by Frank Tayell
“That was one of the grain ships?” Jay asked.
“Except there wasn’t much grain left,” Annette said. “But yeah. And it was sabotaged. By the same people who destroyed the power station on Anglesey, and who nearly set fire to Belfast.”
“What’s Dundalk like?” Jay asked.
“Nice,” Annette said. “It’s not Anglesey. And there were still zombies there. We had to fight a real battle when we got there, though. We were in this hotel, and the zombies kept coming. Thousands of them. It… was… intense. But I liked it. You know the college had its own wind turbine? That’s where we stayed after the hotel. And there’s coal there. A lot of coal. All at this small warehouse by the harbour. Enough that those people from Belfast will have warmth and light while they wait for the Ocean Queen. It’s a shame, really. If the nuclear power station on Anglesey hadn’t been broken, if it wasn’t leaking radiation into the Irish Sea, I’d have said Dundalk would make a good home for us.”
“But if the power station wasn’t leaking radiation, no one would have had to leave Anglesey,” Jay said.
“I guess,” Annette said.
“There aren’t any hordes in Ireland?” Jay asked.
“Nope,” Annette said. “Not that Kim saw, or Siobhan, either.”
“Siobhan Murphy? She’s the cop they rescued?” Jay asked. “The one leading the mission to the Faroe Islands.”
“Well, I think Thaddeus is really leading it,” Annette said. “But she’s meant to be the independent observer.”
“She didn’t waste much time, did she?” Jay said.
“Who, Siobhan?”
“No, Admiral Gunderson,” Jay said. “The minute Chester told the admiral about Faroe over the sat-phone, she organised the expedition.”
“It was Bill’s idea,” Annette said. “And if he hadn’t been shot, if he was…” She stalled. “Anyway, why wait?”
“Not sure I like the idea of living on the Faroe Islands,” Jay said. “It’ll be colder than Penrith. A lot colder. How long until we know whether we’re all moving there, do you think?”
“Thaddeus and Siobhan won’t get there for another day,” Annette said. “So maybe a couple of days after that. It won’t take long to find the hydroelectric plant. I guess it might take them a while to turn it back on, but they’ll know whether it works before that cruise ship, the Ocean Queen, reaches Dundalk. Did you speak to Captain Fielding?”
“Me? No. Why?” Jay asked.
“I bet she’s got some interesting stories to tell,” Annette said. “Saving people in the southern hemisphere, living on Ascension, then travelling all the way up Africa before stopping the Ocean Queen and the Courageous off the coast of Belgium and travelling down to Calais where those slavers captured her. Did you know she went as far as the Falkland Islands? They’re near South America.”
“I know where they are,” Jay said. “What did she find there?”
“I’m not sure. That’s why I wanted to talk to her,” Annette said. “I think the islands were swamped with refugees and zombies. I know they didn’t find much fuel anywhere. No safe harbours, no safe ports. That’s why Faroe is so important. It might be the last refuge left.”
“I thought everyone wanted to go to America,” Jay said.
“Not everyone,” Annette said. “Just some of Admiral Gunderson’s original crew from the Harper’s Ferry. She promised them they could return, but they won’t find anything in America that we can’t find in Europe.”
“How do you know?”
“Because of the satellites,” Annette said. “They’re not much use now, with so little fuel left they can’t be moved much, and wherever they’re moved, they find clouds between them and the ground. But in the summer, Sholto got some pictures of New York and other places. America was the same as everywhere else.”
“It doesn’t leave many places we can look for a new home, does it?” Jay said. “The Mediterranean, the Baltic, and that’s all.”
“And the Pacific,” Annette said. “Though I don’t know how we’d get there.”
“By travelling down the coast of South America,” Jay said. “In the cruise ship, and The New World, and the Amundsen.”
“Except we’d run out of fuel,” Annette said with the deliberate patience of someone who’d had it recently explained to her. “That’s why Captain Fielding’s story of the Falklands is so important. If we can’t find fuel in Africa or in South America, we can’t travel south in any direction. I’ll speak to her when we get back to Belgium. But there’s also her admiral to think about.”
“Admiral Gunderson?”
“No. Admiral…” Annette had to flip back a page. “Vice-Admiral Popolov. Russian. Retired. On holiday taking photos of penguins. That’s all I’ve got about him. He was in charge of the people down on Ascension, and when they got to Belgium, he took them overland, to Ukraine, leaving Captain Fielding to guard the Ocean Queen and the HMS Courageous.”
“All because of a radio signal they heard back in March,” Jay said.
“Relayed via lots of places before they heard it from some people in South Africa,” Annette said. “Except we know that those people from Ukraine are now heading south. And that where there were millions near the beginning of the outbreak, there are now only twenty thousand. They’ll be in the Pyrenees now. We can’t leave them behind. Or Admiral Popolov’s people.”
“Do you know much about the Ukrainians?” Jay asked.
“Not really,” Annette said. “Bill’s not talking, and Sorcha isn’t talking to me. What did Chester tell you?”
“Um… let’s see…” Jay began. “Chester was on Anglesey, staying with you after he was rescued from Birmingham.”
“Then he, Bill, and Sorcha got on the plane with Sergeant Salman Khan, Private Amber Kessler, and Scott Higson,” Annette said. “They were meant to fly across to Belfast where Sholto had cleared a road for them to land. But the plane had been sabotaged. They couldn’t turn the aircraft, so they had to fly in a straight line, and ended up crashing in France.”
“Near where they crashed, they found some bodies of people who were murdered,” Jay said.
“Starwind’s people,” Annette said. “She sounds cool. She ran a watchtower east of Creil, keeping the town safe.”
“If you know, then why are you asking me?” Jay said.
“Because I don’t know what I’ve missed,” Annette said.
“Starwind’s people were murdered by the Rosewood Cartel,” Jay said. “Did you know that? Or their leaders were once members of the cartel, which isn’t quite the same thing. Starwind was keeping people safe to the east, and Adrianna was in charge of a group who had a watchtower to the west of the town. Creil has about a thousand people, and they were trapped on an island in the middle of a river. The cartel, led by a guy called Dernier, had lured zombies to either side of the town. The people were trapped until Chester and Bill and the others turned up. They helped liberate the town, and defeat the traitors, but that’s when the helicopter appeared.”
“From Ukraine?”
“Yeah. The Ukrainians had seen Scott’s plane fly overhead,” Jay said. “The Ukrainians had been travelling for months. I think they first tried going east, to Russia, but they had to turn west. The horde followed. There’d been millions of survivors in Ukraine, somewhere along the Dnieper River, but that was at the beginning of the outbreak. There were only twenty thousand in the convoy when it reached France. They saw the plane fly overhead, and sent the helicopter looking for it. The helicopter crew spotted the fires and lights from Creil, which is why it landed there, and told them about the horde and stuff. That’s when the people of Creil decided they had to leave. Chester and Bill and Sorcha went west with Starwind to collect Adrianna and the people at that watchtower. Except they had to rescue them from Cavalie’s people. The cartel thugs. After the battle, they… well, they continued north, leaving Scott Higson, Sergeant Khan, and Private Kessler in Creil.”
“I wish Starwind had come with t
hem,” Annette said, “rather than going back to France. Never mind. What did Chester tell you about their journey north to Calais?”
“That he and Bill got captured by Cavalie,” Jay said. “Sorcha helped them escape. She’s running the cartel now. Cavalie, I mean. They got to Calais and found it was being run as a slave camp by Cavalie and some Russian guy, Rhoskovski. One of the prisoners was Captain Fielding. She was the only one they managed to save. The other prisoners were all murdered. That’s when Chester and the others went to war with the cartel. They got onto the roof of one of the terminal buildings and dropped a bomb over the side, blowing up a whole load of tanks and snowploughs that the cartel people had brought there. That’s when he and Bill, Sorcha, and Flora Fielding escaped by sea.”
“And the harbour was mined?” Annette asked. “That’s what everyone’s been saying.”
“Yeah. When they were escaping Calais, they thought all the mines had been blown up. That’s what the cartel were doing. They were sending out their prisoners in small boats to detonate the mines! Can you believe that?”
“I kinda can, yeah,” Annette said, shaking her head.
“But Chester and Bill and the others, they didn’t set a mine off. The boat following them did. Maybe Cavalie was aboard it.”
“Here’s hoping,” Annette said. “And they got to Belgium a little after everyone else, and now the Ocean Queen is on its way to Ireland, the Courageous is still in Belgium, and we’re heading down to Calais to make sure the cartel people are gone.” She glanced at her notebook. “Is there anything else?”
“One thing,” Jay said. “The cartel people used radio. Chester reckons, in Creil, their engineer is working with them. She was getting information via radio, and sending it to Cavalie. I don’t know the engineer’s name.”
“Brita VanHausen,” Annette said. “I got that from Sorcha. It’s not good, is it?”
“What isn’t?”
“Admiral Popolov and a thousand people are heading east from Belgium towards Ukraine. Meanwhile, a thousand people from Creil, and the twenty thousand who came from Ukraine are heading south to the Pyrenees. The Ocean Queen is going to Ireland where we’ve nearly nine thousand people split between Dundalk and Kenmare Bay. Sholto’s going up to Faroe, which might be habitable, but only if the hydroelectric plant can be turned back on. There’s a hundred million zombies trampling through Europe. And there’s some weird group of drug dealers who, after the world ended, decided they’d test exactly how evil a person could become.”
“Yeah, I guess it isn’t great,” Jay said.
“But we’ve been through worse,” Annette said.
The cat, bored with watching humans who weren’t feeding her, jumped down from her high perch, toppling the five boxes beneath. Jay and Annette leaped out of the way, nearly as fast as the cat, but landed less agilely, and not before the crates loudly clattered to the floor.
“You should let that cat out,” Jay said, scooping up the looted t-shirts which had spilled from a box.
“I don’t want her jumping over the side after some fish,” Annette said. “But I do need to go speak with some other people. Aisha wanted me to talk to Felicity about life in the Tower.”
“Well, if it’s important, I guess I could tell you—” Jay began, but before he could finish, the door opened. A trio of small faces grinned at them.
“Found you,” Simone said. “Oh. Did she find you first?”
“Don’t worry,” Annette said, smiling at Jay. “I’m not playing.”
Part 1
Daughters & Sons
Scott, Salman & Starwind
France & Switzerland
Day 257 - Day 260
25th - 28th November
Day 257, 25th November
Chapter 1 - Subterranean Homesickness
Creil, France
“Strewth, it’s dark down here,” Scott Higson said.
“As dark as a kangaroo’s pouch?” Private Amber Kessler asked.
“People in Australia don’t actually talk like that, you know?” Scott said. “Now get that light over here. Right. But if I were pressed, I’d say it was darker than the historical pit they’ve got up in Silverton on Christmas Day. No visitors at Christmas, you see, so they keep the lights off. There, that’s got it. Third time lucky.”
The Australian pilot stepped back from the open bonnet of the battered Fiat, and wiped his oily hands on an equally oily rag before absentmindedly wiping the residue on the side of his head. The stubble was growing out almost completely grey. He’d kept his head shaved on Anglesey, despite the availability of hot water. Since the plane crash, there’d barely been enough water to drink, and none to spare. In Creil, there was electricity, evidenced by the string of lights running through the cavernous, knocked-through sub-basement garage, but there hadn’t been time to shave. Nor could time be denied; his half-century approached.
“Didn’t think I’d be spending my birthday in France,” he muttered.
“What’s that?” Private Amber Kessler called from inside the cab of the small car.
“Give the screwdriver a wiggle, Amber,” he said. “Let’s see if the car has one last journey in her.”
The engine whined, chugged, and spluttered, before settling into a healthy growl.
“Third time is always the charm,” Scott said. “That’s a thousand bucks you owe me.”
“I’ll grab it next time we pass an ATM,” Amber said.
“I’d settle for a steak,” Scott said. “Or a salad, or even a single piece of fresh fruit.” He wiped his hands on his already grease-stained clothes. Though they were patched and worn, and like most of their gear, gifts from the people of Creil, after two hours of toil in the subterranean gloom, they were filthy. “Come to that, I’d settle for soap.”
“Think that’s worth more than a thousand bucks,” Amber said. “Double or nothing on the next one? Sarge, this Fiat is ready for you.”
“On my way,” Sergeant Salman Khan said, walking out of the shadows, awkwardly carrying both a jack and a foot-pump in his left hand, leaving his right free to hold onto the stock of his SA80. Like Private Kessler’s weapon, the rifle had come from Anglesey. Both were fitted with suppressors made on that island, and among the only gear that they’d been carrying when their plane had crashed. “Where’s your weapon, Private?”
“There, Sarge,” Amber said, pointing inside the car.
“Keep it with you at all times,” Salman said. “Your pack as well, and Mr Higson’s. We don’t know when we’ll have to run.”
“Yes, Sarge,” Amber said, though from her tone, she clearly wanted to say something else.
Where Sergeant Khan was a career Marine, Private Kessler was a recent recruit. The daughter of millionaires, she’d been on a luxury tour of Africa when the outbreak hit. Stranded in Cape Verde, she’d been saved by a US Marine, and found a berth on the Harper’s Ferry. Since the ship had no room for passengers, she’d been drafted. When Scott looked at Private Kessler, though, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his own daughter, Clemmie. The two women were about the same age, and imbued with a similar stubborn disregard for authority.
“What’s next on my list?” Salman asked.
“Front-right tyre needs replacing,” Scott said. “Front-left needs a pump.”
“There’s a spare in the trunk,” Amber said.
“Got it,” Salman said, putting the jack and pump down before taking a strip of cloth from his belt and tying it to the driver’s-side wing mirror. “Four more people have themselves a ride to the Pyrenees. How many vehicles are we short, Scott?”
“Let’s see,” Scott said, turning to peer into the gloom.
Months ago, the survivors in Creil had brought bulldozers and tractors below ground. They’d knocked through the walls of one underground garage into another, and another, and then through the cellars of nearby houses, digging out, propping up, and expanding their subterranean storage space. Before they were trapped on their island, the people of Cr
eil had collected enough vehicles to transport their entire population away from their refuge. The vehicles had lain unchecked for weeks, and uncared for in the months before then, left to slowly rust in the dank underground cavern.
While someone had added duckboards and lights, strung to the generator near the ramp which led up to the road, at no time had anyone thought to add a pump. Water lay deep across the entire floor, with puddles slowly turning to pools. One good storm, or half an hour of a really bad one, and the poorly supported ceiling would collapse.
“I’d say we have enough space for everyone,” Scott finally said. “But we’re about a hundred seats short. And that’s space for people and weapons, no belongings.”
“They won’t leave all their possessions behind,” Salman said. “When we depart, it’ll be like Anglesey. Worse, in some ways, since more of these people lived here before the outbreak.”
“Then we better get back to it,” Scott said. “If we’re leaving at dawn tomorrow, we’ve no time to waste arguing about the colour of the night sky.”
“If Bill, Sorcha, and Chester aren’t back, will we still leave with the people of Creil?” Amber asked.
“I don’t think they’re coming back,” Salman said.
“What do you mean?” Amber asked.
“That after they collect Adrianna from that watchtower, our three will continue north,” the sergeant said.
“Leaving us behind?” Amber asked.
“The mission has to come first,” Salman said. “Right now, the mission is keeping these people alive. Keeping all people alive. Getting them safely out of the path of the horde is step one. Step two is getting them to Ireland. I don’t like our odds of finding a ship in the mountains, so better someone starts the journey from here rather than somewhere further south.”
“What about the satellites?” Amber asked. “Won’t they spot us?”
Salman pointed at the ceiling. “It looked pretty overcast this morning,” he said.
“You can’t be happy about us being left behind like this,” Amber said, turning to Scott.