Surviving The Evacuation (Book 4): Unsafe Haven

by Frank Tayell

  “Well, what are you taking, then?” Jay asked.

  “Call it a precaution. I’m not being caught unprepared again.”

  “And you should take this,” Nilda said, taking the replica gladius out of the cupboard under the stairs. She held it out to the older man.

  He took it, nodding. “For now,” he said.

  It took them an hour to get to the school. It was only a twenty-five minute walk from the terrace, but they stopped to find bicycles. Even that wouldn’t have taken quite so long if Jay didn’t refuse the first one they found on the grounds that he “wouldn’t be seen undead on a girl’s bike.”

  “It’s big,” Jay said, as they dismounted outside the closed school gates. “But I was expecting… I don’t know. Something grander.”

  Beyond the gate of ten-foot-high wrought iron embedded in faded red brick, they could see a car park, and beyond that, a solitary 1970s block of concrete and glass.

  “The school was built long before cars were invented. The main entrance used to be over on the other side. Ah, that’s a good sign,” Sebastian said, as he lifted the chain running through the gate. “The padlock’s intact.”

  “You want me to try and break it?” Jay offered.

  “No,” Nilda said, suppressing a smile, “we’ll climb over.”

  They left their bikes against the railing and broke into the school.

  “Whoa!” Jay exclaimed, as they walked up the drive into the car park, and the school opened up before them. “That’s impressive. Is this really all a school?”

  “Oh, yes,” Sebastian said. “The cricket pavilion’s over there. Behind it, you see the trees? Well, behind those is the sport’s centre.”

  “You see that building, that one there?” Jay said, pointing at a monstrous redbrick and sandstone building on the far side of the car park. “That’s bigger than my entire school.”

  “That’s the Lord Henry block. Big school, they called it. You know, traditionally where they taught the older children.”

  “It’s like something out of a movie,” Jay said.

  “A television series would be more accurate,” Sebastian replied. “Did you see that version of To Serve Them All My Days they broadcast at Christmas? They filmed it here. The exterior scenes, at least. No? Well, it doesn’t matter. That two-storey redbrick, that’s the staff room and offices. That newer building is the Lower School. The science block is just behind it, behind that are the Scrub Fields. Those are the sports pitches for the younger children. Art was taught across the road. You can’t see it from here. Of course, they call it Architecture and Engineering. The boarding houses are next to it.”

  “And this is actually a school?” Jay asked with frank disbelief.

  “You must have seen the pupils, surely?” Sebastian replied.

  “In their uniforms. Sure. Wearing those straw hats and crimson blazers.”

  “Oh, yes. Those. The imperial purple. Only worn by prefects. A mark of authority, you see.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Right.” Jay nodded, though from his tone he didn’t get the reference. “And you taught here?”

  “Not really. Not anymore. Thirty years ago, they hired me to teach full time. That’s why I bought the house. I thought it was a job for life. Five years ago, they decided that classics were too… difficult for the pupils. Unnecessary for their future lives. You see, this school wasn’t for the academically gifted, more for the… financially endowed.”

  “It was a place for rich parents to send their stupid sons,” Nilda summarised. “Right?”

  “I wouldn’t put it so crudely, but yes. The kind not expected to work, but who were expected to be able to read and count and—”

  “And know which fork to use with the salmon,” Nilda finished.

  “Not quite, but examinations and academic success were not as important as the whole child.”

  “I don’t know why you’re defending the place,” Nilda said. “They sacked you.”

  “That wasn’t the children’s fault. It was the staff. Or the governors. Generation after generation, they took care of princes and future oligarchs. That they didn’t instil some sense of purpose was not the fault of youth.”

  “But you were sacked?” Jay asked.

  “They cut my hours down to a few months in the summer and a few in the autumn. That was all they thought sufficient to teach the children enough phrases that it would appear they had a deeper education than had been the case. And that was why I spent most of the year selling life insurance. Which, in one of those deliciously ironic quirks of fate, I discovered I preferred. It certainly paid more.”

  “And thus were world leaders made,” Nilda finished.

  “I think it was mostly the children of pop stars and other celebrities,” Sebastian corrected her.

  “Who cares?” Jay asked. “I mean, seriously. So, okay, we’re here, but can we live here? Where’s the water?”

  “The pump is over in The Backs.”

  “Where?”

  “The groundskeeper’s shed.” Sebastian pointed to the trees beyond the cricket pitch.

  “Does everything have another name?” Jay asked.

  “It’s an old school. Three hundred years of history. Of course, they claimed a far older pedigree than that. There was a monastery on this site back in the fourteenth century—”

  He stopped talking. Two figures were approaching in the distance.

  “Are they…?” Jay began.

  “No,” Nilda said. “They’re human.”

  The two figures had noticed them and stopped.

  “Smile, then,” Sebastian said. He raised his arms and waved.

  “Do you recognise them?” Nilda asked, as the two people got closer.

  “No. Just keep smiling.”

  Warily, the two small groups approached one another. The pair, a man and a woman, stopped ten paces away.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Sebastian Baker.” He spoke warmly, as if this was a chance meeting on some remote island holiday. “This is Nilda and Jay.”

  “I’m Tracy. This is Mark,” the woman said.

  “We came here because of the water,” Sebastian said.

  “The flood defences. We’re the same,” Mark said. “But we can’t figure out where to access it.”

  “The pump’s over there. In The Backs,” Jay said.

  “The where?” Tracy asked.

  “The groundskeeper’s shed.” Jay pointed.

  “You went to school here?” Mark asked.

  Jay gave a snort of laughter.

  “I used to teach here,” Sebastian explained.

  “Ah.” Mark nodded.

  They looked around at one another, each waiting for someone else to make the next move.

  “Well? Shouldn’t we go and have a look at this pump then?” Jay broke the silence.

  Cautiously, uncertain of each other’s intentions, they headed towards the smattering of small buildings on the edge of the school grounds.

  “That’s it?” Nilda asked, staring at the mechanism. She had been expecting something more recognisable. A large cylinder, eight feet in diameter, jutted out of recently laid cement.

  “That’s the pump,” Tracy said, pointing at the mechanical box at the side.

  “Why’s it so large?” Jay asked.

  “It didn’t need to be,” Tracy replied. “It could be about half the size and still do twice the work needed. It looks like they’ve prepped it to go into their plumbing system. I think,” she added as she opened the box and peered at the mechanism, “that they were planning on adding a water filtration plant to this, to use it for their drinking water. They didn’t, but that’s not going to be a problem.”

  “So, what do you think? Is it a goer?” Mark asked her.

  “I think…” She examined it. “With a car battery and, let’s see…” She bent and peered at the pipes, which tracked across the floor before disappearing into the concrete floor just before reaching the shed walls. “Yes. I thin
k there’s a reservoir tank in one of the buildings, or underneath it, to feed the toilet cisterns. As the toilets are flushed, the tank empties. You see here?” She pointed to a dial. “When the level in that tank drops below a predetermined point, the pump kicks in and tops it up. We’re what? Twenty feet higher than the school here?”

  “Yes, that’s about right,” Sebastian said.

  “Right,” she said. “So it’s all gravity feed. What’s that building we passed, the large one with the white paint and red tile roof?”

  “The cricket pavilion,” Sebastian said.

  “Jeez, Tracy, didn’t you see the scoreboard?” Mark asked with a shake of his head.

  “I think,” she said, giving him a friendly glare, “the storage tank is under there.”

  “Are you an engineer?” Nilda asked.

  “Close. I’m a plumber.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, people always react like that. I was an engineer. Astronautical. I dreamt of building space ships. It turned out that there wasn’t much call for that kind of thing, but people always need their toilets unblocked.”

  “But how do we get the water out?” Jay asked.

  “That’s simple enough,” she replied, standing up. “We just need a power supply. A car battery will do it. Do you think the pavilion has toilets?”

  “Yes, in the changing rooms.”

  “That’s something. I think, with a bit of work, we can isolate that block. The water’s not going to be clean, but I can get it coming out of the tap.”

  “What about the noise?” Jay asked.

  “Noise?”

  “Because of the undead,” he added.

  “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, but” she added, “we can insulate the walls here easily enough.”

  “And what if the pump breaks?” Nilda asked.

  “Well…” Tracy blew air out through her teeth. Nilda almost smiled. “It’s not a complicated system. We can easily replace the electric motor with a hand pump.”

  “So we’ve got water,” Mark said.

  “And since I’ve got a stove, perhaps now would be a good time to have a cup of tea.” Sebastian suggested. “And get to know one another.”

  “What is it with you and tea?” Jay asked.

  “I’m an Englishman,” Sebastian said. “It’s hardly an apocalypse whilst you still have tea and the wherewithal to brew it. Perhaps we should go back outside so we can see anything that approaches.”

  “I doubt anyone will,” Mark said. “It’s unlikely the government will come back any time soon. It’ll be months before those enclaves are anything but chaos and disorder.”

  “I didn’t mean the government,” Sebastian said. They went back outside, and whilst they waited for the water to boil, he told them what he’d seen at the Muster Point.

  “Murdered? I can’t believe it,” Mark said.

  “It’s true,” Sebastian said. “There’ll be no one coming. Or we have to hope there won’t be.”

  “So we’re on our own,” Tracy said.

  The conversation stalled until the tea had been poured.

  “We’ve been cooking on an old barbecue,” Mark said. “It works well enough, but everything tastes of smoke.”

  “He was never very good at outdoor cooking,” Tracy said, stretching her legs. “Or indoor cooking, come to that.”

  Mark shrugged affably. Their good-natured bickering tugged at Nilda’s memory, bringing up memories she’d long tried to bury.

  “You think we can redirect the water to the pitches?” Jay asked, pointing at the green field interspersed with mud.

  “Probably,” Tracy said. “Why?”

  “Because that’s where we’re going to grow all the food,” he replied.

  “Well, we’ve uh…” Mark glanced at Tracy.

  “We’ve got food,” she said. “We’ve been raiding the houses I used to get emergency call-outs to which I remembered had a second freezer. I figured if they stocked up on frozen food, it was likely they’d have kept a store of cans and packets as well. Mostly, I was right. We’re happy to share. Split five ways it should still last us a couple weeks.”

  “Oh, no. We’ve got food for now,” Jay said. Nilda gritted her teeth. “I meant for the autumn and winter. But,” he added, “is yours human food?”

  “What do you mean?” Tracy asked with genuine suspicion.

  “All we’ve got—”

  “We’ve been raiding the vet’s and pet food stores. We’ve got cat food, dog food, bird food. Pet food, that’s what he means,” Nilda said quickly.

  “Oh,” Tracy nodded, relieved understanding clear on her face.

  “I didn’t think of that,” Mark said. “But food’s food, right? What does it matter which animal is on the tin?”

  “So, we’re alright for food and water,” Jay said. “What else do we need?”

  “We should check the Refectory. That’s the dining hall,” Sebastian added. “I doubt we’ll find anything to eat, but there’ll be pots and pans there. And we’ll find clothes in the boarding houses. Men’s and boys’ clothes, but that would do in a pinch. It’s the library that will be of most use. All those textbooks on how civilisations developed. On how our ancestors lived in the ages before electricity. Yes, those will be a real boon.”

  “So this might work, then,” Mark said, slowly. “The five of us, here, ploughing up the fields, growing food. We’ll work together. Agreed?”

  Jay and Sebastian looked at Nilda.

  “Yes,” she said, trying not to show the doubt she felt.

  “Then there’s no point hanging around,” Tracy said, standing up, “I’ll need my tools if I’m going to get that pump working.”

  Nilda nodded. “And we better go back and start ferrying up the food. We’ll… Well, I suppose we’ll see you later.”

  “We won’t bring all the food back with us,” Nilda said when they were a mile away from the school.

  “You don’t trust them?” Sebastian asked.

  “I wouldn’t go so far as saying I distrusted them,” she replied, “but I don’t trust anyone right now. We’ll leave a third of the tins upstairs under the floorboards. If this all goes wrong, then we’ll still have a few months of supplies. We’ll just say that we’ve cleared out all the houses around there, and there’ll be no reason for them to investigate too hard.”

  “Others might,” Jay said.

  “They might,” Nilda said, thinking about Rob. He was a problem that would have to be dealt with. “We can’t plan for every eventuality, but we can try.”

  When they reached the house Nilda went upstairs, pulled up the floorboards and began hiding one third of the tins. Jay and Sebastian started packing the rest into bags.

  “It’ll take an entire day to move all of these,” Sebastian said, when Nilda returned downstairs having finished hiding one third of the tinned food. All of the bags were now filled, but the kitchen and living room were still cluttered with cans and packets.

  “Not if we get Mark and Tracy to help,” Jay said. “And why shouldn’t we? I mean, the rest of the food’s been hidden, right? And if you’re worried they’ll find out where the house is, well, if we’re just going back and forth tomorrow, they could easily follow us.”

  “He’s got a point,” Sebastian said. “The hidden food notwithstanding, you have to trust someone sooner or later.”

  “You said that the night before you went on the evacuation,” she reminded him. “But, okay. Better to get it done quickly.”

  Their bikes heavily laden, they cycled slowly away from the terrace. Jay occasionally stopped to pick up a discarded phone. Nilda tried to stop him the first few times, but he’d pointed out that if it was unlocked, he could watch whatever videos and listen to whatever music had been left on it, at least until the battery ran out.

  “It’s like when I was teaching him to ride,” Nilda said. She and Sebastian had stopped at another junction, waiting for Jay to catch up.

  “You taught
him yourself?” Sebastian asked. “You never told me what happened to—” Sebastian began, but was cut short by a yell from back down the road. They turned to look. Jay had nearly fallen off his bike. Both his feet were on the ground as he pushed, rather than pedalled, his way along the road. His frantic desperation was as clear as the reason for it.

  A man - no, Nilda realised, a zombie - had half fallen through the hedge just behind her son. She threw off the bags hanging from her handlebars and pedalled furiously back down the road. She’d made it twenty yards before Jay remembered the pedals. A scant few seconds later, he shot past her.

  “Seb!” she barked over her shoulder, after a moment’s frantic calculation. “Catch him!”

  “What about you?” Sebastian called back.

  “Just go!” she yelled. The man turned and followed after her son.

  Nilda stopped the bike in the middle of the road, two houses from the creature.

  It was caught in the hedge. As it thrashed, red-brown pus oozed out of great rips in its face where branches had torn through its skin. It was monstrous, yet had to have been human only a few days before. She dismounted, letting her bike fall to the ground, and pulled the cricket bat out from the bag over her shoulder. It seemed like a wholly inadequate weapon to her now.

  Slowly, she walked down the street towards the zombie. As she approached, its writhing became more manic. When she was twenty feet away, there was a cracking of branches and a tearing of soil as the creature’s violent flailing ripped the bush, roots and all, out of the ground. The zombie tumbled over the low wall and out onto the road. She gripped the bat, then re-gripped it, trying to find reassurance in its heft.

  The creature tried to stand. No, she realised. Its legs kicked, and its hands clawed. It was trying to walk towards her, with no comprehension that it had to stand up first.

  She was ten feet away when, with an accidentally timed pivot of its arms and legs, the creature got to its knees. She was five feet away when it staggered upright. Never taking her eyes off the zombie, she brought the bat up and over her head and swung it into the creature’s face. Bone broke. Teeth flew. The zombie staggered backwards, but it didn’t fall. She swung again. This time the creature’s out-flung arm took the brunt of the blow. Its forearm snapped, white bone stabbed out through the remains of a woollen shirt. There was no pain to distract the creature as it swung its arm forward again. Nilda skipped backwards out of range of its clawing fingers. The broken arm sailed harmlessly past, brown pus oozed out of skin pierced by jagged bone to splatter down onto the pavement.