Lindisfarne (Project Renova Book 2)

by Terry Tyler

  "Hmm," Heath mutters. "Wonder what they're going to want?"

  "Can't you just crash through the barrier at top speed?" says Jax.

  Heath leans on the steering wheel, and laughs. "I'd risk it, but Phil would go apeshit." There are eight entrances, all manned. Kara's driven up in front of us. Heath hangs back, and we watch as Phil sticks his head out of the passenger window to talk to one of the soldiers. He doesn't look heavy, but they're pointing rifles at us. Then Phil gets out and slides open the side door. He takes out a plastic petrol container, and a box, with bottles sticking out.

  "The fuck?" Ozzy leans forward. "That's the box with my Southern Comfort in!"

  "Better than getting shot," says Mum. She gets dead nervy around guns since she saw some teenagers get shot by soldiers, back in Shipden.

  "Yeah, but all the same, Vick."

  "It's the price of getting through; he probably didn't have any choice." Heath looks back at us. "We can get more booze, Oz. It's not the end of the world." He laughs. "Well, it is, but—"

  The soldiers wave us through, and even nod to us as we drive past.

  "Says the toll used to be two pounds-twenty," Heath says. "Inflation, huh?"

  No other vehicles pass us, and we see only one car going the other way; I wave to the driver and he waves back. We're in the countryside now; the snow's mostly gone, apart from in the fields. Poor sheep. I wonder if they'll starve if there's no one alive to feed them, or if they eat grass. I don't know anything about sheep. The sun shining over the farm buildings looks so normal, but it's kind of eerie, too, because the sky's getting darker, with big rain clouds rolling in.

  The sun goes behind the clouds, and we pass a sign that says 'Welcome to Northumberland. England's Border Country'.

  "Remember that," Mum says, pointing at a sign for a farm centre. "Seeds and supplies. Maybe we ought to stop and look now."

  "We can come back. I think we all just want to get there." Heath gives Mum the secret smile. I can see that he's hot for his age (about forty, I think), and I'm sure he's not the type to sneak off and get other women up in the duff. Dex was okay, but he didn't half harp on about some boring shit.

  After about half an hour there are signs for Lindisfarne, and we look at each other and grin. Then, yes, there it is: a right turn, past a pub called The Lindisfarne Inn.

  "That looks neat." Ozzy points out of the window. "If this island is full of assholes, we could live there." He laughs. "Replenish my stocks, at least!"

  "It's like Norfolk," Mum says, in a dreamy voice, as we pass a farm and some fancy looking barns.

  "There used to be festivals there," Ozzy says, tapping the window with his knuckle.

  "Did you go?" Jax said. "I'd love to have gone to festivals. The old sort, I mean. Proper festivals, not Glastonbury glamping."

  "They're all like that now, mate," says Ozzy, sadly. "I mean, were all like that."

  Heath reverses back to the farm and leans his head over to Mum's side, peering out. "Looks deserted. That's good."

  "What, good that they're all dead?" Jax says. "Yeah, I bet they're pretty made up about it, too."

  Heath laughs. "You know what I mean. Supplies."

  I suppose that's how we have to look at everything, now.

  The sun comes back out. Maybe this is a good omen. I wind down my window; the air smells salty. Crap, what's happening? My eyes fill with tears. Mum was right, it's like Norfolk. Completely flat, a straight road ahead of us across the causeway. Phil says the tide goes out twice a day but when it comes in, it's a proper island. I love it already. It reminds me of Salthouse in Norfolk; Dex used to drive us out to this pub called the Dun Cow, which looked out onto marshes with sand dunes. It's the same peaceful sort of lonely. Like the beach at home in the winter. Piles of seaweed left by the tide. Birds everywhere; I might find out what they are, go twitching like the weirdos in Salthouse. Ha! Well, it would beat sitting on my bed pratting about on MyLife. I never did anything interesting; mostly, my whole life was online banter about stupid shit that doesn't exist any more.

  Then I get sad, 'cause I miss my friends. Shania. Mia. At least they got the vaccine. I suppose they've gone to those refugee camps, but others died.

  I try not to think about them.

  "It's so beautiful here," Mum says, in a whispery voice. We can see the island in the distance; it looks pretty big. There must be room for us here, surely?

  "Ain't it just?" Ozzy's grinning all over his face. "Better than freakin' Colchester, anyway."

  "Best keep a lid on it." Heath nods his head at the windscreen. "Road blocks ahead."

  I lean right out of the window. There's nothing but sand dunes on one side of us, and the flat-sandy-muddy bit on the other, but—uh-oh. Should have known it was too good to be true. Someone's parked cars across the road, diagonally, so we can't drive through. These are the people who won't want us to be here. Three of them, with rifles. They're not soldiers, though, they're just ordinary dad types; one of them is wearing one of those crappy fold-away waterproof ponchos like Dex put in our emergency backpacks.

  "I'll let Phil deal with it," Heath says, as both our vans slow down.

  "Yeah, well, don't let him hand over the rest of our supplies," says Ozzy.

  Phil gets out. He's talking to one of the men, but the others are still brandishing their rifles. Bloody cheek. It's not like the island belongs to them, is it?

  "I want to know what's going on." Heath gets out of the car. "No, no, Ozzy, stay there; let's see what the score is before we all pile in."

  Nice move. They take one look at Ozzy, they're going to give us a ten man escort back to Tyne and bloody Wear.

  We get out of the van when we see Kara, Scott and Rowan do so. I see Kara put an arm out to stop Rowan charging forward, too; they'll double the escort if she starts gobbing off like she did with Joel's dad.

  Kara walks back to us. "Seems okay. I think."

  Mum nods. "We couldn't expect there to be no one here. Like Heath said, if we've thought of it, others will have, too."

  "Could be a community taking people in, though," says Scott.

  "Yeah, well, like the man said yesterday, let's wait and see." Kara's always sharp. I like it. Can't stand people talking about a load of stuff that's not worth saying. "And at least they're not army."

  "They look like they might be okay guys." Ozzy nods his head to where the group are talking.

  He's right. The guns have lowered, and the main man is smiling. He's nodding as Phil chats away, then Heath says something, and they all laugh. Mum clutches my hand.

  "Looking good," Kara murmurs.

  Next thing, the sidekicks get back in the middle two cars and reverse them, clearing the road so we can pass. One of them turns and drives away, and Heath is walking back to us, grinning his head off.

  "They've got a proper community here," he says, rubbing his hands together; it's bloody cold. "Some came here back in September during the chaos. A doctor, a couple of psychologists, teachers, some families—"

  "Teachers?" Jax looks appalled.

  "Beggars can't be choosers, mate." Heath pats him on the shoulder. "Anyway, they started off with twenty-six, then others came, and there's over forty now. And there's another group who were already here, bikers—" he turns and points to the far end of the island "—but they don't have a lot to do with each other." He's grinning so much his cheekbones have practically got cartoon sparkles coming off them. "And John, that's the guy I was just talking to, he says they're welcoming new people!"

  Kara frowns. "So there's no one who lived on the island originally?"

  "Just one couple."

  "And where do they all live?" Rowan tries to sound casual. "In the hotels?" She's had her eye on the St Aidan Hotel since we first mentioned coming here.

  "I want to live in the castle," says Jax.

  "They're all over," says Phil. "Lots of holiday cottages." He looks as happy as Heath. "I say this with caution, but I think we might have just fallen on our
feet."

  "So what happens now?" Mum's voice is shaky, and I know exactly what she's thinking, so I ask for her because I know she won't, not with Heath standing there.

  "Did you ask if Dex is here?"

  "Not yet. Too soon." Phil edges back towards the first car. "Shall we go? John's sent one of his men back to get the fella in charge. Marcus. We're to meet him in the pub—it's where they interview prospective new residents."

  "Interview?" Rowan gives one of her snorts. "I don't like the sound of that."

  "It's not unreasonable. In a small community, you've got to make sure you get the right mix of people."

  "S'right," says Heath. "Come on, then."

  We pile back into the vans, and John and his sidekicks smile and wave us through. They look a bit nerdy, but I can deal with that. We drive down this narrow road, and turn into the village. I'd imagined it as all broken down crofts and ramshackle outbuildings, but it's dead normal, just like any ordinary village.

  "Hope there's some of that left." Jaz points to a sign advertising Lindisfarne mead. One bungalow still has an old 'for sale' sign outside. That makes me feel sad. We drive dead slow so we can look around, and see a few people walking about; they stop and stare, and one of them waves. Jax does the heavy metal devil horns with his fingers. Best to let 'em know who we are, right from the off.

  We reach a little crossroads with lots of signs pointing to stuff like museums, and turn down past the St Aidan Hotel that I recognise from the pictures we looked at (bet Rowan's pissing her pants), and then we pull into a car park, behind Phil.

  Heath opens his door to talk to him.

  "John says we're to leave the vehicles here and walk round to the pub; we can get our things later. If we're staying."

  I love it already. I'm looking out across fields—more sheep—and there's the castle in the distance, dead lonely, like it's watching over the island.

  "This way." Phil leads us down a narrow little road, with super-cute houses on either side. I can't believe we're going to live here. These are the sort of places Mum and Dex used to drool over when we drove through posh villages in Norfolk.

  We turn up another road and there it is—the Hudson Arms. Mum's trying to act normal, but her nervous vibes are washing over me in big waves. The possibility of seeing Dex must be pretty scary, though I think it's a bit of a long shot, to be honest, as his girlfriend must be going to drop soon. They'll have stayed at Jeff's bunker if he's got all mod cons, not come to live on some cold island, however awesome it is.

  "Here we are, then," says Heath. Here we are indeed. It's so weird—there are no burnt out cars, no smashed windows. It smells fresh, of earth, grass and rain, not festering rubbish and mouldy food, with the occasional whiff of decomposing bodies. I've got so used to a background aroma of rot that I don't even smell it any more.

  Phil pushes the door open; it's a long room with those wooden beams on the ceiling that make places look mad rustic, candles and oil lamps everywhere. Lobster pots on the ceiling, photos of old seafarers, like the pubs in Shipden. A wood burner roaring away. It's a bit murky, but there's light coming in from the back door and it's cosy. A guy smiles at us from behind the bar. He's got black, spiky hair, and he's drying glasses. Wearing some, too; big, heavy, black-rimmed ones. Must be this Marcus. He looks okay.

  "Hi there!" he says. "Welcome to the Hudson! So you're the new people, right? Nine of you, eh? Whew!"

  That 'whew' was a bit lame.

  "Hi—Marcus?" Phil walks forward with his hand stretched out, but the barman shakes his head.

  "No, no, I'm Luke—I just pour the drinks around here." He puts down his tea towel. "Meet Marcus Willmott, superhero and head honcho of our community!"

  He gestures towards a man sitting on a stool who I hadn't noticed, mostly because Ozzy's standing in front of me; I've got a faceful of fusty coat and dreadlocks. But I push past, so I can see this superhero who's going to decide if we're good enough to live on his precious island.

  Uh-oh.

  Marcus Willmott is tall and skinny, with thick, greasy, thatched hair, a full beard, and huge gravestone teeth like Mr Purkiss, our maths teacher who used to stare at Mia's tits and breathe heavily. He pulls one of the aforementioned crappy waterproof ponchos over his head, and grins at us.

  "Jolly handy, these things, aren't they?"

  Double uh-oh. Doesn't bode well. Out of the five people we've met here, two of them make seriously bad choices in rainwear.

  Underneath, he wears a faded sweatshirt bearing the words All The Good Slogans Were Taken, and jeans in an icky shade of shit-brown. Where do people get this gear? Must be a shop somewhere called The Retard Clothing Co. I sneak a look at Jax, and he's like, "The fuck?"

  Marcus stands up, and stretches his arms wide.

  "Welcome to Holy Island, weary travellers!"

  OMG times five. If this dork is running the show, what the hell are the rest of them like?

  Chapter Two

  Heath

  "Welcome to Holy Island, weary travellers!"

  I suspect I will have little in common with Marcus Willmott, head of the Lindisfarne community; I give my son and Lottie a look that says, "Just don't."

  But we're sitting in the warm with drinks in front of us, so it's all good. Most have coffee, but Ozzy and I need beer. I talk to the barman while he's opening bottles and waiting for the coffee to brew. His name's Luke, from a village thirty miles away. Only one left out of an extended family of twelve, poor fella. Used to run a bar in a hotel, so Marcus put him in charge of the pub.

  "We use the pub as a congenial setting for smaller meetings," Marcus explains, with a snaggle-toothed grin, and, once we're all settled, he delivers the bombshell.

  "Now, first things first. I hate to ask this, but I have to. I don't want to do a wristband inspection, so I ask for honesty—has anyone not had the vaccine?"

  Ozzy, Jax and I put our hands up.

  His tentative, 'please don't hit me' smile makes me want to do just that, and he tries to cover his awkwardness by going all round the houses, talking about how the virus spreads, and how you can contract it without being aware of the symptoms for up to thirty-six hours, or possibly longer. Like we don't know.

  "I'm afraid you're going to have to go into quarantine for five days, as soon as this meeting is over," he says, eventually. "That's if you want to stay, of course!"

  "It's not so bad," Luke puts in. "I did it when I first came here." He smiles at Marcus. "Ruby and Will have just come out, haven't they? Ruby said she enjoyed the 'time out'!"

  But I'm not happy, and neither are Oz or my son.

  "Of course we'll abide by the rules if we're staying," I say, "but the three of us have spent months surrounded by it at close quarters, so it's safe to say that we're immune."

  "Yeah, I lived in a house where seven people died," Ozzy says. "I nursed them all; if I was going to get it, I would have done so already."

  Marcus does his 'don't hit me' smile again, and holds his hands up. "Them's the rules, sorry. You move into a designated quarantine house and remain isolated for five days, and you don't leave the island." He sniffs. "Nobody else has had a problem with it."

  That tells me, then.

  "Has anyone been put into quarantine and become ill?" Phil asks.

  "Indeed they have. Two." Marcus sips from his dark beer and crosses one leg over the other, fiddling with the laces of his desert boots. "Awful business. Must have picked it up on the way."

  Kara leans forward. "So who are the people here? Did you know each other before?"

  Marcus sips his beer again; foam dribbles into his beard, and he doesn't wipe it away. "Mrs Willmott and I lived in Morpeth; we ran a successful outward bound enterprise. We were amongst the first to receive the vaccination, and thought the government would maintain order until the worst was over. But mayhem was the order of the day, alas. The riots at the units, the looting. Terrifying." He looks down and shakes his head, then up again, and at each of us in turn, as
if inviting us to share our stories. No one reacts; we're all talked out about last August and September. "We united with a few locals who were amongst the fortunate, and I suggested we form a settlement here, away from the maelstrom." He smiles, and opens his arms. "And here we have it: a hard-working community, with much to offer those of a similar outlook willing to bring their individual skill sets to our cheerful, if chaotic, family table!"

  This is clearly his 'pitch'. "What about if people want to live here, but not as part of your community?" I ask.

  "Ah, one group wished to reside independently—a feisty young lady called Nicole and her friends—but they came to realise that teamwork is the way forward in these challenging times. We plan to grow crops come the spring; no one wants to survive on scavenging alone, not any more. So yes, people came; most fit in just fine."

  "What if they don't?"

  He hesitates, and I know his answer will tell us nothing. "This crisis has forced together people from all walks of life; we seek those who make the effort to accommodate, and to embrace the challenges."

  I was right.

  "If you're the boss, do you live in the castle?" my son asks, and we all laugh.

  "Nice idea!" Marcus affects a mournful expression. "Alas, no. Extensive renovation was carried out some years back, but an unfortunate accident occurred six months before the outbreak, and it was closed to the public."

  "What happened?" ask Jax and Lottie, in unison.

  He closes his eyes. "A child fell to her death. Such a tragedy. There was a full health and safety enquiry, and the place was shut."

  "But we can still go up there, can't we?" Lottie asks.

  Marcus holds up his hand, his face growing pinker by the minute. "I am humbled to be the castle's temporary custodian in these times of crisis. The steel reinforced door remains locked to prevent vandalism. I have the key, and am happy to show around anyone who wishes to look, though most items were removed from the interior for safe-keeping before the virus."

  Jax leaps up and crosses to the window, looking out. "You could climb up from outside, with crampons and ropes."