Surviving The Evacuation (Book 8): Anglesey

by Frank Tayell

  “There has to be a trial,” I said. “A proper trial with a jury and a judge. She shot a man in front of fifty witnesses. Yes, I believe Paul was going to shoot Sholto, and that man had just shot George. I’ll say as much in court, but the words do need to be said in court, because what I believe, what anyone believes is true, isn’t the same as the actual truth. Look, we know what’s going to happen. We know the outcome. She’ll be set free, but it has to be done properly. We, here, can’t decide on her guilt or innocence anymore than we could on Paul’s. Not because we don’t know the outcome, not because we can’t draw as fair a conclusion from the evidence as anyone else, but because of the precedent. This won’t be the last time there’s a crime. It probably won’t be the last time there’s a murder. How we respond in the future will be determined by how act now. We need laws. We need justice. More than that, everyone needs to see that we have them.”

  “It’s a waste of time,” Mills said.

  “What’s the alternative?’ Kim asked. “Ask her nicely not to do it again? I don’t know the details of how you survived the outbreak, but you’ve read Bill’s journal. You know what happened to us. To me. You know what we did. Everyone does. It’s trite to say bad things happened, and foolish to believe only the victims survived. We say that what we did out there is forgotten, but look at Nilda and Rob. Look at how that could have ended. No, Bill’s right. What matters here is precedent. We need the trial to mark an official turning point, the moment when we distinguish past from present. The point where we say that it is what people do that matters, not where or when it was done. Not an amnesty, but an acceptance that we’re all flawed, all potentially guilty, but that we live in a place where everyone will get a fair hearing, a fair chance. We might know why Paul was running, but everyone else only knows what we told them, that he was wanted for murder. Do we want a society where a death doesn’t need to be investigated if it’s claimed the deceased was wanted for questioning? I don’t want to live somewhere like that, but there’s nowhere else. It’s Anglesey and Svalbard, and that’s all. If we want civilisation to have a future, it has to be here.”

  “Then have a tribunal,” Mills said. “Like we did with the petty thefts. We’ll hold it in public. Everyone can watch.”

  “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?” Sholto murmured. “And do the watchmen write the laws as well?”

  “We can stick with the old laws for now,” I said. “And repeal them when it becomes apparent they no longer apply. The key principle is to have a system where the laws protect everyone, apply to everyone, and can be challenged by everyone. Otherwise we might as well call ourselves a dictatorship now.”

  “How do we organise the trial?” Mary whispered.

  “Admiral,” I said, before anyone else could speak, “would you be the judge?”

  “I’m a doctor,” she said. “I don’t know anything about British law.”

  “You’re also an admiral,” I said. “And the rank brings a degree of respect. That you’re a doctor gives you more, and that you’re an outsider, newly arrived, gives you more impartiality than anyone else.”

  Admiral Gunderson looked at Devine before answering. “Agreed.”

  Inwardly, and careful not to let it show, I relaxed. The admiral could change her mind, but that was as close to a guarantee that she wouldn’t depart as we’d get. At least, she and her crew weren’t going to leave immediately, and right then, though I’m not sure everyone else realised it, that was the greatest danger to our fracturing community.

  “How do you pick the jury,” Sholto asked.

  “We’ll do it the old-fashioned way,” I said. “Use the electorate, and I think this is a time when a chance to sit on a jury might actually encourage people to register to vote.”

  “A judge, a jury?” Mills murmured. “You know what you’ve missed? Punishment. Those have to be known and announced before the trial.”

  “What punishment can there be?” I asked. “We can’t afford to imprison people, not for an extended period of time. We can’t fine them. So what’s left? Hard labour, exile, or death.”

  “That’s harsh,” Kim said.

  “But necessary,” Mills said. There was a general murmur of consent from everyone except Kim, and Mary, who had her eyes on the floor.

  “I don’t like it,” Kim said. “This isn’t like being out in the wasteland. We’re sitting here, making up these rules, but we’ve no authority to do so, no right except that we happened to be here. Literally. If Annette and I had spent more time at the airfield this morning, we wouldn’t have come to the school in time to find out about Llewellyn’s murder. It’s not right that I get a vote here when no one else does, yet not right that I wouldn’t get a say.”

  “We can spend the winter wrangling over a constitution,” I said, “but for now we need to hold things together.” I glanced again at the admiral. “We just need to stop it from unravelling.”

  “Gottlieb,” Mary said.

  The room went quiet again.

  “I’m sorry,” Kim said.

  “Rachel Gottlieb,” Mary said. “That’s her name. Rachel Gottlieb. David Llewellyn. Paul Harding.” She sighed. “This is not how I imagined it. I thought if we could wait until winter, the cold would force people off their boats. We’d plough the fields next year, and plant them the year after. It would only have needed a few of us working on the longer problems of what to do when we shut down the power plant, of salvaging the helicopters, perhaps even getting rid of the undead. Within five years, we’d have had a blueprint for civilisation, having salvaged all that was good from the old world. Not just material possessions, but ideas as well, leaving behind all that was archaic and rotten. Now I can’t see any of it coming to pass. At best, we might re-create what went before. At worst… I don’t want to think of it, though now it’s clear how much worse things can get.”

  There and then she seemed older and frailer than ever before. I wanted to offer the comfort of some kind words, but there were none.

  “It’s a fantasy,” I said. “A delusion from which we’re all suffering. It’s the same one those people ensconced in their boats are immersed in. At least when they disappear into old movies and older music, they’re not pretending they’re doing anything but seeking an escape from reality. Take George’s railroad, the people travelling the mainland ostensibly in search of survivors. They might find one or two, and kill just as many zombies, but not enough of either to make a difference. Captain Mills here may call himself mister, and he may have dropped the HMS from his boat’s name, but he’s still commanding his submarine and crew as if he was Royal Navy. Heather Jones and her people in Menai Bridge are preserving houses, but the bricks will have turned to dust before our population is large enough to occupy them again. Dr Umbert acts like he’s collecting data to present at some psychiatric conference. Markus thinks he’s running a smuggler’s den in 1940s Marseilles. Sholto has dreams of saving the world from an apocalypse he’s already failed to stop, and me? I’m house-hunting, and thinking of picnics and birthday cakes. We each had a vision of the future, an idea of what safety meant. It was what sustained us, what got us through the horrors, but none of us have let it go. Now we have to, we have to accept it was a mirage.”

  “So what do we do differently?” Kim asked.

  “That’s the wrong question,” I said. “It’s not about what but how. How do we do things differently? I’ve no idea. You’re right. This, here, is it. We are it. This isn’t civilisation, but it’s the only seed out of which it will grow. The trial, the election, that will be a distraction. It’ll hold things together for a few more weeks, but nothing more, and we sorely need something more. I don’t know what, but we have to come together as a proper community, not just a collection of individuals with our individual dreams.”

  “And that was what I was trying to do,” Mary said. She cleared her throat and forced some resolve back into her voice. “I suppose I shall just have to try harder. We all will. As you say, people need to k
now what happened. We should tell them. We should tell everyone. There needs to be a formal meeting. Dr Knight, Mister Mills, myself, and… no, I don’t think you should be there, Admiral Gunderson. This isn’t the time to introduce you. Captain Devine, I think you should be there as an officer of the law, albeit a now-defunct one. I would like to present the evidence that was gathered which proves Paul’s guilt.”

  Devine narrowed her eyes. “I’ll present the evidence,” she said, and I noted the omission, “but even that would prejudice any trial.”

  “It’s already prejudiced,” the admiral said, finally breaking her impartial silence. “The woman will be found innocent, so let’s keep the peace. Do you have printers? Ink? Can you run up a statement that can be handed out? Something that will stop fear spreading?”

  “I can manage that,” I said.

  “And this morning you said something about a radio station,” the admiral said.

  “We don’t have one yet,” Kim said. “I wanted to build one.”

  “Pity,” the admiral said. “It would have been useful.”

  “It’s one more thing that must be done,” Mary said. “One more thing on an increasingly long list.”

  Chapter 11 - Anglesey

  3rd September, Day 175

  Kim was up before me, but then I’d sat up for half the night trying to square the three-dimensional polygon that was our current societal mess.

  “Sholto and Annette went into town,” Kim said as I came into the kitchen. “Annette has a plan, and she roped in your brother. I’m not sure what she’s up to, but they took Daisy.”

  “Ah.” I opened the cupboard. There was one teabag left. The coffee jar was empty. I sighed, and poured a glass of water from the tap. “On any other day, I’d say we should take advantage of the solitude and do something, just the two of us.”

  “Any other day,” she echoed.

  The public meeting had been a haphazard affair, taking place in the embarkation lounge of the ferry terminal. To an audience of less than a hundred, Mary had given a speech, Devine had presented her evidence, and Dr Knight had given a brief statement of an even briefer analysis of Llewellyn’s body. By the time Mister Mills stood to offer a few pro forma words on law and order, news had spread among the boats, more people had come ashore, and Mary had had to start again. She’d given the same speech five times, and answered the same questions just as often, before the crowd finally thinned. I’d run up a few thousand copies of a short statement that echoed Mary’s words, but doubted it had done little beyond fanning the flames of suspicious interest.

  “Can we hold things together?” Kim asked.

  “Sure,” I said. “For now. You’re right and wrong about civilisation. Whatever survives here, however democratic or dystopian, and however large a population it has, it will be civilisation. As to whether we can forge something no worse than what we had a year ago, we’ll know in a few weeks. There’s a bigger problem looming. It’s something I didn’t think about until George mentioned it, but it’s not been far from my mind since. We have a generational gap. Two hundred and seventy children. In twenty years—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “But that’s a problem to which there’s an obvious solution. Just not an immediate one. The immediate problem…” She opened a cupboard, then another. “We can’t leave, simply because there’s nowhere within range of a sailing ship we can reach. Not that we have a sailing ship. So if we’re staying, we need more supplies. Organising an election should entitle you to something.”

  “I’ll write it into the rules,” I said, only half sarcastically.

  “Then, in the meantime, let’s see if we can blag some coffee from the bakery. I want to go down to the harbour, anyway.”

  “You do? Why?” I asked.

  “To see how many boats are there. I bet a lot left with the first tide and have no intention of coming back.”

  I froze with my hand halfway to my belt. There’d been no sound or other hint of immediate danger, I’d just realised how automatic it had become to leave the house armed. I buckled the belt, and then reached to the shelf above the door where we kept the ammunition out of reach of Daisy.

  I sighed. “Yeah, whatever this is, however good or bad, it really is all we have. We’ve got to make it work,” I said. “We really do.”

  It was a beautiful morning. There were enough clouds to give shade, but not so many as to dull the late summer heat. The hedges and trees were still green, the birds still flying, though I thought there were more robins and fewer starlings than when we’d first arrived. I made a mental note to ask someone whether that might be due to migration, or whether it implied something else. It was promptly forgotten as Kim and I talked around and about the murder, the trial, the island, and the future. Having reached no conclusions satisfactory to either of us, conversation turned to the election. I outlined the plans I’d reached and how I thought they could be adapted to help in our current situation.

  “I don’t like it,” Kim said. “If people want to stay on a ship, they should be able to.”

  “I’m not saying they can’t,” I said. “What I’m saying is that to register to vote you’ll need an address on shore. It doesn’t mean you have to live there. It could be a nominal address. The bakery, the pub even.”

  “That’s another problem that needs a solution,” Kim said. “Because I bet they’d charge people for the privilege of registering to vote from there. No, scratch that, what I think Markus will actually do is use that as a way of engineering it so his candidates win.”

  “Perhaps. I’d not thought of that. I’d thought it might get another few hundred off their boats and into houses.”

  “It’s not worth it,” Kim said. “Not for adding conditions to someone’s eligibility to vote. Especially not when it might hand control to Markus. What are we going to do about him?”

  “What can we do? There’s no evidence suggesting he was involved. And… I don’t know why, but I don’t think he had anything to do with David Llewellyn’s murder. He seemed genuinely shocked. And his first instinct was to help the old man after George was shot.”

  “Rachel didn’t shoot Paul in self-defence,” Kim said. “Whatever the reason is, Markus has to know. It has to be something to do with the pub, and that should be enough to have it shut down.”

  “Not if she’s found not guilty,” I said. The incident came back to me. “She seemed shocked. Afterwards, I mean. It’s an odd emotion.”

  “Is it?”

  “I think so. I’m not sure. I should find some time to talk to Captain Devine. Or perhaps to Dr Umbert. Perhaps there’s a psychological explanation to… to…” I trailed into silence.

  We were two streets away from the harbour, but there were more people about than usual. Their numbers could be counted in dozens, not hundreds, but it was still far more than we’d ordinarily see. I smiled a greeting and got a nod in return.

  “What’s going on?” Kim murmured.

  We found the answer in the old charity shop opposite the bakery. Three flat-screens had been set up in the window. Outside was a small crowd of people. I craned to see over them.

  “Satellite images,” I murmured. Under the screens were pieces of card, with Blackpool, New York, and Belfast written on them in a very familiar hand. Near the door was a whiteboard with the instruction ‘Right down your address and we’ll find the picture.’

  “I recognise the handwriting,” I said.

  “I recognise the spelling,” Kim said.

  Underneath the misspelled missive was a long list of place names. Some were in Britain, but most were elsewhere. We pushed our way to the door, and I pushed it open just as Annette pushed her way through the crowd inside. In her arms was another flat-screen.

  “Oh, cool, you’re here. You can help,” she said, shoving the screen into my hands.

  “What with?” I asked.

  “We need to expand next door,” she said. “There’s not enough room in here.”

  “Wha
t for?” I asked.

  “The satellites,” she said.

  “Could we have a little more explanation than that?” Kim asked.

  “Come in, then. I can spare you five minutes,” Annette said. Kim and I shared a glance that was as much confusion as it was amusement.

  It looked as if the contents of the shop had long since been stripped. The racks and shelves had been haphazardly stacked at the rear. In the middle were a row of tables on which were flat-screens. Behind the counter was a stack of tower-units, with cables trailing this way and that. My brother was on his hands and knees, coaxing a wire through the door leading to the back room.

  “You need some air conditioning in here,” Kim said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

  “Tell me about it,” Annette said.

  “And why don’t you tell me what’s going on,” I said.

  “It’s the satellites,” she said, gesturing at the screens in the middle of the room. In front of each was a cluster of almost transfixed people.

  “Satellite images of where?” I asked.

  “Everywhere,” Annette said.

  “Mostly New York and the East Coast of the U.S.,” Sholto called out from the floor. “A wide swathe of the ocean. Belfast and the area around the airport, and Hull and a hundred square miles of the northeast English coast. It’s the images we downloaded before the satellites were repositioned to track the hordes.”

  I took another look at the nearest screen. It showed three very square blocks of housing perfectly divided by wide roads. I guessed it was somewhere in New York. The roads were full of stalled traffic, but otherwise I couldn’t see anything of interest.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It’s what we decided,” Annette said. “We talked about it, didn’t we? You were going to sort out the drones, and Kim was going to build the radio, so I’m finding the survivors.”

  “By looking at satellite pictures?” I asked.