For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak

by Drysdale, Colin M.

  Chapter Eleven

  I woke the next morning to find I’d fallen asleep in the cockpit. After we were free of the fish farm, Claire and Tom had helped Sophie below, while Daz and I remained on deck. The rest of the trip had been uneventful and we’d finally pulled into the bay at Port Ellen just before three. As we dropped the anchor and brought down the sails, I looked round, but could see nothing in the darkness. The bay was sheltered, but the wind was still strong enough that I worried the anchor might drag in the night, so when Daz went below, I remained on watch, huddled in the cockpit in my waterproofs, alert to any unexpected changes in our position.

  Despite my worries, I must have dropped off, exhausted from the day’s events and glad to finally be out of the storm. Luckily, it had passed as I slept and the sun was now breaking through the wispy white clouds which covered much of the sky. I stood up, my limbs stiff from my awkward sleeping position. As I stretched, I surveyed my surroundings: the bay was tranquil, with clear waters and patches of golden white sand strung out along the shore. The small ferry terminal lay to our east, and around it stood a cluster of low stone buildings with white-washed walls and dark roofs. To the north, were buildings which looked industrial, but it was unclear what they housed. As far as I could see, it was deserted. I checked my watch; it was still early so maybe it wasn’t too surprising.

  Suddenly, there was a movement on the island. I grabbed the binoculars and focused them on the shore. It took me a while to work out what had caught my eye: it was an elderly woman shuffling along a street leading away from the shore in what looked like a nightdress. It seemed unusual, but not necessarily completely out of place in a small, tight-knit community.

  ‘Hey, Ben, you want some breakfast?’

  I glanced down the companionway and saw Claire looking up at me. ‘Yeah, if you’re making some. How’s Sophie?’

  ‘She’s got a sore head and her throat’s a bit raw, but other than that she seems fine. Pretty lucky really: it would have been an awful lot worse if Daz hadn’t found her so quickly. I still don’t know how he did it.’

  I smiled faintly. ‘Yeah, brave little bugger, isn’t he?’

  ‘He most certainly is!’ Claire shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t think it to look at him, would you?

  ‘No. I guess it’s that whole thing about not judging a book by its cover.’

  Claire shielded her eyes against the early morning sun. ‘Anything going on up there?’

  I turned my attention back to the shore. ‘I’m not sure, yet.’

  I lifted up the binoculars again and tried to find the elderly lady. It took me a few moments: she’d shuffled round in a circle and was now heading towards us, the front of her nightdress covered in what looked like dried blood, while her face and hands were stained with something dark. There was little doubt in my mind she had the disease. Yet she wasn’t behaving like any of the other infected we’d encountered so far.

  I swept the binoculars along the shore, stopping momentarily whenever I found someone. In all, there were about ten people visible, and while none of them were acting normally, neither were they acting like I’d grown to expect the infected to act. The few that moved, shuffled slowly and aimlessly, while most stood still, staring off into the distance. I wondered whether there was something different going on here; whether the virus had, somehow, mutated again; or whether this was just what happened once people had had the disease for a while. Maybe this thing wasn’t going to last that long after all, and this was the first sign the disease was starting to burn itself out.

  Claire interrupted my thoughts with a shout of ‘Breakfast’s ready!’

  Down below, we ate a poor imitation of a kedgeree made from the last of the mackerel, most of our remaining eggs and what little rice we had left. While Claire might be a great doctor, it was clear her culinary skills left much to be desired. Regardless, we were all ravenous and cleaned our plates in record time. Daz even scraped what was left in the pan together to get enough for seconds.

  ‘So,’ Daz spoke between mouthfuls, ‘what’s it look like out there?’

  ‘The weather’s better.’ I scooped the last of my kedgeree onto a fork. ‘But I think the infection’s here.’

  ‘How d’you know?’ Sophie was pale; her hair was tied back and there was a bandage where the mizzen boom had caught her the night before. Given what she’d been through, I was surprised she was back on her feet already.

  ‘There are people out on the streets: not many of them,’ I hesitated briefly, ‘but they’re acting very strangely. Not like any of the other infected we’ve seen so far.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Claire seemed intrigued.

  ‘They’re just standing around. They’re all covered in blood, but they don’t seem crazed or angry. They just look, I don’t know ...’ I searched for the most appropriate word. ‘Lost.’

  ‘Hmmm ... I wonder if it’s some new phase of the disease.’ Claire was thinking medically. ‘I mean, we really don’t know too much about it. Maybe there’s an initial violent phase and things change once that passes. After all, nobody knows what rabies does to the brain in the long term. Until the virus mutated, everyone who started showing symptoms ended up dead.’

  I took my plate over to the galley and wiped it clean before putting it back in its place. ‘I wondered that, too. But what about those people on the fish farm last night? If there’s a violent phase, they were clearly still in it.’

  ‘Maybe they got infected more recently.’ Daz’s suggestion was certainly feasible and it would fit with Claire’s theory.

  ‘If that’s what’s going on, it changes everything. It means the worst of this could be over in a few more days.’ I found the prospect strangely exhilarating. ‘So how do we find out if you’re right?’

  Claire glanced round the cabin. ‘We could go ashore.’

  Daz looked at her disbelievingly. ‘You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’!’

  ‘No, I’m serious.’ Claire stood up. ‘I don’t mean all of us and whoever did it would need to be very careful, but it’s really the only way we can find out for certain.’

  Tom handed the binoculars to Daz. ‘How’re we going to do this?’

  The five of us were standing on the bow of the boat, staring towards the shore.

  ‘If we get the dinghy in the water, we can go ashore on the beach, there in front of the road,’ I pointed to the spot I was meaning. ‘The nearest person I can see is over there by that big building. If they try to attack, we’ll have plenty of time to get back out onto the water.’

  ‘So who goes?’ Claire glanced round.

  ‘Only one person should risk it,’ I took a deep breath, ‘and I think it should be me.’

  ‘Ben, you can’t.’ Tom was staring at me. ‘You’re the only one who knows how to sail the boat. If we lose you, we’re screwed.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m also the only one who knows how to drive the dinghy.’ I turned back to the shore and watched the people lurking there for a moment. ‘Anyway, I’m planning on making damn sure I get back in one piece.’

  ‘Here goes.’ I started the little outboard on the dinghy. The beach I was aiming for was about a quarter of a mile from where we’d anchored the night before. Trying to make as little noise as possible, I puttered slowly towards my destination. Halfway there, I stopped and scanned the shore with the binoculars: none of the people I could see on the land seemed to have moved at all. I pushed on and soon the dinghy was bumping against the sandy beach with a soft scrunch. Hesitantly, I stepped ashore, pulling the dinghy just far enough from the water to stop it drifting away.

  Remembering what had happened when we’d been foraging for food south of Brodick, I took the remaining paddle with me, just in case, and placing each foot carefully on the sand, I crept forward, expecting to be attacked at any minute. At the top of the beach, I paused. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears as my heart raced. I glanced around. I could only see one of the locals: the one near the big building. Now
I was closer, I could tell it was a man. His back was towards me so I couldn’t see his face, but he had a wiry frame and thinning hair; still he hadn’t moved.

  I pulled myself up onto the grass and stood there, my eyes darting around, waiting for something to happen, but everything remained still. Off in the distance an oyster catcher called shrilly, while gulls circled lazily overhead. I looked back at the boat, and could see the others gathered on the bow, nervously watching my every move.

  After a minute of edging ever further from the water, I reached the road. I could see two figures now, the man nearer me and the elderly woman further off, still shuffling round in circles: neither appeared to know I was there. I wondered what to do next. I decided to get a little closer and then call out, but not wanting to be caught by surprise I kept my eyes glued to the man.

  I’d made it about five yards when my foot landed in a pothole, sending me sprawling onto the tarmac. The paddle flew from my hand and clattered along the road. Almost instantly, I heard a roar and looked up to see the man racing towards me. Gone was the listlessness he’d had until that moment. Instead, his face was contorted with rage. I scrambled to my feet and leaving the paddle where it had come to rest, I turned and ran. When I reached the loose sand at the top of the beach, I stumbled, almost ending up on my hands and knees, but somehow I kept myself upright. I didn’t need to look behind me to know that the man was gaining; I could hear his snarls getting louder and louder with every passing second. My lungs burned from the exertion and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I reached the harder sand near the water’s edge and could run faster. I hoped he’d be slowed at the top of the beach, just as I’d been, but I knew I couldn’t count on it.

  I hit the dinghy at full speed, pushing it backwards into the sea and away from the shore. I carried on until the water was up to my knees and with one last push I leapt in. The momentum carried me further from the beach as I struggled towards the engine. I glanced back and saw the man was at the water’s edge, growling and gnashing his teeth. Not knowing if he’d be willing to pursue me into the water itself, and if he did so, how far he would go, I started the engine, twisted the throttle and pushed it hard to the right.

  When the dinghy was facing back towards the yacht, I straightened it up and looked back to the shore: the man was still there, pacing back and forth, but by the time I was back at the boat, he seemed to have lost track of me. He’d fallen silent and no longer stalked along the shore. Instead, he’d returned to his placid state, staring off into the distance. From what had just happened, it was clear Claire had been wrong: the violent phase, as she had called it, had not passed; instead, it seemed the infected were only active when they sensed prey were near.

  ‘D’you think it’s safe?’ Sophie craned her neck to try to get a better look.

  ‘I think so. The one we hit’s over there,’ I pointed to our left, ’it doesn’t look like there’s anyone on this one.’

  As soon as we’d realised there were no survivors in Port Ellen, we’d decided to carry on northwards, but before we did, we’d returned to the fish farm, pulled there by the lure of easy food. Now it was daylight, we could see there were six groups of cages in all, separated from each other by 100 yards of open water. The night before we’d struck the southern-most enclosure, but now we floated near the cages at the northern end. There were no buildings here, meaning nowhere for infected to hide, and we could see the rest of the low-lying pontoons were clear. Inside the cages, salmon churned; each five to ten pounds in weight. If we could work out how to preserve them, we could get enough food here to last us for weeks. It would be monotonous, but it would at least be filling and nutritious, and given what we’d found at Port Ellen, it seemed we might need it.

  I cast my eyes around one last time, just to make sure it really was safe. ‘Let’s see how many we can get.’

  I stepped hesitantly onto the pontoon: after my last encounter with the infected I was nervous, even though I could see there was nothing to worry about. Daz and Tom followed, leaving Sophie and Claire on the boat to keep a look out. The three of us walked up to the edge of the cage and peered in. The water swirled as the fish moved just below the surface. Every now and then, a dark body would emerge before slipping from sight again.

  Daz was entranced. ‘How many fish d’you think are in there?’

  ‘Ten, maybe twenty thousand.’ I did a quick mental calculation. ‘That means the fish in this cage would be worth about a quarter of a million pounds … or at least, they would’ve been.’

  Daz shook his head in disbelief. ‘That much money just for some fish?’

  ‘Fish farming’s big business. Well, it was.’ I turned my attention back to the cage. ‘They’re pretty much worthless now. They’ll starve to death eventually ‘cos there’s no one left to feed them.’

  ‘That’s just cruel.’ Daz peered into the water again. ‘Can we no’ let them go or somethin’?’

  ‘They’re not wild fish; they’d die if we did. They’re pretty much doomed either way.’ I looked away. ‘At least if we take some, they’ll die humanely.’

  ‘How’re we goin’ to get them out?’ Daz was still staring into the cage, mesmerised by the ever-moving shadows lurking just below the surface.

  I glanced round and saw a large dip net leaning against one of the handrails, left there by a worker who no doubt thought they’d soon be back to retrieve it. They’d never returned, but now it would let us catch as many salmon as we could handle.

  Grabbing the net, I plunged it into the water. When I pulled it out a second later, there were three large, silver fish flapping around in it.

  ‘Whoa!’ Daz’s eyes widened. ‘They’re massive!’

  I emptied the fish onto the walkway and held the first one down with my knee. Pulling out the hammer I’d brought with me for just this purpose I smacked it sharply on the top of its head: instantly the fish was still. I repeated this with the next two.

  ‘What do we do with them now?’ Tom was watching me closely. ‘I mean, how are we going to stop them going off?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘I’m not sure, but I did wonder if we could dry them somehow.’

  Daz nudged one of the fish with the tip of his shoe. ‘How’re we goin’ to do that?’

  I looked back at the boat and an idea came to me. ‘If we fillet them, we can string them up from the rigging; they should dry out in the sun and the wind, and that’ll preserve them.’

  Tom folded his arms, unconvinced; he nodded up at the sky, which was now heavily overcast. ‘I’m not so sure the sun’s going to be much help.’

  Two hours later, we’d killed a couple of hundred salmon. Working on the pontoon, we’d set ourselves up as a production line. Being good with a knife, Claire had taken the role of filleting the salmon. Beside her Sophie washed the fish in the sea before Daz poked a hole in the tail end and pushed a piece of fishing line through it. Tom then passed them up to where I was standing, ready to hang them from the rigging.

  After thirty minutes, we were all covered in scales and fish juice, and Sophie was beginning to complain about the state her clothes were getting into. Another forty minutes after that, we were finally finished. I jumped onto the pontoon and looked back at the yacht. It was a somewhat surreal sight, festooned as it was with salmon fillets which swung slowly back and forth in the stiff breeze.

  Claire cleaned her hands in the water. ‘We’re all going to stink if we don’t do something to get all this crap off.’

  ‘No problem!’ With that Daz leapt off the pontoon, holding his knees tightly to his chest. He hit the water with a loud splash that sent water spraying over the rest of us. Sophie screamed and tried to hide behind her mother.

  ‘Bastard! I’ll show you!’ Tom dived into the sea and a second later Daz disappeared from sight. He resurfaced coughing and laughing, followed shortly by Tom.

  I turned to Claire and shrugged, ‘well, if you can’t beat them ...’ I stepped off the side and dropped vertically
into water that was colder than I’d expected. In the gloom, I could see the net of the fish farm a few feet away, and beyond it, the salmon packed tightly together, their sides glinting as they milled around in the confines of the cage. It seemed unfair that they would all soon be dead, but there was nothing I could do about it. I heard two more splashes and saw first Claire’s and then Sophie’s legs appear above me. I kicked back to the surface and joined the others as we scrubbed ourselves, and our clothes, clean.

  After about five minutes, I pulled myself out onto the pontoon beside Claire and watched as Tom, Sophie and Daz splashed and played in the water.

  Sophie had been distant from Daz, Tom and me at first, and I don’t think she quite knew what to make of us. Each of us was so different in our own way from anyone she was used to dealing with. Daz, in particular, was someone she’d probably have crossed the road to avoid before all this happened: now they swam happily together in the cool waters around the fish farm. It seemed the collapse of civilisation was a great leveller, and just as it had swept away all of Sophie’s advantages, it had done the same with all of Daz’s disadvantages.

  If I were being honest with myself, Daz wasn’t someone I’d ever have mixed with before either, and certainly I’d never have invited him onto my boat, but now he was here, it turned out he was a bit of a natural, taking to sailing like a duck to water. I was amazed by how much he’d picked up in such a short space of time and he was rapidly becoming the one I relied upon to be my second-in-command. Without him, life in this suddenly changed world would be so much more difficult. I wondered if Tom was put out by this; after all, I’d known him for years, but it seemed unlikely. Both of us knew this wasn’t his type of thing; he’d be glad he was alive, but unlike Daz, this wasn’t an opportunity for him to learn about things he’d never have had the opportunity to do if the world hadn’t changed.