by Frank Tayell
“He’s waiting for us to come to him,” Nilda said.
“What do you mean?” Jay asked.
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? He has food, and he knows we don’t. That’s why he stole those supplies. Don’t you see?”
“Not exactly,” Chester said. He let go of the handles to the cart and straightened. He and Jay had been pushing it, with its precious cargo of purified water from the boiler room to the dining hall.
“Tell us again, but this time try saying all the words out loud, not just in the privacy of your own head,” Chester said.
“Graham used to go outside on his own, didn’t he? Either then, or maybe even before he arrived at Kirkman House, he must have gone to Westminster and found supplies. Not just ammo and guns, but all the food and everything else that the soldiers stationed inside the barricade would need. He didn’t hide the food he stole from us; he got rid of it. Probably by dumping it in the Thames. That’s why we didn’t find it. The only reason he would do that is if he knew that there was enough food for him somewhere else. It has to be in Westminster. That’s why he’s happy to play this waiting game.”
“And what’s he waiting for?” Jay asked.
“For us to come and ask him for it,” Nilda said. “That’s what he wants. And if you think about it, it’s the only thing in this entire world of value. It’s his chance at a clean slate, for his sins to be forgiven, even Hana’s murder. He would be the saviour of us all.”
“That’s a possibility,” Chester said, slowly. “It’s based on one big assumption. That Graham is, for wont of a better word, normal. Not psychotic. Not delusional. Not whatever psychological descriptor you want to use. It could be that he just wants to destroy the world for the pleasure in doing it.”
“But he had the chance to kill us at the hotel,” Nilda said. “And he’s had more than long enough to come here and attack us. If he just wanted blood, he could have had it. We should forget his motives and whatever his psychological state might be; they don’t matter. All that does is that he has food, and he’s prepared to share it with us.”
“If you’re right, then he’ll only share it for a price,” Chester said.
“Exactly,” Nilda said, and she realised she was smiling.
“You want to go and bargain with him?” Jay asked.
“No. Absolutely not,” Nilda said. “If he wants to talk then he has to come here. Don’t you see? It gives us time.”
“Yes, but time for what?” Chester asked.
Nilda didn’t want to say. She was reasonably certain now that there was only one course of action left to them. One more day, she thought. Styles had said a week. Then that was how long they would give him.
13th October
Nilda pulled the lid off the catering-sized tin. A pair of brown granules sat alone amidst a fine powder. She gave the tin a tilt and a shake, gathering the residue to one edge, but in total it amounted to little more than a spoonful of coffee. She put down the tin and went into the kitchen to find some more.
Stewart sat at one table with Janine and Marko, a washing bowl filled with apples in front of them. Janine was loudly attempting to teach Stewart the correct way to stuff them. From what Nilda could tell, the correct way was anyway except however Stewart was doing it.
Aisha sat at the other table with Kevin and six of the younger children. She was pouring through the ledgers in which they kept stock of their supplies. The children were colouring, and Kevin was attempting to explain to one small boy that trees were green and houses were red. The boy just said “no”, and reached for a purple crayon.
It was a pleasant family scene, one that would have been repeated for time immemorial, and it brought a smile to her lips until Aisha leaned back and Nilda saw her expression.
“I was looking for coffee,” Nilda said. “The jar out there’s almost empty.”
“I know,” Aisha said. “We’re down to our last jar. We’ve three hundred grams left, enough for one weak cup each. I didn’t want to put it out there without telling everyone.”
“Only one cup of coffee?” Nilda asked. “Seriously?”
“And maybe two cups of tea,” Aisha said. “We can stretch that a bit further by re-using the bags and drying out the leaves, but then it’s gone.” She stood, and the two women walked over to the far corner of the kitchen, out of earshot of the children.
“What about food?” Nilda asked. “Are we still okay until December?”
“Until some point around the fourteenth; that’s more or less unchanged. The exact date depends on when we kill the pigs. The sooner we eat them, the less feed they take, but there’s a trade off. The fruit and vegetables aren’t keeping as well as I’d like. The apples in particular are beginning to rot. We can feed those to the animals, but I don’t think we’d want to eat them ourselves. I suppose the question is what we’re going to do in December.”
“There’s Jay’s greenhouse,” Nilda said. “But if and when that does yield any food, it won’t be much.”
“It certainly won’t be enough,” Aisha said. “I was going through the figures, trying to see how long we could last if we reduced our daily intake. Theoretically, if we went down to a thousand calories a day, maybe we could stretch it further, but we wouldn’t be doubling the length of time we’d survive. Whether we eat the fresh food or not, at least a quarter will go off, perhaps as much as half. We can try drying some more, or going out to find more vinegar, but that just reduces the nutritional value and, of course, costs us calories with the effort. Have a look for yourself.”
Nilda did, ignoring the people coming in looking for coffee. It confirmed what she’d already guessed. A meal could be added here and another there to get them through Christmas, but there was no way it was going to last them until spring. She went through the ledger again, this time drawing up a list of the food that would keep and that which wouldn’t. She looked up and saw Aisha watching her.
“No, you’re right,” Nilda said. “The numbers don’t add up.”
“I suppose that if the question is what are we going to do in December,” Aisha said, “what I really want to know is why aren’t we doing it now?”
Nilda looked over at Kevin and the children. “We have to change the numbers,” she murmured.
“There’s really no more coffee?” Constance asked. “But we can find more. We’re surrounded by coffee shops, and they didn’t serve instant. Coffee beans might develop a little mould, but we can scrape that off.”
“Coffee isn’t the problem,” Nilda said, raising her voice to cut through the chatter. It looked like everyone was in the dining hall, and most were holding empty mugs. “We all knew it was only a matter of time before it ran out. The problem is food.”
“Then we look for more,” Constance said.
“Right from the beginning, when I decided Jay and I shouldn’t go on the evacuation, we started looking for supplies. Everyone else did too, right? It’s seven months later. The food’s gone. That’s the truth of it. It’s no use saying we can go out and find some more. We’ve looked. It’s all gone.”
“But what about those restaurants over on the southern bank?” Constance asked. “We found food there, didn’t we? So there will be other places we haven’t searched.”
“We spent two days clearing out the pub, the restaurant, that wine bar, and the hospital. All we had to show after a day and a half’s effort were a few crates of juice, some nuts, and a few catering tins of tomatoes. It doesn’t come close to half the calories we burned. And we talk about calories, not vitamins or fibre or protein. Certainly not meals. Before we went to Kent, we all knew that the food wasn’t going to last. We knew if we didn’t find enough that something would have to give. We got distracted by Graham. We’re each of us to blame for that.”
“How long do we have?” Chester asked.
“Until the middle of December,” Nilda said. “We can try rationing, but a lot of the food will go off whether we eat it or not. We can freeze some, but then
we’re going to burn up twice as many calories on those stationary bikes keeping the battery charged. We can dry a bit more, but we’ll lose a lot of the nutritional value. But even if we did all that, then give or take a week, we’ll have eaten everything before January.”
“There has to be something we can do,” Constance said. “Places we haven’t looked. Places outside of London. We didn’t know that the mansion was there in Kent. There has to be somewhere else like that.”
“Not with crops in the fields,” Chester said. “Not now. Not after the storms.”
“And how would you get there?” McInery asked. “How would you get back? How much could you carry? No, it seems that if we’re talking about leaving here and going further than a day’s travel, there is only one logical destination.”
“Eamonn’s dead,” Greta said, abruptly. “I accept it, and everyone else should, too.”
“And Styles?” Xiao asked.
“Exactly,” Constance said. “It’s only been a week since he left. We should wait a little longer before sending someone else to Wales. Give them a chance to send help.”
“Nilda isn’t talking about getting help, are you?” McInery said, looking at Nilda.
“No,” she said. “I’m not. Styles might have made it. Eamonn might have. We don’t know. A boat might arrive tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Might. All we know is that a boat hasn’t arrived yet. We’ve been hoping that rescue will come for the last three weeks. Let’s be honest. We’ve all been hoping for some miraculous rescue every minute of every day since February. But that miracle is Anglesey. That’s where safety lies. Not here.”
“So you are saying someone else should go?” Constance asked.
“No,” Nilda said. “Some of the food will spoil, but some could last until spring. Each meal an adult eats is three for a child. Think of it like that. And if it weren’t for the children some, if not all, of us would have already tried to make the journey to Wales. The children won’t survive that trip. That’s obvious, so they have to stay. But some of us might survive, so we’ll go. Almost all of us. We’ll try and reach Wales, not so they can send help, but because all of us, the children included, will die if we stay.”
“Graham’s got food,” Jay said. “We don’t know how much, but he’s got some. You said he’s waiting for us to starve, Mum, that he’s hoping we’d bargain for it. I say we go and take it from him.”
“Violence sometimes is the solution,” McInery said, “and I want him dead more than anyone else here, but it isn’t the correct course of action. Not now. We simply don’t know how much food he has. There may be enough for one person for six months, but for a hundred? I doubt it.”
“And there isn’t time,” Nilda said. “It would take days to find him, perhaps weeks. Think of the food we’ll use up while we’re searching. So far, Graham has left us alone. And though it’s inevitable that he will come back here, we don’t want to give him a reason to come any sooner—”
“We can’t stay if the food’s going to run out,” Stewart cut in. “I won’t stay. Terrible things happen then. People change. You think you know them, but you don’t.”
Nilda gritted her teeth in irritation at the interruption, but perhaps it had come at the right moment. “Stewart’s right,” she said. “The alternative is starvation. Death. For all of us. It may be months away, but there’s no avoiding it. There isn’t, is there? I mean, if anyone has any ideas at all, no matter how insane they sound, this is the time to share them.”
Heads turned as people looked around. But their looks were met with silence, and matching expressions of fading hope.
“You said nearly everyone should go,” Greta said. “Who’s staying?”
“I looked at the numbers. I think there will be enough food for the children and five adults for six months. Only those who’d be a liability on the road, either to themselves or to those they’re travelling with, will stay,” she said bluntly. “Aisha, Constance, Stewart, and Chester. I think Kevin should be the fifth adult. He would be the one exception. Otherwise only the children will stay. All the children,” she added, “including Jay.” She waited to see if anyone objected.
“That’s fair,” Greta said. “And we have a route that will take us the first five miles. You’ve all seen the map? First we go to the railway station and then follow the railway lines. It’ll get us out of London, and the journey should be easier after that.”
“When do we leave?” McInery asked.
“The days are getting shorter,” Nilda said. “The weather’s getting worse, and if we’re going to leave, then we’re just wasting daylight staying here. It would be best if we stagger our departures. Everyone needs time to pack and get ready. We’ll need to make sure that everyone has weapons, maps, and the right kind of clothing. It’s important we each have a fair chance. We should leave one Geiger counter here, and that will leave us one, and eleven dosimeters, so if we travel in groups of three or four, we’ll have one each. But if you want to travel alone, that’s up to you. Nor are we going to draw lots to see who travels with whom. I’ll go first,” she added. “And I’ll leave tomorrow. Everyone else needs to be gone within the next three days. This can’t be optional, and yes, it will dangerous out there. The reality is that some of us will probably die, but if some stay behind, then those deaths are meaningless. So I won’t ask if there any objections. I’ll just ask if everyone understands.”
There was an unenthusiastic chorus of agreement.
“Come on, Jay,” she said, putting a hand on her son’s shoulder and leading him out of the dining hall. “You can help me pack.”
“I’m not really a child, you know. You’ve got to stop thinking of me as one,” he said as they walked across the cobbled path.
“I don’t think of you as one. Like you’ve told me often enough, you’re better at surviving in this world than most. Someone has to protect those children. You want me to treat you like an adult? Well, this is a very old-fashioned role for you. Keep them safe.”
“But why do you have to go?”
“Because leadership isn’t about taking people in the direction they want to go. That’s just following from the front. It’s about setting an example and doing it in such a way that they’re compelled to follow. Quite literally in this case.”
“There has to be some other way.”
“I wish there were, but the numbers just don’t add up. We could send out a person once a week and hope that someone reaches Anglesey, but what if they don’t? For all we know, the horde has come to a rest somewhere on the outskirts of London. A journey out there could be certain death. Wait,” she added as she saw Jay was about to protest. “Just listen. I’m not saying it is or that it’s likely. But it’s possible that ten weeks from now ten more people will have gone, no help has arrived, and we’d still be looking at starvation. What do we do then? Do ask we people to leave? Do we pick straws? Do we ask them to kill themselves, or do we just kill them in their sleep?”
“Mum!”
“I’m not joking, Jay. This is the hard decision we have to make. Do we say our own lives are more valuable than anyone else’s, or do we say that we have a collective responsibility to those children? That is what a community is about. Sacrifice, Jay. Being aware when to make it, and being prepared to do so without being coerced. And since that sacrifice is inevitable, better it’s now.”
“But it’s like you’re saying that everyone who goes will die.”
“Maybe we will. But we have a better chance if we leave before winter begins and the days get too short. Styles was right. Hundreds of people died to keep those children safe. Perhaps most of them did it unwittingly, but that doesn’t matter. Believe me, Jay, if we don’t do all that we can, and we somehow survive, we won’t be able to live with ourselves afterwards. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” he said. “And what about Graham? What do I do if he comes back?”
“Stall for time. Other than that, listen to Chester.”
> They’d reached her door.
“Do you really need a hand packing?” he asked.
“No, I don’t imagine it’ll take long.”
“Then I’m going to take the drone up.”
“To check on the undead?”
“No,” he said. “I want to look for that cat.”
She smiled and watched him until he disappeared into the Keep. Then she went to pack.
She’d been right. It didn’t take long. A towel, a poncho, some tools, matches, and a spare bayonet didn’t take up much room. Dry clothes took up weight, and they could be found in any house on any street. Safety and success lay in speed, and that meant food and water. She went to the kitchen and found she wasn’t the only one who’d had that idea.
“Please,” Aisha said to the small crowd that had formed. “Give me time. Everyone will get the same, it will all be shared equally, but it’s not like I can just pull things from the shelves.”
McInery, Nilda saw, was the only one who was really helping. She was sorting through the water bottles, discarding some, and setting others aside to be filled. “Everyone out!” Aisha snapped. “Wait in the dining hall. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
Nilda backed out of the door and went to find Chester. Once again, she found him in the wood store.
“I’m sorting it,” he said. “Got to make sure we’ve got enough. Once you’re gone I don’t think we’ll be going outside the castle walls again.”
“That’s probably for the best. If you need to, we only emptied the first two floors of the office block, though most of the furniture was more plastic and metal than wood. There’s some beams in the floor of the Keep. You can always burn those. Then there’s the doors and window frames. You shouldn’t run out.”
“I know. But I find this clears the mind. Helps me think of the other things we’re missing.”
“Of course,” she hesitated. “I… I wanted to talk to you.”
“Sure.” He put down the shelf he was holding.
“Not here,” she said. “Come for a walk. Outside, by the river.”