For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak (20 page)

‘I’ve
been thinking about that, too. I can’t see it staying that way for long. All it
takes is just one person carrying the infection to slip past and that’s it. Once
it gets into England, there’s going to be no way they can stop it. It’s only a
matter of time,’ I looked at the burning warship, ‘I mean look what happened
with the frigate. I think we have to accept we’re on our own now, at least for
the foreseeable future. That means we’d be better off heading out to the islands
and finding somewhere we can hole up until we get an idea of just how bad this
is going to get.’

Tom
was sceptical. ‘That’s all fine and well, but what are we going to do for food
and things like that?’

‘I
know these waters, Tom. I’ve spent years out here each summer. I know where we
can catch fish; I know where the seabirds nest. We can get food off the shores,
like we did the other day. There’ll be sheep and seals, and porpoises too, if we
want something a bit different. The islands out west have supported people for
thousands of years. Trust me, getting enough food for five people isn’t going to
be a problem. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. We’re going to have to work
hard, but we can survive, I know we can.’

Tom
was surprised. ‘Where the hell did you learn all this stuff?’

We
might have known each other for years, but in all that time, he’d never seen me
out here before; he’d only ever seen me on shore, and when we worked together he
was the more experienced one; he was the one in charge. Out on the water, it was
different: this was my world, my element, and out here, for once, it was me who
would be teaching him. In fact, I’d be teaching all of them.

As we
made our way past the still-burning frigate I considered my companions. The four
of them, Claire, Sophie, Tom and Daz, each represented very different parts of
my home city; not just physically, but socially as well. Claire and Sophie were
very much the epitome of the West End, or at least the middle-class part of it:
the types who shopped in Waitrose and sent their kids to private schools. They
dressed well and were the ones the City Fathers wanted you to think of when they
came up with the slogan
Scotland with Style
to promote the city.

Tom
represented the West End too, but the alternative side: the artists, the
musicians, the writers, the performers. They inhabited the bedsits and shared
the rented top-floor flats. In the summer, you’d see them lounging around the
parks, hanging out and subtly smoking a spliff, while chatting with friends and
strumming on guitars. They might live off Social Security from time to time, but
by choice rather than by necessity; they always had a family somewhere to fall
back on if they really needed it.

This
was all a world away from the Glasgow where Daz had grown up. His was a world of
crumbling 1960s high-rises and housing schemes. People lived on Social Security
there, too, but because they had to rather than because they wanted to. This was
a life you were born into, and it was difficult to get out of; it could be done,
but it was something few managed. After all, it was hard to know what to aim for
when you had no one to show you the way. While it would be presumed from birth
that Sophie would go to university, for Daz, just finishing school would have
made him more educated than almost everyone else he knew; this wasn’t because of
a lack of intelligence, it was more a lack of expectation from those around him.

The
ironic thing was that when the world suddenly changed, Sophie, with all her
advantages, education and parental encouragement, was just as unprepared for it
as Daz: neither lifestyle had readied them to survive in a world which was
rapidly being overrun by the infected. It was the same with Tom: this was the
first time in his life when he’d been faced with a situation where he no longer
had a safety net to fall back on; there were no longer any parents to go home
to, or Social Security for when he didn’t feel like working. He was out of his
depth, and pretty much all he was facing was far beyond the realm of his
experience.

Claire
was different: she’d undoubtedly seen a lot, and in many ways she was better
prepared than the rest of us, but there was still a lot which was new to her.
For the first time when she was in a dangerous situation, she had Sophie to
worry about, and that was a whole different ball game from the times when she’d
faced adversity in the past. There was also the loss of Jake which, while she
kept it hidden, I was sure was eating away at her. With both of these weighing
heavily on her mind, I wondered just how well she was really coping compared to
the front she presented to the rest of us.

I was
lucky, if anyone could really be called lucky in a world where all this was
happening: I’d lived much of my life in this part of the world, and I knew it
like the back of my hand. I’d also picked up some useful skills over the years.
I’d like to have been able to say it was because I could see the signs, and knew
what was coming, but I couldn’t: I had been taken as much by surprise as
everyone else. It just happened that the skills I’d picked up were the ones
which were turning out to be useful. This didn’t mean I wasn’t scared — I was
petrified — but it meant I could keep us alive out here on the water. That gave
us our best chance of surviving until this disease was finally brought under
control or burnt itself out … or at least that’s how I hoped it would end.

If it
didn’t, if it kept on going, then no matter what skills I possessed, there was
little chance of us surviving in the long term; not the five of us all alone in
a world ruled by the infected. For that to happen, I knew we only had one
option: we needed to find other survivors. This was an opinion I was keen to
keep from my companions for as long as possible.

Suddenly, Daz called up from below. ‘You guys need to come see this.’

While
Claire, Tom and I had been discussing what we were going to do next, Daz and
Sophie had gone down into the cabin to get something to eat. Daz had turned on
the television to get the latest news about what was happening back on shore,
and it wasn’t good.

We
climbed down into the saloon, where Sophie had her eyes locked on the
television, an untouched mug of coffee going cold in front of her. When she
heard us coming, she turned and spoke. ‘Mum, oh god this is awful. I thought
there was hope, I thought if we could just get south of Hadrian’s Wall, we’d be
okay, but we won’t be; they’ve broken through.’

As
Claire went to comfort her, Daz sank down onto one of the seats by the table and
stared at the television, ignoring the rest of us; his eyes wide; his mouth
open. I moved to where I could see the screen: it seemed that the media had
finally broken ranks with the military, and were now reporting what was really
going on. The rolling text along the bottom of the screen was listing all the
places where outbreaks had been reported in the last few hours: Carlisle,
Newcastle, Manchester, Liverpool, even as far south as Birmingham and Hull.

When
it had just been Scotland, there had been a possibility of controlling the
outbreak, but now there was little anyone could do. The military knew this and
they’d pulled the army back to try to protect London. The reason they gave was
that if they could keep London safe, it would give them a base from which they
could work to try to take back the rest of the country. However, I suspected
their true motives might be something different; that it was more an act of
self-preservation. They were no longer protecting the people. Instead, they were
doing everything they could to protect themselves. Those already in London would
be lucky, as they’d be protected, too, but the rest of the country was being
left to fend for itself, and given the current situation, this was tantamount to
a death sentence. Tom turned to me. ‘Looks like you were right.’ He sounded
despondent. ‘I guess going south isn’t an option anymore.’

‘Where
are we going to go instead?’ Sophie’s voice trembled as she spoke.

‘Don’t
worry, honey, Ben’s got a plan.’ Claire avoided Sophie’s eyes and I wondered how
much she believed my plan was feasible. ‘We’re going to go west instead.’

Sophie
stared at me. ‘But where?’

I
looked down at her, trying to sound self-assured. ‘I don’t know exactly, but
we’ll find somewhere where we’ll be safe.’

‘D’you
think they’ll manage to save London?’ Daz was still staring at the screen and
not really listening to what anyone else was saying.

‘No.’
I spoke without thinking. Daz glared at me, shocked by my bluntness. Yet, this
wasn’t the time to be giving people false hope. After a second or two, he went
back to staring at the screen.

After
an hour of watching the news, I’d had enough.  There was nothing new, apart from
the ever-growing list of places where outbreaks had been reported, and we needed
to be getting underway. I glanced round the cabin. Claire was holding Sophie
while Daz sat a short distance away. Tom was leaning against the sink in the
galley. All eyes were glued to the screen, hypnotised by the gruesome images
which were being shown and reshown.

Over
the last few decades, Britain had become the most watched nation on the planet
and CCTV networks could be found in almost every town and city. They’d been
installed to improve public safety, but now they were providing live feeds of
just how fast the country was succumbing to the infected. The footage was
grainy, monotone and silent, but somehow this made the scenes they were
witnessing even more graphic and disturbing, and watching them wasn’t doing us
any good.

‘I
think I’ve had all I can take for the time being. We need to be getting on. The
sooner we get out of the Clyde the better, and I’ll need you all out on deck for
this.’ I didn’t, but I thought they’d have less time to dwell on how bad things
were getting on land if I got them working.

Daz
and Tom both headed for the companionway while Claire remained holding Sophie.
‘Come on, you two, I’ll need your help as well. I can’t sail this thing on my
own, not without the engine.’

Claire
smiled at me, knowing this was clearly untrue as I’d just sailed the boat
single-handedly from the Canaries, but also knowing I was trying to make them
feel useful. Sophie disentangled herself from her mother and without saying
anything followed Daz and Tom into the cockpit. Claire carried on watching the
screen. ‘Mind if I stay here for a bit?’

‘How’re you doing with all this?’ I knew I sounded anxious, but that’s because I
was. I could tell Claire was close to the edge, and I couldn’t let anything tip
her over. Suddenly I realised I desperately needed Claire; I needed her cynicism
to keep me sane; I needed her medical skills in case anyone else got injured;
and most of all I needed her to be there for her daughter. While Daz was only a
few years older than Sophie, he’d been used to having to fend for himself for a
very long time, which gave him a certain resilience to anything life could throw
at him, even this. Tom, by contrast, wasn’t a natural survivor; however, his
innate positive attitude meant that even when the world was at its darkest, he
always presumed it would eventually get better, and I knew this would keep him
going. Sophie was different: up until now, she’d led a sheltered life; whatever
she’d done, she’d never been truly on her own, and she’d always had her mother
to look to for support and comfort, even now. Without Claire, and alone for the
first time in this frightening new world, I suspected Sophie would fall apart,
and if that happened, I had no idea how that would affect our ability, as a
group, to survive.

Finally, Claire answered. ‘I’ll cope. I just need some time to get my head round
all this.’

I
could tell from her tone that Claire was growing both angrier and more resentful
about how those in charge were reacting to the rapidly deteriorating situation.
She continued. ‘I know I’ve been pretty down on the military, but even I didn’t
think they’d go this far.’ She buried her head in her hands. ‘They’ve just
abandoned everyone. They’re not even making a pretence of trying to do anything
other than protecting themselves. I can’t believe they’d do that.’

I
glanced at the screen one last time. ‘Maybe they’re not doing it on purpose;
maybe they’re just as scared as the rest of us. After all, this isn’t something
they could train for; it’s not something they could ever have prepared for.
Maybe they’re running from it, just like the rest of us; maybe all they’re doing
is trying to survive, just like we are.’ I started to climb the steps up to the
cockpit, not sure if what I’d just said had done more harm than good.

I was
halfway up when Claire spoke again. ‘Ben?’

I
stopped and turned.

Claire
was no longer staring at the television. ‘Thanks.’

I
looked at her curiously. ‘Why?’

‘I
hadn’t thought about it that way before.’

Leaving Claire to consider this alternative view of the recent events, I
continued up through the companionway and into the cockpit.

Chapter Nine

‘Pull!’ Following my instructions, Daz and Sophie hauled on the halyard, raising
the main sail up the mast. Working together, they soon had it close to the top,
but the wind was starting to fill it, making it difficult to finish raising it.