They had spent the rest of their day drinking coffee, telling stories and playing games.
An unspoken agreement to ensure that Claire’s last day was as pleasant as possible. A casual onlooker would never have guessed the dark cloud hanging over them.
They had agreed Claire would take the codeine twenty-four hours after she had been bitten. Earlier if she had started to show more symptoms. She didn’t mention her headache, and otherwise, she felt fine. When the time had passed unobserved by the others, Claire had remained quiet. However, when the sun began to sink low in the sky, she told them the time had come.
Observed silently by her four friends, she took the pills.
Now just under an hour later the tiredness was becoming almost too much to bear. With as much grace as she could muster, she rose to her feet.
The others rose with her. Turning to each of them in turn, she hugged them, and said goodbye. Hugging Lex last, she passed her the photograph.
“Remember us,” she whispered into her ear.
Lex nodded, the lump in her throat leaving her unable to speak. There was so much to say, but if she spoke, she would cry. She’d promised Claire. Instead, she held her tightly, until Claire backed gently away.
Then, supported by Sam, Claire slowly made her way up the garden towards the tree line.
“I forgot how long this garden was,” Claire’s joke fell flat, marred by the gasp as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Am I going too fast?” Sam asked.
“A little,” she wheezed, “but I don’t think we have long.”
Without a word, he picked her up in his arms and carried her over the little stream and into the woods.
He found a spot, that was big enough for her to lie down. Placing a rucksack beneath her head, he gently lay her down and crouched next to her.
The shade of the overhanging trees blocked out the dying light of the day. Sam took the torch from his pocket and flicked it on. The soft glow lit Claire’s face, her eyes were closed, and her breath was shallow.
“Claire?” Sam whispered.
“Mmm.”
He took her hand in his and stroked it gently. “I just wanted to say it’s been good to know you. You’re a nice person, and I won’t forget what you did for me.”
Claire smiled softly, “It has been good to know you too, Sam.”
They sat in silence, Claire’s breathing becoming progressively slower. “Sam?” she whispered.
“Yeah?” He leant closer, barely able to hear her.
“Promise me…” She gasped for air. “You’ll… look… after,” another gasp, “them.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Thank… you.” She sighed heavily then started to choke. Sam sat her up and rubbed her back as she vomited. Lex had explained that this might happen. It was the reason that Claire had asked Sam to take her away from the others when it was time. She wanted Lex and Sally to remember her as she was. With dignity.
A tear rolled down Sam’s cheek as he held her. She no longer had the energy to retch, and the vomit slid back down her throat as she slipped into unconsciousness.
“Claire?”
No response.
“Claire?” His voice grew more frantic. “I’m not ready… please… not yet.”
He rocked her gently as she died in his arms.
Lex had advised him to act swiftly once she had gone. None of them knew how quickly she would come back. It had sounded simple at the time. As soon as she was dead, he must do it. A conversation in the light of day, sitting in comfort, and surrounded by friends, was a stark contrast to the situation in which Sam now found himself. He had thought her death would be instantly noticeable. That he would feel her life slip away. He had not realised that it would hurt so much. That he would not, could not, accept that she had gone. For long moments, he continued to rock her. To beg and plead for her to stay with him. It was only the nagging voice in the back of his mind that prompted him to feel for a pulse. A pulse he could not find. Ice ran through his veins as he remembered the look on her face when she had expressed her passionate desire not to turn. He needed to act. He would not break his vow.
He gently turned her over and lay her face down on the ground. He reached into the bag, and by torchlight, he found the bundle he was looking for. The tea towel that protected his hands from the sharp blade contained within.
Placing the knife on one side, he shone the torch on to the back of Claire's head. The torchlight on her golden hair gave the impression of an ethereal being. With a heavy heart, he parted her hair and felt for the spot Lex had shown him earlier on her own head. He found it easily. Through a blinding blur of tears. Sam picked up the knife and plunged it into Claire's brain.
The act complete, the promise kept. A man now changed forever by the acts of today.
Eventually, he lifted her body and turned her over. She looked peaceful, as though she were merely asleep and would wake up at any moment.
He took the last item from the bag, a bed sheet. As gently as he could, he wrapped her body in the sheet. Then he left her alone. Forever.
A lone figure stood in the kitchen, staring out at the large expanse of the garden. She watched as the young man made his way back to the house. His frame was lit by the bright moonlight. She knew instinctively that it was a different Sam that emerged from the woodland. The cocksure gait that was once a natural movement for him, was now replaced by sagging shoulders. He walked as though the weight of the world were on them. His head held low. His movement slow.
In the darkness, Sally continued to watch as Sam neared the house and then disappeared from sight. She heard the back door open, then close.
She wanted to speak, to reach out to him. To offer comfort and to be comforted. Yet she didn’t know the words. So, she remained silent and unnoticed as Sam left the kitchen.
Lex lay on the sofa, her head upon Chloe’s lap, her heart in shreds from the events of the last week. Her parents and two of her best friends were gone. The feel of Chloe’s hand gently stroking her hair gave her assurance that she was not alone. But did not dispel the growing fear that she soon would be. The sound of the kitchen door closing set the tears flowing again. Claire was dead. She buried her head in the older woman’s lap and cried as though she would never stop.
Twenty-Six
George Carlton sat in his unnecessarily large chair behind the unnecessarily large desk in his unnecessarily large office. He had been in the same position all day. Staring at the wall. In front of him stood a cold mug of coffee, untouched.
Hours passed, and still, he sat. He was not aware that it was now dark. The events unfolding in the house around him went unnoticed, his mind an unending sea of thoughts. Chloe telling him he was clueless. Lex calling him a coward. They were right.
Twice he sent someone else to get his daughter. Twice he put his own life before hers. Now there is an infected in the house, but he could not act. Once again, he could not protect Sally, but this time because she would not allow him to.
He was a failure.
He was selfish.
He was a coward.
He was insignificant.
All he had done, all he had achieved meant nothing. No one was coming to help him. The world had changed.
He was unimportant.
He was irrelevant.
A life spent putting himself before his family. He did not hear Sally’s first words; he was on an important call. He was playing golf when she took her first steps. He made excuses for every school play and parents’ evening.
While his wife lay dying of cancer, he worked twelve hour days. The day she had succumbed to the disease, he had been having drinks with a politician.
He would die soon. Of this he was certain.
He was unable to comprehend the wasted life. Unwilling to accept that it had all been for nothing.
He sat, and he stared, and slowly his mind began to fall apart.
Twenty-Seven
Saturday 21st Septem
ber
Chloe,
We were told last night that we are going out again today, to try again. We’ve have been reassured that it will be better. That the powers that be have learnt. None of us were convinced. We were wrong.
Right from the start, it felt different. I think that might be our attitudes. Yesterday we were confident. Arrogant. The zebs didn’t seem like a threat. They were dumb, slow, unorganised. We were the British Army, the best in the world at what we do. We knew everything, and it would be easy.
Today we were humble. Our attitudes towards the enemy have changed. They are still slow, dumb and unorganised, but they are greater in number. They do not need to stop, to listen to commands. They don’t need to eat or drink, to resupply or to communicate.
They have one mission, and that is to kill. To understand that is to survive.
Yesterday we were all in the same place, sure we had a common goal, but you can’t have that many people together, civilian and military, actives and reservist all working in perfect synchronicity with each other. In hindsight, we should have known that.
So today we were split up. I’m going to try to explain what happened. But some of this letter is what others have told me.
We had three teams.
Team one’s role was simple. Fix the posts in place first. Roll out the razor wire. Then when the perimeter was in, put up the permanent fencing. The Engineers would do the construction. The infantry would provide cover fire. They would be covering the verticals of the rectangle
Team two did the same, but they would be covering the horizontal of the rectangle. They started five miles out from the extension we made yesterday. Instead of carrying massive fencing, they too used razor wire.
The more permeant solution could come after.
Team three were the key, though. This was my team. We headed out in a combination of vehicles. We drove to about two miles away from the five-mile mark. Then we stopped and waited for the order to come.
I don’t know if you have ever heard the noise that a post rammer makes, but it’s loud, and it echoes. In an expanse like The Plain, it can echo for miles. It’s that, combined with the gunshots, that drew the zebs to us yesterday. So, our job today was to create the distraction. To draw the zebs in the area to us and away from the base. Our role was risky. We were basically used as bait.
When the order came, we started to make noise. I still can’t really believe it, but we had The Royal Artillery Band with us. A band. On the frontline. It was just insane.
Anyway, all they needed to do was to make lots of noise. We weren’t expecting them to play anything.
Just bang drums, blow trumpets. Create a racket. However, when the command came, they started to play Rule Britannia.
I’ve always been a bit sceptical and maybe a bit judgemental of the role of the band in the military. I get the public relations angle, but I’ve never seen it as morale boosting, as we are made to believe. However, sitting in the back of the SV, after the events of yesterday, hearing that music was uplifting and got us all fired up. The band were on foot. The Drum Major insisted upon it. They were protected on all sides by SVs, but still, it was a brave decision. They were also in full ceremonial dress. Fair play to them.
The zebs came. We took them down as quickly as we could, and all the while the vehicles rolled slowly, and the band continued to play.
From what I’ve heard, about twenty minutes after we started, the order was given to teams one and two to begin the fence construction.
The diversion worked. Sure, they had contact. But only a few zebs in comparison to yesterday, so the numbers were easily manageable. They got the razor wire fence up within hours.
When the next order came, the band stopped playing and got back into the Armoured Personnel Carrier. The zebs were still coming, and our primary objective was to take out as many as we could. When enough of them were gathered together, we threw grenades. Grenades don’t kill zebs. At least not all of them. They don’t destroy the brain. However, they sure as hell destroy the bodies. Within minutes we had gone from mass hordes moving relentlessly towards us to piles of broken bodies. The GPMGs then took out as many as possible. Those of us with assault rifles finished the rest off.
I guess the noise we had made was still drawing more in, and we could have stayed in a never-ending loop of killing, making noise and inviting more to come.
As soon as the majority within eyesight were destroyed, we drove slowly back to the base. The GPMGs carried on taking down any that we saw between us and the base, but the journey back was straightforward.
It felt like a different camp when we got back. We added five square miles to the perimeter, and not one person died. It’s hard to explain on paper, but the morale, the camaraderie, just the general atmosphere…. it was intense. Insane. Wonderful.
We’ve just come back from the debrief. Tomorrow we’re going to be digging a moat around the camp. Same drills as today, with a diversion away from the camp. The original plan to join zones together has been put on hold until the situation is more stable. In the coming days and months, we’ll be creating secure supply routes between us and the closest zones, so we can trade goods, and move personnel around as necessary. That’s particularly important, given the other news...
Zone E is going to be led jointly by military and civilian leaders. In a few weeks, there will be a vote for a civilian leader who will work alongside the top brass of the military. Civvy committees will be set up, and they will be responsible for building, farming, catering and basically everything that is needed to create a sustainable community. Once we’ve fully secured the camp, the role of the military will be protection, law enforcement, supply runs and most importantly of all, we will be going out and actively searching for survivors, That’s right! We are going to be allowing survivors in. The cheers that went up around the room when we got told that was deafening.
I’m still buzzing from the events of today, but it feels good. We’re moving in the right direction, and we’re going to win this war. Life will never be what it once was. But the human race will survive, and that is what matters.
Hopefully I’ll see you soon.
I love you.
Steve xxx
Twenty-Eight
The sun neither knows nor cares that the world has ended. It has risen today as it did yesterday. As it will do tomorrow. It does not understand the shroud of pain that covers this house. It does not appreciate that it should hide from view. Be covered by dark, tempestuous clouds. It should not be shining in an already bright blue sky. It should be dull and grey outside. More fitting to match the mood within.
As I comforted Lex last night, I heard Sally follow Sam up the stairs. I wanted to call out to her. To offer her my love and support, but I stayed silent, suspecting that she sought this from Sam. While their blossoming feelings went unmentioned, they did not go unnoticed. I saw the glances between the two of them. The odd touch of their hands. The closeness in which they sat.
A couple of days ago, I would have been unhappy with this turn of events. I am still angry with the way he treated her, but in the grand scheme of things, it no longer matters. Worse things have happened, will likely still happen.
Instead, I am worried. Not for Sally nor Sam, but for Lex. She has lost too much over the past week. If Sally turns to Sam for comfort, who will Lex turn to once I am gone? I wonder whether my worry is because of the burgeoning relationship, or because of the guilt I will feel at leaving them behind. But I must go. As soon as I found out about Claire yesterday, I put my resolve to leave at the back of my mind. I would stay for as long as they need me. But I dreamt about Steve again last night. He and Edna were sitting in her lounge, silent and unspeaking, just staring at me with cold, black eyes. A wilted red rose, dripping with blood lay between them. I need to know if he is still alive. I need to go.
I eventually encouraged Lex to go to bed. I took her upstairs to the room she had shared with Claire the night before. There I sat with her unt
il she fell asleep. I had considered sleeping in the same bed as Claire had the night before, but it didn’t feel right. So I chose another of the rooms for my slumber.
The house is quiet and I think I’m the first to wake. There are no noises anywhere in the house. I’ve always felt awkward when I stay at someone else’s house and am the first up. It feels rude to be the first out of bed. For once you are out of bed, you must do something. It would be strange to sit on a chair and wait, but equally rude to help yourself to a drink or to switch on the television.
Today, I feel none of that social awkwardness. I know this is not my home, but it doesn’t feel like someone else’s either. It feels like a refuge from the horrors of the streets. I do not feel like I am an intruder.
Plus, I do not have the luxury of time to stay in bed and wait for Sally or George to get up. For today I have plans to make and things to organise. Which I will do, soon, once I have had coffee.
I long for a shower; it’s been days since I’ve felt clean. The water still appears to be running, but the shower works off electricity. It’s not warm enough to stand under a cold shower, so instead, I fill the sink and wash my body with cold water and soap. When I’m clean, I fill the basin again and wash my hair by dipping my head in the sink. It takes too long, and now there is water everywhere. I dress and pull my wet hair up into a ponytail. Then I go downstairs.
I’m drinking my coffee at the kitchen table when Lex enters the room. I start to say good morning, then think better of it. There is nothing good about this morning. So instead I lift my mug up.
“Coffee?”
She nods, “Yes please,” she sits down at the table, her head resting on her hand.
I make her a cup and sit down across from her. “How are you feeling?” I ask.
Safe Zone (Book 1): The Greater Good Page 24