For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak (31 page)

We
walked slowly along the quay; Sophie and Tom were swaying gently, while Daz had
stumbled twice already. After the second time, he was getting frustrated. ‘How
come I can’t walk properly? It’s like I’m drunk or somethin’!’

‘It’s
called “sea legs”. Your body’s got used to being on a moving boat.’ I grinned,
amused by the confused look on his face. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll wear off.’

Daz
stumbled again, grabbing onto Sophie for support. ‘When?’

I
stifled a laugh. ‘In about half an hour or so.’

By
then, we’d reached the point where the quay met the road which ran along the
shore. In front of us, was a row of stone houses, each several storeys high.
While most were jammed tightly together, some were separated by narrow lanes.
Many of the lower levels housed shops, while some were occupied by pubs and
cafes. In effect, these buildings acted as a vast pre-existing barrier between
the small stretch of land in front of them and the rest of the island, and all
the residents had needed to do to secure it was board up any rear-facing
windows, close off the alleyways and block the road at either end. It was still
a mammoth task, but the local architecture had made it possible for them to hold
back the infected rather than being overrun. I turned to Hamish. ‘So where’d you
get all the bales from?’

‘From
various farms on the island; it didn’t take as long as you might think to get
the safe area set up, not with all of us working together. The only problem was
we weren’t fast enough and the infection arrived while we were still trying to
gather all the supplies we thought we’d need.’

He
paused and looked off into the distance. ‘I still don’t know how it happened.
One minute, we were unloading cases of canned food from the back of a Land
Rover, and the next it seemed like there were infected everywhere, and all we
could do was run. That was when I realised I’d screwed up when I designed the
barricades. I’d aimed to make them as impregnable as possible, but it never
occurred to me that we might have to get over them in a hurry. We were pinned
against the wall by the infected and we didn’t have any weapons. Anyway, these
weren’t strangers; they were people we recognised; people we’d known all our
lives; people we went to school with ...’ His voice faded away for a moment.

‘We
all just huddled there with the infected whittling us down as those on the
outside of the group got attacked and killed, or worse, got turned into more
infected. Our only option was to try to get over the barrier we’d built, but
there weren’t any footholds and nothing to grip onto so it was difficult. I’m
not proud of it, but it was everyone for themselves. It was the only thing we
could do to survive. Only those of us who were fit and able enough made it. The
old people, the kids, they didn’t stand a chance. You couldn’t carry anyone; you
couldn’t pull them up behind you. All you could do was climb. I remember sitting
there once I’d reached the top, looking down. The infected were everywhere,
tearing into people, people I knew, people I loved.’ Hamish shook his head. ‘If
only I’d thought about how we were going to get in when we built the walls
rather than just how we were going to keep
them
out. At the start of that
day, there were almost 800 people here. Within ten minutes of the first infected
showing up, there were only fifty of us left.’

The
loss of life was small in comparison to what had happened in other places, like
Glasgow, but for a small community like Tobermory, it would have been as
devastating as the loss of hundreds of thousands in some distant city. The fact
that the infected who now lined their makeshift walls, desperate to break in and
kill those inside, were people they knew, or were even related to, made it all
the more heart-wrenching.

Hamish
continued. ‘Those of us who survived that first day have been working hard to
try to keep the community together, to work with people on the other islands
which are still disease-free. Mitch has been great for that. She’s been able to
check out places which it would have taken us days to get round to visiting.
It’s helped us maintain some of the connections we had before all this
happened.’

I
remembered something and broke in. ‘Mitch mentioned about navy people turning
up.’

‘Aye.’
Hamish rubbed the back of his neck. ‘They arrived a couple of days after the
infection. They were looking for somewhere to set up a base. The one in charge
was nice enough, but they seemed to feel they had some right to order us around.
They were talking about bringing survivors together, thinking it would make it
easier for them to protect us. They didn’t seem to appreciate we were doing just
fine on our own and that we could damn well protect ourselves. They weren’t here
when we really needed them, and I can’t see how they can do any better than
we’re already doing.’ There was a great deal of bitterness and anger in Hamish’s
voice. ‘They might have their machine guns and their training, but there’s more
to staying safe than that, isn’t there? I mean, you’ve done pretty well without
any guns, haven’t you?’

I
started to reply, but Hamish carried on before I could answer. ‘Anyway, they
clearly didn’t think this place would make a particularly good base and they
moved on almost as soon as they arrived. Next thing we know, Mitch was telling
us they’d taken over the Big House on Rhum. There’s no infection there and even
though it’s a big island, only about twenty people live there so the residents
couldn’t put up much resistance against thirty-eight heavily armed men.’

I was
keen to find out more. ‘Any idea what they’ve been doing since then?’

‘Going
round the various surviving communities, trying to persuade them to relocate to
Rhum, so they can protect them more easily. So far, they’ve not had much luck.
People around here are used to doing things for themselves. We don’t like
outsiders coming in and telling us what we should be doing.’

The
other man chimed in. ’From what I hear, they’ve also been fortifying the Big
House.’

Daz
frowned. ‘What’s “the Big House”?’

‘It’s
where the island’s owners used to live. It’s a mansion really, but everyone
calls it the “Big House” because it’s much larger than anything else on the
island.’

Claire
nodded. ‘Makes sense. And you said they’re fortifying it?’

‘It’s
pretty much built like a castle, anyway, so it’s not exactly difficult, but
they’ve been blocking up the windows on the ground floor and stuff like that. I
guess it’s in case any infected get onto the island, but I can’t see how that’s
going to happen. Rhum’s too far from the mainland.’

‘Aye,’
Hamish nodded before looking round. ‘So you want the tour?’

‘Sounds good.’ I followed as Hamish led off, with the others trailing after us.

Our
tour of Tobermory was both illuminating and horrifying. It was clearly secure,
at least for the time being, but the infected were never far away. Almost
everywhere we went, I could hear their snarls and moans as they clawed on the
barricades and hammered on the boarded-up windows and doors at the backs of the
buildings, which separated the safe area from the rest of the town. At one end,
there was a ladder leading up onto the top of the straw bales. We climbed up and
found ourselves looking down on more infected. Our presence enraged them, and
they started to screech and scream as they threw themselves against the bales
below us. Despite the anger which burned in their eyes, they looked so normal;
like people you might meet every day.

While
the rest of us stared, Hamish turned away.

Daz
was watching him. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘What’s wrong?’ He turned back and pointed angrily to a man about his own age
with closely cropped hair. ‘That’s my best friend down there. I’ve known him
since I was eight.’ He pointed again, this time to an elderly woman who, despite
her years, was pounding violently against the barrier. ‘That’s my aunt; and that
…’ He couldn’t even look at the woman wearing a bloodstained jacket, slowly
healing bite marks visible on her throat and neck. ‘That’s my wife.’

Daz
let out a low sigh, the full impact of what Hamish had just said quickly sinking
in. ‘Shit!’

I
gazed at the infected, seeing them in a new light, and then I recognised one of
them. I turned to Hamish. ‘Is that …?’ I almost couldn’t get the words out. ‘Is
that Big John?’

Hamish
nodded.

Big
John had worked at the fuel dock in Tobermory for as long as I’d been sailing
these waters, and he was always happy to share a story or pass on a snippet of
information. It wasn’t that he gossiped, he just let everyone know what was
happening. You’d spend five minutes filling up and by the time you left, you’d
have a better idea of what everyone else was doing than if you’d spoken to them
all yourself.

Now,
there he was, his beard flecked with grey, his hair dishevelled, still wearing
his trademark yellow oilskin jacket. Gone was the usual friendly grin, replaced
by a look of intense rage: I’d never seen such fury in the eyes of another human
being.

I
climbed down from the barricade, deeply affected by what I’d seen, and what the
survivors in Tobermory had to endure each and every day. The infected we’d
encountered before were unknown to us; they were strangers; we had no prior
knowledge of them: we knew nothing of what they’d once been. Here, in Tobermory,
they knew many of the infected that surrounded them; they’d lived with them,
laughed with them; they’d grown up with them; and now, all those with the
disease wanted to do was to attack those who remained uninfected.

‘Why
don’t you do something about it?’ Sophie was staring at Hamish.

He
looked confused. ‘What d’you mean?’

Sophie
kept her eyes locked on him. ‘Why don’t you put them out of their misery?’

‘How?
We don’t have the guns or the ammunition to kill them all.’ Hamish gazed off
into the distance. ‘Besides, everyone in here knows almost everyone out there.
Who do we decide to kill first? Who’s going to do it?’ Hamish stared at Sophie.
‘Could you do it to someone you loved? If you could, you’re a better person than
I am because I’d give anything to be able to put them out of their misery, to be
able to bury them, to mourn their loss, but I can’t. I know; I’ve tried. I’ve
sat up there with my hunting rifle, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. So
they live on, hollow husks of the people they once were. Whenever I see one that
I used to know, it’s like someone stabbing a knife into my very soul and
twisting. Yet, I can’t help it, because they’re always there, waiting for us to
slip up so they can tear us apart.’

Sophie
didn’t say anything, but the look on her face suggested she was thinking about
Jake, and about what her mother had done. Finally, I think she realised how much
courage it had taken for Claire to kill him before he turned, and why she’d had
to do it.

Just
as we finished our tour of what was left of Tobermory, there was a shout from
our left, and I turned to see Mitch striding towards us. ‘So you finally made
it. Great! Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.’ She looked at Sophie and
Claire. ‘I see you got my welcome present.’

‘Yes!’
Sophie twirled round, showing off her new clothes. ‘They’re brilliant! Where did
you get them from?’

‘They
belong to a friend’s daughter who’s about your age.’

‘Cool.
I’ll need to thank her for letting me have them. Can I meet her?’

There
was an awkward silence.

‘What?’ Sophie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where is she?’

Mitch
turned away to avoid making eye contact.

Sophie
suddenly looked very serious. ‘Where is she?’

Seeing
Mitch was getting upset, Claire stepped forward and put her hand on her
daughter’s shoulder. ‘Just leave it, honey.’

Sophie
shook off her mother’s hand. ‘No, I want to know. Where is she?’

‘It’s
okay.’ Mitch’s voice sounded flat; she took a deep breath. ‘She’s gone. We lost
her when Tobermory was overrun.’

‘And
you thought you could just take her clothes and give them to me?’ Sophie’s face
clouded with anger. ‘They’re not yours; they’re hers. You’ve got no right to do
that!’

Claire
grabbed Sophie and pulled her back. ‘Don’t speak to Mitch like that!’

‘But
she’s got no right!’ Tears welled up in Sophie’s eyes. ‘Don’t you see? Their
stuff … it’s all that’s left of them: it’s all that there is to remember them
by.’ A single sob escaped from her. ‘If I’d died, would you just give my things
away? What about Jake’s? Would you give Jake’s stuff away now he’s gone?’ Sophie
turned and stormed towards the quay. As she did so, she yelled back to us.
‘Someone needs to take me back to the boat. I need to get out of these clothes.
Now!’

Daz
frowned. ‘Why’s she so upset?’

Claire
watched Sophie walk away. ‘I think all this has reminded her about Jake and her
friends, and how they’re all gone. And how many kids just like her are now dead
… or worse. I’d better go after her.’ She glanced at Mitch. ‘Sorry. It’s not
your fault. She’s not dealing with all this very well.’

Daz,
looked at Claire. ‘I thought she was doing okay.’