For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak (10 page)

‘How
much?’

He
glanced over his shoulder and then back to me. ‘A lot.’

‘Shit!’ I thumped the wheel. ‘Come up here and take the helm.’

Tom
stayed where he was, looking petrified.

‘Don’t
worry. I think we’re out of their range.’

‘You
think
we’re out of range?’ Tom repeated worriedly.

I
shifted the throttle down so the boat was barely moving forward. ‘Just keep us
pointing upstream.’

Tom
climbed slowly out into the cockpit, his eyes darting all around him. ‘Won’t
they chase after us?’

‘I
don’t think so. They’re army; they won’t have boats, and anyway, their job is
probably just to stop anyone getting out. As long as we keep far enough away
from the bridge, I don’t think they’ll bother us.’

Finally satisfied, Tom stepped forward and took the wheel as I ran past him and
down into the cabin.

‘Ben,
up here.’ Claire and Daz were in the front cabin staring at the side of the
boat, while Sophie sat on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest.

Even
before I got to where they were standing, I could see the problem: the bullets
had barely been slowed by the fibreglass of the deck and had gone straight
through the hull. Each had left a ragged hole about an inch across in the side
of the boat. I could see daylight through the ones which were above the
waterline, while water poured through the ones below it.

Daz
heard me coming and turned, his face etched with worry. ‘Can you no’ do
somethin’ about it?’

‘Yes,
I’ve got a repair kit somewhere, but given how much water’s coming in, we’ll
need to move fast.’ I watched the speed at which it was coming through the
holes. ‘By my reckoning we’ve got about fifteen minutes before we’re in real
trouble.’

Daz
raised his eyebrows incredulously. ‘We’re no’ in real trouble already?’

‘No,
not yet.’ I glanced round at my companions and came to a decision. ‘Daz, can you
swim?’

‘Aye,’
he looked slightly confused, ‘but why?’

‘I’ve
got plugs which can be used to block up the holes, but the only problem is that
they need to be pushed in from the outside; and I’ll need an extra pair of hands
when I’m in the water.’

‘I’m
no’ goin’ swimmin’ in the river; it’s manky. You see what people throw in it?’

‘Daz,
I’m not asking. I’m telling: my boat; my rules.’

‘Can’t
Tom go?’

‘Not
with that bullet wound in his shoulder, he can’t,’ Claire interjected. ‘There’s
too big a risk of infection.

Daz
realised he was fighting a losing battle. He held up his hands. ‘Okay, okay,
I’ll do it, but what am I goin’ to wear?’

‘You’ve got underwear on, haven’t you?’ Claire said matter-of-factly. ‘Just
strip down to them.’

‘But
...’ Daz turned from me to Claire and back again.

Claire
shook her head. ‘Oh, don’t be so bloody modest. I’m a doctor: trust me, you
won’t have anything I haven’t seen before.’

‘Come
on, Daz, we’ve got to get the holes filled as soon as possible.’ I went back
through to the saloon and found the water was already up to the level of the
floorboards. I opened one of the lockers under the seats and rummaged through it
for the repair kit. Finding it, I pulled it out and ran up on deck.

Tom
was crouched down against the back of the boat holding the wheel as low as he
could. I ran my eyes nervously over the now distant bridge. ‘Any more shots?’

‘No.’
Tom glanced over his shoulder. ‘I think they’ve given up.’

‘Good.’ I slipped the engine into neutral and went forward to drop the anchor.
As soon as it was in place, I stripped off and searched around for Daz. I found
him standing in the cockpit beside Claire, wearing nothing but a pair of baggy
boxer shorts and a sheepish expression.

‘Right, Daz, up front and over the side.’ I carried the repair kit forward and
opened it, revealing a number of orange cones, each one about nine inches long
and almost five inches across at their widest point. I’d never tried them before
and I hoped they’d work as well as they were supposed to. ‘Once you’re in there,
I’ll hand these down to you and then I’ll come in. Whatever you do, don’t let go
of them.’

Daz
peered over the side and then jumped, entering the water feet first. He
disappeared from sight and then resurfaced, spitting and huffing.

I
looked at him. ‘Bit cold is it?’

‘Fuckin’ freezin’!’

I
chuckled and handed Daz the repair cones before lowering myself slowly over the
side, giving my body a chance to acclimatise to the change in temperature. I
took the first of the cones from Daz and ducked under the water. I felt around
for a hole and when I found one, I jammed the cone into place. I repeated this
again and again until all four holes were filled.

I
called up to Claire. ‘That should be it, but can you go and make sure?’

She
disappeared for a few seconds and then returned to the foredeck. ‘There’s no
water coming in through the top three, but the bottom one’s still letting a lot
in.’

I
dived down again and found the one that was causing the problem. I pulled it out
and tried again, this time taking more care to make sure it was securely in
place. I surfaced and Claire disappeared again; this time when she came back up
she gave me the thumbs up. With no more coming in, the bilge pump would soon be
able to clear out all the water which was already on board and we were safe.
Well, maybe not safe, but at least we were no longer sinking.

‘What
now?’ Daz looked enquiringly at the rest of us.

We
were sitting in the cockpit, trying to work out what to do next. I’d tried
calling the people on the bridge on the radio, but there had been no response. I
was sure they could hear us, but that they were choosing not to reply. We were
riding at anchor and I’d spent the last hour and a half repairing the holes in
the deck and the side of the boat. The smell of epoxy resin drifted around us
and I knew it would take a good few hours before anyone would be able to go into
the forward cabin again because of the fumes. ‘I don’t know. We need to get
beyond the bridge somehow, but I don’t think they’re going to let us through.’

‘What
if we waited for it to get dark. Could we sneak past without them seeing us?’
Tom was watching me as he spoke, trying to judge what I thought of his
suggestion.

I
scratched the back of my head. ‘I guess.’

‘At
least it’s an idea,’ Claire was clearly eager to be doing something, ’and it’s
better than just sitting here. I’m telling you, when their current strategy for
containing the outbreak fails, they’re going to try something more ...’ She
hesitated as she searched for an appropriate word. ‘More, you know, drastic, and
I think it would be best if we aren’t here when that happens.’

Sophie
looked up from her mobile phone where she’d been trying unsuccessfully, once
again, to send out messages to her friends. ‘More drastic?’ Her eyes narrowed.
‘Like what?’

‘I
don’t know.’ Claire shifted uncomfortably on her seat and although I could tell
she had a pretty good idea of what
,
she clearly didn’t want to say it in
front of her daughter. ‘But the sooner we get beyond the bridge, the better.’
Before Sophie could respond, Claire stood up, ‘I’m going to check the news; see
if there’s anything new.’

With
that, she went down into the saloon where I heard her switch on the television
and turn up the volume. While the boat was riding at anchor, there was little to
do on deck, so I figured I might as well join her. When I got down the stairs,
the same reporter was still on the television, camped outside 10 Downing Street.
She seemed to be responding to a question from the studio. ‘Well no, the current
strategy — what General McDonald is calling “containment” — doesn’t seem to be
working. I’ve just heard that they’ve had to pull the cordon back again. It now
encloses an area that’s about five miles across and encompasses Glasgow city
centre, the West End, Maryhill, and an area of the Southside which stretches for
about three miles along the banks of the Clyde. The problem here is that each
time they move back, the perimeter gets longer and more difficult to control.
We’ve heard that a couple of checkpoints have already been overrun, either by
infected or by people trying to get out of the city, and so far about forty
soldiers are thought to have either been killed or have succumbed to the
disease.’

A
disembodied male voice broke in, presumably from back in the studio. ‘So what
are they going to do next? Is there another plan they can implement?’

‘Well,
there is ...’ The woman hesitated and her eyes glanced to her left where an arm
in a green jacket appeared briefly on screen before vanishing again. ‘There is
another strategy, but at the moment, I’m being informed that it’s classified.
What I can say, though, is that General McDonald is currently inside the
building behind me,’ she pointed a finger over her shoulder, ‘discussing the
alternatives with the Prime Minister with whom, I’m told, the final decision
will lie.’

Claire
changed the channel, first to one, then to another: all of them were showing the
same live feed from Downing Street. She snorted derisively. ‘Looks like the
military’s nobbled the press.’

I
carried on watching the television; the reporter was half-turned from the
camera, holding her finger to her ear. After a second, she looked up. ‘I believe
we can finally link up with a reporter at BBC Scotland’s offices in Glasgow and
see if we can find out a bit more about what’s going on. Gavin, can you hear
me?’

There
was a crackling sound and the screen flickered before a new picture appeared of
a man holding a small camera at arm’s length. He was hunched down in the corner
of a room which looked like it was an office rather than a studio. Then the man
spoke. ‘This is Gavin Kessington here at the BBC’s Glasgow studio.’ He glanced
at his watch. ‘It’s now been six hours since the outbreak of Haitian Rabies
Virus started in Glasgow city centre just a few miles from here, and I can tell
you the situation inside the military containment zone is getting desperate. If
you look outside,’ he shifted the camera so the viewers could see out of the
window behind him, ‘you’ll see there are many, many people milling around out
there. I’m not certain, but I think they’re all infected: I’ve seen them
attacking people, killing them, even eating them. They show no mercy to anyone
they encounter, but they’re not attacking each other. There must be some way
they know who’s infected and who isn’t.’

The
female reporter’s voice cut in. ‘Have you seen the army at all? Are they doing
anything to help?’

Gavin
pressed his finger into his ear, as if adjusting an earpiece. ‘I did see them
initially, but that was when we were at the edge of the containment zone. Since
they pulled back, I’ve only seen helicopters flying overhead.’ He shifted his
position. ‘And now, it seems, even they’ve gone. When they were here, there
didn’t seem much they could do. There’re just too many infected; they’re
everywhere.’

‘And
how are you holding up, Gavin?’

‘I
think the phrase is “as well as can be expected”.’

‘How
many of you are there?’

‘It’s
just me. Some of the people from my office tried to get out, but I think they
got caught by the infected. There might be people in other offices but it’s not
safe to move around to find out. There are infected in the building itself.  I’m
not too sure how they got in, but I’ve seen them in the corridors. At the
moment, I’ve got the door barricaded with a desk, and I just hope that will be
enough to keep them out.’

‘Okay,
Gavin. Can we come back to you for an update  in a couple of hours?’

‘Yes.’
There was a sudden crash and the man’s head snapped to the left before returning
to the camera. He spoke again, almost whispering this time. ‘If I’m still here.’

With
that, the picture switched back to the woman in Downing Street. She straightened
her coat. ‘That was Gavin Kessington reporting from Glasgow, where, if you’re
just joining us, there’s been an outbreak of the Haitian Rabies Virus. This is
the same virus that has been spreading slowly through the Caribbean and some
parts of the US in recent weeks, and it is thought to have been responsible for
much of the destruction we witnessed in Miami yesterday. The Prime Minister
closed the country’s borders this morning, and it’s still not clear how the
outbreak in Glasgow started. Now, back to the studio, where we will be
discussing what we know about this emerging virus and where it came from.’

Suddenly, Daz poked his head into the cabin. ‘Hey guys, I think you need to see
this.’

Claire
and I went back out on deck where Daz was now staring towards the city with the
binoculars. There was a plane, just visible high up in the sky, circling slowly.
I shielded my eyes with my hand as I watched it. ‘What’s up?’

Daz
lowered the binoculars, looking concerned, and pointed at the aircraft. ‘That
is.’

I
carried on watching the plane for a few seconds, and couldn’t see anything worth
being concerned about. ‘I don’t get it.’