For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak (38 page)

Tom
remained stock-still. ‘Sorry, what did you say? I wasn’t listening.’

A look
flashed across Nick’s face and there was a click as he cocked the gun. 

The
last time I’d seen Nick like this, he was preparing to execute one of his own
men and I had no intention of letting him do the same to Tom. I moved to stand
up, not quite knowing what I was going to do, but Gordon beat me to it. In a
firm voice, he called out across the bar. ‘Nick, stand down.’

Nothing happened. Gordon took a step forward. ‘Nick, I think you’ve had enough;
I think we all have.’

Nick
remained where he was, staring furiously at Tom.

‘Lieutenant!’ Gordon stepped forward again. ’Since you seem to be so keen on who
outranks whom, you’ll remember that I’m your commanding officer, and I outrank
you.’
He kept walking slowly across the room as he spoke until he was
standing next to Nick. ‘This is a direct order.’ Gordon wasn’t shouting;
instead, his voice was quiet and authoritative. ‘Stand down. Now!’

Nick
finally took his eyes off Tom. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Bucky, I’m just having a bit
of fun.’ He lowered the gun and uncocked it before shoving it back into its
holster. He glowered at the locals. ‘None of you are worth the fucking trouble!’
With that, he turned and stormed out of the bar; the other marines filed out
silently after him.

Gordon
returned to the table and smiled apologetically at Claire and me. ‘I guess this
didn’t do as much for improving relationships as I’d hoped it would.’ He looked
towards the still open door. ‘I should go after them, just to make sure they
don’t cause any more trouble.’ He picked up his drink and finished it in one
gulp. ‘Maybe this whole idea of bringing everyone together in one place just
isn’t going to work. Maybe we should just leave you to get on with it.’ He
sounded a little sad and deflated. ‘After all, now the world’s changed, who says
we really know any more about surviving around here than you guys do?’

Gordon
put down his glass before walking to the door and disappearing into the night.

At
seven the next morning, I heard the sound of the rib’s engines starting up.
Gordon and the marines were leaving early, not even waiting around for
breakfast. The previous evening, which was meant to have built bridges, had
clearly failed; instead, it had only served to further sour the already strained
relationship between the locals and the naval personnel. I went up on deck to
see if I could get a word with them before they left, but they were already
heading out of the bay. On board, I could see Nick yelling at Gordon and
gesticulating wildly. I wondered if this was all about last night, or whether it
ran deeper. The argument continued as they disappeared from sight a few minutes
later, leaving me with a growing sense of unease in the pit of my stomach.

***

Over
the next few weeks, we saw Gordon and the marines in their ribs off in the
distance from time to time, but we had no direct contact with them. They weren’t
obviously avoiding us, but neither were they going out of their way to speak to
us. Maybe I was just imagining it, and it might just have been that they, like
us, were feeling the strain of how things were changing. Infected were now
turning up regularly in communities spread across the islands, and one by one
they were being overrun. To give them credit, the marines were doing their best
to help out wherever they could, and on more than one occasion they’d been lucky
enough to be in just the right place at the right time to save many lives when
this had happened.

An
infected had even turned up in Tobermory early one morning, and it was only by
chance that it had been spotted as it staggered up the shore, seemingly sluggish
after its time in the water. Hamish had managed to dispatch it with his hunting
rifle before it got much further and we gathered around the body as Claire
examined it.

After
a few minutes she stood up. ‘This doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t look like
he’s been in the water for more than a few minutes. Look at his hands.’ She
pointed at the body. ‘They’d be all wrinkled if he’d been in the sea for any 
longer, and they’re not.’

Hamish
bent down and stared closely at the man’s face. ‘I know him.’ He looked up at
me. ‘You do, too.’

I
knelt down beside Hamish. The man did seem familiar, but the disease had changed
him: he’d become gaunt, his cheeks hollow from lack of food. ‘I don’t thi— Wait!
That’s Martin Gallagher!’

Martin
was well-known locally, although most people simply referred to him as ‘The
Professor’, both because of his eccentric looks and because of how he’d ended up
on Mull. He’d taken early retirement after selling some energy saving gadget
he’d invented to a big multi-national, and had used the money to buy a
long-abandoned farmhouse on the south coast of the island. He’d rebuilt it from
the ground up and made it completely self-sufficient by installing wind
turbines, solar panels and even a small tidal power generator of his own design.
Much to the bemusement of the locals, this resembled a gigantic duck whose head
dipped in and out of the water as the tide rose and fell.

Both
Hamish and I straightened up. I glanced at the man again. ‘How the hell could
the Professor have got here? If he went into the water anywhere near where he
lived, the currents would have been against him all the way.’

Hamish
shrugged. ‘I don’t know. None of this makes any sense.’

***

By the
end of the month, the only community where no infected had appeared was the one
on Rhum, and the result was that the number of people living there was swelling
rapidly as more and more of the locals chose to relocate: some forced from their
own homes by the rapidly spreading infected; others doing so by choice,
believing that the naval personnel could offer far better protection than they
could provide themselves.

The
infected were certainly a growing threat, but it was still unclear why they’d
suddenly started turning up with such regularity, or where they were coming
from. The morning after Canna had been overtaken, Mitch and Hamish came out to
the yacht, and together we tried to work out what was going on.

‘Ben,’
Mitch pressed her temples in frustration, ‘I know you think there could be
infected drifting around out there, and while I agree it’s possible, the fact
is, in all the time I’ve been flying around, I haven’t seen a single one. And
neither have you.’

‘I
know, but how else can they be getting onto the islands?’ I blurted out
exasperatedly. ‘It’s the only way that seems remotely feasible’

‘There’ve been eight attacks in the last week, including when the Professor
turned up here. With Canna gone, we’re the only place, other than Rhum, where
people are still holding on.’ Hamish shook his head. ‘For this to be happening
so often, there’d have to be a lot of them out there … and there just aren’t.’

‘Maybe
you’re missing them somehow,’ Tom interjected.

Mitch
turned on him. ‘Are you saying I don’t know what I’m looking for?’

‘No,
it’s just …’ Tom fumbled around, trying to put his thoughts in order. ‘Maybe
we’re just not out there at the right time of day. Haven’t you noticed? The
infected always turn up late at night or first thing in the morning, like the
Professor did. Maybe that’s got something to do with it.’

I
hadn’t noticed the pattern before, and now I thought about it, I saw Tom was
right, but I struggled to work out what it meant.

‘Maybe
it’s something to do with the way they behave.’ Sophie looked quizzical. ‘Could
they be doing it on purpose?’

Claire
leant forward. ‘There’s nothing we’ve seen so far which would suggest they’re
capable of anything other than basic functions like running and biting: all they
seem to care about is attacking uninfected. The disease seems to burn out
everything else in their brains. I don’t think they can do anything which isn’t
innate. That would rule out them using a boat, or even swimming, so I don’t see
how they could be doing it on purpose.’

‘But
they’re doing it somehow!’ Sophie retorted.

I
could see the discussion was getting us nowhere and that tensions were beginning
to show. We badly needed to work out what was going on so that we could protect
ourselves, but there seemed to be no logical explanation.

Letting out a deep sigh, Claire sat back in her seat. ‘Maybe we should think
about moving up to Rhum after all.’ She glanced round nervously. ‘As far as we
know, it’s the only place which hasn’t been affected yet, and even if infected
make it there, they’re better prepared to deal with it than we are: they’ve got
the guns and the training, and there’s the Big House to hole up in until the
infected are dealt with.’

Tom
stared at her. ‘That’s quite a change of attitude.’

Claire
shrugged. ‘Sometimes you’ve got to be pragmatic about these things. If Rhum
really is safer, then maybe it’s our best option.’

‘Aye,
but how do we know if it really is?’ Hamish glanced round the group. ‘Maybe
there have been attacks there and they’ve just kept it quiet. They’re keeping
pretty tight control of the place nowadays, not letting anyone off once they
move there.’ He turned to Mitch. ‘When was the last time they let you visit?’

Mitch
nodded. ‘True, but even if they have had infected turn up there, they haven’t
been overrun, have they?’

‘So
are you saying we should leave here?’ There was anger in Hamish’s voice. ‘After
all we’ve done and all we’ve been through?’

‘No.’
Mitch looked down to avoid making eye contact with Hamish, ‘but I think we
should at least consider it if we can’t work out what’s going on.’

Chapter
Eighteen

The
sun was just about to drop below the horizon when a black rib raced around the
headland and into Tobermory Bay. Daz was the first to spot it, but by the time
it was clear they were making a beeline for us, we were all up on deck. As the
rib turned sharply and bumped alongside of the yacht, I could see Nick was at
the wheel.

He
wasted no time in announcing why they were there. ‘We’ve got a badly injured
man. We need Claire.’

Claire
stepped forward. ‘What happened?’

‘We
were trying to get supplies for the clinic Bucky was setting up for you when we
got jumped by some infected. Things got messy and one of our men got caught in
the crossfire.’ Nick looked to Claire. ‘He needs your help. Please.’

‘Okay,
I’ll get my bag,’ Claire turned just as she reached the companionway, ‘Where is
he? Has Gordon taken him back to Rhum?’

‘Bucky’s dead.’ Nick spoke in a perfunctory tone as he kept his eyes locked on
Claire. ‘An infected got him. I told him it was too risky, but he was hell-bent
on getting supplies for the clinic. He just wouldn’t listen to reason.’ We
looked at each other, shocked and not quite knowing what to say.

Claire
was the first to speak. ‘But I never even gave him a list. I never agreed …’

‘I
know, but he thought he could make up for the trouble I caused in the bar by
putting the clinic together for you anyway.’ Nick shook his head. ‘I feel so
responsible.’ He looked down for a moment and then quickly back at Claire.
‘Anyway, what’s done is done, and I don’t want to lose anyone else.’

This
stirred Claire back into action. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’ With that she
disappeared below. As we waited, I watched the marines: despite their loss, they
seemed to be holding up well.

A
moment later, Claire reappeared. ‘Sophie, you’re coming with me.’

Sophie
protested for a moment, but then saw the expression on her mother’s face and
ducked into the cabin, grabbing her waterproof jacket and pulling it angrily
over her head. Just as Claire was about to climb into the rib, Tom stopped her.
‘Wouldn’t it be faster to fly up with Mitch?’

Claire
quickly scanned the anchorage. ‘She’s not here, and we don’t know when she’ll be
back. If someone’s been shot, I’ll need to see to them as soon as possible. I
don’t want anyone else dying if they don’t have to.’ Clearly, she was rattled by
the fact that Gordon had lost his life trying to find supplies so she’d be able
to treat people better in just this type of situation.

I
could see where Claire was coming from, but something was niggling at me about
the whole situation; I just couldn’t work out what. I glanced at Tom and could
see he was troubled by similar thoughts. In the meantime, Sophie was already in
the rib and Claire was about to follow.

‘Wait,
I’ll come with you. You never know, I might be able to help out.’ Before I could
stop him, Tom leapt into the rib, too.

Nick
smiled. ‘It’s okay with me; any of the rest of you want to come?’

Daz
made to move forward, but I stopped him. ‘I need you here.’ I looked at Claire
and then Tom. ‘We’ll sail over in the morning and pick you up.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Tom waved over his shoulder as the rib turned and sped out
of the bay. I stared after them, trying to work out what was causing the odd
feeling deep in my stomach. The fact that Gordon was dead had a lot to do with
it, but there was something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.