 1952.
Mum just patted him on the shoulder and said, yes, dear, and then we went back to talking about my birthday party in three weeks’ time. I’m going to be thirteen. A teenager. I’m trying to decide whether I should invite Robert Hargreaves to my party. He’s so dreamy, but if he says no, everyone will laugh. Maybe I’ll just drop it into conversation and see if he shows an interest. Play it cool.
22nd October
Dear Diary
I’m embarrassed to admit that I thought it was funny at first. Mr. Pritchard (my next-door neighbor) has always been such a huge stick in the mud. He tells us off if we even breathe on his lawn. If you can even call it a lawn. I’ve seen bigger handkerchiefs. Well, not really, and who has a handkerchief these days? It’s not Victorian times. But you get my point, right? It’s really not worth blowing a gasket over just because Scott kicked his football on there and bent a few blades of grass. My little brother’s five, for God’s sake. And Dad couldn’t take him to the park that day because he had an important meeting.
Anyway, I’m getting distracted. So yeah, I laughed when Mr. Pritchard started stumbling around and fell over. Dad thought he was drunk, but then we saw his face and I stopped laughing. He wasn’t just angry. He was ANGRY. Like Incredible Hulk angry, but without the turning green and bursting out of his shirt bit. Dad made us come inside and lock the door.
Instead of going away, Mr. Pritchard started banging on the windows like he wanted to come in, and he was making the weirdest noises. Like a groan, but worse. He wouldn’t stop, so Dad ended up having to call the police.
And then get this! He bit one of the police officers when they tried to talk to him. They arrested him after that. Mum says we don’t have to go to school today, so at least that’s something. It means I don’t get to see Robert, though. Oh well, plenty of time before my birthday to see if he wants to come to my party.
23rd October
Dear Diary
It didn’t just rain red here. Apparently, it rained red everywhere. And they think it has something to do with the people going crazy. Like Mr. Pritchard. He’s still not back. They must have charged him after he bit the policeman. I’m only a kid, and I know you can’t go around biting the police, no matter how pissed off you are. I can’t say I miss him.
We went to school today as normal, but half of the teachers were missing, and the ones that were there, were acting weird. They closed the school at lunchtime and sent us all home. Robert wasn’t there.
Dad’s acting weird as well. He’s either glued to the news like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world, or he’s doing DIY jobs around the house that he’s put off for years, like mending the window in the garage. Well, I say mending… What he actually did was hammer a couple of boards over it. He said he doesn’t want anyone getting in that way. Who’s going to climb in through the garage window? What does he think they’re going to steal? A hammer?
As for Mum, she went to Tesco and bought way more food than she usually does. Not exciting food. Tins of soup and beans, and bags of rice. Yuk! Scott wants to go to the park and play football, but Dad said no. He wouldn’t even let him play outside.
26th October
Dear Diary
It rained red again last night. We all stood and watched it. Mrs. Cushing from around the corner was out in it, and then she went crazy just like Mr. Pritchard did, so it’s definitely the rain. The news said it was, but we didn’t know whether to believe it. Dad says we’re going to stay in the house until the army comes to rescue us. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss school. Not the lessons, but I miss my friends. And Robert. Hopefully, everything will be back to normal soon.
27th October
Dear Diary
More people tried to get into the house today. Dad called the police, but no one answered. When the crazy people went away, Dad boarded up the rest of the windows on the ground floor. It’s made the house really dark downstairs, so we’re spending most of the time upstairs, which is weird.
They’re saying on the news that the rain is contaminated, that they were testing a virus designed for biological warfare, and it spread everywhere when it wasn’t supposed to. You’d think scientists would know what they’re doing. It’s called RRV13. Not a very catchy name. Surely someone can come up with something better. I assume it stands for something, but I’ve no idea what.
They’re advising people to stay out of the rain if they don’t want to become infected and turn crazy. Apparently, if you get bitten by an infected person, you can catch it too. I wonder if the policeman got it when Mr. Pritchard bit him. Mr. Pritchard never did come back. I wonder if he’s dead. Scott cried a lot today. He’s too young to understand what’s going on. All he wants to do is play football in the park.
29th October
Dear Diary
The news has stopped. As have all the other TV channels. You can’t even get re-runs of Friends anywhere. Dad spent most of the day tinkering with an old radio and trying to get it to work. Mum’s been trying to put a brave face on, but I found her crying upstairs today. She said it was her time of the month, but I didn’t believe her. She and Dad are both scared, which makes me scared. What if the army doesn’t come? What if there is no army anymore? What if Mr. Pritchard bit them too? Or if not Mr Pritchard, someone else. Or maybe they were out on an exercise when the rain came, and they’re all crazy, too.
31st October
