For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak (11 page)

‘That’s a bomber; I recognise the shape.’ He lifted up the binoculars again.
‘Why would they have a bomber over the city?’

I
glanced at Claire and wondered whether this was part of some new strategy. As we
watched, something fell from the back of the plane. At first, I thought it was a
bomb, and I was relieved when I saw a red and white parachute open up. Whatever
it was, it drifted slowly through the darkening sky towards the ground. As far
as I could work out, it was going to touch down somewhere near the city centre.

‘Shite!’ Daz was tracking the object with the binoculars. He was clearly
panicked.

‘Daz,
what’s wrong?’ I strained my eyes as I tried to work out what it was about the
object that had Daz so worried.

‘I
know what that is.’ Daz was breathing rapidly as he spoke. ‘I’ve seen them
before. It was in a documentary I watched. They used them in Afghanistan. Oh
shit! OH FUCK!’

‘Daz,’
Claire was staring at him, ‘are you going to tell the rest of us what it is, or
do we have to guess?’

Daz
took a deep breath. ‘It’s a fuel-air bomb. They’re bombin’ the city; they’re
goin’ to incinerate the place ... an’ everyone in it.’

‘Hang
on. Back up, Daz. What’s a fuel-air bomb?’ Tom sounded worried, but not as
worried as Daz.

‘It’s
like this really powerful type of bomb. It disperses fuel over an area an’ then
sets it on fire. It’s so powerful, it’s like a mini-nuclear explosion. It’ll
destroy the city an’ burn down whatever’s left.’

Now I
could see why Daz was so concerned. ‘What sort of range does it have?’

‘Dunno.’ Daz lowered the binoculars. ‘A thousand yards; maybe two; somethin’
like that.’

I felt
myself relax. ‘So we should be safe here then?’

‘If
that’s the only one, yeah, but look …’ Daz pointed up. A second bomb had been
dropped from the plane, this time closer to us. Over the next few minutes, four
more bombs were dropped over different parts of the city and drifted slowly
downwards, each on its own parachute; the nearest was going to come down about a
mile from where we were anchored. Given what Daz had told us that could be close
enough to cause us real problems.

As we
watched, a shimmering cloud started to spread out across the sky from the first
bomb. It descended towards the city, and then exploded. First, we saw the light
— it looked like the very sky was on fire — then we saw the blast cloud sweep
down and across the city. Finally, we heard it. Even from this distance it was
loud; loud enough to make Sophie yelp and cover her ears. Above the detonation
site, a large, black cloud rose high into the air. 

By
then, the second bomb had started dispersing its fuel across the sky, followed
by the third and the fourth. Each ignited in turn, obliterating another area of
the city and with it, both the infected and those who were still human. The
fifth detonated and this time we not only heard it, we felt the blast front
buffet us as it passed. The sixth was even closer and soon, it too, would
explode.

I
shouted to the others. ‘We need to get inside!’ I didn’t know how much
protection the cabin would give us, but it had to be better than nothing.

Daz
went in first, followed by Sophie, Claire and Tom. Only once they were all in
the cabin, did I scramble down after them. I was securing the hatch over the
companionway when I saw the flash of light. It seemed like it was almost on top
of us, but it took a moment before the blast front hit us. When it did, it felt
as if the whole boat was being lifted from the water. Then it fell and there was
a brief pause before the blast returned, heading in the opposite direction as
the explosion sucked the oxygen from the atmosphere, creating a vacuum at the
detonation site. The boat lurched beneath us and turned violently in the water,
heeling over until the mast was almost level with the surface, throwing us, and
everything else around us, across the boat. Sophie cried out as Daz crashed into
her; Tom hit the side of the boat with a loud and sickening thud. I landed next
to him, my shoulder smashing one of the small windows in the cabin roof. Water
started pouring in, but before too much could enter, the blast had passed and
the boat started to right itself. Again we were thrown around the cabin like rag
dolls, crashing into tables and seats, and into each other.

Chapter Five

Gradually, the boat settled itself in the water and I could finally stand up
again. My head was throbbing and I could feel something running down the side of
my face. I touched it, confirming it was blood. I glanced round: Daz was
struggling to his feet, while Tom lay in a crumpled heap. Claire lay nearby,
with Sophie stirring next to her.

Tom
seemed to be the most badly injured, so I went to him first. Kneeling beside
him, I could see the dressing from his bullet wound had come off and he was
bleeding again. There was also blood flowing down his face from a cut hidden by
his hair and his arm lay at an odd angle to the rest of his body. I touched his
neck with my fingers, feeling for a pulse; it took me a few goes to find it, but
it was there. I checked his breathing: it was shallow and laboured.

‘Is he
… you know … dead?’ Daz was standing over me.

‘No,
he’s okay.’ I stood up. ‘Well, he’s alive at any rate.’ I stared at Tom,
wondering what to do next. I had a rudimentary knowledge of first aid, but that
was all. For the moment, I decided it might be best if I left him where he was
and I turned my attentions to Sophie and Claire.  Claire was still motionless
while Sophie was now crouched next to her.

‘Mum?
Mum! Wake up, Mum!’ Sophie was shouting, ignoring the fact that she was bleeding
from a deep cut on her own arm, but Claire didn’t move. I reached out and
checked her pulse: like Tom’s, it was there. I cast an eye over her; she had no
obvious injuries and, apart from the fact that she was unconscious, she seemed
uninjured. I looked up at Sophie. ‘She’s okay, I think.’

Sophie’s brow furrowed with concern. ‘Why isn’t she moving then?’

‘I
don’t know.’ Then I remembered something. ‘Where’s your mum’s bag? The big black
one.’

Sophie
sniffed. ‘It was around here somewhere.’

‘Can
you see if you can find it? You’ll need to be careful though, there’s a lot of
broken glass around.’

‘Okay.’ Sophie started searching through the debris scattered across the floor.
I glanced round the cabin, looking for Daz and found him anxiously watching Tom
for any sign that he might be coming round. ‘Daz, can you help Sophie?’

Daz
didn’t take his eyes off Tom’s unmoving body. ‘Huh?’

‘Can
you help Sophie look for Claire’s bag?’

Daz
finally looked up. ‘What d’you want that for?’

‘Because she’s a doctor. There might be something in it that will help.’

‘Oh,
yeah.’ Daz started searching the cabin, too. A moment later, he called out.
‘Found it!’

He
handed it to me. I opened it and rifled through its contents, looking for
surgical dressings and bandages. I found some and went over to Tom. ‘Daz, come
here. Hold this onto his shoulder; just push down, not too hard; you only need
enough pressure on it to stop the bleeding.’

Daz
knelt down and held the surgical dressing against Tom’s bullet wound, while I
searched through his hair. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding heavily.
I’d just taken another dressing and pressed it to his head when there was a moan
from behind me.

Sophie
was back over beside Claire, leaning over her. ‘Mum?’

‘What
happened?’ Claire was trying to sit up.

‘We
got knocked down by the blast.’ I turned my attention back to Tom. His head
wound was still bleeding, but the flow was starting to slow.

‘Everyone okay?’ Claire spotted Sophie. ‘Honey, you’re hurt. Where’s my bag?’

‘I’ve
got it here. Everyone’s okay, except Tom.’ I watched him for a couple of
seconds: his breathing was becoming erratic; his skin was pale; and there was a
hint of blue around his lips. ‘I think he’s in trouble.’

‘Let
me have a look.’ Claire shuffled across and I moved aside so she could examine
him. Her face changed almost immediately from concern to panic. ‘I think he’s
got a pneumothorax.’

‘A
what?’ Daz was leaning over Claire, trying to see what she was talking about.

‘A
punctured lung. He must have broken a rib.’ Claire’s eyes darted around the
cabin. ‘I need some sort of tubing.’ She turned to me. ‘Have you got anything
like that on board?’

I
sprang up and opened one of the lockers. Its contents had been thrown
everywhere, but I eventually found the rubber tubing I was looking for. I held
it out. ‘Will this do?’

‘Yes.
What about a plastic bottle? Have you got one of those?’

I
moved over to the galley, picking my way through the shattered crockery that
littered the floor. In one of the cupboards I found a water bottle which I
handed to Claire. She poured some of its contents onto the floor, leaving it
half full. Taking a scalpel from her bag, she cut the tubing in half, feeding
one end of each half into the bottle; one right into the water, the other just
above it. Using Elastoplast, she then bound them into position. ‘What about duct
tape?’

I
found that quickly and passed it to her. She wrapped it round and round the top
of the bottle until it was completely sealed. Next, she pulled open Tom’s shirt
and examined his chest. ‘Have you got any alcohol? Whisky? vodka? Something like
that?’

I
raced back to the galley and returned with an old bottle of gin which had been
floating around in the back of a cupboard for the last couple of years. ‘Will
this do?’

Taking
it, Claire examined the label. ‘Yeah, that’ll work.’ She unscrewed the lid and
poured about half of it over her hands, the scalpel and the right-hand side of
Tom’s chest.

‘What
d’you do that for?’ Daz was following Claire’s every move.

‘She’s
sterilising everything.’ Sophie was standing behind Claire, watching her mother
work on Tom. She glanced over at me. ‘You’re bleeding.’

‘So
are you.’ I retorted and pointed to her arm. She looked down briefly before
taking a surgical dressing out of Claire’s bag. She applied it to her arm and
then wrapped a bandage around it to keep it pressed tight against the wound.
When she’d finished, she pointed to the nearest seat. ‘Sit!’

I
didn’t move. ‘No, not until I know Tom’s okay.’

Claire
looked up. ‘There’s no point in me sterilising him if you’re just going to bleed
all over the place. Let Sophie sort you out,’ Claire smiled at her daughter.
‘She knows what she’s doing.’

I sat
down and watched as Claire took the scalpel and cut deep into Tom’s chest
between two of his ribs. There was an audible wheeze as air escaped from the
wound. Almost immediately, Tom’s breathing started to become deeper and more
regular; Claire let out a sigh of relief before turning to Daz. ‘I need you to
help me.’

Daz
stood, staring, as if mesmerised by the blood oozing from Tom’s chest.

‘Daz,
snap out of it and get down here!’

‘What?
Oh! Yeah.’ Daz knelt down next to Claire.

‘Take
that bit of hose and pour some of the gin over it.’

Daz
did as Claire told him.

‘That’s right. Now, while I hold this open, I need you to slowly feed the tube
into it.’

With
her fingers, Claire levered open the cut she’d made in Tom’s chest, causing
blood to rush out; Daz grimaced in horror, but he did as he’d been told.

Claire
smiled encouragingly. ‘Perfect. Now I need you to take that Elastoplast and use
it to hold the tube in place.’

Daz
wrapped the tape around the tube, securing it to Tom’s chest. There was a noise
from the bottle as air started bubbling into the water and colour finally
started returning to Tom’s face.

‘That’s the worst of it dealt with. Now let’s get the rest of him sorted.’
Claire ran her eyes over Tom’s body. ‘Looks like he’s dislocated his shoulder.
Daz, hold him down.’

Daz
put his weight on Tom as Claire pulled and rotated his arm. There was an audible
pop
as it slid back into place. As Claire sorted out the dressings Daz
and I had applied earlier, Sophie took some gauze from Claire’s bag and tipped
some of the gin onto it. 

‘This
is probably going to hurt.’ With that Sophie dabbed it onto my face. Pain shot
through me like a lightning bolt and I jerked backwards.

‘Sorry.’ She drew back her hand apologetically. ‘I’m trying to be as gentle as I
can.’

She
dabbed at the cut on my forehead again: it still stung, but not as badly as the
first time. After she’d cleaned the blood away, she opened the surgical dressing
and applied it, using some of the Elastoplast to keep it in place. Claire
glanced up. ‘Good job there, Soph. Ben, you’ll need to keep some pressure on it
until it stops bleeding.’

I held
my hand up and pressed the dressing to my forehead. I turned to Sophie,
‘Thanks.’ Then to Claire: ‘why’s he still unconscious?’