Britain's End

by Frank Tayell

  “Of course,” Fenwick said.

  “Then Bill will ask her the next time she calls in. Is there anything else?”

  “I… no. No,” Leo said. “Good. Fine. Well, with Chief Watts’s absence, there’s nothing more to discuss. I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening. Good night.”

  “I think he pulled Orkney off the top of his head,” Kim said when Fenwick had left.

  “Very possibly,” Mary said.

  “He has a point,” Donnie said, not looking up from his screen.

  “I didn’t think you were listening,” Mary said.

  “I thought it best to pretend I wasn’t,” Donnie said, pulling out his earbuds. He held up the tablet. “I was reading this book on the diesel engine, though I can’t say I understand it. I really wish I paid attention in Miss O’Brian’s physics class. Leo does have a point, though. Are we wasting our time with Belfast?”

  “If we go anywhere else, we’ll lose the plane,” Bill said.

  “Which we may never fly again,” Donnie said. “And if we do fly, it will most likely be a one-way trip to Canada, or a crash-landing in Africa. It won’t put food on our table next spring.”

  “Fine, forget the plane,” Bill said. “There are still a few tankers of aviation fuel at Belfast International, and there are dozens of helicopters. We should be able to get some to work. If we decide we don’t need them, we can use that fuel in a diesel engine. We’ve got Colm, Dean, Lena, and Kallie, and they have local knowledge. More than that, Belfast is a big city. I don’t know how many people lived on Orkney, but I bet it was fewer than in Belfast.”

  “But it’s the mainland rather than an island,” Donnie said. “In one day, we lost one percent of our population. Right now, we’ve got ammunition, we’re rested, and as healthy as we’re likely to get. The next battle will be worse.”

  “And the more people we lose, the worse it will get, yes,” Mary said. “But picking a name from a map is not the answer. No, we have a plan that was voted on, that was agreed to, and which has got the tacit support of the community. Leo is scared of failure. I don’t think he expected to be elected. In fact, I think his sister should have been the one to stand, but, sadly, we need her more as a judge. He was elected, and the burden of that responsibility is weighing on him.”

  “He’s doing his job, keeping our feet held close to the fire,” Bill said. “And making sure that what we do is done in the name of the community at large. I’m glad of it.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Kim asked.

  “Taking it one day at a time,” Mary said. “And this day is drawing to an end. Donnie?”

  The young man gave a wan smile, and wheeled his grandmother away.

  “I feel sorry for him,” Kim said, when she and Bill were alone.

  “Do you mean Leo or Donnie?” Bill asked.

  “Donnie. Leo, too, though in a different way. No, I was thinking of Donnie. This isn’t much of a life for him. Nor for Annette, or us, for that matter. It’ll be different when we’re settled. Fancy a cup of hot water?”

  “Why not,” Bill said.

  “I think Leo is right,” Kim said. “Or right-ish.” She walked over to the door that concealed the stairs, opened it, and peered up. She closed the door, and sat at the small table. “Heather Jones has taken her people to Elysium, not Belfast.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Before she left, she all but admitted it,” Kim said. “But she didn’t, not outright. Leon was meant to lead that part of the expedition, and she had planned to go to London. You know what that tells me?”

  “That the admiral is in league with them,” Bill said. “It’s her Marines guarding that mansion at the moment.”

  “And Mister Mills is working with them, too, since the Vehement is halfway there,” Kim said. “But that’s not what I meant. Heather was planning to go to London. It’s not simply because Lorraine’s there. She wants the children from London as part of her community, regardless of whether the girl there is related to the Duponts. She’s thinking about the future, Bill. She’s realised that, ten years from now, there’ll be a lot of ten-year-olds, and a lot of old people. Factor in the life-shortening effect of radiation exposure, and there’s a generational time-bomb waiting to go off. The children will act as a buffer. Every book I’ve read says that’s critical to avoiding societal collapse.”

  Bill pressed his palms into his forehead. “Fine, but more immediately, do you know her plans?”

  “Other than she’s not going to Belfast, no,” Kim said. “It could simply be that she doesn’t think it’ll last. Or it might be that she prefers a little electricity to none, and she’s been enticed by the wind turbines in Elysium. If I’m honest, I’m happier with the idea of not having everyone in Belfast.”

  “But she didn’t tell us,” Bill said.

  “I can cope with Sholto having his own agenda, because I know that he’ll do what he can to save the most that he can. Mary, well, she likes to act inscrutable, but I think it is just an act. The admiral, scheming like this with Leon, Mister Mills, and Heather Jones, it’s… troubling.”

  “Our three highest-ranked military figures acting outside of the veneer of democracy, yes, I’d agree,” Bill said. “What about Sophia Augusto, did you speak to her?”

  “And she’s another one with her own agenda, but at least she was open about it. Sophia doesn’t trust me, because she still doesn’t trust Sholto. But her plans are pedestrian enough. She wants a ship large enough for her crew and their families. In the spring, she wants to return to Puerto Rico. Until then, she’s going to be at sea as often as she can. But she’ll bring back fish and whatever else she can find. It’ll be a straight swap for whatever supplies she needs. I’d say she’s effectively removed herself and her crew from our society, though without leaving.”

  “And without joining the admiral and Heather,” Bill said. “But Sophia probably knew of their plans.”

  “Possibly, but maybe not,” Kim said. “What about Chester?”

  “He’s leaning towards Elysium,” Bill said. “But he doesn’t like the sound of either Belfast or Kenmare Bay.”

  “And the rest of the people in London will go along with whatever he decides?”

  “I think so,” Bill said. “Although, there’s now the matter of Leon to add to the mix. If the girl is the Duponts’ granddaughter, will the children all stay together, or will some go with Leon, some stay with Chester and Nilda?”

  “At least that isn’t our problem,” Kim said. “But the other children are. If we move them from the John Cabot, we’re admitting that Belfast is over. Is Elysium any better, though? I mean, if it was, we’d have gone there, not to Belfast, right?”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Bill said. “And no, Elysium isn’t better. I’d say it’s worse. There’s little to be scavenged from the countryside, and nowhere to land the plane. It’s very nearly the most westerly point of Europe, which means we’ll be coming back on ourselves when it’s time to leave. We’ve got a foothold in Belfast. Even if we do nothing but hide in the harbour, we’ve got an entire city to loot. We can make it work for a few weeks.”

  “But then there’s the matter of leadership,” Kim said. “If we wait in Belfast until it falls apart, we’re handing governance to the admiral. That’s the reality, and if we do that, we’ll all end up in America.”

  “Unless her plan is to only take those from Elysium, and leave the rest of us behind.”

  “I don’t think she’d do that,” Kim said. “Two months ago, maybe, but not now. So what do we do? Move the people here to Elysium, or do we just admit defeat, and go with the admiral to America?”

  “We don’t have the ships,” Bill said. “If we did, I might say yes.”

  “But if we don’t say yes now,” Kim said. “Maybe, in a few weeks, it won’t be us making the decisions. I think we should go. All of us. To America. Let’s sail off into the unknown.”

  “You don’t think that sounds desperate?” Bill as
ked.

  “I think it might be romantic,” Kim said. “Not in the candle-lit dinner sense. I mean… oh, in the sense of adventure. The unknown has to be better than what we’re leaving behind. I’d like to see Oregon again. Maybe—” But before she could finish, they heard the door to the main room open. It was Chief Watts, dripping rainwater onto the floor.

  “What is it, Chief?” Bill asked. “The power plant?”

  “Not exactly,” Watts said. “I thought Mrs O’Leary was here.”

  “You just missed her,” Kim said. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the water treatment plant,” Watts said. “The regulator’s blown. There’s no fresh water getting into the power station.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Kim said.

  “It’s not,” Watts said. “Water from the treatment plant feeds into a reservoir in the power plant. In thirty-six hours…” He glanced at his watch. “Thirty-five hours, twenty minutes, the reservoir will be empty. There’ll be no water to cool the reactor.”

  “It’ll blow?”

  “Not immediately,” Watts said, “and not if we begin the shutdown. There are ways to repair it, and to bypass it.”

  “What’s the ‘but’,” Kim said. “You cycled here in the rain.”

  “I can probably buy us a few days, maybe a week,” the chief said. “It’ll take my entire team, working around the clock. Currently, they’re manually inspecting the nuclear plant. I can’t guarantee that nothing else will break while we’re at the treatment plant. If it does, we may not have any warning before a meltdown.”

  “So… so it’s over?” Kim said.

  Watts shrugged. “Give the order, we’ll try to repair it.”

  “It shouldn’t be me who gives that order,” Bill said.

  Watts shrugged again.

  “Thirty-six hours, or a week at most?” Bill asked.

  “More or less,” Watts said, “but I can’t guarantee how much less.”

  “Then it is over,” Bill said. “What happens next?”

  “I can begin the shutdown now,” Watts said. “Everything will be fine for a couple of days, and then we’ll enter a period of uncertainty. At some point, something will break; I’ve a list of a hundred possible systems. Once the first breaks, failure will cascade. Containment will fail. Radioactive material will spill into the sea. That’s the best-case scenario. The worst is a fire, and radioactive smoke being carried over Belfast.”

  “Let’s hope for the best, then,” Bill said. “I better speak to Mary.”

  “You don’t need me for that,” Watts said. “I’ll go back to the plant.”

  He left, and Bill and Kim were once again alone.

  “Thirty-six hours,” Kim said. “It’s too late to change the plans now. You speak to Mary. I’ll call Sholto and the admiral.”

  Bill looked around the small terrace, taking it in one last time. “Call London, too,” he said. “And Svalbard, and Elysium. There’s no point standing on ceremony. Not now.”

  “Water, that was always the problem,” Bill said, when he’d told Mary what Chief Watts had said.

  “And it will be a problem in Belfast, too, by the sound of it,” Mary said. “A problem we shall face and overcome.”

  “I hope so,” Bill said.

  “Faith, Mr Wright, have faith in each other if nothing else. Is everything in place for the exodus?”

  “I think everyone in Menai Bridge has departed,” he said. “I’ll check at dawn. Everyone else should be in Holyhead. It’s a shame we didn’t get that radio station set up. Instead, we’ll have to go door-to-door.”

  “And for transportation, we’ll use the grain ships?” Mary asked.

  “Did you get the report? The engines work and they’ve enough fuel to get to Belfast. It’ll be slow, though. It’ll take at least a day. Possibly longer. Depends on how long they take to turn. And it’ll be unsanitary.”

  “We’ve all survived far worse,” Mary said.

  “Some people might try to cross in their smaller boats,” Bill said. “We can’t stop them.”

  “And we shouldn’t try,” Mary said.

  “Those boats will sink,” Bill said. “Heather took all the seaworthy ships.”

  “People are free to do as they will and go where they want,” Mary said. “We shan’t force anyone to come with us. For some, the boats represent freedom, and when you get to the root of it, isn’t that freedom what we’re trying to preserve?”

  “I suppose so. And then we’ll be in Belfast,” Bill said. “I’m worried it won’t work.”

  “You’ve heeded Leo’s warning, I see.”

  “I was worried before,” Bill said.

  “And that concern will see us through,” Mary said. “Whatever we plan, something always derails us, but as long as we follow the tracks, we’ll make it out of the tunnel. Yes, Belfast will be difficult, but we shall overcome. We’ll face two days of chaos when we arrive. The crisis will come four days from now. Perhaps five. Is Markus being watched?”

  “Always,” Bill said. “There’s something else. Heather Jones is heading to Elysium, not Belfast. Heather, the admiral, Leon, and Mister Mills have effectively taken over the mansion in Kenmare Bay.”

  “I realised,” Mary said. “Do you realise they’ve left us the grain ships? They’ve removed the most capable among us, along with the more seaworthy of the fishing fleet, but that’s half the number of people gone. The grain will last longer in Belfast.”

  “I hadn’t looked at it that way.”

  “It’s because you’re thinking like a politician, not a teacher,” Mary said. “A politician wants everyone striving towards the same goal, no matter whether they agree with it. A teacher wants the best for all their children, no matter which path they chose. Heather has done us a favour. As for the admiral, you’ll note that she is still in Belfast. I wouldn’t panic until she leaves. Things will not be as bad as you fear, Mr Wright.”

  Chapter 18 - Embarkation

  21st November, Anglesey, Day 253

  “That didn’t take as long as I feared,” Mary said. “Nor even as long as I’d hoped.”

  The previous evening, immediately after Bill had informed Mary, he’d gone to the docks. The skeleton crews on the grain ships had been told of the immediacy of their departure. They had woken the remainder of the crew, sleeping ashore. Those sailors had woken those they lived with, and they had woken their neighbours who had then woken theirs. Word had quickly spread, and before dawn, a long queue had formed outside the harbour.

  “Last night,” Bill said, “watching the people leaving their homes carrying their suitcases and backpacks, it reminded me of the evacuation of London. Except for the weapons, of course.”

  “That is a comparison I’d rather not make,” Mary said. “How many people are missing.”

  “Not many,” Bill said. “I took the first three hundred people to line up, promised they would be allowed to board first, and then had them knocking on doors. I think we’ve got everyone.”

  “Five small boats left this morning,” Annette said. “I saw them.”

  “No one wants to linger near a power station that’s about to blow up.” Kim said.

  “And it looks like they’re ready to board the last ship,” Mary said. “Bran, can you give me a hand with the chair?”

  It was a tactful way to give the family some space. Rahinder and Donnie were already on board. The collective of coders were acting as crowd control, ensuring no one tried to take more than they could carry. Not many were, as few had reached Anglesey with more than the clothes on their backs. Markus was the exception, arriving with a laden handcart, which, along with its contents, still sat on the docks where he’d been forced to abandon it.

  “I liked Anglesey,” Annette said. She scuffed her foot against a leaf. “Daisy did, too, didn’t you?”

  Daisy gave a suspicious nod.

  “You won’t be long, will you, Bill?” Annette asked.

  “No. And I’ll be in Belfas
t before you. I want to make sure everyone has left, then I’ll catch the plane.”

  “I don’t see why we can’t fly,” Annette said.

  “Because it’s not going to be a safe landing,” Bill said. “But it’ll be safe enough,” he added. “You heard what Sholto said. They’ve almost cleared the rest of the road, and he’ll be waiting with a squad of sailors. No, I’ll be fine, and so will you, but keep an eye on Kim for me.”

  Annette grinned. “Sure.”

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Kim said. “Go on, Bill. Don’t wait to wave us off. If you do, I’ll have to stand on the deck watching until Anglesey is lost to sight. I don’t want to do that. It’s time we faced forward.”

  Bill leaned in and kissed her goodbye. He hugged Annette and Daisy, smiled as confidently as he could manage, turned around, and walked away. When he looked back, Kim and the girls were stalwartly following Mary onto the ship. Bill didn’t look back again, but kept going until he reached the corner where Chester Carson patiently waited. Bill kept on until he was around the corner, out of sight of the boat. He leaned against the wall, and looked up at the sky.

  “Hard to say goodbye, isn’t it?” Chester said.

  “I don’t know if I’m saying goodbye to them, to Anglesey, or to something else,” Bill said. “Rather, I don’t know if there’s anything I’m not saying goodbye to. Are you sure you don’t want to catch the ship?”

  “And miss out on a plane ride? Nah, this is something to tell the kids.”

  “Then you can give me a hand to see who else has stayed behind,” Bill said. He checked his watch. “Take-off is scheduled for three. We’ll land thirty minutes later. We should be back in the harbour at sunset, by which time the ships might have arrived.”

  It wasn’t a function of distance since it was only a hundred nautical miles to Belfast. It was a question of slowing and turning. The ships had to sail west-northwest, towards Ireland, turn north to pass between Man and Ulster, then turn a hundred and forty degrees to approach Belfast. Added to that, a huge question mark hung over the state of the engines. They’d tested them in the harbour, but they’d not been used at sea since the outbreak. They wouldn’t know what speed the ships could make until they were moving. When they reached Belfast, the ordeal wouldn’t be over. Unable to get the ships into the harbour, the grain ships would have to anchor offshore. The passengers would then be ferried into the harbour on smaller boats. Since Heather Jones had taken her fleet down to Kenmare Bay, leaving them with only a few dozen fishing boats, that was a task that would take at least a day. That delay, though, would give them time to work out precisely where in Belfast everyone would live.