UK2

by Terry Tyler

  I can't wait to see Lottie, but when we're let out Kara and Rowan take us to Audrey Willmott's house so that she can look after Bronte and me, and I get a big shock. Most of the people I knew have gone, to a Danish island. It's mostly just men here, the more rough ones.

  "You turned up the day after they left," Kara says.

  The worst thing of all is that the Lincolns were with them. I'm so very happy for them that they got away and have gone somewhere to start a new life, but I'm so upset that I missed them. They had a terrible, awful time in UK Mercia, and Kara says that when they got here they were in a dreadful state.

  "They said you were in clover, though," Rowan says, looking at me as if she thinks I'm lying about having to escape. She folds her arms and glances at Kara. "Swanning around like Lady Muck; that was what Davina said, wasn't it?"

  I'm so hurt that she would say that about me, it really upsets me; out of everyone, I thought she still liked me. "I wasn't, I tried to help them!" I want to defend myself. "I didn't understand what Alex was like, at first—I was lied to, as well."

  Bronte and I sit down and tell them about the Juno Initiative. They're quiet, and they listen, and they look at each other and nod a lot.

  When we talk Bronte cries, but I am so determined not to. I can see what impression I gave when I was first here; I cried and whined and expected everyone to look after me. Then, when I got better—oh dear, I did swan around like Lady Muck, here, too. I behaved as though Lindisfarne wasn't good enough for me. I was judgemental about people. I thought Dex was so marvellous; I had no idea.

  "Oh, there's plenty more we can tell you about Dex," Kara says, "but we'll keep that for another time."

  We settle in to Audrey's, and Nish does all the man stuff around the house, like bringing in the wood and water. Audrey is wonderful, like a mum, fussing round us. When I thank her, she says, "It's you who's doing me the favour; it's good to have someone to look after again."

  After just a few days, I see the community with completely new eyes. I see how they all work together. No one is above anyone else; Kara and Phil are in charge, but they get their hands dirty like everyone else. I realise that all those men like Parks, they're not rough. They're tough. There's a difference. They're kind and polite to Bronte and me, and helpful. They make me feel safe; if anyone ever does come looking for us, I know they won't let them in. And two other people who I used to look down on, Smelly Bev and Kelly, are making it their business to ensure we have everything we need for our babies. Bev came round and made this big list, and they're going out with one of the men to get it all. She doesn't smell so much now. Or maybe we all do, so I don't notice it.

  I'm very, very scared about giving birth, but Phil told me he learned some bits and bobs from poor Nurse Abbie, just in case, and, as Audrey says, people were having babies for thousands of years before modern medicine.

  I don't think about Chester, except for today, when Kara asks me about him.

  I say, "I thought I was living a romantic dream, but it was just rubbish. And if you keep looking for a handsome prince to take care of you, you don't take care of yourself, do you?"

  I'm sitting with my feet up in Audrey's living room; I get very tired now.

  Kara smiles at me and says, "You know, I always thought you were a ditzy airhead, but you're not. You're brave and strong; you'll be okay."

  Which means more to me than any empty compliment from some would-be Prince Charming.

  I'm blushing like mad, and Kara's laughing at me, when Parks bursts in.

  "There's three people turned up at the gate. From UK Central."

  Kara says, "And? You know the drill. Tell them to piss off."

  "Aye, I did, but they seem canny, and one of them knows about all sorts of medical shite, and they raided a hospital on the way up here." He jerks his thumb towards me. "Thing is, they know the lasses." He looks at me. "They're called Jared, Grant and Storm. Said you told them to come here. That right, pet?"

  I look at Bronte and we're smiling all over our faces, and for the first time in ages, I let myself cry. Because I'm so happy. And this time it's real, proper happy. No more make-believe.

  Princess Snowflake is dead. Long live Flora and Bobby Holden!

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Vicky

  One week earlier ~ to Baldur Island

  I spent a while at Heath's grave before we left, talking to him. But I'm not leaving him here, because he's in my head; although the memory of him will always be with me and a corner of my heart will remain forever empty, I have a lot more life to live.

  We drive in a procession down to King Edward Bay on this first day of spring, with Seren and Hawk on their bikes in front, and Jax, Lottie and Mac riding behind, and the morning is beautiful. The cove itself looks like something out of a holiday brochure, with the high cliffs, the wild flowers, the bright blue sky and sea. I remember sitting on the cliffs at Shipden thinking that the sea looked like satin; it does today, too.

  We run down to the beach, leaving the car doors open; Scott and John leave notes in the windscreens saying 'Keys in glove compartment, bit of petrol in tank. Good luck'. The sense of freedom is like nothing I've ever felt before; we're smiling and laughing, and Ozzy does a cartwheel in the sand. We pile our bags and bikes onto the boat, and, yes, there is plenty of room.

  "Warmest clothes on, y'all!" Hawk calls out. "It'll be much colder than you think once we get out on the water!"

  We have flasks of coffee and small bottles of brandy, and the mood on the boat is heavenly; none of us can stop smiling, but it's contemplative, too, in a peaceful, happy way. As we move out to sea I can't help looking back; I want to see our island for as long as I can. I miss those left behind already. I wish they had all wanted to come, but I understand why they didn't.

  We'll see them again. It won't be the end. The strongest people are there; they will protect themselves from invaders and the virus, if it even gets that far; surely it can't spread like it did before.

  It's two years and eight months since I sat on my sofa in Beach Lane, Shipden, watching the news that told me the disease was in our town. But it didn't get us. They didn't get us. We're all still here, and free.

  Travis and Seren are wrapped around each other, as are Oz and Myra. Ruby faces away from Lindisfarne, smoking. I feel so sad for her; I think Parks might have been her Heath. I hope she did the right thing. Paul and Davina are quiet, arms around each other and their kids; thank goodness they got here, just in time.

  Davina told me, quietly, that she has more to tell me about what happened to them, but she'll do so when we reach Baldur.

  "It's very private, and you absolutely mustn't tell anyone. I shouldn't, but it's driving me nuts not being able to talk about it; Paul won't discuss it."

  I'm just glad she trusts me enough to talk to me, and admit that I am (most immaturely!) gagging to know what it is. However bad, though, I am convinced we can all get through anything now. As Jez said, we who were left are the hard-core. Smiley face with wink.

  Doyle has shared his coffee with me; I keep catching him watching me, and I find myself smiling back with a little flutter of anticipation that I haven't felt since Heath. I notice Martin look at me, then at Doyle, more than once; ouch. I know he hoped we might get together at some point, and it certainly wasn't out of the question, but the timing was wrong, and the moment passed. Maybe it didn't for him, though.

  Doyle is so different from the three men I've loved. They were all dark, handsome, emotionally intense, with strong personalities. Doyle is laid back, skinny, with long, light brown hair always pulled back in a ponytail. He's attractive in a quiet sort of way. I like that.

  Lottie untangles herself from Mac, and plonks herself down next to me.

  "Mu-um."

  "What?"

  "Do you fancy Doyle?"

  I feel my cheeks go pink, because yes, I do, but—

  "Lottie, who I may or may not find attractive isn't uppermost in my mind at the moment."

/>   She grins. "Well, Travis thinks he likes you. I know he's a bit young for you but you're still reasonably hot, and I'm sure if you gave him just a little bit of encouragement—"

  And I get that funny feeling of déjà vu. "We've had this conversation before."

  She opens her eyes wide. "We have?"

  Yes. We have.

  But I think I'll make the right decision this time, and let the good into my life.

  The evil has gone, and this time he's not coming back.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Dex

  UK Central

  Four days after Flora's disappearance, Alex walks into his office and says, "It's started."

  A week later, they can still only guess at the source. Verlander and Barney think it arrived via the Frenchmen who turned up demanding sanctuary; they could have passed it to the guard who was stupid enough to leave his post and talk to them before they were shot. He didn't fall ill, but his wife was one of the first.

  This particular guard disappeared, along with his wife's body.

  Dex wonders if that bitch Storm brought it back on one of her trips out, before she jumped ship.

  It could be spread by birds or insects. Nobody knows.

  All they know is that it's started.

  It is, however, under control. For now. The sick were rounded up, and here the microchipping proved invaluable—new data analysis manager Akram headed a team to identify who had been in close contact with the infected over the space of the previous week. A hundred and sixteen people were herded into Portakabins two miles out, beyond the Rez Zones. The twenty-three sick in one, the eighty-three potentials in the other three. For quarantine purposes, the latter were told.

  The cabins were locked up tight, and Code Red Containment was put into operation.

  An enormous dose of incapacitating agent was released into each cabin; they would drift peacefully off to sleep. It was humane, Verlander said. Then, the cabins were put to the torch.

  Amazingly, there has not been one single enquiry about what has happened to these people.

  Libby the psychologist says the population is in shock, because of the outbreak. Dex thinks it's more simple than that. They're scared that if they enquire, they'll disappear, too. Meanwhile, Dex has advised Verlander not to implement official lockdown of individual Rez Zones because it would cause panic and chaos; as he predicted, it has not been necessary. Most remain in their apartments, emerging only to pick up supplies left in the recreation area of each Zone by armed guards in full protective clothing.

  Four flats on the ground floor of each block have been allocated for anyone who shows symptoms, with guards placed outside.

  Couples are splitting up, asking to be placed in empty single-person flats, just in case; they've worked out what happens to those who have been in close contact with the sick.

  Yesterday Verlander said he's 'seeing how the crisis plays out'. If CRC proves less than a hundred per cent successful, he will arrange for 'key people' to travel to southern Greenland, where a massive bunker is large enough to comfortably house those who matter; it's like an underground town, he says. Dex has not been told the exact location, but that's okay; he has been assured he is one of these key people.

  It's good to be on the winning side.

  In Hub Residential stores, there is enough to keep them fed and watered for months. Verlander has advised them not to go out, not just for fear of illness, but to prevent aggravation from worker bees who might overreact to the present situation.

  Dex is glad to be safe, but bored. He is reminded of being locked in Jeff's bunker, but at least this time he doesn't have to deal with wall-to-wall Naomi, and he can visit the other residents. He'll watch a film with Grow Zone Mary, have a beer with Barney, play cards with Harry North and Doctors Porter and Carson, and monitor the workers' movements with Akram, who is thrilled to bits to have been given Doyle's old apartment along with his new job.

  Even Spritz and the gym have been temporarily closed down, as have any offices in the Hub with employees from the Rez Zones.

  He avoids being alone for too long, because he broods. He is not surprised Doyle bailed, but Flora? Jared? Storm? An enquiry was underway about the possibility of the latter two having aided the escapes, when they themselves jumped ship.

  He is baffled over why silly little Flora and her friends imagine they might survive better out there in the devastated remains of the country. Will they give birth in a rat-infested, deserted hospital? As for Storm, he suffers impotent rage whenever he thinks about her. Never before has he not called the shots in love. She lied to him. Made out she was totally on board with UK2; he was even thinking of asking her to move in with him. What's she doing now, dossing down in empty houses and eating stale food out of dead people's cupboards? Wearing dirty clothes and sucking petrol out of rusty cars?

  Getting fucked by Jared, or that Juno guard, who has also disappeared?

  Outside, the weather is cold, grey and windy. It's odd to see no trees; he can't always tell how windy it is. Instead, he watches discarded food wrappings whisk down the silent street.

  A knock on the door.

  It's Verlander.

  "I won't come in," he says. "There's a suspected case in Rez 5, so I'm locking it down and putting Plan Exit in place."

  "Shit." Naomi is in Rez 4. Only a quarter of a mile away.

  "Yeah, I'm taking the 'copter to the coast, plane to our base outside Reykjavik, then up to Greenland. We won't lose all we've built here; we'll just step away, sit it out for however long it takes."

  "Sounds good."

  "Can't go today, though. Got stuff to sort, and the wind's too strong. Tomorrow, with luck."

  "Good, good." Dex stops, and thinks. "What about my son?"

  "He's in the Rez Zones, mate, sorry. I know, it's more than likely he's bug free, but we can't risk it. Stick 'em in Juno 2, if you want, they'll be safe in there. First ten days in quarantine apartment 1b."

  "Can I send someone out to get them?"

  "S'pose you could tell whatsisname on the gate to alert one of the guards." Verlander clicks his fingers. "You'll figure it out. Laters!"

  Dex drags a chair over to the window, and pours a large measure of Wild Turkey bourbon. It slides down like liquid honey, takes the edge off.

  He looks out for a long time, wondering what the future will hold. The sound of this place in Greenland excites him; he wonders who will be there. The players. At last, he will meet them. He will be one of them. Part of that tiny elite who rule the world, because he knew when to back the winning team. Why did he never understand, back in Unicorn days, that his fascination with these people grew from wanting to be one of them? Being accepted into their circle is like being on top of Mount-fucking-Olympus.

  He pours out more bourbon.

  If there is someone ill in Rez 5, it's only a matter of time. He shuts his eyes and thinks of Phoenix, but the picture is hazy. If he can get him into Juno he'll be fine, and even if it all goes to shit, Suzanne's smart. She'll keep him safe. Then Dex can come back for him when it's all over.

  Maybe.

  His eyes grow heavy.

  He doesn't know if it is a minute or half an hour later when his intercom buzzes. Hoping it's not bad news from gen pop, he drags himself up to answer it.

  It's whatsisname on the gate.

  "I've, er, got some people demanding to see you, Mr Northam. I can't let 'em in, though, can I? It's Naomi, Suzanne—"

  Dex hears scuffling, angry voices, and a moment later the screeching tones of his former mistress.

  The guard's kiosk is sealed, with a speaker that doubles as a microphone for people to speak to the guard. Naomi must be hollering if he can hear her from up here.

  He can't hear her exact words, just her fury.

  Dex takes the device off the wall and sidles round to the window, without getting too close. Damn it. All four of them are there: Naomi, Suzanne, Phoenix and Rosie. Rosie is holding his son. Naomi and Suzanne look fur
ious.

  Naomi is shouting into the mic, and even from up here he can see the rigid, patient set of the guard's shoulders; he can almost feel the tension in his neck.

  Suzanne looks up and spots him looking down at them. She points at the children and mouths, 'Let us in!'

  Dex shakes his head, lifts his hands in a gesture that, he hopes, conveys that the matter is out of his control.

  They have bags packed, at their feet. He observes Suzanne's angry face, her long, wavy hair rising and falling in the wind. Naomi, with her arms folded across her flat chest. He sees his son, chuntering away merrily, poking at Rosie's pink cheeks. And he feels nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.

  He speaks into the device.

  "Tell them they can't be allowed in because of potential contamination, but I have arranged for them to be housed in Juno 2 until the crisis is over. They are to be quarantined for ten days in apartment 1b."

  "Copy."

  He sees the guard convey this information. Naomi picks up her bag and takes Phoenix from Rosie, setting him down on the ground, but Suzanne is still staring up, her face puce with anger; she actually gives him the finger, the stupid woman, and he's just wondering whether or not to return the compliment when it happens.

  Rosie doubles over, holding her hands to her stomach, and Dex can see that she's retching.

  The scene seems to unfold in slow motion, and he notices every detail.

  Rosie's pretty fair hair blows back in the breeze and Suzanne drags her away from Phoenix; as the little girl stumbles, Suzanne loses her footing, and they both fall onto the grass verge. Rosie tries to get up, but she staggers and vomits, all over Suzanne.

  Naomi's mouth falls open with shock and she backs away, as far away from Suzanne as she can, clutching Phoenix to her, and, without looking back, sets off down the road with him in her arms, running as fast as she can towards Juno.

  Dex opens his mouth to shout but nothing comes out. He sees the guard pick up his shotgun, open his little window just a couple of inches, and fire.