Survival

by David Fletcher

  This, his last remark, earned him a long-lasting round of laughter, and that it lasted so long was probably a function of the general mood in the crowded lounge. This was one of enthusiasm and anticipation, and a sense of almost childlike excitement at what the immediate future might hold. And if there were any concerns, or any doubts, or indeed any fears still lurking in people’s minds, for the moment at least they were forgotten. Although that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be remembered when the band of five plus two gathered again for this evening’s more modest dinner.

  In fact, the subject of fear in the singular was the first topic of discussion. Stuart was interested to know whether his companions at the table felt more or less fearful now than they had when he’d addressed them in the main lounge well over a month ago – to reveal his knowledge of the spores.

  The consensus around the table was a definite ‘less’. That initial shock – of learning that the world of humans was being rapidly devoured – had certainly instilled a huge amount of fear in everybody’s minds. But now, as all agreed, it was very different. Alex, it appeared, wasn’t the only one at the table who hadn’t been able to sustain that early level of raw fear indefinitely. Indeed, it also became clear that, for all seven of the diners, the mood of cautious anticipation that now suffused the ship had largely overtaken even the residue of that initial fear.

  Nevertheless, not everybody’s emotions were entirely positive. And certainly not Elaine’s. This became clear when she admitted to feeling a little embarrassed and almost ashamed to be on the threshold of a brave new world, but a new world that would be in the hands of a bunch of people who had done little more than hide themselves away. Pioneers, she maintained – and settlers and trailblazers – were almost exclusively courageous and resourceful types; stalwarts who were prepared to undergo hardships and all sorts of dangers to realise their dreams. They crossed seas in tiny vessels, they endured near starvation and all sorts of diseases in their attempt to build for themselves new lives. And they very often had to fight for their lives. Well, she conceded, this remnant of humanity on board the Sea Sprite had lost nine of its number at Deception Island, and there had been that singular display of outstanding courage at Cierva Cove – by just a handful of other brave souls. But, by and large, the ancient mariners aboard this vessel had adopted a very passive approach on their road to a new Jerusalem. And it couldn’t be denied that they had run away. (And here, Elaine made clear that she was referring to the Sea Sprite’s dash south, and not Stuart and Gill’s ‘escape’ from the Falklands.) What’s more, she said, they had been obliged to endure no privations of any sort, and essentially had been able to continue a pampered cruise while the rest of humanity had been writhing in its death throes. And all that, she concluded, could hardly be characterised as heroic. It had all been far too easy, far too straightforward, and just not the stuff of building a cautious new world, let alone a brave one.

  Alex could see her point. The passengers and crew of the Sea Sprite, he thought, had simply been lucky. (Or at least, those of them who hadn’t been taken at Deception Island, and who hadn’t had to earn their luck through some sharpshooting at Cierva Cove.) But he also thought that in a way they were all as much the victims of the super-spores as were all those who had perished. Their old lives had been ripped away, and they’d reacted in the only way they could. And they now had before them the considerable task of creating new lives; something that would be a real challenge no matter how much enthusiasm they could sustain. And it might yet require some heroic efforts.

  Similar thoughts to these were already being expressed by Debbie, but before Alex could add his own voice to the discussion, Roy decided to take the discussion in a different direction. And he did this by pointing out – politely – that it was always fruitful to look at any situation from other than a human perspective. Especially when that situation involved humans.

  Elaine was right, he said. There was very little that was heroic about the Sea Sprite’s odyssey so far, and whatever those aboard it could establish as a new beginning would be built on foundations composed mostly of passivity cemented together with bucketfuls of ‘self’. But that hardly mattered. Because what did matter was the world, the whole world, and not just the speck of brave new world that might be fashioned by either the Sea Sprite’s scraps of humanity or by those still tucked away on Antarctic bases.

  Here, he began to elaborate on his theme. And he did this by suggesting to his table companions that, if one regarded the world not as a large rock circling the sun, but as a complex web of life that had taken billions of years to evolve and now represented something of untold beauty and wonder, then perversely the world’s future had just become infinitely brighter. For years it had been under attack from one small element of all that complexity, otherwise known as man. Indeed, this ‘man’ had already inflicted so much damage that an extinction event had been triggered that was destined to shred more of the Earth’s beauty and wonder than had been managed by a giant asteroid in the dim and distant past. But now, through chance, ‘good’ fortune or maybe Gaia’s design, that toxic element had been almost entirely removed, and even if a tiny residue of toxicity remained and was able to increase in size, it was indisputable that ‘the world’ could look forward to a healthy future for thousands of years to come, if not for a lot longer than that. It was a simple question, he proposed, of deciding what was the real toxin: the spores, or those affected by the spores? And in coming to that decision, maybe the nature of the foundations of the new humanity was not that important.

  To her enormous credit, Elaine did not appear to be in the least offended, and her only response to Roy’s gentle broadside was a smiley ‘Touché’. She clearly knew him too well to think that there was an iota of malice in his remarks, and just as clearly she didn’t resent being reminded of that other-than-human perspective. After all, one could not dismiss the fact that humanity, whatever it managed now – and if it survived at all – would be a bit player for thousands if not tens of thousands of years to come. And it was only right and proper that it relinquished its roles as the centre of attention and the only thing on the planet that mattered.

  After Roy’s heartfelt contribution to the discussion, there was still much of the evening to come, and initially Derek assumed the mantle of the group’s self-critical conscience by suggesting that whatever the Sea Sprite’s cargo of humans did when they got back to Ushuaia, it should not countenance the revival of any of those dreadful religions that for so long had put humans on a pedestal and relegated every other life form to the status of useful, edible, sport-worthy or just plain worthless. In fact, he promised, if a born-again Christian or a Hindu or a Muslim crawled out of his shell, he might just have to knock his head off. And if any cult appeared, he would insist it was strangled at birth…

  Following on from this laying down of the rules concerning the lack of religious freedom in Derek’s new world, the conversation moved on to some less ‘strident’ topics. Debbie brought up the subject of music, and whether there would be any way to listen to all that wonderful music from the ’60s and ’70s ever again. Gill wondered aloud how she would get through life without the services of a professional dentist. And Alex finally rounded off the evening by asking Debbie whether her group’s consideration of the medical needs of the Sea Sprite’s senior citizens had extended to their need for Viagra or one of its generic equivalents. And, if so, had they possibly formulated how this ‘assistance’ might be located and, if it was, how it might be distributed to those in need? He didn’t get an answer, but he did get one final round of laughter on this last evening in Paradise Bay. And he did ensure that all those at the table left it with smiles on their faces, even if, as they dropped off to sleep in their respective cabins, they brought back to mind Roy’s salutary comments on their rather overdue insignificant status…

  thirty-six

  As Stuart lay in bed, still very much awake, he was not thinking about R
oy’s salutary comments. Instead, he was thinking about whether he and Gill should participate in Captain José’s return to Ushuaia. Every day he tested his earlier decision to throw in his lot with the passengers and crew of the Sea Sprite, and so confirm in his mind that he was doing the best for Gill and for himself. Up to now this test had always come up with the same result: stay and assist Captain José in any way that he and Gill could, and reject any other course of action. Especially a yacht trip to Rothera.

  However, tonight, it wasn’t so clear-cut. He realised something had changed. And what it was, of course, was the fact that the voyage back to Ushuaia would mean the closing down of any real opportunity to abandon the Sea Sprite in favour of the currently reachable Rothera base. He and Gill might not be welcome there, and they might even be turned away if they did arrive there. Stuart knew this only too well. Just as he knew that he had always come down in favour of sticking with the Sea Sprite not because of this probability of rejection by Rothera but instead because of the attachment he and Gill had formed with so many of those on board this vessel. Nevertheless, there was still that niggling attraction that could not be ignored; the attraction of the company of people of a similar age. Even if he and Gill might ultimately decide to go their own way.

  He could not help admitting to himself that whilst he and Gill had made some real friends on the Sea Sprite, and not least the famous five, these friends were predominantly old friends – as in years, not duration. And bluntly, how long would they live? And even more bluntly, did he want to become one of their carers? How easy would it be for him and Gill to sail off into the sunset if it meant deserting real friends when their needs had become acute?

  He stayed awake until the early hours trying to come to a decision, and finally he realised that the ties he and Gill had already formed on this ship with so many people meant that abandoning these people would be far, far worse than their abandoning all those poor sods back at Mount Pleasant. And for what? Merely to be with a bunch of people of their own age whom they didn’t even know. And it would also be to ignore the fact that this ship had saved their lives, and that so many of the people aboard it had welcomed them with open arms, to say nothing of then providing them with weeks of comfort and sustenance – and genuine friendship.

  Yes, friendship above all else still bound Stuart – and Gill – to this vessel. Gill, maybe even more. Indeed, hadn’t she told him all too often how she had been overwhelmed by the warmth of this big bunch of grandpas and grandmas, and he could simply not conceive that she would willingly break so many newly formed bonds. That would take something quite extraordinary to happen.

  He wasn’t in the situation he wanted to be in. But when had he been? Certainly not back at Mount Pleasant. So, he had just better accept that for better or for worse he was one of the Sea Sprite’s company, and his fate lay with theirs. And even if that meant he was making the wrong decision, then at least he was making the wrong decision for the right reasons.

  He and Gill would be going back to Ushuaia aboard the Sea Sprite, and that was final.

  thirty-seven

  On their last morning in Paradise Bay, Alex and Debbie once again followed their normal routine, albeit they were more reluctant than ever to quit their established cabin-balcony survey of the bay’s superlative charms. The weather was perfect, and the bay looked no less than stunning. And, of course, tomorrow morning they wouldn’t be here to judge whether it still looked stunning or not. Because they would be gone. This was their final chance to drink in the early-morning splendour of one of the most beautiful places on the planet, and they wanted to gulp down as much of it as they could. Even if it meant turning up rather late for breakfast.

  They did just make it in time, and they were still able to share their meal with Elaine and Derek, who, it appeared, had also lingered over their last morning view of Paradise Bay. And it must have been the finality of this act – for all four of them – that was responsible for the distinct air of melancholy at their shared table. It was so distinct that Alex thought he would try to smother it with a cloak of futile questioning. He would ask Derek whether he was now prepared to reveal the conclusions of his ‘top-secret’ planning group; the one he’d asked to be allowed to join and the one that had been given the innocuous-sounding title of ‘clearance’. Because it had been charged with examining what might need to be done to clear the multiple dead bodies they might find on the streets of Ushuaia…

  Derek maintained the reluctance he’d shown for the past four weeks to discuss any aspect of this group’s work, and informed Alex that he would simply have to wait. The group’s findings would, he assured him, be made public in one of the forthcoming plenary sessions. Or, at least, those of its findings that wouldn’t cause too much distress. However, this answer merely spurred Alex on, and he therefore asked Derek to give him just a hint of the nature of the more distressing findings. He would be so grateful, he said, and he and Debbie would promise not to tell another soul.

  It was no good. In the first place, Elaine told Alex that Derek had disclosed barely anything to her, despite four weeks of her asking. And in the second place, Derek’s expression was beginning to betray the fact that he was really relishing being the custodian of some ‘secret’ information, and that he intended to keep it secret. Even from Alex and Debbie – and Roy. He was sure, he said – with a very wide grin – that in his situation, all three of them would do exactly the same.

  He was right. And Alex had known from the outset that his questioning would be futile. It had, however, dispelled that air of melancholy at the table, and he now sought to ensure that it didn’t return by supplying his table companions with his own speculations regarding what might be extremely distressing about the clearance of corpses from Ushuaia’s thoroughfares. This wasn’t too difficult. There was little about what this might involve that wasn’t extremely distressing. So, he started off with the state of the corpses, which he imagined would be terrible, before moving on to their number, which he suggested might be enormous, and then to the actual clearance techniques, which he proposed could be the most distressing aspect of all. Fortunately, his table companions had finished eating by the time he’d adopted this further avoidance-of-melancholia tactic, but that didn’t stop him being reprimanded by his wife. She conceded that the reality of Ushuaia might be something they all needed to come to terms with very soon, but she questioned why it had to be made a topic of conversation at the breakfast table. And while they were still in the magical surroundings of Paradise Bay.

  No sooner had Debbie delivered this reprimand, than she and her three table companions became aware that the Sea Sprite’s engines had sprung into life. It seemed that they would very soon be leaving those magical surroundings…

  Within minutes, Alex and Debbie were back in their cabin, observing their exit from the bay as their vessel embarked on its long trip north, and what very quickly became apparent was that they had by no means left the magic kingdom. The scenery – everywhere – was, just as they’d observed on their journey south, superb. And so simply enthralling that they’d soon taken themselves to the stern of the Erikson Deck to provide themselves with a more panoramic view of what they were passing. They spent much of the morning here – before then spending quite a bit of time in the bar. Debbie, in particular, wanted to save her appetite for the evening’s gala Captain’s Dinner, and was happy to let a large bowl of peanuts serve as her and her husband’s lunch. This also meant that they could spend a little more time at the stern of the ship before turning up for this afternoon’s lecture on Giant Icebergs and South Georgia. It sounded just interesting enough to persuade them to forsake even more scenery viewing. At least for three-quarters of an hour.

  Most of the other passengers appeared to have come to the same conclusion, so that when Tony began to tell his audience that in recent decades several icebergs had been observed passing close to South Georgia that were nearly the size of the island itself
, he was addressing a virtually full house. It soon became an attentive full house as well. Tony’s presentation was really very interesting indeed, and it held everybody in its thrall, right up until about ten minutes from its scheduled end, when they all began to realise that the Sea Sprite was slowing…

  Tony carried on, now deep into a discussion about the Ross Ice Shelf. But he was beginning to lose his audience. And it was lost forever when Captain José entered the lounge with Jane and strode quickly towards where Tony was standing, while, at the same time, a voice on the tannoy was demanding the immediate attendance in the lounge of all those who had not been tempted by a top-up of their knowledge of giant icebergs. Captain José then relieved Tony of his microphone, and used it to tell the assembled company that he would wait just a couple of minutes to allow others to join them, after which he would make an important announcement. He looked grey, and his voice had lost something of its usual confidence. He occupied himself for the pregnant two minutes by whispering to Jane and Tony, but his appearance, and the manner of his appearance, had already reduced the atmosphere in the lounge to one of acute alarm. Everybody could clearly sense that something was very wrong. Then finally he spoke. His voice sounded almost strained.