On returning to the hotel, Roger and I found ourselves in Adam's bedroom trying to offload the responsibility of explaining to the group what we had just seen, but Adam insisted that we stand up and be subject to an inquisition, “Transparency is key.” An obvious sound bite from his past, probably spoken to dimwitted middle management across oval tables of gloss pine, blue chairs and white rooms.
There we stood, the two of us in what used to be the tea room, black and white tiles on the floor, the fire roaring under a grey marble mantle with nothing on it, beige and red arm chairs seating: Sally, Tom, Adam, Edwin, Guy, Al and Rosie, although she was curled up in a windowsill with her arms wrapped around her knees, half looking out towards the mainland.
I told them what happened, and every now and again Roger would would confirm what I said and nod, but it went on:
“Tell me again, these two people you met, they were definitely from prison?” Adam asked.
“I'm not 100% certain, but one of them spoke about being in jail and he was pretty aggressive, with a gun.” I paused and remembered what the man had said. “When I told him that we thought you could get ill from eating fresh food, he said that he already knew, and he said it in a certain way, he said it as though he was convinced that was the cause.”
“How do you mean, how did he say it, how can you be so sure?” The hole above Sally's double chin vomited out.
“Harry is right. The man knew.” Roger confirmed.
“So what does this mean?” Al, the completely hopeless man with clumsy eyebrows stuttered.
“Harry, Roger, do you mind if I speak?” Adam interjected. “It means we have one man out there and countless others who he was referring to, with guns and who are willing to kill one another. Now forgive me for inferring here, but in light of what we know and what Harry and Roger have just told us. There is the distinct possibility that there are prisons all over the country who, to keep costs low, provide inmates with cheap tinned meals on a daily basis. So it stands to reason that there are potentially thousands of prisoners who have worked this out and have gotten loose one way or another.”
“But, how would they have gotten out?” Sally said.
“Who knows, there could have been emergency procedures for situations with continual power outages, or prisoners who escaped from one prison may have gone in search of friends in other prisons. There could have also been survivors elsewhere, like us, who went in search of the prisons to let these people out rather than let them starve to death in their cells. If it has happened, well then, I suppose it no longer matters how but rather what it will mean for us.”
“What does it mean for us.” Al muttered from his armchair.
“It means we need to be prepared.” Edwin said.
“Food everybody, food is now our biggest concern. We cannot eat fresh food, and without further knowledge of this virus, for the sake of safety, we have to except that we cannot grow food until we know whatever this virus is, has gone. We only have two sources of food, the sea and stockpiles.” Adam paused and looked around the room. “Where we were gathering food for the coming month, we now need to start thinking about storing enough food for all of us to last a lifetime or at least as long as it is possible.”
“What about the prisoners, what if they attack us, how can we be safe?” Guy said, brushing his long hair out of his face with both hands.
“They have no reason to attack us, they have freedom and the whole country to themselves. I think, here, on our quiet little island there is no cause for concern. However, out there, finding food, petrol, hospital supplies and anything else that is a limited commodity, well, there may well be an issue worth fighting for. Therefore I suggest we focus over the next week in gathering any and all supplies that we can and being as quiet as we can about it. We can leave no trace behind that may lead back to us having stores of such supplies.”
“I can get weapons, it might be advisable to have a few on hand.” Edwin said.
“Yes. Not that we will need to use them, but a show of strength will often ward off the most fierce of predators, and if anyone comes looking to cause trouble, well, at least we can show them that we have the necessary means to defend ourselves.”
The room fell quiet for a few moments whilst everyone considered what had just been said and then erupted into one on one debates about firing weapons, locations of food and about gathering just about any limited commodity that might be useful, and these debates continued on throughout the afternoon, then through supper until exhaustion and copious bottles of red wine from the cellar called for an end to a seemingly endless day.
13th August
I woke in the soft hotel bed and wrestled my way out of the tightly tucked-in sheets. It was early and my head was pounding, my brain was drumming at the inside of my skull and I pestered Tom to find me some painkillers, which he did, quickly, and I didn't thank him enough. I hid in the darkness of the stairway between the third and fourth floor with my eyes closed eagerly awaiting the headache to subside. Sally waddled behind me and then asked me if I wanted to, ”Buddy up,“ with her for the day and collect food. I grumbled about feeling ill and she turned sideways and scuttled past me down the stairs. Her blue tracksuit trousers grazed my shoulder as she did so and it made me quiver with repulsion.
“There you are.” Rosie said as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs and walked towards me. “I heard you're not feeling too well? Is there anything I can do?”
“Just a headache, I’ll be fine in a few minutes. Got to wait for the ibuprofen to kick in.”
She placed her hand on my forehead and then sat down next to me. “Migraine or headache?” Her hand was now on my neck and she was playing with the hair behind my ear.
“Just a headache, I’ll be fine soon I promise.”
“Adam and Edwin want everyone to pair up and go out foraging. Want to be mine?”
“I had my heart set on going with Sally.” I said and she giggled and my head felt better for a second.
“I’m going to make you some breakfast and get you some water, stay right here.”
I replied with some awful line about this actually being the rapture, and that she was clearly an angel sent to earth, my headache worsened considerably after the words left my mouth.
She ruffled the hair on the top of my head, it hurt, and then she was gone and I closed my eyes again and sunk back in between my knees, and my stupid angel comment repeated over and over again, flying through the front of my mind and I couldn't get rid of it, back and forth, mocking me, until Rosie eventually returned.
“You are not going to want to eat this, but it is quite a treat, it is delicious.”
I managed a thank you and inquired as to what on earth it was.
“Can't you smell it! I'm afraid I am never going to get the stench out of my clothes.
“Yes, actually, smells very fishy.” My hangover forcing a serious tone of voice.
“Sorry, we ran out of the soy milk, so no cereal today instead, kippers, and there are some peas. Also, drink this.” She rested the plate between my feet and thrust a bottle of water into my hands. “I also have a list of all the things we need to get, if you're feeling up to it.”
I ate some of the fish, and ungracefully forked peas into my mouth.
“Edwin is getting weapons from a military base. Roger is trying to find a way of getting the petrol out of the tanker that you two brought back the other day. Adam left before I got up, but I think he is gathering food and more medicine. The other four are still downstairs but we're supposed to get food mainly and some fishing supplies if we see any.”
“Is there anything that you want?”
“Yes. Do you think it would be really cheeky to take a little detour and pick up some clothes? I want more summer dresses and maybe a lovely sun hat, you know the ones that are all big and look like they should be floppy, but they aren't? I really want one of those. What about you, anything we can get for you on our trip?”
“More paink
illers, stronger ones! Also books, need to read more. Shades. Sun shades would be good too.”
“Settled then, do you have any idea where we should go for all of this? Edwin has left his map downstairs and it has markings of where certain shops are, but it is all very practical and maybe not a good guide for our little detour.” She said sitting next to me, with both of her hands resting on my leg.
Almost completely distracted by a tactile Rosie and the thumping of red wine I just about managed to think of a suitable shopping destination. I sent Rosie off to make ready, and I sombrely crept out of the back door shielding my eyes from the sun and its reflection from on top of the water.
Rosie didn't have a driving license but she had been taking lessons over the past week from anyone willing. She hunched over the wheel as though she was short sighted, threading through turns with both hands as if she was taking her test. She was good, a little heavy on the break, we would jerk to slow down whenever a car or an organ obstructed the road, and then she would carefully thread the wheel and we would slowly glide past. I tried to smoke out of the window, but it clouded my head and frustrated my brain, Rosie said that she liked the smell, she told me that the smell of cigarette smoke and dry grass reminded her of summer holidays with her father and so I watched the cigarette burn in between my fingers half out of the window.
We arrived in Salcombe, a small town on a hill overlooking a lagoon blue estuary with still wooden boats and soft yellow sand beaches. We drove the wrong way down the one way street and left the car in the middle of the road. A newsagent's door was ajar and Rosie jumped with both feet as she used glass coke bottles to smash windows and glass panel doors to get into the shops that she liked the look of. She changed into navy blue shorts and a blue and white t-shirt and found a pair of high heeled espadrille sandals. I found a navy blue shirt with cream buttons and a pair of short pink swimming trunks and twirled Rosie in the street and hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek. Her skin was sticky and smelt of coconut sun lotion. Rosie found a straw sun hat with a black bow and never took it off. She chose a pair of thick black rimmed sunglasses for me and we sat on a wooden pier that dove into the crystal blue water and we drank warm beers from small green cans and ate sweets from pink and white paper bags, and she cut my hair with borrowed scissors.
“You're hair looks nice like this.”
“I need a mirror, for all I know, I’m currently sporting a mohican.”
“Maybe I should offer my services to the others. Guy could certainly do with a haircut. He is really handsome you know but he hides under that awfully long droopy hair.” She said and I hated him.
“Really? You think he's good looking?” I said casually, keeping my eyes fixed on a boat in the distance.
“Yeah, he's so good looking. I mean his eyes are a little close together, but they're lovely and blue and his cheek bones are really defined and he's got those full lips that all the girls like. He's like a young Mick Jagger don't you think?”
I couldn't tell if she was trying to provoke a reaction but I didn't want to give her any proof, I held my stare on the boats in the distance, kept my arms open and my legs wide apart and tried not to betray my thoughts in my tone of voice. “Mick Jagger had long hair too, why would you want to cut it, wouldn't that lessen his appeal?”
“It worked for him. He was a rock star and it was the sixties and seventies. I think now, if I gave him the haircut I’ve just given you, it'd look really good.
“What, you think a mohican would suit him as much as me?” So obvious, I hated myself.
“Ooh yeah, I love a sexy mohawk.” She said playfully, realising that I wasn't enjoying the conversation.
She changed the subject and we talked about nothing until we ran out of sweets and then we sloped off to the car.
We dumped clothes onto the back seat and drove to the supermarket in Kingsbridge. I hoped there would be an abandoned van in the car park that we could use to transport food, but it was empty, save for a coach and few other cars. One had a trailer and we found the keys in the car but the battery was flat, so we attached the trailer to ours with rope. Two of the windows of the supermarket had already been smashed-in. Pieces of rotting flesh stuck to shards of broken glass at our feet as we stepped inside. We filled trolley after trolley with unappetising tins, shampoos, deodorants, over the counter medicines, mouthwashes, tooth brushes, wet bags of vegetables, dried noodles, dried pasta, flour, sugar, salt, books, alcohol and cigarettes.
Rosie slept with her head against the window as I drove home with the trailer thumping the back of the car and swinging awkwardly left and right in the wing mirrors. I thought about Guy; I thought about Guy and Rosie, and how arrogant and ignorant I had been to just assume that because I was basically one of last men on earth and Rosie was the last girl on earth, that she would just fall for with me. I felt stupid and angry and jealous. I thought about how she'd never shown me any affection over and above what may be expected from good friends, her playing with my hair, hugging me, laughing whilst I twirled her in the street, and I felt pitiful. She looked so peaceful against the window, but all I wanted to do was slam on the brakes, feel the trailer crash into the back of the car and demand her to tell me what her feelings were. But I didn't, I carried on driving, feeling pathetic.
Four funeral pyres greeted us on our return. Roger stood over them and next to him was a metal supermarket trolley with a red petrol cannister resting inside it. He opened the gate and waved us through. Edwin was in the car park of the hotel holding a meter long black gun that looked fake.
“What's Roger doing, when did all those organs turn up?” I asked Edwin.
“They're the guests that we have been sharing our nights with.”
“All of them?”
“Not all of them. It is quite difficult to get them out. Roger came up with the idea of using the shopping trolley. We had to do each room, one by one.”
“What did he do with the shopping trolley? How come he decided to do it now?”
“Two of the things got out earlier. Gave Tom a real fright.”
Rosie, now awake and with a puffy red face, interrupted. “What do you mean they got out?”
“They corroded the door away of their rooms, enough to squeeze through, and then they came down the stairs.”
“So what is Roger's trolley idea?” I asked, intrigued.
“Simple really, but very clever at the same time. He just turns the trolley on its side in front of the door. Then opens the door and waits for the organ to crawl in, a simple cage which can then be wheeled, with some difficulty I should add down the stairs before being dumped out here.”
“How many rooms are left?” I said
“Only four or five Tom thinks.”
“Can't say I won't be glad to know I’m not sleeping in the room next to one of those things any more.”
“All those people.” Rosie uttered and the rest of her words died away.
We spent the afternoon unloading our haul, and then were motivated by Edwin and Adam to move on and help unload the van that Tom had brought in, and the two car loads that Sally, Guy and Al had collected. Everything had to be inventoried, and Sally waddled around with a clipboard and an undignified air of importance. Adam retreated to his yacht and didn't reappear until the sun fell behind the horizon. Roger wheeled out an organ every half an hour and a new funnel of smoke would appear and combined with the others from the beach and the smell of burning flesh poured over the hotel car park.
The atmosphere over dinner was sour, people were depleted and depressed. It felt like the group who had been so comfortable in the cushion of the hotel had been hit deep by the reality of the days excursions. I liked the idea of Sally and Al having to get their hands dirty, being shocked by the death. I hoped Guy would breakdown and cry, and Rosie wouldn't comfort him, and would think he was weak. I left the and returned to the cottage, I looked for Chevy, but it was too dark and he wasn't near the fence. I tried to read but I was too tired and inste
ad I fell asleep, alone on the sofa.
15th August
I stayed away from the hotel for a couple of days, I hoped that Rosie would miss me, I convinced myself that by showing Rosie I wasn't threatened by Guy, that she would realise what a child he was compared with me. I thought about what I would say when she asked me where I had been and why I had stayed away for so long. I would tell her that the cottage had needed repairing and that the garden had needed work and that I was doing it for the memory of my mother, and that in the face of overwhelming death, that I had neglected to actually mourn for the rest of my family who were invariably in a state that required mourning.
I was sitting on the fence at the bottom of the small garden, the sea in front of me and the sound of the stream behind me. Chevy was standing next to me, his large teeth and loose lips tearing and gobbling at the apples I was feeding him when feet walked along the wooden bridge.
“Here you are?” Edwin said.
“Hi, what's up?” I said trying to hide my disappointment.
“I thought you might be interested to know that someone new came by the hotel the night you left.”
“Yeah? What's he like?”
“Professor Annabelle Clement actually. She is very nice, Ancient Greek history, before you ask. Not the most helpful vocation but she has great gusto.”
“Ancient Greek history.” I repeated out loud.
“Yes.” He said and sat on the fence. “She wants to go to London, she thinks we should go to the museums and try to bring back as many pieces we can in case they are destroyed somehow.”
The Days After Page 9