Finally, Claire answered. ‘I’ll cope. I just need some time to get my head round all this.’
I could tell from her tone that Claire was growing both angrier and more resentful about how those in charge were reacting to the rapidly deteriorating situation. She continued. ‘I know I’ve been pretty down on the military, but even I didn’t think they’d go this far.’ She buried her head in her hands. ‘They’ve just abandoned everyone. They’re not even making a pretence of trying to do anything other than protecting themselves. I can’t believe they’d do that.’
I glanced at the screen one last time. ‘Maybe they’re not doing it on purpose; maybe they’re just as scared as the rest of us. After all, this isn’t something they could train for; it’s not something they could ever have prepared for. Maybe they’re running from it, just like the rest of us; maybe all they’re doing is trying to survive, just like we are.’ I started to climb the steps up to the cockpit, not sure if what I’d just said had done more harm than good.
I was halfway up when Claire spoke again. ‘Ben?’
I stopped and turned.
Claire was no longer staring at the television. ‘Thanks.’
I looked at her curiously. ‘Why?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it that way before.’
Leaving Claire to consider this alternative view of the recent events, I continued up through the companionway and into the cockpit.
Chapter Nine
‘Pull!’ Following my instructions, Daz and Sophie hauled on the halyard, raising the main sail up the mast. Working together, they soon had it close to the top, but the wind was starting to fill it, making it difficult to finish raising it.
I looked backwards. ‘Tom, keep it facing into the wind.’
‘Aye, Aye, Cap’n!’ He gave a mock salute and turned the wheel. The boat twisted to the left and the sail billowed out even further, threatening to yank the halyard from Daz and Sophie’s grip.
‘Other way.’ I yelled towards the stern.
‘Sorry,’ Tom replied, apologetically, and turned the wheel to the right. The sail emptied and started to flap lazily.
Turning back to Daz and Sophie, I showed them how to wrap the halyard round its winch, making sure to keep their thumbs out of the way, and crank it tight using one of the detachable handles. ‘Now, see if you two can work out how to put the mizzen up on your own.’
‘Okay, cool.’ Daz’s eyes moved around the boat. ‘What’s the mizzen?
I pointed over my shoulder. ‘It’s the smaller sail on the mast at the back of the boat.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Daz looked sheepish. ‘You’ve told us that before, haven’t you? Sorry, I forgot.’
I returned to the cockpit and sat next to Tom. Together we watched the two youngsters struggling to get the mizzen up, followed by the jib at the front, with me shouting instructions as and when they were needed. After ten minutes, they’d finished and came back to the cockpit.
‘Okay, so now you know how to get the sails up …’ Both Daz and Sophie were listening eagerly as I spoke. ‘… you need learn how to bring them down again.’
The teenagers groaned, but did as they were told, and soon the sails were back where they started. They were even more annoyed when I got them to put the sails up again, this time with absolutely no help from me whatsoever. When they finally returned to the back of the boat, they both looked very pleased with themselves.
Next, I showed them how to tack and how to heave to; how to use the winches to tighten up the jib; and how to reef the sails. I took them through a man overboard drill and showed them how to tie a bowline and a reef knot. I wasn’t too sure how much they’d remember, but I had the feeling they’d have plenty of time to practise, and I felt they now knew enough for us to head out of the sheltered waters of the Clyde and into the open sea.
Taking the wheel, I turned it until we were pointing south. The dome-shaped outline of Ailsa Craig, with the snow-white lighthouse, lay off to the west. Staring at it, I realised it was a little over six days since I’d passed it on my way to Glasgow; it hardly seemed possible that so much could have happened in such a short space of time. I looked north, back the way we had come, and saw dense black smoke still spewing from the infested frigate. Off in the distance, dark clouds hung over the smouldering remains of the now-distant city. I thought about all those who’d lived there: friends, family, people I only knew in passing, ex-girlfriends, those I’d gone to school with, but hadn’t spoken to in years. Faces and memories rolled through my mind. All of them were almost certainly now dead: either killed by the infected or by the military as they tried to contain the outbreak. One day, they were all there, living their lives; the next, all that was left of them were the memories locked away in my mind. Yet, many of those killed in the city would have no one still alive to remember them; all trace of them would have been wiped from the face of the planet. It was as if they’d never existed.
Trying to push these thoughts from my mind before they overwhelmed me, I turned my attention back to Ailsa Craig. The lighthouse was the only building on the uninhabited island, but in the breeding season it was home to thousands upon thousands of seabirds. It was still a little early in the year, but many had already returned. While humanity was wiping itself out, nature was carrying on like nothing had happened. I watched gannets floating high above the cliffs, white crosses against the blue sky. Then my eyes were drawn to a small flock circling about half a mile ahead. Every few seconds, one would fold its wings and plummet, a fountain of spray shooting into the air as it sliced through the water and disappeared. This meant only one thing and I steered the boat towards them.
‘Hey, Daz, can you open that deck locker there?’ I watched as he lifted the lid. ‘There should be some fishing lines in there. D’you see them?’
Daz leant inside. ‘What d’they look like?’
‘Like string wrapped round a wooden frame with coloured feathers on them.’
He reached inside and pulled one out. ‘You mean this?’
‘Yep, that’s one. There should be three others as well.’
Daz rummaged around until he had found the rest of them. After closing the locker, he picked one up and examined it closely. ‘D’you no’ use rods to catch fish? My grampy took me fishin’ once, down on the canal; we used rods then.’ He fell silent, as if reliving the memory. ‘We didn’t catch anythin’ though.’
‘That’s what you use when you’re fishing for fun. This is a hand line; it’s what people around here use when they’re fishing for food.’
Daz turned it over curiously. ‘How d’you use it?’
‘You’ll find out soon enough. See those birds up ahead?’
‘Yeah.’
‘They’re feeding, and that means there’ll be fish under them.’
‘What sort of fish?’ Sophie had been listening as Daz and I talked.
‘It’s a bit early in the year, but I’m hoping it’s mackerel.’ I glanced ahead. We’d almost reached the area where the birds circled 100 feet above the water. Daz and Sophie watched as one of the birds started its dive, following it down until it hit the water with an audible whump. Sophie ran forward and peered over the guard rail. ‘Hey, you can see it under the water! It’s almost like it’s flying!’
The bird popped back to the surface and shook itself, before taking off in an ungainly manner. They watched as it climbed back to where the other birds circled before dropping into the sea once more.
Daz stared, open-mouthed. ‘This is amazin’! I’ve only ever seen stuff like this on TV before.’
I smiled at him. ‘It gets better.’
Daz frowned. ‘What d’you mean?’
I pointed to where a large, dark object appeared out of the water, rolled slowly across the surface and disappeared again.
A look of confusion mixed with fear flashed across Daz’s face. ‘What the fuck was that?’
I did my best not to laugh at his reaction. ‘It’s a minke whale.’
Sophie squealed with delight as the whale surfaced again, this time alongside the boat. Daz joined her at the guard rail and together they watched the massive animal as it manoeuvred just below the surface.
‘It’s swimming under the boat!’ Sophie glanced at me nervously. ‘Is that safe?’
‘Yeah. It knows exactly where we are.’
Tom stood up. ‘You can see it coming out on this side.’
Daz and Sophie scampered across and draped themselves over the opposite guard rail. The whale’s head broke the surface a few feet from the side of the boat. There was a loud whoosh as it exhaled, followed by a deep phup as it breathed in again. Its back appeared next, glistening like black glass in the morning sun, followed by the dorsal fin, just before it disappeared below the surface once more.
Sophie wrinkled her nose. ‘Urrggg. What’s that smell?’
I chuckled. ‘Whale breath.’
Daz waved a hand in front of his face, trying to waft it away. ‘Awww, that’s mingin’.’
I looked round: we were now right in the middle of the feeding gannets. ‘Time to get the sails down and start fishing.’
I steered the boat into the wind; Daz and Sophie dropped the main while I dropped the mizzen and Tom rolled in the jib. The boat came to a standstill, birds diving all around us. I passed out a hand line to each of the others and showed them how to dangle the twelve hooks — each covered with chicken feathers dyed bright and unnatural colours — into the water. As the line unfurled from the wooden frame, the weight at the end helped it sink out of sight.
‘Once the hooks are down deep enough, you need to jerk them up and down like this.’ I pulled my line sharply up and then let it sink before doing the same again. The others quickly got the hang of it and soon there was a cry from Sophie. I turned and saw her line was vibrating wildly. ‘Looks like you’ve got something there.’
‘What do I do?’ There was a note of trepidation in her voice.
‘Pull it in!’
Sophie pulled up her line until one of the brightly coloured lures broke the surface.
‘Lift it out of the water and see what you’ve caught.’
She grabbed the line just above the first hook and lifted the rest clear of the water: two mackerel were flapping from the lower hooks as she held the line out at arm’s length. She stared at them. ‘What now?’
As I showed Sophie how to deal with the fish, there was a shout from Tom, shortly followed by one from Daz, indicating they, too, had hooked some. I went back to my own line to find I’d caught some as well. Within twenty minutes, we had enough fish on the floor of the cockpit to feed us for several days and I decided it was time to stop. We brought the lines in for the last time and turned our attention to our catch.
Sophie picked one up. ‘They’re beautiful.’ She moved the fish back and forth, watching as the sun glinted off the electric blue stripes along its side. ‘Look at the colours! It’s a shame we killed them.’ There was a hint of regret in her voice.
I took one of the fish in my hand. ‘You’re right, they are beautiful, but we’ve got to eat something.’
Tom picked a fish up, too. ‘What do we do with them now?’
I went down into the galley and came back with some chopping boards and sharp knives. I showed Tom, Daz and Sophie how to fillet and skin the fish before casting the bones and the innards over the side. When we were finished, we raised the sails again and continued our journey south.
Leaving the others to wash the blood and scales from the cockpit, I took the fish down into the galley. I wanted to keep what little power we had left in the batteries for running the television. That meant we could no longer use the refrigerator to keep things fresh. Cooking the fish immediately would stop them going off too fast and it would mean they’d last for at least a couple of days.
Claire was sitting in the saloon staring blankly at the screen as I heated up a frying pan and dropped the first of the fish in: within seconds they were sizzling away. I turned my attention to Claire. ‘You okay there?’
‘Huh?’ Her eyes remained glued to the television.
‘I said, are you doing okay over there?’
‘Yeah. I mean, no … I mean ...’ She sighed deeply. ‘I’m not really too sure what I mean.’ She got up, turned the television off and came over to the galley. She leaned back against the sink; her forehead creased with worry. ‘How the hell are we going to survive all this?’
‘I don’t know,’ I flipped the fish over in the pan, ’but there must be a way. I think we’re pretty well set for the short term; I mean, as long as we can keep away from the shore, we should be able to avoid the infected. I’m not too sure what we can do in the longer term, but something will work itself out.’
‘Do you really think that?’ Claire looked at me incredulously.
It was a couple of seconds before I answered. ‘No.’ I shifted the fish around with a spatula. ‘But I keep telling myself I’ve got to at least try to stay positive.’ I glanced at her. ‘Right now, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me going.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’ She watched as I shook the pan. ‘Sophie keeps asking me when this is all going to be over; when things are going to start getting back to normal. What can I tell her? She’s fourteen, and I’ve always tried to be honest with her, but what can I say now?’ Her voice was quivering. ‘I can’t tell her what I really think: that it’s quite possible we’re all screwed.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘How the hell am I meant to tell her that?’
It was late in the afternoon by the time I went back up on deck. Claire and I had spent the last couple of hours trying to work out what we should do, but we hadn’t come to any firm conclusions. The best strategy we could think of was to wait and see what happened once we got out to the islands. Until we knew the situation there, we wouldn’t really know what we’d have to deal with. As we talked, I felt the sea change beneath us: the swell was getting stronger and the waves further apart, meaning we were starting to pass into open water.
Outside, I looked behind us; Ailsa Craig was little more than a speck on the horizon. For me, it had always been a marker of coming home, and it suddenly struck me that I’d never pass it again because I’d never be going home. A sense of sadness and loss settled over me, and I slumped, dejectedly, onto one of the seats in the cockpit. I sat there staring at the little dot on the horizon as it grew smaller and smaller. I thought about what it meant: I no longer had a place I could call home. Throughout all my travels, Glasgow had always been there for me to come back to: it was my anchor point; the place where all my journeys began and ended. Now, it was gone and I felt I’d been cast adrift, disconnected from the world I’d always known.
I let my gaze wander over those who had been set adrift with me. Daz was at the wheel, a look of intense concentration etched onto his face as his eyes moved continuously from the sails to the sea and back again. Judging by our wake, he’d finally got the hang of keeping us on a straight course; he might never have sailed before, but he was learning fast. Tom sat upfront, his legs dangling either side of the bow. He was looking down into the water, taking the occasional draw from a hand-rolled cigarette which I was sure would have something more than just tobacco in it. I wondered if Claire would tell him off if she spotted him, just as she had when Bob had given him a beer the night before. Claire sat on the opposite side of the cockpit with her arm around Sophie, as they both stared off into space. We were all from different worlds and it was only by chance we’d all been thrown together as everything fell apart around us.
Of all of us, I was the only one who knew how to survive at sea, and in that respect, the survival of the others was in my hands. Whether I liked it or not, I was stuck with them for the foreseeable future. The way I saw it, though, I’d been pretty lucky: there were a lot worse people I could have found myself with.
As the sun was going down, I set the sails so we were barely moving through the water. Now we were finally free, I needed to try to work out e
xactly where we should go. Until this point, I’d given it little thought, beyond the general decision to head up to the islands which lay to the north-west. I took a chart into the cockpit and spread it out on one of the seats so I could examine it. It covered an area from North Rona in the north to Northern Ireland in the south. Between these, lay islands of all shapes and sizes: some were inhabited, but I knew many weren’t, and hadn’t been for a very long time. While some lay close enough to the mainland, or neighbouring islands, to be linked together by bridges and causeways; others were far from the coast, and from each other. I tried to think about what we’d need in order to survive, both in the short and the longer term: food, water, shelter; and what we’d need to avoid the infected and the virus which created them: to be as far away from anywhere which had had a large human population when the disease broke out.
I considered the outlying islands first: North Rona, Flannan, St Kilda. There was virtually no chance of any one with the disease reaching such places, at least not under their own steam. There were seabird colonies and seals, shorelines to forage on, and there’d be fish in the surrounding waters, but they were remote and wild places; there’d be little chance of meeting other survivors, and I still thought we had a better chance of surviving if there were more of us working together. They were also exposed to the full wrath of Atlantic storms and pounding seas, and it would be unlikely the boat would survive being anchored there for any length of time, not when faced with 100-mile-an-hour winds, and waves which could be fifty or sixty feet high. This meant that if we made for one of these islands, once we were there, there’d be no going back. This I didn’t like, as I thought it would be important to keep our options open.
For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak Page 15