Breakdown (35 page)

“I’ll get through.”

Simon crossed his arms. “It’s crazy.”

“Will it be safe, by yourself?” Fiona asked.

“I’ll go with you, of course,” Jon said as if it were obvious.

“All right,” Chris said. “Brilliant. Can we be ready by morning?”

“I’ll go get Alan,” Brian said, and left the room.

“What will you need?” Fiona asked them.

“You’ll need a good map,” Simon muttered, turning back to the radio to listen.

“I’ve got maps,” Chris told Jon.

“I’ll pack some food,” Fiona said.

Chris took the stairs two at a time up to his room and pulled out his duffel. He shuffled through his maps, found the one he thought would be most useful. He had made a few notations on it during his walk from Breton. He sat holding the map, remembering the walk, how long it had taken.
Not this time.
It should only take a few hours in the car. He checked his torch, made a mental note to replace the batteries.

Jon came in with a brown rucksack. “Here, you’ll never get everything into your duffel.”

“Thanks.”

Chris dumped the duffel out onto the bed. There wasn’t much in it, just odd things he hadn’t needed since he’d got to Hurleigh.

“Keep that handy,” Jon said, gesturing at the rolled towel that hid the black handgun. “We may need it.”

Chris caught his eye. “You don’t have to come.”

“Yes, I do. Of course I do. I want to.” He slapped Chris on the back.

“Thanks, Jon.”

“I’ll go pack.” Jon left him with a little salute.

Even the bigger rucksack was too small to fit everything in. Chris eyed the pile of clothes he’d laid out on the bed, pared it down to essentials, and put the rest back into the drawers, as he’d done when he’d left Breton. He felt no need to travel with more than just one bag. The things would be there if he ever needed them. He got his journal from the desk, the castle chess piece, the picture of Pauline—framed now, thanks to Jon—and the small bundle of letters from her.
I’m coming
, he thought as he put them in the bag, wishing for maybe the millionth time that he could simply ring her up on a phone. He remembered the little black leather box he’d found in the Frome market, just big enough for the picture of Sophie and Rosie, the little toy horse, and his wedding ring. He couldn’t leave that behind. He tucked it into the rucksack. He put the pistol in a side pouch, the bullets into his trouser pocket. His stomach ached. He closed up the pack, turned to the door.

Simon came into the room with a small bundle in his hand. “You might run into trouble on the road. Take this.” He opened the rag, exposing a handgun.

Chris stared at it with his mouth open.

“It’s okay; we can spare it,” Simon said, holding it out to him.

“I don’t need it.” Chris showed Simon his own gun in the side pocket of the rucksack.

Simon smiled, nodding. “I should have known you’d be prepared.”

“I didn’t realize you were quite so prepared.”

“Oh, very prepared.” Simon put out his hand, and Chris shook it.

“You might give it to Jon,” Chris said.

“He has his own. And don’t worry; he knows how to use it.” Simon winked, wrapped up the gun again, and left Chris standing in the doorway.

Chris carried the pack downstairs and switched out the batteries in his torch. He got his coat and went out and across the yard to the garage, where the door was open and the lights on. Alan and Brian were tinkering under the bonnet of the car. They glanced up as Chris joined them.

“You should try to get some sleep, Chris,” Alan said. “We’ll see to the car.”

Chris shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Still, you should try,” Brian agreed.

Chris shook his head again, then stood still. “Listen.” He heard something out in the night that he couldn’t quite identify. “What is that?”

Alan cocked his head. “That’s a lorry.”

“At this time of night?” Brian said. They went out into the yard.

The lorry was clearly getting closer, and soon they saw its lights in the road. It pulled up in front of the gate, the engine cut off, and the door opened.

“Price, are you there?” a voice said as Chris recognized the lorry.

“Cooper! Is Pauline with you?” His heart pounded in his chest.

“No, it’s just me.”

Brian fished the key from his pocket and unlocked the gate. Michael came into the yard, shook Chris’s hand, nodded at Brian and Alan. “Have you heard the news tonight?”

“About the outbreak, yes,” Chris said. “I’m going to Breton. We’re trying to get the car going.”

“Forget the car, I’ll take you. They might let me through with the lorry where you’d never get through with a car. But we have to hurry, before they have time to get all the roadblocks in place.”

“I’m already packed,” Chris said.

“Brilliant.”

“How did you get here so fast?”

“I heard about it this afternoon. Luckily, I was at the other end of my run, in Bristol. It’s a quick drive between here and there. I’ve rather ‘borrowed’ the rig. You haven’t got any diesel to spare, have you?”

Chris looked at Brian, and Brian blew out a breath.

“Possibly,” Brian hedged, just as Simon joined them, coming quickly from the house. “Can we spare some diesel?” Brian asked Simon. “Cooper here is going to take Chris to Breton.”

Simon hesitated. His eyes traveled from Brian to Chris to Michael. “A few liters, perhaps.”

“Look, never mind,” Michael said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have asked, sorry. I have a bigger allowance, of course. I know a place not too far down the road. I think we can get some there. We’ll manage.” Michael shrugged. “Can I use your facilities before we take off?”

Jon looked up from the table as they trooped into the kitchen. He had spread out a map. His pack rested on the floor next to Chris’s. Fiona and Vivian came in from the pantry. Chris introduced Michael all around.

“Jon was going to come along,” Chris told Michael.

Michael shook his head. “I’m allowed to have a second in the rig, but not three. It could cause problems at roadblocks. Better if it’s just the two of us.”

Chris turned to Jon, held up his hands helplessly. Guilt choked him. He had spent nearly two months convincing Jon to move to Breton, and now he had to leave him behind. At least it was Cooper’s lorry, Cooper’s decision.

“You might need some help,” Jon said.

“True, but not if we can’t get there,” Michael said. “It’s no good if I can’t at least appear official.”

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Chris said softly, and Jon nodded.

Simon took Michael off to the loo, and the girls finished packing a bag of food to take along. The rest of them bent over the map and traced out the area of the outbreak from what they remembered of the list of places on the radio.

“It seems awfully big,” Chris said.

“It is big,” Simon said, coming back into the kitchen. “Biggest one in years.”

Chris found himself staring at the little dot representing the village of Breton, an easy drive back when cars and petrol were readily available, when the roads were maintained, before outbreaks and quarantines and roadblocks. Michael rejoined them a few minutes later.

“We’ll try this,” he said, running a line with his finger. “Avoid the bigger towns, of course.”

“How long will it take to get there?” Chris asked.

“It depends on what we run into. A good few hours, certainly. Even some of the big roads are going bad. But I know that area pretty well.”

“I’ve got some fairly good maps,” Chris told him.

“Mine are updated. Have you got a torch?”

“With fresh batteries.”

“Good, you can navigate. Let’s get going, then.”

It struck Chris all at once that he was going to have to say good-bye. He hadn’t even thought about it while he was packing. He looked around the group, and it seemed from their faces as if most of them—except for Jon—hadn’t thought about it either. And it wasn’t a “have a nice time, come back and see us soon” kind of good-bye, either. It occurred to him that they thought there was a definite possibility that none of them would ever see him again. He turned to Fiona next to him.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he said and hugged her.

“Be careful, Chris,” she said and kissed his cheek. “Give our love to Pauline.”

“Of course.” He hugged Vivian, too.

“I haven’t finished your jumper,” she said. “I’ll send it along when I do.”

“Do you have the address? I’ll write it down.”

She turned to get a pen while Chris shook Alan’s hand.

“Maybe I’ll just get that car running anyway,” Alan said.

Chris took the pen from Vivian and jotted the address on the edge of the map. “I’ll write to you as soon as I can, let you know how things go. Hopefully the post will still go.” He thought of something else. “Say good-bye to Laura for me, would you? Tell her I’ll write to her.”

“We will,” Fiona said.

“And the boys. Tell them—well, tell them I wish I could have said good-bye.”

“I’ll explain it to them,” Fiona said.

Chris shook Simon’s hand.

“Good luck, old boy,” Simon said. “Be careful.”

Brian was next. Chris turned to him, had to swallow, didn’t know what to say. It could be the last thing he ever said to Brian.

“Good luck, Tag,” Brian said. The old nickname made Chris smile; he’d nearly forgotten it. “Be careful. Come back and visit.”

“I will do.” Chris shook Brian’s hand.

“Don’t wait so long this time,” Brian said softly.

He and Brian exchanged a look, and Chris shook his head and figured he didn’t need to say anything else. He turned to look at Jon.

“I’ll walk you out,” Jon said and picked up the bag with the food. Michael went out the door; Jon followed.

Chris lifted his rucksack and put one strap over his shoulder, then stood, eyes on the floor. He looked up and around at them all standing there in the kitchen, and they all said good-bye again, or “good luck,” or “be careful,” but he couldn’t say anything. He raised a hand, turned, and went out into the night, following Jon and Michael to the lorry. Michael got in, and Jon handed the bag of food up to him, then took Chris’s rucksack off his shoulder and handed that up. Michael stowed it behind the seats. He pulled his door closed and started the engine.

“I wish I were going,” Jon said.

“I wish you were, too,” Chris said. “Come and visit, when the quarantine lifts.”

“I’ll come to stay, of course.”

Chris nodded. “Of course. I think you’ll like it there.”

“This looks like a bad one, Chris.”

“I’ve never got it yet.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“I’ll be okay,” Chris said. He wished he felt as sure of it himself as he said it.

“I’m here, if you need me.”

Chris nodded.

“Be careful, please,” Jon said then.

“I will do. You, too.” Chris hugged his brother, and they walked around to the passenger side. Chris climbed up.

“Good luck,” Jon said, reaching up to shake Chris’s hand.

“You’ll hear from me,” Chris assured him. Jon stepped back, and Chris swung the door closed. Michael released the brakes, and the lorry moved off. Chris saw Jon in the rearview mirror, bathed in the red glow of the taillights, standing in the road with his hands in his pockets. Then he disappeared into the dark.
Am I doing the right thing?

“Two of your chaps offered me a gun,” Michael said, and it sounded to Chris like he was grinning.

“Simon offered me one, too. I’m a little surprised.”

“What, a place like that? They had better be ready to defend it. I’d be surprised if they didn’t have a decent number about the place.”

“It appears they do. Did you take him up on it?”

“No need, Price. We’re both covered, right?”

Chris fished in his pocket for the bullets, turned around in the seat, and found his gun in the rucksack. He dropped out the clip, clicked the bullets in, and shoved it back into place with a satisfying clack. “Ready to go.”

“Excellent.”

The road unwound ahead of them in the inky darkness.

“We’ll make it,” Michael said.

“I know.”

CHAPTER 30

L
ess than an hour after they left Hurleigh, Michael pulled into a darkened petrol station and tooted the horn.

“I know this chap,” he said.

A light came on, and the proprietor came out grumbling. Michael got out and talked with him and convinced him to part with some fuel in spite of the hour. He climbed back up and rummaged in his rucksack by the light of a torch. He handed the man a few items, along with the coupons and money. Chris didn’t ask what. When the tank was full, they drove off through the dark town. Chris shifted in his seat, chewed on his thumbnail, impatient with the slow speed, but he kept his mouth shut.

“It’s not like the old days,” Michael said. “You never know what you’ll find on the roads. If we want to get there in one piece, we have to take it a bit slower than you’d like, especially in the dark.”

“Yeah, I’m a little anxious...”

Michael picked up the pace a bit once they reached a divided highway.

“I won’t need a navigator for another hour, at least, if you want to try to get some sleep.”

Chris didn’t think he’d sleep, but he closed his eyes and gave it a try, and he did doze some. Michael woke him when it was time to get off the highway. They crept along black roads at low speeds, Chris following their progress on the map. The roads here were more deteriorated, and at times they lumbered through deep ruts. Chris had to brace himself against the dash as the lorry bounced and tossed.

Michael slowed even more as they came to a small village, completely dark. The first few houses looked overgrown. The road narrowed. Michael eased the lorry around a tight curve, with a high old stone wall on one side and a timbered house right against the road on the other. He cursed and braked suddenly. In front of them stood a makeshift barrier of crates and boards.

“What a bloody stupid place for a barrier!” Michael exclaimed. “Damn, how am I supposed to back up?”

“Cooper!” Chris grabbed his gun and cocked it.

Michael cursed again. “It’s a fucking trap, isn’t it?” He shifted into reverse and checked the mirrors. “Mine’s in my pack, side pocket!” He started to back up, the lorry beeping a warning. Chris got Michael’s gun out and reached over to put it in his lap.