Surviving the Evacuation 11: Search and Rescue

by Frank Tayell

  Chapter 17 - One If By Land…

  London, 10th November, Day 242

  “That was a nice wedding,” Nilda said, “and it was nice to have a wedding. Aisha and Kevin looked so happy. It’s a shame about the weather, though they say snow on your wedding day is good luck, just as long as the bride doesn’t slip on the ice and spend the honeymoon in hospital.”

  “It was more like slush than snow,” Chester said. “I’ve always said that you have to be crazy to get married in winter.”

  “Really?” Nilda asked. “How often have you said that? Anyway, technically it’s still autumn.”

  “It’s cold enough for winter,” Chester said, “and it’ll only get colder. I wish Greta wasn’t going to Anglesey.”

  “You don’t think she’ll make it?” Nilda asked.

  “It’s not that,” Chester said. “I think she stands as good a chance as anyone. Too many people have died, and I don’t think there’s any need for her to go. We’ve got food, we’ve got water, we should take the time to enjoy being alive. If we wait until spring, there’ll be far fewer undead. By then, there might not be any need for her to go. If those satellites still work, they’re bound to spot the paint on the roof and the smoke from the fires, not to mention us all wandering around. Or maybe they’ll send a boat around the coast, just to see whether London is still habitable.”

  “There’s still the danger of a horde,” Nilda said. “We may have food and water, but if millions of the undead descend on London, if we have to flee using those rafts, too many will die.”

  “We can set up stashes of food downriver,” Chester suggested.

  “Maybe we should do that anyway, just in case,” Nilda said, “but the world is too big a place for us to live alone. The people in Wales need to know we’re here as much as we need them. Anyway, it’s Greta’s choice and no one is going to talk her out of it. It was a nice wedding,” she added, taking his hand. “Let’s walk the walls. The air seems fresher tonight. I think the river is finally starting to clear.”

  Hand in hand, they walked the Tower of London’s walls while the sound of laughter carried to them from the castle below.

  “I never asked, were you ever married?” Nilda asked.

  “No, I’m not the marrying kind. You weren’t though, were you?”

  “No,” Nilda said. “We just didn’t get around to it. I regret that.”

  “I don’t regret anything,” Chester said. “Not anymore. On which note, I got you something.” He took a small package out of his pocket.

  “It’s too large to be a ring. It’s not, is it?” Nilda asked, an air of trepidation in her voice.

  “Just open it,” Chester said.

  She did. “It’s a book,” she said, puzzled. “About Napoleon?”

  “Turn to page one hundred and forty-two,” Chester said.

  She did. “It’s a picture of my sword.”

  “Probably not your exact sword,” he said. “It was the bee etched on the blade that gave it away. That was the emblem of the Bonaparte family. I saw one on a plate in the Fusilier’s museum so I asked Fogerty about it. How was it your friend Sebastian described it, his retirement fund?”

  “He said it was a replica, but an old replica,” Nilda said.

  “It was one of five hundred Napoleon had made and which he gave to his generals,” Chester said. “The details are all there in the book. I thought… well, just because I don’t have any memories I want to cherish, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

  “It’s perfect,” she said, leaning in closer. “If it had been a ring…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m just saying— Chester! Coming up the Thames. It’s a ship!”

  Five minutes later, Chester shifted anxiously from foot to foot, peering at the ship slowly approaching the riverbank. Next to him, Nilda stood stock-still. They were alone. Everyone else had gathered on the walls, and though they were keeping their weapons out of sight, they had them close to hand. In the frantic few minutes since the boat had been spotted, a hubbub of fears and hopes had echoed across the ancient fortress. They all hoped the boat came from Anglesey, bringing the prospect of safety for years to come. Harsh experience told them to fear the opposite.

  The ship drew nearer. From above, a trio of bright hand-lamps were shone on the approaching craft.

  “It’s a sailing boat,” Chester said.

  “A racing yacht, do you think?” Nilda said. “There’s a flag, isn’t there? At the stern, is that… is that the skull and crossbones? It is! Oh, hell.” She signalled to the walls, moving her hands in the same sign over and over again. They’d all been learning sign language, and though only Jay and Tuck were fluent, the sign for imminent danger was one that they all knew well.

  “Wait,” Chester said. “Wait, the submariners flew that flag.”

  “That’s not a submarine,” Nilda said, but it was too late to retreat to the walls. There was a moment of frantic activity on the ship. It slowed, sliding almost to a complete rest by the fragile jetty.

  A young woman with short-cropped red hair jumped ashore, a rope in hand. She stopped, peered at Chester and Nilda, and then laughed. “Chester Carson! It’s good to see you, and good to have the ground beneath my feet again,” she said cheerfully as she secured the rope. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble we had around the Isle of Wight.”

  Chester squinted into the darkness. His eyesight hadn’t properly recovered from when Graham’s bullet had scraped along his skull. He vaguely recognised the woman, and the voice was familiar, too. He certainly recognised the next one.

  “Give Lorraine a hand, Chester,” George Tull called out. “And then give me a hand to get out of this boat. It’s been a rough voyage.”

  “George?” Chester couldn’t believe it.

  Nilda laughed. “You’re from Anglesey?”

  “Where else?” Lorraine replied.

  “They’re from Anglesey!” Nilda called to the tower walls. “They’re from Anglesey!” There wasn’t quite a cheer. It was more a collective sigh, but it was louder than the wind.

  Another sailor jumped ashore, a woman Chester didn’t recognise. As she helped Lorraine secure the boat, Chester reached down to help George onto the quayside.

  “We saw the flag and thought the worst,” Chester said.

  “Flag? What flag?” George said. He looked to the rear of the craft where the skull and crossbones hung limp in the chill night air. “Lorraine,” he said with a weariness that spoke to a very tiring voyage. “Sorry about that. I knew she’d borrowed it from the Vehement, but I’d forgotten to tell her to take it down. And I’m sorry that we’re later than we could have been. Things got a little interesting on Anglesey. Nilda? I am glad to see you. How many are you here? How are you fixed for food? How safe are you?”

  “Safe?” Chester asked. “Safe enough, I suppose.”

  “We’re fine,” Nilda said. “We’ve pushed the zombies back a quarter of a mile beyond the walls and have barricaded the streets. They sometimes get through, but they’re not an immediate threat. As for food, why don’t you come inside? You can join the party. You’ve caught us in the middle of a wedding.”

  “A wedding?” George asked. “Then this is a lot different to what I expected. A lot better than I hoped.”

  Another woman climbed ashore. “Does any one need medical assistance?” Her accent was American, her back straight, her posture rigid.

  “This is Dr Harabi from the crew of the USS Harper’s Ferry,” George said. “She’s a trauma surgeon by trade.”

  “We’re fine,” Nilda said. “Some of the children could do with a check-up, as could Aisha and Tuck. Chester, too. Actually, we all probably could, but no one’s sick.”

  “That’s a relief,” George said. “We’ve got a fuel and ship crisis at the moment in that we don’t have enough of either. Hence us coming here in a yacht, and me being the head of this particular expedition, but we do have a helicopter standing by in case an emergency airlift was
needed.”

  “You have a helicopter?” Chester asked.

  “And a plane,” George said.

  “Things have changed on Anglesey, then,” Chester said.

  “That’s an understatement,” George said. “We should discuss it, but inside, perhaps. Lorraine? Call Anglesey, and tell Scott Higson to stand down. He’ll be upset he can’t fly all the way from Anglesey, but personally, I’m glad he doesn’t have to risk it. When you’ve done that, unload the aviation fuel. It was to top up the helicopter for the return leg,” George added, turning back to Nilda and Chester. “Is there somewhere inside we can store it?”

  “I’m sure we can find somewhere,” Nilda said, “and while we’re—” She stopped as the postern gate opened. Greta ran out and towards them.

  “Is he here?” Greta demanded.

  “Who?” George asked.

  “Eamonn. Is he here?” Greta asked, desperation in her voice.

  “I’m sorry,” George said. “I don’t know who that is.”

  “One of our people left, he was trying to reach Anglesey,” Nilda said. “He didn’t get there?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” George said. “We redirected a satellite over London and saw the message you painted on the roof. We set off immediately afterwards. We would have come sooner, and why we didn’t is a long story. They all are, I’m afraid.”

  “He didn’t make it,” Greta said. She turned away and walked back to the Tower.

  Chester frowned. Happy jubilation at the arrival of their hoped-for rescue vanished as the reality of George’s words sank in.

  “There’s a shortage of ships?” he asked.

  “And fuel,” George said. “Food and ammunition, too. Why don’t you give me a tour?” He turned to Lorraine. “The ship’s secure?”

  “I don’t think Heather would approve of my knots, but since she’s not here…” Lorraine grinned. “The Tower? That’s cool. Do you have the crown jewels?”

  “The children use them for dressing up,” Nilda said.

  “I’m sure they’ll show them to you, after you’ve called Anglesey,” George said.

  Two hours later, most of the ship’s crew and the castle’s occupants were in the dining hall, listening to Lorraine and Kevin each trying to outdo the other with outrageously unbelievable stories of daring-do. The doctor had set up a small clinic in the castle’s old first-aid station and had begun a slow but methodical examination of the survivors beginning with Chester, Tuck, and Aisha before moving on to the children.

  George had joined Nilda, Chester, Tuck, and Jay in the hall’s expansive kitchens.

  “So, to summarise,” George said. “No one needs immediate medical care but Tuck, here, could do with a scan. We can manage that, but you’ll need to come back to Anglesey for it. By the way, it is good to see you both, Jay, Tuck. It’s because of you that we thought to check London.”

  “Because of us?” Jay asked.

  “Yes,” George said. “Do you remember Bran, the man you saved from some soldiers a few months ago in the Pennine Mountains? He’d rescued a group from out of Quigley’s clutches, but those renegades had followed them, and they’d caught him. By his account, they would have killed him if you and Tuck hadn’t arrived.”

  “Sure,” Jay said. “I remember him.” His hands moved as he translated what George had said. Tuck gave a nod.

  “We’ve all led a dozen lifetimes in this past year,” George said. “So much of it has been abject horror that it’s easier to forget it all rather than remember the few happy moments. We only put the pieces together a few days ago. Credit where credit’s due, it’s Annette who must take the lion’s share. I don’t know if you remember her, Nilda. She was the young girl on the boat that rescued you from that barren rock in the North Sea.”

  “I do, she’s the one who found us?”

  “She connected the dots, and took it upon herself to move a satellite,” George said. “I’m not sure it would have been done otherwise. There’s little propellant left, and we don’t want to squander it, particularly at this time of year when so much of the sky is shrouded in cloud.”

  A loud cheer came from the kitchen. George smiled. “So many children. Now that gives me hope.”

  “What about Rob?” Nilda asked. “What did you do about him?”

  George rubbed his shoulder, wincing slightly. “He’s dead. Rob turned out to be as bad as you warned us he was. He murdered three people in Ireland and was killed during the pursuit. It all began with Rachel Gottlieb, I don’t know if you remember her, Chester? A year ago, Rachel worked for Lisa Kempton, the woman who helped finance Quigley’s plans. Rachel had recruited a number of people to her cause, murderers and rapists and the worst examples of humanity, but she was acting through a religious zealot named John Bishop. His people would abduct those Rachel wanted to get rid of. They would be taken to the mainland. There would be a mockery of a trial. The victims would be released into the wasteland where they were meant to be judged by nature or by God. Instead, one of Rachel’s people would kill them. She used Bishop and the lunacy of his trials so she could keep at arm’s distance from the crime, and keep the corpses off Anglesey where they were likely to be discovered. Some of her victims died because they had something that Rachel wanted. Others died because they were in the way. Most died so that she could steal their grain ration, and use that to buy support from strong arms that belonged to saner heads than the zealots. Her goal was to take over. She tried to rig the election, but she was caught. She was stopped.”

  “And Rob?” Nilda asked. “How did he have a hand in it?”

  “He was recruited to her cause,” George said. “I don’t know if he felt he had a choice. Perhaps he just had an evil soul.”

  Tuck’s hands moved. “She wants to know what happened to the other criminals,” Jay said.

  “Criminals is right,” George said. “Rachel’s dead. She died resisting arrest. That sounds far too modern. How it played out was more like the Wild West. She pulled a gun after she was accused. Bishop and most of his acolytes are dead, their lair destroyed. We don’t think any escaped, but we can’t be certain. Of those on Anglesey, the only evidence we found implicated one man, Gareth Lenetti.” He looked at Chester. “Do you know the name?”

  “I can’t say that I do,” Chester said. “What happened to him?”

  “There was a trial,” George said. “He was found guilty, and he was executed.”

  “What kind of evidence?” Nilda asked, suspicion clear in her voice.

  “An audio recording of him confessing the crime to Paul, he was the man who shot me.” George rubbed his shoulder again. “And he was the man who’d taken Rob under his dark wing. There are plenty of other suspects, people who lived on Bishop’s farm, those who’d worked for or with Rachel, but we don’t have any proof as to their involvement in what happened. We’ve split them up for now, and have them under as close a supervision as we can manage. There’s not much more we can do.”

  Nilda gave a thoughtful nod.

  “Did anyone else make it?” Jay asked. “From Penrith, I mean.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” George said.

  “Oh. I kinda wondered,” Jay said. He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but it was clear that it did.

  Tuck’s hands danced. Jay, Nilda, and Chester nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” George said. “I don’t understand.”

  “She wanted some more details about what you said about the power plant blowing up on January seventh,” Jay said.

  “I don’t think it will blow up,” George said. “It might, of course, and that’s why we’re going to shut it down no later than on the seventh of January. Chief Watts, the engineer from the Vehement, thinks there’s an eighty percent chance that nothing critical will break before then. If we reach the deadline, we might be able to push it back a few days, or we might have a storm between now and then which causes us to bring it forward. The short version is that Anglesey is finished. We’re moving everyone to Belfast
, at least initially, and we hope to have that completed long before Christmas. When we shut the plant down, we won’t be able to properly decommission it. There will be a leak, and probably a meltdown. The entire island might be contaminated, as might the Welsh mainland, or the Irish Sea. Possibly both.”

  Tuck’s hands moved again.

  “She says the problem’s going to be contaminated fishing waters and contaminated rain,” Jay said. His voice was low, absent of the jubilation that they had all shared when they’d first realised a boat had arrived from the island. “But she also says how much more contaminated can they get?”

  “Exactly,” George said. “We need the fish. Thanks to Lorraine and the people in Menai Bridge we’ve got enough seeds to plant a reasonable crop in the spring. It’s mostly vegetables, but no potatoes or wheat, so we’ll have to find those growing wild. The bigger question is where we plant that crop. We’ll get one shot at it, and though Ireland has fewer zombies than Britain, it is far from safe. Can we find anywhere that’s safer? I’m not sure. Wherever we plant that crop, we’ll be living on fish until the harvest. If the fishing waters are contaminated, if there’s no fish, or no fish we can eat, then we’ll have lost our seeds and our one chance at keeping our species alive. That’s why we’re looking for a new home.”

  “Will you now look in London?” Nilda asked.

  George shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think so. Britain simply has too many of the living dead. Nowhere on the mainland will be safe while they’re still a threat. We might be able to hold Belfast, but it’s too early to tell. The reason we’re delaying shutting down the power plant until long after all the people have left is to keep the machine shops running. We’re stamping out crossbow bolts as fast as we can cut the metal. Even so, we won’t have enough. No, we won’t be coming to London.”

  “We’ve got ammunition,” Jay said. “About a million rounds. We’ve got some explosives, too.”

  “You do?” George asked.

  Nilda closed her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, we do. Quigley, we assume it was him, stashed supplies in London. We think he planned to keep an occupation force in the city, but whoever was commanding it rebelled against him. They fought their own civil war here. When they left, the supplies remained behind. We have rations, and we have a little ammunition.”