It was rarer still for anyone to approach and if they did, Steve fell back on the technique he’d tried with us: intimidation and threats to scare them away.
Once or twice it was obvious that the people approaching them were in dire need and they did agree to help them. They offered them the chance to rest and recover for a while, so that they could continue on their journey.
The first family they felt compelled to help were a couple carrying their two young children in child backpacks. They were utterly exhausted and at the end of their endurance.
To begin with Steve tried to drive them away, pretending that they had nothing themselves. But the tears and desperation they showed as they turned dejectedly away, with their children crying on their backs, was more than Toni could bear. She called out to them to stop and they followed them gratefully into the woods.
Their story was fairly typical.
They had tried to stay at home for as long as possible and had witnessed their neighbourhood degenerating into a place of violence. They had eked out their diminishing food supplies for as long as possible, and using some knowledge, supplemented what they had by harvesting what they could from their own and other gardens, and the local parks.
Most of their neighbours had fled in fear, hoping to find help elsewhere, and the whole area had fallen to the gangs, who robbed, terrorised and killed the few who remained. Aware that this was happening, they had secured their house to the best of their abilities, hoping that the gangs would leave them be, in preference to easier targets elsewhere.
They had known it wouldn’t last.
A gang of men had eventually broken in and they had barely managed to scare them away after a desperate fight in the hallway of their house. Grabbing the bags they had ready and carrying the children on their backs, they had fled.
They had family in Devon so they had decided to try to reach them.
They told them about the horrors they had encountered: of ramshackle camps full of starving people, dead bodies littering the pavements, and of hiding in terror from roving gangs, as they struggled to make their way south. The more they heard, the more Steve and Toni realised how ridiculously lucky they had been to have found this place and to have avoided discovery.
When they told them this, the couple were quick to warn them that, according to people they had spoken to, they were living in an area controlled by a gang from Redditch. People they had met had warned them about this gang, urging them to keep out of their way at all costs, as they would show them no mercy if they found them.
With a shock of recognition, I realised that they were almost certainly talking about Gumin and his gang.
I interrupted Steve at this point, as it seemed like a pertinent time to tell him about them, and explained how they had hopefully been wiped out once we had discovered their base.
They nodded, saying that they recalled hearing distant explosions and the rattle of automatic gunfire a few months previously. We agreed that that was probably the day of our attack.
The young family ended up staying with them for several days, as it was clear that they posed no threat and could really do with some help. They did consider asking them to stay, but the couple were determined to try to find their family in Devon, explaining that the place they were aiming for was reasonably remote and hopefully therefore, safer. Their relatives had run the place as a smallholding, growing a lot of their own vegetables and keeping a few chickens and other animals.
It sounded perfect, and the thought of reaching this potential nirvana had kept them going beyond the point of exhaustion.
But it was clear that they had reached the limits of their endurance and would need several days of rest and food before they could continue.
Steve and Toni watched sadly, as they finally set out, carrying their two young children and as much food as they could manage. They hoped fervently that they would make it.
As winter tightened its grip, they rarely saw other people and all their efforts went into trying to survive the biting and constant cold.
When the thaw came, their initial joy and relief at having survived the winter, almost immediately gave way to despair. They knew that they couldn’t realistically get through another winter living in the woods. They would need to find a more permanent location for the future.
Since that time, not one person had passed by the woods. We received this news soberly. It didn’t say much for the fate of the rest of the population.
They had almost dropped dead with shock at the sight of us approaching, particularly given how intimidating we looked. For the first time, Steve had felt it necessary to order his family into the secret hideaway they had dug. A shelter of last resort.
He admitted that when he’d hugged them before leaving them behind to confront us, he’d been convinced it was for the last time.
Stories exchanged, we turned in for the night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
News received in the morning, from home and from the base, did nothing to raise our spirits.
More people had died overnight and the ones who were still alive were deteriorating fast. One or two of our group who had lost loved ones, had to be physically restrained from trying to return home. But there was nothing they could do and they still had the family who were with them to look after. Their grief was raw and tangible. All we could do was try to comfort them.
Until the last of the sickness had passed, no one from home could be allowed to join us without being quarantined first. Despite still being symptom-free, we were sufficiently worried that we had all agreed to wear our masks for at least a few more days. In the meantime, the enforced separation from our friends and family back at the compound, though necessary, was beginning to take its toll.
The only good news was that none of the volunteers who had stayed behind to care for the sick, or guard the compound, had fallen ill. Similar circumstances were being reported from the base, where cases of the plague were on the increase.
Although they had taken steps to seal the underground base, this had failed to keep out the disease, and even over the radio, we could tell from Colonel Moore’s voice that the strain was starting to tell.
Despite all their resources and their eminent qualifications, their doctors were losing the battle to find a cure, or even to stop the spread of the disease.
The only way to be safe was to avoid being bitten by an infected flea from a rat, or to avoid close contact with someone who was infected. It was highly contagious and virulent and there was no effective treatment. Only the lucky few who appeared to have some natural resistance, had any chance of survival.
Over at the base, hundreds of soldiers were scouring the place, armed with a variety of weapons, from air rifles to machine guns and grenades, and exterminating every rat they could find.
To make matters worse, communication had been lost with the other royal family members and their staff at Balmoral and they now feared the worst. An overflight from a drone had not revealed any signs of life and plans for a land mission were currently underway.
Harry had been told of this in the previous night’s communication, but appeared to be taking the potential loss of his father stoically.
Chris, in a bid to distract us all from our worries, was working us hard on improving the shelters and had introduced various other projects to make life at the camp more pleasant. One of these related to the building of an aerobic composting toilet.
To say that the current system of disposing of waste was basic was an understatement. This involved the use of a rudimentary pit which, when it became too obnoxious, was filled in and replaced by another.
Under Chris’s instruction therefore, a raised platform was built with a hole where the air flowing over the deposits below would dry it out. A simple urine catcher drained the liquid waste away elsewhere. If it was kept dry, it would be unlikely to smell, and hopefully, the waste material would rot down over time.
A modesty screen and a roof were added for cosmetic
reasons and a lattice work of sticks hid the waste from view.
Harry had thrown himself into improving our security arrangements, and with a few volunteers, was completing the lookout post and defensible positions he had started on the day before.
From what Steve and Toni had told us, few people had been seen since the winter had ended, and therefore we didn’t expect much trouble, but the work served to keep everyone busy and distracted. Besides, we’d all learned the hard way not to leave ourselves unprotected and vulnerable. It would be a foolish risk to take.
As a group we were comfortable together and the decision-making process had evolved over time. We now knew who was best qualified to make a judgement on a matter, and often deferred to them on any final decision. But if a discussion on the merits of various options was needed, then we were all agreed that democracy should rule and a simple vote would decide the matter.
The system wasn’t perfect, of course, and occasionally you had to bite your tongue if you didn’t agree with a chosen option, but as grown-ups we had learned to accept this and move on.
As Steve and his family had lived there first, and were in our eyes the legitimate “owners”, we considered ourselves to be his guests. For this reason, we tended to defer to him on most things and we usually sought his approval.
This situation continued for some days until finally he set matters straight.
He’d had little contact with anyone in senior authority and, understandably, was still struggling with how to relate to Harry.
As a result, when Harry approached him one evening by the campfire and attempted to consult him about the two options he was considering for positioning a new lookout post, his reaction left Harry somewhat taken aback.
He stood up in exasperation and shouted, “Look, just stop it everyone, please!”
We all stopped what we were doing and gazed at him in astonishment.
“Look,” he said, pleadingly, “I’m just a bloody lorry driver. You don’t have to ask my permission to do anything. You all have as much right to be here as we do! And yes, I will be telling my grandchildren in years to come about the time I was consulted by Prince Harry about the best place to put a toilet.”
He chuckled.
“And I know he hasn’t asked me that specific question, but that’s the story I’m going to stick to, because it sounds much funnier than a blinking lookout post, and if you don’t like it you can … ”
He looked round at us and grinned at our worried faces. “Look, just stop asking me for permission, will you? I’m just grateful you’re all here, and even more grateful for the coffee and sugar you brought with you. We ran out of those after about a week!” he said, sitting down again. “And now I can have my regulation mug in the morning, you can do what the heck you like!” he added, folding his arms and stretching his legs out.
As we all breathed a sigh of relief and started to smile, Harry winked at us, fixed him with a severe look, and in his best plummy tones said, “Steve, what about the toilet? Can you hurry up and make a choice please? I’m desperate and can’t hold it much longer!”
The ensuing laughter was much needed
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The following day brought more dreadful news from home. Except for Allan, who was still clinging on, the others had all died overnight.
By now we had all learned not to hope, and most of us received the latest news with numb acceptance. Even the people directly related to the victims were mostly calm, having prepared themselves for the worst. Devastating though the news was, it had come as no surprise, and for most of them at least, the agonising wait was now over; their worst fears had been realised and the grieving process could begin. They gathered together and kept apart from the rest of us for a time, and we left them to mourn in private.
The news from the base was grim and consistent with our own. Most of the people who had contracted the disease had died. About twenty five percent of the deceased were recent arrivals.
Countrywide the death rate was likely to be much higher. We knew we had Jerry to thank for his quick diagnosis. This had enabled us to take the most basic precaution of issuing masks as soon as possible. There was no doubt that this had saved many of us from becoming infected. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for the other communities scattered across the country, who we’d been unable to warn in time.
A conference radio call was set up between the three locations to agree on a set procedure to follow, now that the disease appeared to be burning itself out. All the medical professionals taking part, Jerry included, were vehemently in favour of keeping the quarantine period in place for at least another two weeks.
After all, although the measures taken to quarantine all suspected cases and the obligatory use of surgical masks appeared to have halted the spread of it, it could still be present. Only the passage of time would ensure that it didn’t return.
Somewhat reluctantly, the medics had finally given into pressure, and agreed that masks could be dispensed with among the groups who had not had a new arrival, or an occurrence of the disease within the last seven days.
So far, we were the only group that fell into that category, and we compromised over the removal of the masks by designating one person among us to complete hourly checks on everyone and to report any of the danger signs: raised temperatures or sweaty, clammy exposed skin.
Although we all longed to see the people we had left behind, realistically it was likely to be at least two weeks before that happened. The reunion, when it finally took place, would be an emotional one. We tried to curb our impatience by keeping ourselves busy, working furiously on improving our environment, even though we weren’t planning to stay for long.
A few days later we received a request to check in on the group that now occupied Gumin’s old base at the food distribution warehouse. They had been hit hard by the plague and in their last radio communication, had reported several deaths and about a third of their community infected.
Concerns were growing, as they’d missed the last two radio checks. The first one might possibly be explained away by the pressures of caring for their sick, but after two days of radio silence something needed to be done. In terms of sending out a team to investigate, we were the obvious choice. For one thing, we were the only group now free of infection. For another, we were easily the closest; only a couple of miles away as the crow flies.
We agreed without hesitation and passed on the planning of the mission to Harry.
Half an hour later we were gathered round him and he began his briefing.
While he stood quietly, waiting for us to settle down, it occurred to me that he looked every bit the warrior prince.
I glanced over at Kim and grinned to myself. She seemed to be hypnotised by the sight of him, resplendent in his full battle kit, and exuding an air of authority and confidence.
We were accustomed to seeing him in uniform and the women still talked about how good he had looked in the full-dress uniform he had worn on New Year’s Eve. This was, I suspected, partly to tease Kim.
As if she’d read my thoughts, Becky broke the silence by hissing loudly, “Kim, if you haven’t decided yet, hurry up. I know the competition isn’t as strong as it was, but damn girl, he looks fine in that kit! If Tom wasn’t the man he was I’d be tempted myself!”
As the people around us erupted into giggles, she looked over at me. I had been working with Chris and Russ on a water filtration and delivery system. My clothes were spattered with mud and I was looking decidedly dishevelled.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, “In fact, can I change my mind …?”
By now Kim and Harry were both looking decidedly red in the face and people were snorting with laughter.
Having masterfully regained his self-composure, Harry held up his hands for quiet and the briefing began.
“Folks, this mission should be an easy one. The group at the food warehouse has been out of touch for over two days now.” He paused and let this sink i
n, before continuing.
“Best-case scenario: they’re all fine and their radio, for some reason, is inoperative. If that is the case, we’ll use precautions to avoid infection, and sort out the problem or at least plan to do so in the future. Hopefully, we’ll find that they’re managing the disease and most of them are still well.”
His tone changed and his face darkened.
“Worst-case scenario: the plague has spread out of control and most of them are ill, dead or dying. If that is the case, then experience tells us there won’t be much we can do for them. But the question I want to ask you all is: would you be prepared to help relieve the suffering of people we know only distantly, knowing that they are likely to die anyway, and expose yourselves to unnecessary risk?”
Silence greeted this question.
“Obviously,” he continued, “only people with full masks will be permitted anywhere near the infected, and if we have any concerns, some or all of us may need to be quarantined on our return. The only way any of us will be allowed near the other group is if you agree to these terms. The safety of our own people has to be our priority,” he concluded bluntly.
We all nodded soberly, deep in our own thoughts, trying to decide what to do for the best.
I looked Harry in the eye. I’d known everyone in this group for some time now.
I knew that in the end everyone would say yes. Working so closely as a community over the months had pretty much beaten out any selfish traits any of us might have had. It wasn’t that we wanted to take any undue risks, but if we could help others at minimal risk to ourselves, then we were more than happy to go.
As if some silent communication had taken place, Harry nodded at us all and smiled slightly.
“Thank you.”
He took a deep breath and continued, “Of course there is one more possibility we have to consider. They may have been unable to respond to our calls because they’re under duress. Before the plague they were a strong group, and more than capable of defending themselves and their location. If they’re in a weakened state, this may have made them vulnerable to other, more hostile groups.
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