“Heart attack,” he replies. “Quick and painless, a few years ago. It would take more than a nuclear holocaust to bring my Helen down.”
“What happened to the other people on board?” Reed asks, and Henry looks pained.
“One by one they succumbed to illness. They wouldn’t listen to me. I told them that many of the exposed foodstuffs would be contaminated, the surface radiation for the first few months particularly is enormously hazardous, but they were desperate and hungry, and they didn’t believe me. We kept our seedlings well hidden. It pained us to see them suffer, but we couldn’t risk them using up what little we had. It would never have been enough, anyway.”
“And the child?” I ask, wondering how on earth they had fed the infant.
“We found a supply of tinned infant formula in a store in town before we left. It was sealed in boxes in a closed storeroom. Hardly ideal, but it’s not as though we had any other options. Sofia weaned very early, we started her on solid food after only three months.”
“So, you’ve been living on this ship for twenty-eight years?” Reed interrupts, a note of incredulity in his voice.
“Yes,” the older man answers. “About once a month we travel back to the city in search of supplies. It’s like a ghost town now, almost everyone is dead.”
“Not everyone,” I prompt, remembering his reaction when he first saw us. “You’ve come across the Deranged?”
“Regrettably, yes.” He looks nervously towards the door, as though checking that we are not being overheard. “A few times when we have ventured back to land, but we manage to steer clear of them for the most part. Then, about a year ago . . .” he trails off looking sick, and it dawns on me that the story is about to take a serious turn for the worse. “They must have been watching. They followed us from the port. About an hour after we got back to the ship three men attacked us. They stole what little food they could find, but they only really searched the kitchens, and that’s the last place we would keep our supplies. They . . .” he takes a deep breath, his intelligent face crumpling for a second before he continues, “they raped Sofia,” he suddenly blurts out and my stomach turns in horror. “They tied me up but I could hear her screams through the walls. When she finally went quiet I thought she was dead.” A tear rolls down his wizened cheek and he brushes it away angrily. “They left then, I assume they had got everything they came for and they left us for dead. Sofia managed to crawl to me much later and untie me. I nursed her back to health physically, but it was her mind they destroyed more than her body. She withdrew, stopped eating. I think she’s lost the will to survive. She hasn’t been the same since.”
“I’m sorry.” The words sound ridiculously inadequate, but I say them anyway. “We can help you,” I continue, squaring my shoulders. “We’re here looking for supplies and for people like you. We have an entire community in the desert. You’ll be safe there – both of you.”
He compresses his lips contemplatively and for a moment I think he might refuse. Then, without warning he breaks down, his face creasing into the saddest smile I have ever seen. He stumbles unsteadily to his feet, and he grabs at the front of my shirt, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Thank you,” he whispers over and over in my ear, and I realise the enormous burden he has carried for so many years. “Bless you, child, you have no idea how long I have been praying for this miracle.”
The arrival of the others, tangible proof of my words, is almost too much for the old man, and he dissolves in another flood of tears. Adam, the most experienced at dealing with these situations, takes him into one of the cabins to explain in more detail who we are and what is going on in the rest of the country. Henry takes everything in his stride, the only thing he questions is the “Gifted” among us, and he asks me for a demonstration.
“I’m sure you’ll get one soon enough,” I smile, feeling inexplicably embarrassed.
“There’s plenty of bottled water on board,” Jethro reports, after searching the entire ship. “Long past its expiry date obviously, and it tastes a bit off, but it’s perfectly safe for human consumption. The cruise liners in the harbour would have been full of the stuff, they can hold up to five thousand passengers. The old man obviously scavenged it and stashed it away.”
“What else?” I ask.
“More medical supplies than you could imagine. Lots of clothing, blankets and linen, tinned food, even washing powder. Oh, and alcohol. A whole lot of it.”
“Well, it is a cruise ship, after all,” I smile at the obvious delight in his voice.
“I’ve never seen anyone so resourceful, surviving the way that they have in a direct blast area,” Reed remarks, changing the subject.
“They do have scurvy,” I point out, but he brushes my comment aside.
“That’s nothing, Rebecca. It’ll be gone in a month if treated with the correct diet. These people shouldn’t be alive.”
“But they are.” For the first time I feel what Adam Vincent must have felt on countless occasions. Without any combat we have just saved two lives, simply by finding them.
We settle into various cabins for the night. Henry cannot seem to do enough for us, as he changes linen and tries to make us as comfortable as possible. Adam gently assures him that we are fine and perfectly capable of seeing to ourselves, but he will not be deterred. Sofia does not emerge from her cabin, and I assume her lethargy keeps her in bed.
We are bunking two to a cabin and the others pair off easily, naturally assuming that Reed and I will be sharing. I feel almost awkward, and judging by Reed’s delaying tactics, he feels the same way. Eventually, we climb onto the comfortable old bed, each perching as close to the edge as possible, a great divide between us.
“This is ridiculous,” Reed eventually murmurs in the dark, and gratefully I roll onto my side to face him, my head resting on my arms.
“I don’t know why it’s so weird,” I whisper.
“Yes, you do,” he says, before looking back up at the ceiling. Determined to close some of the distance that is growing between us, I stretch over and take his hand in mine, encouraged when he doesn’t pull away. He turns to face me, squeezing my hands, and I smile at him, just able to make out his features now that my eyes have become accustomed to the dark. He watches me expectantly, and I realise that he is waiting for me to come to him, he will not let his guard down again. I inch forward, wriggling into his arms, and then I lift my head, my mouth finding his in the dark. The kiss is warm and intimate, and afterwards I snuggle against his chest, my fingertips trailing up the side of his body, from hip to shoulder. I fall asleep to the rhythm of his heart beating and his breath on my face, and I sleep soundly until morning.
Chapter 25
We spend almost a month in California searching through the wreckage for supplies. We manage to access many of the sealed containers and amass a multitude of useful items: clothing, tools, automobile parts and footwear among them. Henry is a hive of useful information, guiding us through the city and pointing out obstacles, showing far more energy than one would expect from a man of his age. Sofia is much the same as she was on day one, she rarely emerges from her cabin and in an effort not to frighten her, only Hope and I are allowed to visit her for the first few weeks. Her lacklustre eyes are still sunken in her cheeks, although her bruises are fading and the petechial rash on her ankles seems to be improving.
In the fourth week, Henry introduces her to Adam, and her reaction is not as severe as we expected. I persuade David to accompany me on my next visit; he has a kind and gentle disposition and is as good a test subject as any. Sofia seems unfazed by his appearance, trusting Henry and me implicitly, but she picks constantly at her blanket, a sign of nervousness.
“I don’t think she’s as far gone as you suspected,” I mention to Henry when we return from one of our visits.
“I agree; I expected a far more dramatic reaction to the men.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I suggest you get her off her ass and make her join us for dinner. There’s no need to be ferrying food to her bedside, she can get around just fine on her own. If we expect less from her, then that’s what we’ll get,” I add, more gently. “Let’s see what she’s made of.”
That evening, I stop by Sofia’s room on my way to dinner.
“The food is ready,” I call from the doorway, and her eyes widen in surprise, confusion evident on her sallow face. “It’s in the dining hall,” I add, not waiting for an answer. I seat myself at a table with Reed and Jethro.
“You okay?” Reed asks, handing me a plate of food.
“Good, thanks. I’m waiting to see if she shows.”
“Ah, so tonight’s the big test?”
“Yes,” I reply and tuck into my food.
“Looks like she passed,” he murmurs a moment later and I look up to see Sofia standing uncertainly in the doorway. Henry rises from the next table and walks forward to greet her, a beam of delight splitting his face. He leads her to his table where Adam, Hope, Crackerjack and Aidan are sitting. I notice, with a stab of annoyance, that all three men rise to their feet when she arrives.
“Tim could learn a thing or two from that lot,” I grumble, stabbing a piece of potato with my fork. This is probably the last of the fresh vegetables we have brought with us, so we will need to be heading home soon.
“Would you prefer it if I stood up when you walked in?” Reed asks, only half-jokingly, and I burst out laughing at the look on his face.
“No way,” I grin, “you’re perfect just the way you are, Cowboy.” I nudge him with my shoulder and we fall silent as we finish our meal.
The following day we start ferrying our findings to the vehicles. I advise Adam that it will be quicker if he leaves it to the Legion, we will make better time. It will probably take us a couple of days to transfer our entire stockpile, making a few trips a day. Morgan and David, being strong and not fast, make fewer trips than Jethro, Tim, Reed and I, but they work consistently and do not tire easily. Morgan and Hope have been spending time together and I am glad. I worry about Morgan isolating herself, she needs a few friends and Hope is the perfect solution. Adam’s daughter is a strong and wilful young woman, and I admire her unfailing loyalty to her father’s cause. I have also noticed that she idolises Crackerjack, although he has no idea and treats her much like a kid sister. The next three days go by in a monotonous blur as we make our way back and forth between the port, where Adam’s men have gathered everything into one pick-up point and the cars, some 20 miles away. We do not actually load anything into the vehicles, as we are still not sure who will be travelling in which cars, so we make neat piles in a nearby warehouse. We will only do the final loading when we are all back and ready to depart.
At nightfall, we wilt at the supper tables, eating our way through our dwindling supplies. Sofia is more and more present, and slowly I can see a change in her. Her health is improving daily, and she is becoming more animated, making polite conversation with the others, although she tends to speak only when spoken to. She is still far too thin, but it is obvious that she is very pretty beneath the signs of her illness. She has a marked English accent, obviously inherited from her substitute British parents, and is well spoken. Henry has already informed us that they spent many hours in the ship’s library, trying to give her some semblance of an education. She seems to have attached herself to her original table-mates, Adam, Aidan and Crackerjack, and I am happy that she has made friends who she feels comfortable with.
Reed and I fall into bed each evening, too exhausted to do anything but hold on to each other and sleep.
“Not a moment too soon,” he drawls on the third day when we arrive back at the port. Our last load included quite a few cases of alcohol, for medicinal and sterilisation purposes, the personal belongings of everyone on board, to save us carrying these the next day, and the toys we had selected to take home for the Rebeldom children. I have earmarked a few action figures and some board games for Alex, my need for him growing by the day. Our initial journey of ten days has stretched to seven weeks already, and we still have a long way to go.
We sleep in the following morning, and then everyone gathers in the dining hall. I notice Aidan fetches Sofia’s plate and sits beside her, the two falling into easy conversation. Forcing myself to look away, I nod at Adam, who gets to his feet and addresses us.
“We need to get back to the cars,” he begins in his calm, confident way. “We’ll leave together, but it’s a long walk and we will obviously need to help our new friends.” He smiles at Henry and Sofia. “Rebecca will direct us,” he adds, sitting down and giving me the floor. I get to my feet and incline my head at my Legion soldiers, who all stand and make their way from the room. I am surprised that the others seem to be waiting for some sort of instructions.
“Let’s go,” I say, not sure what else they are waiting for. I allow Henry and Sofia a moment to bid farewell to their long-standing home, and then I descend the ladder after them, the seventeen of us squeezing into the two small waiting crafts.
We do not make it far into the city when the attack comes out of the blue. We are making steady progress, walking in single file down a back alley, when a particularly crazed Rado leaps out from behind an old dumpster, launches himself at Diesel and rips his throat with yellowed teeth. I am caught completely by surprise at such an aggressive attack, and I watch in horror as the crazed man steps back, blood pouring from his mouth.
Tim is the first to react and he rushes at the assailant. I yell a warning but it is too late. As Tim catapults himself forward, the creature swings his arm around in an arc, a glint of metal reflecting in the sunlight. For a moment I think that he has missed, but then his horrible eyes meet mine over Tim’s shoulder and a look of pure sadistic malice crosses his features. In the moment that Tim slumps against him, Reed and David appear on either side of the savage, and each grab an arm, pulling with all their strength. I avert my eyes, not wanting to witness the gory dismemberment and I leap forward, grabbing Tim’s shoulders and pulling him backwards. I am vaguely aware of Sofia’s ear-splitting screams and the Ordinary’s cries of dismay as they bend over Diesel’s inert body. Horrified, I lower Tim gently to the ground and I risk a glance at the big man. Blood is spurting from his neck. Henry rushes forward, plugging his finger into the severed carotid artery, trying to staunch the bleeding. Despite his efforts, the pool of blood on the ground beneath Diesel’s body is growing at an alarming rate.
Tim is conscious but in considerable pain. The metal is still impaled just below his rib cage. Hesitant to remove it, I cast around for someone who can help. Henry is far too preoccupied with Diesel’s mortal injury, and Jethro is watching me helplessly, fear etched on his sombre face.
“Jack!” I roar, as my eyes fall on the Ordinary member for whom I have the most respect, other than Adam. He sprints across to us, skidding in the dirt and coming to a stop right beside Tim.
“What do I do?” I ask, panic in my voice. I am momentarily distracted as Diesel’s legs start to twitch and I force myself to look away. There is nothing I can do for him. Tim is my primary concern. Jack nods his head, almost unconsciously, as he starts to reel off information.
“It’s on the upper left side. It’s pierced the abdominal cavity just below the ribcage.” He raises his eyes up and to the right, as though accessing information. “No major arteries, there would be more blood . . .” and then a look of horror crosses his face.
“What it is?” I realise I am shouting and I force myself to calm down, not wanting Tim to panic.
“It’s his spleen,” Jack looks so defeated, and the look that he gives Tim is akin to the way he would look at a funeral. “I think it’s punctured his spleen.”
&nbs
p; “He’ll be fine,” I say, as though simply saying it will make it true. “He’ll be fine.” Reed crouches down beside me examining the rusted, vicious-looking weapon.
“It’s a broken piece of steel piping,” he whispers. He touches the exposed end, which is projecting at least three inches from Tim’s abdomen.
“Don’t take it out!” Jack yells, and we both jump back in surprise. “Henry,” he calls over his shoulder, “we need you over here!” The urgency in his voice is unmistakable, and Henry is there in an instant, bending over Tim’s body. I glance back and see that Diesel has gone still and everyone around him is just sitting there, doing nothing. I swallow back the sob forming in my chest. Diesel is gone. Henry cannot hide the look of hopelessness that crosses his face as he sits back on his haunches.
“You’re right, it’s his spleen,” he confirms.
“So what do we do?” I ask, when he offers no further information. He doesn’t answer, and Jack is silent beside him.
“What do we do?” I yell, refusing to acknowledge what they are trying to tell me.
“Nothing,” the croaky whisper comes from the ground and I look down to see Tim smiling painfully at me. “I think what they’re trying to tell you, is that you do nothing.”
“No,” I smile through my tears, lifting his head and cradling it on my lap. “Don’t you give up on me!”
“Not in my nature,” he jokes, putting on a brave face.
“There’s not much blood,” I address Henry directly. How can Tim be dying if there’s no blood?
“He’s bleeding internally,” he replies gently, and I shut my eyes, wishing that Tim had the ability to heal.
“What do I do?” I plead, hearing the frantic desperation in my voice.
“I’m so sorry, Rebecca, but there’s nothing we can do.”
The others move a respectful distance away, leaving us alone. Reed stays behind, kneeling on Tim’s other side, his mouth set in a tight, grim line. A few moments pass in silence and then Henry gets slowly to his feet and walks over to Sofia. Medically, there is nothing more that he can offer. I follow his progress, frozen in paralytic shock. He reaches the sobbing young girl, her face buried in Aidan’s chest, his arms around her protectively, his hand stroking her hair. Henry touches her shoulder and she turns, sees that it is him, and throws herself into his open arms. Jethro, his jaw set, trying to curb his emotions, has his arm around Morgan, who has gone deathly pale, unshed tears sparkling in her green eyes. David is standing slightly apart from them, his arms crossed over his chest, and the Ordinary are fanned out around them, their heads bowed, mourning their own loss and respecting Tim’s courageous act.
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