Surviving the Evacuation, Book 17

by Frank Tayell

  I didn’t appreciate the sheer size of the Ocean Queen. The best description I can muster is of three apartment blocks stacked together, on their sides, and with as much apparent buoyancy. I assume magic keeps it afloat, because it surely can’t be physics. But it does float. This morning, it did move, gracelessly bulldozing the waves as it inched its way into the harbour. Despite the clear skies and calm wind, mine wasn’t the only breath held as the ship brushed the seawall, following Norm Jennings and his launch through the barely-deep-enough and not-really-wide-enough channel to the jetty. A jetty it was far, far, far too tall for.

  Yesterday, Mary had kept the children occupied by having them make pennants: single-colour flags affixed to whatever sticks could be found around the school. They’d begun waving as soon as the ship approached, but their arms were beyond tired before we began the engineering struggle of raising a gantry to the lowest of the cruise-ship’s access doors. I was getting tired myself. I’d already clocked up the longest I’d been on my feet since I’d been shot. Conscious of the hundreds watching from the deck towering above us, I ignored the pain in my shoulder, made worse by the weight of the partially cement cast, and concentrated on keeping my smile from becoming a grimace. But, in the end, the gantry reached. The door opened. The admiral appeared, and the children began waving again with an energy they managed to sustain almost until the admiral had stepped onto firm concrete.

  There was no flag to raise, lower, or salute. No anthem played, let alone was sung. That’s what I’d wanted. I was overruled. But Admiral Janet Gunderson is our leader. Elected only by those who escaped the conflagration in Belfast, but elected nonetheless, and accepted by everyone else. Does it matter that we didn’t have a more formal ceremony? Perhaps not.

  “Welcome to Faroe,” Kim said.

  “Thank you,” Admiral Gunderson said. “And thank you,” she added, addressing the children, who took that as their cue to finally let their tired arms droop. “What a wonderful welcome.” The admiral turned to Kim. “Is everything ready?”

  “Just as we discussed,” Kim said.

  “Have you seen the locals this morning?” the admiral asked.

  “Not yet,” Kim said.

  “We won’t wait for them,” the admiral said. “Let’s bring everyone ashore.”

  And I wish it had been as easy as that.

  Chief Watts had followed the admiral ashore, and stood by the gantry, a frustrated look on his face. The one-time submariner shook his head. Clearly, he couldn’t connect the shore-side system to the ship’s radio.

  “It’s a good thing we have a plan-B,” the admiral said. She took out her sat-phone, dialled, then spoke into the receiver. “Patch the call ship-wide.” A wall of feedback blasted from the ship’s address system, loud enough to scare the lone pair of curious seagulls that had arrived with the ship. With another smile, the admiral handed me the phone. “Mr Wright, we’re all ears.”

  “Welcome to Faroe,” I said. After a disconcerting delay, my words echoed across the floating behemoth. “There’ll be a more formal welcome tomorrow, after the wedding. Today, we’re going to bring you ashore in groups of fifty, take you to a welcome centre for a meal and a housing allocation, and then you can get settled in. Because we’re saving the warm welcome for tomorrow, I’ll remind you of this, here and now. We’re not on Anglesey anymore. There are zombies on this island. We’ve roped off the electrified part of the town. Stay within the ropes. Don’t go out alone. Don’t go out unarmed. We don’t want tragedy to spoil this triumph. Now, in your groups, we’ll bring you ashore. Welcome to Faroe, let’s see what kind of home we can make here.”

  It wasn’t the most rousing of speeches, but it was simply a verbal vehicle in which to frame the warning. And it had to be made by me. Rather, it couldn’t be the admiral, leaving few others to fill the role. If that means I become defined as the killjoy civil servant, so be it.

  The children came ashore first, and there weren’t many of them. The expectant mothers came next, and there weren’t many more. With them came their families. In total, they numbered just over five hundred who, in groups of fifty at a time, were led to the school. The rest of the adults came next, again in groups of fifty, and they were led, one group at a time, to the sports centre.

  We’ve separated the children and the expectant due to food. For once, there’s plenty of it, but it’s mostly fish. After all this time, I don’t think many would argue against the children and expectant getting what little else we have, but seeing others receiving marginally more varied rations could still foster resentment.

  Colm came ashore in the third group. When I spotted him, I stepped forward.

  “Welcome to Faroe,” I said, talking as I limped, beginning the slightly more detailed welcome speech I’d hastily written, copied for everyone else, and mostly memorised for myself. “This way, please. Follow the red line we’ve painted on the road. Red leads to the sports centre. We’re using that as a general meeting place as it’s one of the few buildings large enough for all of us. Green goes to the school. The children are billeted in houses around it. Blue will take you to the hotel we’re using as our administrative hub. We didn’t want to use the Faroese’s parliament building. It’s a little awkward since, of course, these are the homes of people who now live on the other island. Please do remember that. Keep everything as tidy as you can until we’ve reached a more permanent arrangement with the locals. Everyone still with me? Great.”

  I walked slowly, partly because I was feeling the effects of an already long morning standing still, but also to let them take in this odd little town. I knew a few of their names, and a few more faces, and to most of those I gave a smile and a nod, though not to Markus, loitering near the rear. Colm was a few steps behind, not looking at Markus, but that crook must have realised the Irishman was his own personal police escort.

  “This way, then,” I said, and continued limping up the road. Behind me, the sound of footsteps was drowned by the muffled growl of plastic suitcase wheels carving tracks through the partially flooded road.

  “Half the town has power,” I said. “And water should come out of the taps in your billet, but we’ve not checked every faucet. If there’s a problem with the plumbing, or the wiring, report it up at the sports centre. There are just about enough rooms for everyone to get one of their own, but you might have to share a house. We’re assuming that, since you disembarked together, you don’t mind sharing a roof. If you do, you’ll have to swap among yourselves. Things will get a little easier after we’ve secured, and restored power to, the rest of the town. Until then, we’ve got to make do.”

  “You mean go without,” Markus said.

  After his unwitting involvement in the murder and mayhem in Belfast leading to that citywide inferno, I’d honestly thought he’d keep his head down and his mouth shut. Neither the admiral nor Colm had agreed, hence why Markus had his escort.

  “We’ve made do with worse,” Colm said loudly. “A lot worse. You said there’s a meal waiting for us?”

  “There is,” I said. “That’s why we’ve staggered disembarkation. We’ve only been here a few hours longer than you. The meal will be fish. We did find some old-world supplies. Not many, and we’ll share it all out tomorrow, after the wedding. But after that, we’re back to fish and birds.”

  “That’s better than going hungry,” Colm said.

  “It is,” I said.

  “You haven’t searched every house, then?” Markus asked.

  “Most, but not all,” I said. “We’ll organise some systematic searches in the next few days, and I’ll put your name at the top of the list of volunteers. But that’ll be after the wedding. For now, stay in the part of the town with power. You’ll know where that is by the lights, and by the ropes we’ve strung across the roads. We’ll have more announcements tomorrow, after the wedding. There will be work, hunting, fishing, cleaning, patrolling, the usual, but there won’t be so much we can’t enjoy a few weeks of rest.”

&nbs
p; “And then what?” Markus chimed in.

  “That depends on the Faroese,” I said. “And on what the expeditions discover. The first will depart the morning after the wedding. Less than forty-eight hours from now, heading to Iceland, Greenland, and Canada. Three more voyages are planned, with the goal of all being completed before the end of January. And here we are. This is the sports centre. So I’ll say welcome once more, before bidding you adieu, for now.”

  Colm hung back as the others entered.

  “Do you think Markus will be a problem?” I asked the one-time Belfast boxer who’d come second in the on-ship ballot to choose a new leader.

  “Not one I can’t handle,” Colm said. “It’s the quiet folk you’ve got to watch, but I can handle them, too. Oh, but it’s good to have solid ground beneath my feet again.”

  “You’ve picked out some police officers?”

  “Twenty I trust,” Colm said. “Plus the volunteers patrolling against the undead.”

  “Twenty? You think you’ll need that many?”

  “I hope not,” he said. “Time always tells, but it tests the unprepared hand. Whatever the trials ahead of us are, we’ll be facing them on a full stomach.”

  “I’ll let you get some food,” I said, taking his hint and letting him enter. I didn’t follow, though I did linger outside in the empty car park, enjoying the fresh air. An act in which I was caught when Kim walked out through the sports hall’s main doors.

  “Was there a problem?” I asked.

  “A problem? No,” Kim said. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I caught up with you,” I said. “I thought you’d be on your way back to the harbour by now.”

  “I was having a nice chat with some people I’ve not seen in a while,” she said as we headed together back to the dock. “Didn’t you talk with your group?”

  “I gave them the speech,” I said.

  “And I bet you did it in your gravely serious voice,” she said, taking my unbroken arm. “You need to relax, Bill. Everything is going well. And before you point out dark shadows are gathering, they always are after midday. We’re alive, the ship’s arrived, and there’s a hot meal for everyone. Things have often been a lot worse than that.”

  While we escorted people from the harbour to the sports centre, the morning became the afternoon. The wind returned. The clouds gathered. The town filled with people, then lights, then noise as CD players and TVs came on, playing whatever discs could be found. Torshavn came alive, but I was approaching dead-tired when I got to the harbour and found no one else waiting to disembark. I wanted to go home, to bed, but went to the hotel instead, and was surprised to find the admiral already there.

  “The medical exams are over?” I asked.

  “There isn’t much I can do here I couldn’t do aboard ship,” she said. “I only had a few patients on my list.”

  “Any I need to worry about?” I asked.

  “Only yourself,” she said, ushering me into the office behind the reception desk. “Take a seat. No, on the desk. Thanks.”

  “My arm’s fine,” I said.

  “When did a doctor ever listen to a patient?” she said. “I’d like to take a look at the hospital’s operating theatres, but with night already approaching, I’ll have to fit it in before tomorrow’s ceremony. Jacket off, please. Here, let me help.”

  She gave me little choice, but I was getting used to military doctors for whom, more so than a civilian medic, a request was really an order.

  “Why do you want to see the operating theatres?” I asked.

  “Patient confidentiality prevents me from giving you the specifics, but I’d like to be prepared. This is a solid cast. Very solid.”

  “I think there’s some cement in the mix,” I said.

  “Is there much pain?”

  “Discomfort more than actual pain,” I said.

  “Roll your fingers, left to right. Now right to left. Grip my hand. Tighter. Thank you. How are you sleeping?”

  “As well as ever,” I said.

  “Honestly?”

  “I’m up a few times each night,” I said. “But I’m jumping at odd noises, not because of the arm.”

  “Are you sleeping in a bed?”

  “A chair, mostly.”

  “I see. I’ll leave the cast on for now, but will replace it later this week. You’re not a priority, but I’d like to check how the arm is setting. We want you fully mobile before the first of March.”

  “The chances of me ever being properly mobile ended on a staircase in Whitehall,” I said, tapping my leg.

  “Any news of the Faroese?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “Thaddeus has taken a drive up to the bridge to let them know you’ve arrived.”

  “But you think they’re watching?” she asked.

  “I do. Possibly from the tunnel, if nowhere else.”

  “I stationed another four guards at the entrance,” she said. “The Faroese secured it very well, didn’t they? Cement, and cinder-block, with no obvious door on this side.”

  “I’m sure there is one,” I said. “And I’m sure they know you’ve arrived, but it gives us an excuse to send my brother up to the bridge to maintain the dialogue.”

  “I have an idea on that very topic,” she said. “We’re having our meeting here?”

  “At five,” I said. “Over an early dinner.”

  “Good. Then, unless there is anything else, I am going to spend my time in the bath.”

  Night comes early in winter, and earlier still this far north. I spent the hours between nightfall and evening walking the town, being friendly. Or as friendly as I can manage while I’m slowly freezing, but chattering teeth look close to a smile.

  By four, like most of the new arrivals, I’d retreated to the warmth of inside. In my case, it was to the hotel rather than our new home. I found a chair in the lounge that was nearly out of the way of the programmers, Mirabelle, Ken, and Dee-Dee, who were unpacking screens and cables brought from the cruise ship.

  Though I was the first of our nascent cabinet to arrive, everyone else was there long before the appointed hour, summoned by the prospect of food as much as curiosity.

  “There was a miscalculation in the kitchens, they apologise,” Nilda said as she pushed the food trolley into the hotel’s dining room where the meeting was being held. Present were Chester and Nilda, Kim and myself, Sholto, Mary, George; Leon, Siobhan, the admiral, and Captain Annabeth Devine, the admiral’s deputy from the USS Harper’s Ferry who’d been in command of Elysium during these last few weeks.

  From outside, there was a clatter and curse as a computer was dropped.

  “Doesn’t look like they’ve miscalculated on quantity,” Chester said, handing out the bowls. “Not sure what else matters.”

  “We’re missing a few people,” I said.

  “Heather and Lorraine send their apologies, but they want to get ready for tomorrow,” Nilda said.

  “They’re getting married, too?” Kim asked. “How many couples is that now?”

  “Counting Reg and Gloria, that’s eight,” Nilda said. “Though there’s room for more. I’m not looking at anyone in particular, I’m just stating a bald fact.”

  George opened his mouth, but Mary spoke first. “And is everything ready for the ceremony, dear?” she asked.

  “For how brief it’ll be, it’s an awful lot of work,” Nilda said. “No white dresses. Not that there aren’t any in Faroe, but I didn’t want anyone wearing the dress of one of our guests. The same goes for the local costume, of which we found quite a few sets. It’ll be whatever suits and gowns can be found to fit. Thankfully, I’ve persuaded the children it would be too complicated passing the crown around, so those old jewels are being left out of the ceremony. There’ll be no procession, except at the end. The couples will come out, together. A bit of music, a few sonnets, the vows, and that’s the extent of the formalities.”

  “And that’s when the fun starts,” Chester added.

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sp; “We’re holding the ceremony at the sports centre?” the admiral asked.

  “Outside if the weather remains fine, inside if it starts to rain,” Nilda said. “There’ll be photographs afterward, not that we have any way of developing them, but taking them will be an opportunity to get the Faroese on their own, and there’ll be another chance during the music and dancing. We’ve been practicing.”

  “Not sure one lesson yesterday counts as practice,” Chester said.

  “We’ll all be as rusty as each other,” Nilda said firmly.

  “And food?” the admiral said. “That’s my biggest concern.”

  All eyes went to the partially charred contents of the bowls in front of them.

  “There was an accident with a tray,” Nilda said. “We miscounted somehow, and if anyone was going short, it had to be us, not the last people off the ship. We had to whip something up, but there was some confusion between Celsius and Fahrenheit, and… well, here we are.”

  “But everyone else has eaten?” the admiral asked.

  “They have,” Kim said. “And there’s a couple of soup tureens on the bubble in the sports centre, there for anyone to come and claim a bowl. Tomorrow, we’ll put on breakfast between nine and eleven. More soup, it looks like. The main meal will be after the ceremony. One course, but filling. The main event, though, will be the buffet which’ll go out after the dancing.”

  “And after tomorrow?” the admiral asked.

  “We’ll keep the meals centralised for this week,” Kim said. “After that, I’d like everyone to cook for themselves, but communally. I was thinking we’d use the restaurants, and let each group decide on a rota for cooking and cleaning, and hope the better chefs make themselves known. That’s the logistics. As regards the menus, it will be fish, birds, and seaweed. Giselle is positive it’s edible. She made Pierre eat some to prove it. Oh, and if you see any of the children wearing strands of seaweed like a scarf, Pierre’s pantomime of dying after tasting it is the reason why. Hydroponics might produce a few leaves in a month, perhaps a few radishes. We should be able to trade with the locals, just as soon as we can figure out what they want. I don’t think this is the season for any bird to lay eggs, but we can’t go looking for nests until the locals allow us out beyond the town. So, for now, it’ll be fish, bird, and seaweed.”