Surviving the Evacuation, Book 14
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Surviving the Evacuation
Book 14: Mort Vivant
Frank Tayell
Dedication
To paradise on Earth
Published by Frank Tayell
Copyright 2018
All rights reserved
All people, places, and (especially) events are fictional.
Post-Apocalyptic Detective Novels
Strike a Match 1. Serious Crimes
Strike a Match 2. Counterfeit Conspiracy
Strike a Match 3. Endangered Nation
Work. Rest. Repeat.
Surviving The Evacuation/Here We Stand
Book 1: London
Book 2: Wasteland
Zombies vs The Living Dead
Book 3: Family
Book 4: Unsafe Haven
Book 5: Reunion
Book 6: Harvest
Book 7: Home
Here We Stand 1: Infected
Here We Stand 2: Divided
Book 8: Anglesey
Book 9: Ireland
Book 10: The Last Candidate
Book 11: Search and Rescue
Book 12: Britain’s End
Book 13: Future’s Beginning
Book 14: Mort Vivant
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Synopsis
Not all people died. Not all gave up hope.
The outbreak was in February. By the end of November, Earth has become a hellish wasteland ravaged by the undead.
Survivors from across the Atlantic seaboard took refuge on the Welsh island of Anglesey. Beset by dangers from within, they departed to establish a new refuge in Belfast. Not all of them arrived. Six took the last plane on its last flight, but crashed in France.
Expecting a sprinting battle through the ruins of Belfast, they packed light. With few weapons and barely any food, their chances of survival are slim. The chances of rescue are slimmer. There was no evacuation in France. No quarantine. No rationing. But there are zombies, and there are people who believe they, alone, are the last survivors of the old-world. So begins a frantic race against the undead, through the snow and storm ravaged ruins of Northern France.
Table of Contents
The Story So Far
Part 1 - Day 253
Chapter 1 - The Crash
Chapter 2 - Blood and Snow
Chapter 3 - Fireside and Candlelight
Part 2 - Day 254
Chapter 4 - First Light, Second Thoughts
Chapter 5 - How the Other Half Lived
Chapter 6 - Footprints in the Snow
Chapter 7 - A School for Vampires
Chapter 8 - The Rosewood Cartel
Chapter 9 - Campfire Stories
Part 3 - Day 255
Chapter 10 - Left Foot, Right Foot
Chapter 11 - Strange Meetings When Meeting Strangers
Chapter 12 - Nous Sommes L’Humanité
Chapter 13 - Friend or Foe?
Part 4 - Day 256
Chapter 14 - The Long Road to a Small Boat
Chapter 15 - A Bridge Too Far
Chapter 16 - A Hollow Victory
Chapter 17 - Paint and Knives
Chapter 18 - The Best Laid Plans
Chapter 19 - Our Lady’s Bells
Chapter 20 - The Bells. The Bells…
Chapter 21 - Thomas Allan Murphy
Chapter 22 - An Island Unto Themselves
Chapter 23 - The National Assembly of the Sixth Republic
Chapter 24 - I Can See Your House From Up Here
Part 5 - Day 257
Chapter 25 - A Ten-Thousand-Seater Farm
Chapter 26 - News From Above
Chapter 27 - The Breaking of the Fellowship
Chapter 28 - The Last Viking
Chapter 29 - The Enemy Within
Epilogue - Journey’s End, Journey’s Beginning
The Story So Far
Day 258, 26th November
The New World, The Celtic Sea
“There’s no finessing the truth,” Mary said. “And this truth is a hard one to hear.” She added the hand-written copy of the radio-report to the pile of papers and maps littering the cabin’s small table.
“What shall we do?” Kim asked.
“Do? What can we do?” Mary said. “They report that half their fishing boats returned with empty nets? Well, I know nothing of the sea so don’t know if a poor catch is due to the weather or if it’s a harbinger of something worse. As for this recent attack by the undead, what help can we offer? This ship is overcrowded as it is, with no room for more passengers. We don’t have any ammunition to spare. If what happened to us in Dundalk is a guide to the future, we’ll be using the rifles as clubs within three days of reaching France. No, if Elysium is untenable, it will have to be abandoned, and they have enough small boats to do it. The best thing we can do is continue to France.”
“That the undead attacked again during the night does worry me,” Kim said. “After finding those dead zombies in Dundalk, I thought this nightmare was over. I thought the zombies were dying. No, I was sure they’re dying.”
“They are dying,” Mary said. “It simply won’t happen overnight. What’s that expression young Bran uses? Hurry up and wait; that’s a lesson for us all. Now, where’s that map of Greece?”
The door opened. “Knock-knock,” Annette said.
“Good try,” Kim said. “But next time have a go actually knocking, and do it before you open the door. Where’s Daisy?”
“Oh, she’s with Mirabelle, Dee-Dee, and Ken. They’re writing subtitles.”
“Subtitles for what?” Mary asked.
“The last two episodes of my show don’t have them,” Annette said. “They’re translating from the Japanese.”
“They know Japanese?” Kim asked.
“Not really,” Annette said. “But they’ve seen the show a bazillion times. They know it by heart.”
“And do you think translating a cartoon about vampires in a boarding school is the best use of their time?” Kim said.
“It’s not a cartoon,” Annette said. “It’s anime. There’s a difference. And they volunteered. I didn’t ask them. And we’ve been working for hours. All of us. We needed a break. If that’s how they want to spend their time-off, who I am to stop them? Anyway, we’ve finished going through the notebooks we found in Dundalk.”
“And what did you find, dear?” Mary asked.
“First, that we didn’t find all the books,” Annette said. “I think Thomas took some away. That’s what I’d do.”
“Thomas?” Kim asked.
“Thomas Allan Murphy,” Annette said. “That’s his name. Tam’s from the initials. I called Dundalk and spoke to Siobhan. It’s the same guy that travelled with them. I know, I know,” she added. “You said we should tell her face-to-face, but when will we get a chance to do that? We’re on our way to France, and she’s in Dundalk with the admiral and Sholto. It might be weeks before we see them again, and I thought it was important that someone look for Tam’s other notebooks.”
“And why do you think it’s important?” Mary asked patiently.
“Tam and his people were waiting for reinforcements,” Annette said. “They wanted to make Dundalk a fortress. Obviously they didn’t, and they left by sea, but the notebooks I found don’t say where they were going. That’s why I wanted Siobhan to look for more. If we can find out where they went, we could look for them. That’s a better idea than Tasmania.”
“Tasmania?” Kim asked.
“Now you’ve really lost me.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Annette said. “It’s the sweepstake.”
“And you’ve lost me, too, dear,” Mary said. “What sweepstake?”
“Down in the engine room.”
“You’re not meant to go down there,” Kim said.
“And I wouldn’t have, but I was trying to find Catrina,” Annette said. “You know. Cat-rina? The cat? Hmm, maybe Tabitha is a better name, but she’s not really a tabby. Anyway, they’ve been betting on where we’ll find other survivors. Tasmania has the best odds because of how Australia had its own evacuation.”
“Maybe so,” Mary said, “but it’s too far for us to travel by sea. I doubt we’ll find another plane any time soon.”
“No, we could get there,” Annette said. “The New World could. I asked. We’d have to reduce the weight a bit, leave some people behind, but we could reach Australia.”
“And how would we get back?” Mary asked. “No, our future lies in the Mediterranean. We’ll send an expedition across the Atlantic so the admiral can fulfil the oath she made to her people, but we’ll find our new home somewhere warm, and somewhere far closer.”
“And you’ve been working out where?” Annette asked, picking up a map.
“We’ve been working out which islands would be worth investigating,” Kim said. “That will enable us to plot a route, and thus we can calculate how long it will take and how much fuel we’ll need.”
“But we’re going to find Bill first, aren’t we?” Annette said.
“Of course,” Mary said. “Too often on Anglesey we were reacting to disasters, with barely enough time to think, let alone plan. We shall not repeat that mistake, so now, while we have a little time, we’re getting a head start on the work.”
“Yeah, okay,” Annette said. “And that’s why I came here. You see, it was those notebooks of Tam’s. Most of them are about the people who’ve died. It’s seriously dark stuff. A lot of it’s kinda depressing. That got me thinking that we sort of do the same. We never talk about the people who are alive, you know? So I thought that’s what I should do, put together the stories of all the people who are alive.”
“I thought you were writing a history book,” Kim said.
“Yeah, and that’s what this will be,” Annette said. “A proper history of all of us. I started with Bill; he was easy. That got me thinking about the other people on the plane. Chester wasn’t too difficult because he told me some of his stories about life in the Tower of London while he was staying with us on Anglesey. All I know about Mr Higson is that he’s a good pilot and better baker. And I don’t know anything at all about Sergeant Khan or Private Kessler.”
Kim nodded. Annette wanted reassurance that Bill was okay.
“Salman Khan is a very experienced Marine,” Mary said. “One of the admiral’s best. When Sorcha Locke returned with Chester from Birmingham, I asked the admiral for her most reliable military professional to watch her. She gave me the sergeant, and said he was worth an entire squad. Private Kessler might be a more recent recruit, but she’s just as competent and reliable. She was with Major Lewis in Belfast, part of the expedition who went to collect the fuel tankers from the airport.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember,” Annette said. “That’s when the major died. Okay, but since you wanted guards for her, you can’t have trusted Sorcha Locke.”
“I didn’t,” Mary said. “And I doubt I ever will. She was Lisa Kempton’s deputy. I’m still unclear as to the extent of Locke’s involvement in the apocalypse, but suspect it was considerable. According to Thaddeus, Kempton helped finance Quigley’s operation, providing planes and other logistical support where using military or government resources would have been too noticeable. In return, Kempton had been given the contract to mass-produce the vaccine. Of course, that was before it caused the outbreak. No, I can’t say I trust Locke. When I spoke to her, she offered no remorse, nor even regrets. However, actions speak louder than words. She helped those people in Birmingham. I believe she’s changed in the last ten months.”
“But you still had guards for her,” Annette said.
“The guards were to keep her safe, not to stop her escaping,” Mary said. “I was worried what the general population would do, what type of revenge they might seek. That’s why I offered her a sailing boat and supplies, so she could go wherever she wanted. But she didn’t want to leave.”
“Or she wanted to go back to Belfast,” Annette said. “Maybe that’s why she didn’t want a boat.”
“Possibly,” Mary said. “She’s seen what the world has become, and how few people are left. I think she wants to make amends, though she is the kind of woman who’ll never admit as much. No, I don’t trust her, I certainly don’t like her, but she isn’t a threat to us, or to Bill. The opposite, in fact, since she’s as well trained as Sergeant Khan, and as experienced in surviving the horrors of our world as Bill or Chester. With Mr Higson, they have an excellent pilot and exceptional mechanic. I’m sure he can repair a car or truck. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if, when we reach France, we find them waiting for us.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Annette said. “Except they haven’t called in. It’s been five days and we’ve not heard from them. They have a sat-phone, they should have called us by now.”
“They had a sat-phone,” Kim said. “They must have landed far from the coast, out of range. And that’s confirmed by the fact the satellites haven’t found any sign of them yet.”
“But wherever they landed, they would have headed towards the coast,” Annette said. “They should be in range by now.”
“As you say, it’s been five days,” Kim said. “The phone’s run out of power and they have no way of recharging it. No, I’m not worried.”
“You’re not?”
“And nor should you be,” Mary said. “Worrying rarely does us any good. Now, earlier, you said you were looking for your cat. Did you find her?”
“Oh, no. Not yet.”
“Perhaps you should continue your search,” Mary said. “I just saw Commander Crawley walk past that window, and he didn’t look as if he was in a good mood. Go on.”
Annette hurried away, leaving Mary and Kim alone.
“And there’s no point you worrying, either, dear,” Mary said.
“Easy to say,” Kim said. She picked up a map of the French coast. “It’s such a long coastline, and we don’t even know where they crashed. Now we’ve left Belfast, now that we might abandon Elysium, and the admiral’s certainly going to leave Dundalk, if we don’t find him, if he sets off on his own to return to Ireland, he won’t find any of us there.”
“I know, dear,” Mary said. “I know.”
Part 1
Rough Landing
Day 253
21st November
Chapter 1 - The Crash
Five Thousand Feet Above France
Outside the plane’s cockpit, the snow-covered landscape was an irregular geometry of tall trees, flat mounds, and curving hills, zipping by impossibly fast.
“Can we land on snow?” Bill Wright asked, rubbing the stumps of his missing fingers. His leg, which had never properly healed after the break sustained at the beginning of the outbreak, throbbed in time with the vibration from the plane’s engines. He could blame the altitude, the speed, but the real cause was fear. They were trapped in a plane that they couldn’t steer, flying over France where there were no known friendly faces, let alone runways. He could call it a landing, but the reality was that a crash was a certainty in their imminent future.
“Land on snow? Here’s hoping,” Scott Higson said. “Now that we’ve dumped the fuel, we’re flying on fumes. In twenty minutes we’ll drop like a rock. Look for a road, a motorway, anything.”
“I can only see snow. I can’t tell what’s beneath,” Bill said. “Wait, there’s smoke! Two degrees to the left. Do you see?”
Higson snapped his head to the left before returning his darting gaze to the instrument panel. “Y
ep, sure. Looks like smoke,” the middle-aged Australian pilot said. His tone was calm but his face was a rigid mask, except for a vein throbbing at the side of his weather-beaten face.
“With snow blanketing the landscape from here to the horizon, a fire has to be deliberate,” Bill said, peering at the thin plume rising from the horizon. “It has to be people.”
“Not necessarily,” Scott said through gritted teeth. “Can you see the fire?”
“No, there’s still too much daylight. I think there’s a river. Some buildings. Might be a— No, it’s gone. Or we have. We’ve flown past.”
“Was it a town?” Scott asked.
“Possibly. The tree-cover was too dense for it to be a city,” Bill said. “But I definitely saw smoke. Can you bring us down here?”
“Here and now? You sure? We’ll have to come down soon, but we’ll only get one more shot at this. We can’t change our minds this time.”
“Like you said, we’re coming down soon whether we want to or not,” Bill said.
“Then hold on,” Scott said, flipping a series of switches on the control panel. “Hold on!” he yelled through the propped-open cockpit door.
The plane juddered. The plane shuddered. The plane shook, as Scott dipped the nose. Outside, the snow-smoothed drifts swiftly turned into jagged peaks, uneven valleys, and far, far too many trees as the ground neared quickly. Too quickly. Far, far, far too quickly.
“Not yet,” Scott muttered. “Not yet.”
Bill saw trees and snow, and a lumbering figure that was immediately lost to sight.
“Now. Here we go,” Scott said.
Bill gripped the edge of the seat, pre-emptively gritting his teeth as the pilot dragged the nose up. The window filled with clouds bisected by a distant blue line on the far horizon.
“No. No. No. No!” Scott intoned. His invocation began as a mutter but rose to a scream.