‘It’s a woman!’ Daz exclaimed in surprised.
Sophie punched him in the arm. ‘Don’t sound so shocked. Women can be pilots too, you know.’
A broad grin spread across my face. ‘Mitch! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!’
Tom turned to me, confused. ‘You know her?’
‘Hey, Ben; I thought I recognised the boat!’ Mitch took off her sunglasses, looking serious for a moment. ‘Sorry, but I’ve got to ask; you’re all okay, aren’t you? None of you are ill or anything?’
‘No, we’re all fine.’ I replied
Relief spread across her face. ‘Good!’
I smiled at her. ‘Well, are you going to come over and say hello properly, or are we just going to stand here shouting at each other all day?’
She smiled back. ‘Throw me a rope, then!’
‘I was lucky, I guess. I had a charter trip booked for two, and I was running through my usual pre-flight checks. Suddenly, this guy appeared out of nowhere, running flat-out. He kept looking back over his shoulder and I couldn’t understand what was going on. Then I heard them: this mass of people, yelling and screaming, all chasing after him. The man saw me and the plane, and turned in my direction. He was shouting something, but I couldn’t hear him above the noise of the people who were following him.
‘He was about twenty yards away when he slipped and went crashing to the ground. As he struggled to get back to his feet, the crowd finally caught up with him, and they just tore into him. He tried to fight them off, but it was pointless and within seconds he’d been ripped limb from limb, right there in front of me. That’s when I realised what must be happening. I was frozen with fear, but I knew I had to force myself to move before they noticed I was there and attacked me, too. As quietly as possible, I crept over and undid the lines holding the seaplane to the dock, and then I slipped into the cockpit.
‘I started the engine, and that’s when they realised I was there. They flew along the dock as I pulled away, not even stopping when they reached the end as they threw themselves towards me. They gripped onto the float and the side of the plane, and I knew I’d never be able to take off with all the extra weight. One of them, this big muscular guy, was hammering on the window and I knew it was only a matter of time before he broke through. I had no option but to open the door and slam it into him again and again until he finally fell off into the water. Then I pushed the throttle forward, and the plane started moving faster. This dislodged more and more of them until there was only one left, yet no matter what I tried it clung on. The plane lifted from the water, but with the extra weight of the infected hanging from the float I struggled to get enough height …’
‘Wait a second.’ I remembered our near miss when we’d first taken to the Clyde. ‘That was you? You were the one who just about flew into us?’
‘Oh, so you’re the boat that got in my way! I didn’t recognise you. I was too distracted, what with having some mad Weegie bastard trying to kill me!’
Despite everything, I laughed. It was the type of casual banter Mitch and I always shared whenever we got together: her ragging on me for being from Glasgow, and me making fun of her for being from the islands. A few years older than me, we’d met the first summer I started running my own whale-watching tours on the west coast of Scotland and we’d stayed in touch ever since. We each had our own business — hers running a seaplane service between Glasgow and the islands — so we didn’t get together much, but whenever we ended up in the same place, we made a point of spending time together, usually over a few drinks in the nearest bar. I looked at the plane, wondering why I hadn’t recognised it as Mitch’s immediately. Then it occurred to me. ‘That’s not the one you were flying last year, is it?’
‘No, it’s a new one. I’ve only had it a couple of months: business was so good last summer, I thought I’d invest in a bigger one for this year.’ She glanced at it and sighed. ‘Shows what I know!’
Considering the circumstances, Mitch was looking in good shape and I was keen to find out how she’d been surviving. ‘So, where did you go after you left Glasgow?’
‘I went to Loch Lomond first, just to regroup and check the plane hadn’t been damaged. Once I heard how bad it was getting I headed out this way; I ended up in Tobermory. It took a few days for the disease to reach there, and this meant they had enough time to get prepared. They got together and set up barricades to keep the place safe, well some of it. A lot of people still died, or got infected, but there are about fifty of them left, hanging on. It’s where I’ve mainly been basing myself. We’ve always kept a fuel dump there, so I’ve been flying around trying to work out where there are survivors and which communities have been overrun.’
I leant forwards. ‘How many are there?’
‘I’ve found ten groups, so far; maybe a couple of hundred people in all; mostly on the smaller islands and further north. I’ve found nothing south of Mull.’
That fitted with what we’d found at Port Ellen and on Jura.
Mitch continued. ‘Everyone’s just so shocked at what’s happened, but we’re hanging in there, y’know. Some of the groups are more friendly than others, but there’s only one I know about which I haven’t been able to speak to at all and that’s on Iona. They just won’t let me near, and I can’t really blame them: it’s a risk letting strangers come ashore now.’
She paused for a moment. ‘That’s how it was at first, then this group of naval personnel showed up in a couple of large ribs. They set themselves up on Rhum, and they’ve been throwing their weight around ever since. For some reason, they think they’re in charge, and that we should all do what they say. It’s a bit of a pain, but we’re hoping if we ignore them for long enough, they’ll take the hint and just leave us to it.’
I wondered where these naval people had come from and whether they were in some way connected to the frigate from the blockade. It was possible these were the survivors we’d seen escaping in the ribs, but they could just have easily come from somewhere else entirely.
Mitch interrupted these thoughts. ‘So how did you end up here?’
I gave her the potted account of what had happened to us: how we got out of Glasgow, of seeing it being bombed; about the outbreak in the holding area; about the storm; the incident at the fish farm; what had happened in Port Ellen; and at the whirlpool.
‘Sounds like you’ve had it rough.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe they bombed the city; they kept that out of the news.’ She rubbed her hand across her forehead. ‘I guess they didn’t want everyone to panic.’
‘Yeah, right!’ Claire joined the conversation. ‘More likely they wanted to cover up how much they screwed up their attempts to contain the outbreak.’ Claire snorted derisively. ‘All they did was make it a hell of a lot worse!’
‘Sorry, I should introduce you.’ I turned to the others. ‘This is Michaela McDonald, better known as Mitch.’ I turned to Mitch and pointed to my right. ‘This is Claire: our resident doctor, cynic and anti-militarist.’
Not appreciating my description, Claire scowled at me before turning to Mitch and holding out her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’
While Claire’s greeting was outwardly friendly, I detected a hint of reticence. I wondered if she was still concerned about mixing with strangers, and what that might mean for her survival, and more importantly, that of her daughter.
I carried on with the introductions. ‘This is Sophie, Claire’s daughter; Daz, someone we picked up along the way; and finally, Tom.’
‘Tom?’ Mitch eyed him carefully. ‘As in the guy you used to work with when you were a juggler?’
‘The one and only!’ Tom grinned at her. ‘So what’s he been saying about me? You know he lies, don’t you?’
Mitch shook the hand he held out. ‘If even half of what Ben’s told me about you is true ...’ She smiled, looking him up and down as she did so. ‘Well, let’s just say I’ll need to keep an eye on you.’
Daz and Sophie looked enq
uiringly at each other and then at Tom. So far, they’d only seen Tom on the boat, where he was out of his depth. This new information got them wondering about what he’d been like before the outbreak started.
For the next hour, we sat in the cockpit and chatted, trying to talk about anything other than the fact that the world had fallen apart. Tom was getting on with the new arrival like a house on fire, and they spent much of the time exchanging stories about me: Tom telling her about some of the things I’d got up to in my days as a performer; Mitch telling him about drunken nights out in various remote island bars. Both left me feeling rather embarrassed, but it was the first time that I’d seen Tom like this with a woman in a very long time, not since Jane, so I couldn’t help but be happy for him.
Finally, reality reasserted itself and the first moment of normality we’d had since the start of the outbreak came to its inevitable end. Mitch glanced at her watch and stood up. ‘I guess I need to be heading back: the others will be wondering what’s happened to me. Where’re you guys heading?’
‘We haven’t really decided yet.’ I leaned back and put my hands behind my head. ‘We were just scouting around to see if we could find any other survivors.’
‘Why don’t you come on up to Tobermory? There’ll be a few faces you’ll recognise there and they’ve got a pretty good set-up.’
Tom’s face lit up. ‘That seems like a good idea.’
‘We should make our decisions based on something beyond your hormones,’ Claire muttered.
Tom shrugged his shoulders. ‘If there are other people there and they’ve got an area that they’ve managed to keep secure and free of the infected, they’re doing better than the army. We’d have a much better chance of surviving with people like that around than we would on our own.’ Tom’s tone was matter of fact. ‘I imagine they’ll also have better resources than we have, and access to things we don’t: like food, drinking water, weapons, medicines; stuff we’re going to need.’
Claire opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Tom winked at me and I sniggered: this was a side of him that Claire hadn’t seen before; his more intelligent side. Many people took one look at Tom and the way he dressed, and presumed he was some brainless stoner, but you needed to be able to think on your feet if you were to survive as a street performer; to be able to read a situation and make the right decision in an instant. In this case, Claire could see Tom’s assessment of the advantages Tobermory offered us was spot-on, but I suspected that Mitch’s presence made Tobermory an even more attractive proposition for him.
***
It took us a couple of days of pretty hard sailing to reach Tobermory. We’d taken the outside route, round the south-west corner of Mull, rather than going up the sound on the northern side. It meant we’d avoided areas with strong currents, but I’d also wanted to check out the survivors on Iona that Mitch had mentioned.
As it turned out, I shouldn’t have bothered. I’d always been welcome there before, but this time we were met with warning shots when we’d tried to approach the ferry dock. I didn’t see where they came from, but the message was clear. I couldn’t blame them really; if the island was still free of the disease, the best approach to keep it that way was to stop anyone from bringing it ashore. In this new world, it made sense for once welcoming communities to cut themselves off from outsiders. Strangers now posed a danger beyond belief, I’d already seen this first-hand in the holding area: both those of us on the boats and the naval personnel had trusted the two men they’d picked up to say whether they might be infected or not, and when it turned out one of them had been a carrier, it had very nearly killed us all.
We finally pulled into Tobermory Bay on the evening of the second day, shortly after the sun had dropped below the horizon. Mitch must have warned the surviving residents we were coming, and that we were safe, because almost immediately two small motorboats emerged out of the darkness and directed us to a place where we could drop anchor. They obviously weren’t completely trusting as this was set away from the other vessels in the anchorage, and from the main settlement itself. Rather than coming alongside, they shouted across that they’d leave it until the following morning before they welcomed us properly. Just before they left, one of the motorboats came close enough to toss a large package into our cockpit and one of them yelled: ‘A welcome present from Mitch!’ Before we could say anything, they zoomed off into the night.
Sophie picked up the bundle, ‘I wonder what it is.’ She quickly untied it.
The first thing that fell out was a packet of Tom’s favourite tobacco and some cigarette papers. He instantly grabbed them, and within seconds was leaning back on one of the seats, taking in large lungfuls of smoke with great gusto. I looked at him and raised an eyebrow; he laughed. ‘You know I’ve never been good with will power!’ He took another long draw. ’Remind me to tell Mitch how much I love her for this.’
Before I could reply, Sophie yelped with pleasure. ‘Clothes! Proper clothes!’ She held up a top, her face beaming with delight. ‘And they’ll actually fit!’
Claire picked up a note which had fallen onto the deck, reading it silently.
‘What does it say?’ Daz was curious.
Tom took it and read it aloud. ‘Claire and Sophie, as I’ve told him many times, Ben has very little taste when it comes to clothing. I think these will suit you better than any of his. I hope they fit. Welcome to Tobermory. Mitch. PS. Tom, have a smoke on me. You deserve it for getting this far!’
I could tell by the look on Claire’s face how much she appreciated Mitch’s gesture, not just for herself, but also because of how it lifted Sophie’s spirits. She wasn’t as keen, however, on the fact that Tom was smoking again.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Oh my god! It’s Balamory!’ It was early the following morning and I was studying the surrounding land with the binoculars, so I hadn’t noticed Sophie come out on deck.
‘I used to watch it as a kid: it was my favourite programme.’ She seemed excited. ‘I never knew it actually existed. I thought it was just a made-up place.’
‘It is.’ I looked towards the brightly coloured cluster of traditional stone houses which lined the shore. At one end was the distinctive outline of the local distillery, while at the other was an impressive stone building topped by a tall spire. ‘But much of it was filmed here.’
I put the binoculars down and turned to Sophie; she was dressed in denim jeans, and a blue and white Nordic jumper: both fitted perfectly. ‘How are the clothes?’
‘They’re brilliant!’ She grinned widely. ‘No offence, Ben, but your clothes aren’t really my kind of thing. It’s so great to have something nice to wear again.’
I smiled, glad to see her happy for the first time since I’d met her. I knew it wouldn’t last, but since the world had changed, any moment of happiness, no matter how brief, had to be fully enjoyed.
A few minutes later, Daz came out and we had a similar conversation about Balamory to the one I’d had with Sophie; Tom and Claire commented on it, too. It seemed that even though it was a programme aimed at pre-schoolers, everyone was familiar with it. Me, I’d spent a lot of time in this part of the world as a kid: summer holidays; Easter breaks; the occasional New Year. This meant I always thought of it as Tobermory first and Balamory second.
The older parts of the town occupied a narrow strip of land between the sea and the hill that loomed over it. Bales of straw had been used to build barriers on the main street about seventy yards on either side of where the quay projected out from the shore. Each barrier was some fifteen feet high and three bales thick, and they’d been extended far enough into the water that there was no way round them, even at low tide. While I couldn’t quite see for myself, I presumed the alleys and lanes leading between the buildings had been blocked in a similar manner.
Islanders who had the disease gathered on the outside of the makeshift barricades, aware there were uninfected nearby. I wondered about the infected, about
how much of their humanity they retained. I’d not really had time to study them before and now that I did, they intrigued me. Humans, real, uninfected humans, could have climbed over these barriers, yet the infected seemed unable to work out how to do this, or that they could swim around the ends where they reached into the sea: it seemed that while the infected had desires, they couldn’t think for themselves; they couldn’t reason or work things out. Maybe this gave us an advantage, maybe it didn’t; ether way I thought it was something worth knowing,
As I was eating breakfast in the cockpit, an off-white open motorboat drew up nearby, but not alongside as would usually have been the case. Two men were on board, one of whom I recognised as Mitch’s cousin, Hamish. I didn’t know him well, but he worked on one of the local fishing boats and often called me on the radio if he saw anything which he thought might be of interest to the tourists who came on my whale-watching trips.
Hamish called out. ‘Hey, Ben, good to see you made it out in one piece.’
‘Good to see you guys made it, too. How’s the town doing?’
‘We’ve lost a lot of people, but at least some of us are still here.’ I could tell from his tone that he was struggling to see this as something positive. ‘From what I hear that’s better than most places.’
For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak Page 21