I urged him silently to choose one of the other options. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Jeff, or that I didn’t want to help him, it was just the extra weight it would put on my shoulders. I wasn’t sure I could cope.
Eventually Jeff replied. ‘I want to go stay with Jimmy.’
I could barely hear him as he said it, but his decision was clear and my heart fell. It looked like Jeff would be moving onto the catamaran whether I liked it or not. I thought about it for a moment; it was the right thing to do and now he had chosen us, I couldn’t turn him down. I’d just have to deal with it. ‘We’d be happy to have you. Come on, I’ll take you over there now.’
I got up to leave and Jeff followed me out of the cabin.
***
Coming to live on the catamaran was the best thing Jeff could have done. His presence revealed a tender and caring side to CJ that I hadn’t seen before. She took him under her wing and mothered the hell out of him, which was just what he needed. In the first week, when he did little more than lie in his bunk, staring into space, or crying to himself, she took him food and made sure he ate. When he woke screaming in the early hours of the morning, she was the one who comforted him, holding him tightly until the nightmares passed. She spoke to him softly and lovingly, reassuring him that what happened wasn’t his fault. When he was ready to talk, she was there to listen. I doubted anyone else in the community could have tended him so well and little by little she brought him back to us. Once she had, Jeff had Jimmy and Mike to keep him company and to talk to about how he was feeling. They too had lost the rest of their family to the infected, and they knew what he was going through. Jeff never quite got over it and he’d never forget it, but with the help of CJ and the boys, he at least learned to cope with it.
After CJ, the thing that probably helped Jeff move on more than anything else was establishing the garden boats. I think he saw them as a memorial to his father and the rest of his family. With Dan gone, Jon took the lead and he made sure to include Jeff as much as he possibly could. The work was hard and physical, but Jeff threw himself into it and it seemed to allow him to forget about how his family had died … at least for a few hours at a time. I watched the two of them as they worked and saw how well Jon dealt with him. He guided and instructed without bossing Jeff around. He knew when to push him and when to leave him to his own thoughts. Once again, I was struck by how much Jon had grown in such a short space of time. I couldn’t have imagined the Jon I’d met in South Africa treating a thirteen-year-old boy with such compassion and respect.
***
The garden boats galvanised the community into action. Rain-catchers based on Jon’s design started appearing on a number of boats which didn’t have their own water-makers, funnelling rainwater into their tanks, and meaning they no longer had to beg others for freshwater. I even considered making one for the catamaran, but we still had our reverse osmosis machine and it wasn’t a priority. Instead, we concentrated on the garden boats themselves. While Jon and Jeff did most of the work, almost everyone else helped out when they could. Soon all that was missing was the soil. I sat down with Jack, Jon and Andrew to see if we could work out where we could get it.
‘The problem here is that to get soil which is good enough to grow things we’ll have to go to one of the bigger islands, and go quite far inland.’ Andrew was explaining the situation to us. ‘If we knew where we could do that safely, we could just grow the crops there and we wouldn’t have any need for the garden boats.’
‘Does that mean we won’t be able to do this after all?’ Jon was crestfallen at the thought he might have to give in and admit David had been right when he’d said the garden boats were a waste of time and energy.
‘No, no. It just means we need to find exactly the right place to get the soil.’ I glanced at Jon and saw he was far from convinced.
‘I might have just the solution.’ Jack scratched his beard thoughtfully. ‘You know the island straight out from the harbour entrance? Matt Lowe’s?’ We all nodded. ‘Well, I used to work there. I pretty much ran the place for the guy who owned it. I ran the island and his sport-fishing boat. That’s where I got her from,’ Jack pointed over his shoulder to the boat on which he now lived. ‘Matt Lowe’s is big enough to have decent soil and there were only a few of us there when everything went wrong, so there shouldn’t be a lot of infected around.’
‘But we’d still have to go far inland to get soil that’s good enough.’ Andrew was concerned that Jack hadn’t quite grasped this crucial point. ‘It’s too much of a risk, even if there are only one or two of them there.’
‘Wait.’ Jack held up his hand. ‘Let me finish. There’s a narrow channel cut into the rock leading to a hurricane hole deep inside the island itself. This means we can get good soil without having to go far from the water.’ Jack looked round at the rest of us. ‘What d’you think?’
‘It’s by far the best option we’ve come up with so far.’ I could see both Jon and Andrew nodding in agreement as I spoke. ‘Let’s check it out.’
A few hours later, we were sitting in the runabout seventy yards off Matt Lowe’s Cay. We’d been watching the shore for a good ten minutes and had seen no sign of any infected.
‘Where’s the channel?’ Jon was leaning on the wheel with Jack standing next to him.
‘Just over there.’ Jack pointed, but it took me a full minute to finally spot it. The entrance was narrow, no more than eight feet at the most, and so well hidden that if I hadn’t known it was there I’d never have noticed it.
‘Shall we go in?’ Jon shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
I looked back at the channel, the rocks on either side stood about two feet above the water. The bush had been cleared back from its sides, creating two narrow paths running along its full length. I couldn’t help thinking that if any infected appeared, we’d have very little warning and we’d be close enough to the shore that they’d be able to jump into the runabout. If that happened, we’d be finished.
‘I guess so.’ I was nervous, but I knew we needed to check it out and see if we could really get the soil from there.
The others only nodded and Jon lined up the boat before motoring forward slowly. Andrew had Jack’s shotgun, the one we’d seen Jack carrying on the first day we’d met him, while I had the rifle. As we entered the channel I felt the bush close around us and we were soon enveloped by the sound of cicadas singing in the trees. My eyes darted around, looking for any sign of infected, but I saw nothing. After what seemed like an age, the channel opened up into a broad pool almost completely surrounded by low walls cut into the rock. The bush had been cleared away for a distance of about ten feet on all sides and at one corner a path snaked off up a gentle slope and disappeared from sight. The bush itself was not dense and we could see a distance of some thirty or forty feet through it.
‘Once we’re in here, we’re pretty safe.’ Jack paused for a second or two, ‘If someone keeps watch and stays with the boat, we’ll have enough warning to get back onto the water before any infected get to us. It’s really just the running in and out of the channel that’s going to be risky.’
I stared at Jack, wondering about his definition of risky. It would take a considerable amount of time to get enough soil to fill the garden boats, and I wasn’t keen on spending that much time on land.
‘Okay, how’s this going to work?’ Jon looked at Jack.
‘Well, we can dig up the soil from where the bush has been cleared around here, load it into sacks and then put them onto the runabout. Once the runabout’s full, we can take it back to Hope Town and unload it. Then, we go back and do the same again.’ Jack made it sound so easy, but it would be difficult and dangerous work.
‘Let’s get started.’ Jon sounded as nervous as I felt. ‘The sooner we do, the sooner it’ll be over with.’
***
It took three days and thirty-four runs to collect enough soil to get seven hulls filled. I’d just finished loading the final sack onto
the runabout and Jon was standing guard.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking. We haven’t seen a single infected. Maybe there’s none here.’ Andrew was looking around at the cleared area that surrounded the hurricane hole. ‘Maybe we could just grow things right here around the hurricane hole. Maybe we don’t need the garden boats after all.’
Jon glared at Andrew, his eyes like daggers. ‘Are you saying all the work we’ve been putting in is for nothing?’
‘No, but you have to admit it would be easier. Maybe we could even live here. There’s plenty of space.’
I decided to step in before this got out of hand. ‘The problem is that the island’s so big we could never be certain there weren’t any infected hiding on it somewhere, and even if it’s completely clear now, there’s always the risk of drifters. If we set up here, we’d have to be on guard twenty-four seven. We’d never be able to build defences that would keep the infected out if they attacked, especially in any sort of numbers. At least on the boats we pretty much know we’re safely locked up at night, and we can get some sleep. On the shore, we’d always be out in the open, always at risk if any drifters turned up. We’d need a lot of guns and bullets just in case we got attacked, and we just don’t have them.
‘Besides, there’s only a few of us who really know how to use them, who wouldn’t panic at the crucial moment. And then there’s what we’d do if they ever finally broke through. On the sea, we can always pick up and move if we need to, taking everything with us, On land, if we had to run, we’d have to leave everything behind; we’d lose all of it; radios, stoves, batteries, water-makers, all the things we need to survive. It’s too much of a risk.’
I stopped to marshal my thoughts before carrying on. ‘Even if we just tried to grow things here, I don’t think it would work. You need to tend crops every day and there’d be nothing worse than putting in all the time and effort only for a bunch of infected to turn up when it came to harvest time. Growing food on shore just wouldn’t be secure.’
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right.’ Andrew sounded dejected.
‘Shall we get out of here then?’ Jon was just about to start the engine when something occurred to me.
‘Where the hell’s Jack?’ I looked round but he was nowhere in sight. ‘Jon, did you see where he went?’
‘No, I didn’t even notice he was gone. I was too busy watching you two filling the sacks.’
Suddenly I saw a movement in the trees, up along the path. ‘I think we’ve got company.’
‘I can’t get a clear shot.’ Jon had the rifle up and was trying to sight whatever was coming towards us. ‘What the hell? It’s Jack.’
Jack was running as fast as he could and I was pretty certain I knew what he was running from. I turned on the engine and had my hand on the throttle ready to go the moment Jack made it to the runabout. ‘Jon, can you see any infected?’
Jon scanned the path behind Jack with the rifle sight. ‘I can see one behind him. No, there’s two ... wait, there’s more ...’
Jack had made it to the hurricane hole and leapt into the boat, ‘Go! Go! Go!’ He was breathing heavily and slumped onto the seat at the bow of the runabout.
Filled with large bags of soil, the boat moved sluggishly and I found it difficult to manoeuvre in the confines of the hurricane hole. First one infected and then two more burst from the bushes. They saw us immediately and snarled. We were far enough from the walls that they couldn’t reach us. Instead, they prowled the water’s edge.
I could see them clearly, two skinny men, one taller than the other, and a short, stocky woman. The remains of tattered clothing clung to bodies caked in dirt. The faces of the two men were gaunt and contorted with rage. The woman, while still bulky, had lost enough weight that her skin hung from her once ample body.
After one of the longest minutes of my life, the boat was finally pointing directly at the entrance to the narrow channel. I eyed it up. It was one thing to be able to navigate it slowly when under no pressure, but it was quite another to try to get through it when there were infected around. If they got alongside while we were in the channel, we’d be in big trouble. I voiced my concerns. ‘This is going to be bloody tight.’
Before the others could respond, another infected emerged, drawn by the noise made by the ones that were already there. This one was no more than a teenager. His once blonde hair was matted and grubby, and his wasted body was so thin I could see his ribs poking through his pale skin.
Jack stared at the boy for a moment, a look passing across his face too fast for me to read, before he turned to me. ‘Want me to do it?’
Jack knew the channel well and it made sense that he was the one at the wheel as we tried to get out, but I respected the fact he’d asked rather than just taking over. I nodded and stood aside. Jack took the wheel and gunned the engine. Before the infected had time to react, the boat leapt into the narrow channel. It took them a split second to sense their prey was escaping. Then they reacted, sprinting after us. With the soil, we were riding deep in the water and it took all the power in the engine to get us up to speed. Even then we were only managing to do about fifteen knots. I looked round. The infected were now running along the sides of the channel and were gaining on us.
‘Shit. Jon can you get them?’
Jon raised the rifle and tried to aim it at the teenager.
‘I can’t get a clear shot. The boat’s moving around too much.’ Jon was starting to panic.
The teenager was now only a yard behind the runabout and he would be alongside us in seconds. He was so close I could see his eyes were pale blue and, while they burnt with rage, there was something eerily familiar about them. I looked ahead. We were still some fifty feet from open water.
I urged Jon on. ‘Try it anyway.’
Jon fired, hitting the teenager in the arm but he barely slowed. Jon shot again, this time bringing him down. Jon turned his attention to the other side where the stocky woman was almost as close. He missed completely with the first shot, and only winged her with the second, but it was enough to buy us the time we needed to finally burst free from the channel.
Once we were a safe distance from the shore, Jack eased back on the throttle so we could chug the short distance to Hope Town without using too much fuel. I looked back and saw there were now five infected milling around the entrance to the channel. We wouldn’t be going back there any time soon. I turned to Jack, angry and surprised he’d taken such a risk.
‘What the hell were you doing back there?’
‘Getting these ...’ Jack opened a small bag I was sure he hadn’t been carrying before he’d gone ashore. I peered inside and saw it was filled with packets of seeds: carrots, peas, lettuces, tomatoes, beans, corn, all kinds. Jack took one look at my face and smiled. ‘I’d always meant to get round to starting a vegetable garden. I even got as far as buying the seeds, I just never got round to planting them. I knew I still had them up at the house. I knew exactly where they were and I figured I could nip up, grab them and get back without too much risk. After all, we can’t have gardens and nothing to grow in them.’
My anger at Jack evaporated. He’d risked his life to get the seeds we’d need to make the garden boats a success.
That evening Jack and I sat on the bridge of his boat as we underwent the mandatory quarantine after a run-in with the infected. Andrew and Jon were in the galley cooking supper. I stared at Jack. Something was niggling me, but I wasn’t quite sure how to steer the conversation in that direction. I decided I should just go for it.
‘Jack, can I ask you something?’
He seemed to know what I was going to say. ‘Yes, I knew them before they were infected. The woman was the housekeeper and the two men worked as gardeners on the island.’
‘And the boy?’
Jack had a faraway look in his eyes and, as I watched him, I realised why the eyes of the teenager looked so familiar. Jack said nothing, but he didn’t need to. I’d wondered before whether Jack had lost a
nyone close to him in the early days of the outbreak and now I knew.
Chapter Fourteen
In the past, hurricanes would sweep out of nowhere, over unsuspecting settlements, destroying them as completely as any war. With technology came advance warnings of when they were coming. While these did nothing to reduce the destruction, it gave people time to prepare, to board up their houses, to run if they had somewhere to run to, and to brace themselves for the storm if they didn’t.
Before the infected came, the weather channel was compulsive viewing during the hurricane season for everyone who called the Bahamas home. The storms were tracked and named, and people learned to talk about them as if they were old friends. It wasn’t unusual to hear someone say, ‘Well, it was worse with Andrew’, or ‘You should have been here for Floyd. That was a big one’.
With the fall of civilisation, there was no one left to watch the satellites that undoubtedly still looked down as storms were born, grew and died. There was no one to name them, no one to tell us they were coming, no warnings issued, and no updates provided on the hour, every hour. Once again, hurricanes became fearsome beasts and attacked with little warning. If you knew the signs and could read the clouds, if you watched your barometer and saw it falling as the heart of the storm approached, you’d get a hint something was coming, but you’d never know how big it was until it was on top of you.
People had become so used to getting all their information from the weather channel that most had lost the ability to read the signs, so when the first one hit, we had little time to prepare.
A couple of weeks after we’d established the garden boats we noticed a change in the air. The infected were unusually restless and the clouds that streaked the sky were strange and unfamiliar. Jack, Andrew and I huddled in the cockpit of the catamaran discussing what might be going on.
For Those In Peril (Book 1): For Those In Peril On The Sea Page 19