by Frank Tayell
She picked her way over the brick and bent brass. She took a can of spray-paint from her bag, gave it a shake, and added two words to the plinth: We tried.
“Because we did try,” Nilda said. “With every fibre of our being. We never gave up. I never gave up. Because of that, I am here and so is my son. We are alive, Jay. It’s a miracle in itself.”
“We came here so you could spray paint that message?” Jay asked.
“The message isn’t for us, Jay. It’s for the future. For your children and their children.”
“I don’t think the paint will last that long,” he said.
“No, and the message isn’t on the plinth. I don’t know where we’ll end up, but eventually someone will come back. The paint will have faded, the statue may have been crushed to dust by that horde, or maybe it’ll still be here. The message isn’t in the words here, but in the story we leave for the next generation. It’s the story of who we were, what we did, and what we became. It’s the difference between telling them that the horde forced us to flee from London, and in us choosing to leave because we had to rescue Chester. That we left a message is what’s important. That we create a generation that is curious and inquisitive, who wish to venture across oceans and mountains to see whether it is still here, that’s what counts. Does that make sense?”
“I think so,” Jay said.
“Here.” She handed the paint to him. “Add something if you like.”
He thought for a moment, then for a moment more.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said.
“No, I do. I’m just trying to remember how to spell. Okay, got it.”
On the southern face of the statue’s plinth, he added: We’ll keep on trying.”
“I like it,” Nilda said.
“It’s apt and it’s true,” George said.
“Wait, no, hang on,” Jay said. “I’ve got a better one.”
“It’s a bit late now,” Nilda said. “Besides, I think that says enough.”
Jay held the can out to George. “Do you want to add something?”
“No,” he said. “I think my generation has said enough. Viola, why don’t you take a turn?”
“Are you sure?” the Marine asked.
“Yes,” Nilda said. “Please.”
Denby hesitated, then she took the can. “Yeah, I can think of something.”
“We’ll never give up,” Jennings read. “Yeah, I’d agree with that.”
“There’s one side of the plinth left,” Denby said. “Here.” She handed the can to Jennings.
The submariner looked at the bent but unbroken statue of Churchill, then at the ruins of Parliament. “I guess there’s only one more thing to add,” he said. He sprayed four words: We will come back.
“We will,” Jennings said. “Or someone will, someday.”
“We tried. We’ll keep on trying. We won’t give up. We will come back,” George said, reading the words as he slowly walked around the statue. “It’s not blood, toil, tears, and sweat, but I think it will more than do as a beginning for something new.”
Another pane of glass crashed down from a distant window.
“Do you still want to go into Parliament?” Jay asked. “You know, to find something to take with us.”
Nilda picked up a piece of metal. It had come from one of the destroyed statues, though it was impossible to tell which.
“This will do,” she said. “It will remind us that all things end, because this is the end of Britain. It is the final end of all the old nations, the old nationalities. I’m sure we’ll come up with a new collective noun for the lot of us, and when we divide and split, new tribes will be formed with new names. If we can only take one thing with us, let it be this: that all things end, but something new always begins.”
There was a louder clatter from the rubble closer to the river.
“Time to go, I think,” she said. “We can cut that way, and follow the river back to Tuck.”
And then they would return to the Tower, where the ancient castle would host one last feast. They would eat all that they couldn’t take with them. Tomorrow, they would leave, and though some would come back to Britain, Nilda doubted she would be among their number. She would find Chester, and then they would find a new home. Perhaps it would be at sea, or perhaps on dry land. Where it was didn’t matter. Home was where her family was, and hers had grown considerably since she’d been reunited with her son. Yes, as long as she had her family, she’d be home.
The end.
Other Titles
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Other novels:
Surviving The Evacuation & Here We Stand
The outbreak began in New York. Within days, it spread throughout the world. Nowhere is safe from the undead. Books 1-3 are the journals of Bill Wright, a political operative trapped in London after the city is evacuated. Books 4-7 tell of Nilda, a mother searching the wasteland for her son, and Chester, a criminal in search of repentance. Books 8 onwards recount the last ten thousand survivors of humanity’s attempt to build a new society out of the ashes of the old world.
Here We Stand is the story of the North American survivors, and the collapse of the United States.
1: London, 2: Wasteland, Zombies vs The Living Dead, 3: Family, 4: Unsafe Haven, 5: Reunion, 6: Harvest, 7: Home, Here We Stand 1: Infected, Here We Stand 2: Divided, Book 8: Anglesey, 9: Ireland, 10: The Last Candidate, 11: Search and Rescue, 12: Britain’s End
Post-apocalyptic Detective novels:
Strike a Match
In 2019, the AIs went to war. Millions died before a nuclear holocaust brought an end to their brief reign of terror. Billions more succumbed to radiation poisoning, disease, and the chaotic violence of that apocalypse. Some survived. They rebuilt.
Twenty years later, civilization is a dim shadow of its former self. Crime is on the rise, aided by a shadowy conspiracy. It is down to Detectives Mitchell, Riley, and Deering of the Serious Crimes Unit to unmask the conspirators and save their fragile democracy.
1. Serious Crimes, 2. Counterfeit Conspiracy, 3. Endangered Nation
Work Rest Repeat
Sixty years after The Great War, the last survivors of humanity have taken shelter in giant towers. The colony ships that will allow them to leave the diseased Earth are nearing completion when two murders are discovered. For our species to survive, the criminals must be caught, and the launch must go ahead.
Thanks for reading.