Britain's End

by Frank Tayell

  Chapter 27 - Room Service

  Dundalk

  “No, Sholto. Thaddeus, no,” Kim said. “The helicopter would drag the undead here in its wake. You’d only make the situation worse.” She stared into the middle distance while she held the phone to her ear.

  “We can bring ammo and medical supplies,” Sholto said. “And I can take Annette and Daisy away.”

  “You can’t,” Kim said. “You really can’t. Things here are… they’re fragile. Anger is holding us together, but if I let the girls go to safety, everyone else will realise that, here, they’re…” She didn’t want to say it aloud, not even to Sholto. “No, the girls have to stay, for now. As for ammo and medical supplies, it’s about sixty miles to Belfast, yes? So what’s that, about half an hour’s flying time? Have the helicopter ready, but wait for my call. Where’s The New World?”

  “Near Malin Head. There’s an issue with the engines.”

  “What kind of issue?”

  “Nothing suspicious. They just haven’t been run for months. They’re fixing it, and will continue around dawn. They might be with you before dusk tomorrow.”

  “Tell them to hurry,” Kim said. “Have you heard from Bill?”

  “He’s fine. They all are,” Sholto said. “They’re safe inside a house near the coast. Leon’s on his way to get them.”

  “Good. Then… Then I’ll call you in a few hours.”

  She ended the call, but stayed sitting on the bed. It wasn’t yet midnight. Dawn was a long way off, dusk even further, and if The New World’s engine trouble couldn’t be fixed, rescue might be further away than that.

  There was a knock, the door opened, and Bran came in.

  “Am I interrupting?” he asked.

  “No, it’s fine,” she said. “How is it out there?”

  “Most people have been fed,” he said. “Most of what we brought back was barley. Prudence is simmering it in rainwater.”

  “There’s enough water?”

  “That’s her problem, not yours,” he said.

  “And everyone else? How are they, do you think?”

  “Some have gone to sleep. About half, I’d say. The rest will join them soon enough except those on guard. Did you call Belfast?”

  “I did.”

  “Everyone knows that we brought back the sat-phone,” he said. “They want to know what the news is. For that matter, so do I.”

  “There’s not much to say. They have the helicopter ready, but I told them to keep it on standby. The New World is having some kind of engine trouble, but they’re hoping to arrive here tomorrow evening, and that’s more or less when we’d assumed they’d get here. No, all in all, there’s not much to say.”

  “You don’t want the helicopter to come?” he asked.

  “Not yet. They can bring ammo, but they’d also bring the undead. How are we for ammunition?”

  “We’ve a few thousand rounds,” he said. “I’ve collected it, and redistributed it among our best shots. We’ve about the same number of crossbow bolts.”

  “Those crossbows are a liability,” Kim said.

  “Don’t let Rahinder hear you say that,” Bran said.

  Kim forced a smile.

  “You should walk the halls,” Bran said. “Tell everyone that the helicopter is ready, the ship is coming, that we’re in contact. That’ll remind everyone we’re not alone.”

  “Even though Belfast can’t really help us.”

  Bran shrugged. “We’re in a secure position, we’ve got weapons and food. Not much water, sure, but it’s still raining. Honestly, I’ve been in far worse scrapes.”

  “Yes, I suppose we all have. I’ll walk the halls in a moment.”

  Kim put the phone into the satchel. She’d found the bag among those left by the Irish survivors who’d so precipitately fled. There wasn’t much else in it now except the loaded magazines that she’d kept for herself. She went next door to the room where Daisy was sleeping, and Annette was dozing off.

  “What is it?” Annette asked. “Is it Bill?”

  “Shh. No, Bill’s fine,” Kim said. “Listen. The sat-phone is in this bag. If something happens—”

  “Like what?” Annette cut in.

  “Like anything,” Kim said. “You remember England? You remember how things can change so quickly? If something happens, take the phone, take Daisy, and run away from danger. Go into the town if you can, or to one of the industrial buildings near here. Get somewhere high up, and call Sholto. The helicopter will be here in thirty minutes. Here.” She slipped the rifle off her shoulder. “Take that. You remember how to use it?”

  “Sure,” Annette said.

  “Good. There’s spare ammunition in the bag. I don’t think you’ll need it. I think everything is going to be okay. In fact…” She glanced at the door. “In fact, I think, that the worst is over and things might get better from now on, but…”

  “But remember England,” Annette said. “I know.”

  “Good. Now try to get some sleep.” She smiled, and left the room.

  The rest of the hotel’s ground floor was more awake. Those who’d wanted to sleep had ventured up the stairwell to the bedrooms in the tower’s upper floors. In the reception area, Commander Crawley sat in one of the easy chairs, a notepad in one hand, a pen in the other, a miner’s lamp on his forehead illuminating the page as he wrote.

  “Can’t sleep?” Kim asked.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Crawley said. “I don’t know cargo ships, but I do know ships. We should not have run aground. We need to know how this was done. Know the how, we’ll work out the who.”

  Kim looked over his shoulder. The page was filled with calculations. In her opinion, they would find the who first, then ask him why. It had to be Markus and his people, and they were now in Belfast.

  “There’s only so much you can do from here,” she said. “In the morning, we’ll gather more grain from the ship’s hold. You can inspect the vessel then, and look for evidence or clues. For now, get some sleep. At least try.”

  “In a minute,” he said, turning back to his calculations. She left him to it, and went outside.

  The car park was illuminated by torches and electric lamps positioned in the hotel’s upper-storey windows. There were a few other lights shining out into the gloom, belonging to the sentries who stood at the edge of the rough barricade of vehicles and bedframes set around the hotel’s low wall. She headed towards them.

  Ken, Dee-Dee, Mirabelle and ten other members of their collective were standing guard at the entrance.

  “How is it?” Kim asked.

  “All quiet,” Ken said. “How is it inside?”

  “The same,” Kim said. “I got through to Angle— to Belfast. They’ve got the helicopter on standby. It can be here in half an hour, but I’ve told them to wait. We don’t want the rotors to summon the undead.”

  “And the ship?” Mirabelle asked.

  “It’ll arrive tomorrow, maybe around dusk. They’re still getting used to the engines.”

  “So we’ll be here tomorrow night as well?” Dee-Dee said. “Could be worse. Movement, Ken. You see?”

  “I see…” He raised the rifle, but waited… waited… waited until the zombie stepped into the pool of light. He fired. “That makes five.”

  “Tonight?” Kim asked.

  “This hour,” Dee-Dee said. “I’ll check the perimeter.”

  Kim took a step back. She wasn’t needed. She could trust Dee-Dee, Ken, Mirabelle, and the others. They were… they weren’t family. Not quite. It was hard to describe the relationship. They’d come, more or less uninvited, into the terrace in Holyhead because that was where the satellite images were being collected. They’d ensconced themselves there, but hadn’t really got in the way. They’d helped out a bit with the housework, though not so much with the cooking. They were… they were her people. That was the best way to think of them. They were loyal, she supposed. And that was good, because of all the survivors, they almost certainly
had the skill to hack into the cargo ship’s navigational system. No, they weren’t behind the sabotage. The more she thought through it, the less certain she was that Markus had been involved, either. After all, he’d been a tool, used by Rachel. He was charismatic, but not clever enough to tell that Rachel had been pulling his strings. Bishop had been another dupe. While some of his followers were still alive, they were the credulous who’d sought comfort in his fantastical religion. Besides, those people from Willow Farm had been sent to Menai Bridge. So, if it wasn’t Markus, and since Rachel and Bishop were dead, who was left? Locke? She’d been on the plane. No, Locke was more likely to be a target than the person responsible. And that left no obvious suspects at all.

  She smiled. Commander Crawley could identify precisely what had happened to the ship, and Siobhan could then identify who the criminals were. She had enough on her plate. She went back inside.

  There were some who couldn’t sleep, or who’d chosen not to, and they had gathered in the restaurant. Two played chess. A few sharpened their weapons. Some others had been dragooned into helping Prudence who was angrily stirring the massive saucepans hanging over an open fire, as if daring the contents to burn. Kim relayed the conversation she’d had with Sholto, then continued her rounds.

  She found Mary in the conference room two doors down from the dining room. It had been turned into a makeshift hospital for the three most seriously injured. The others had been bandaged and carried upstairs. Mary sat in a wheeled office chair, next to a mattress on which lay an unconscious woman. Kim sat in a chair, opposite.

  “Is all well?” Mary asked.

  “I think so,” Kim said. “I think it’s going to be. How are they?”

  “Alan has a concussion. Hopefully not a fractured skull. He’ll wake or he won’t,” she said, gesturing to the man lying on the mattress by the barricaded window. “Lucette… I think it’s internal bleeding. Dawn, here, lost a lot of blood.”

  “Bitten?” Kim asked.

  Mary nodded. Both of Dawn’s hands were bandaged.

  “She lost five fingers,” Mary said. “But it could be worse.”

  “It could. And how are you?”

  “I’m fine, dear. Your Annette would make for a very good nurse.”

  Kim smiled. “My mother thought I’d make for a good nurse.”

  “It’s a good profession,” Mary said. “One I considered myself before I decided that teaching was a better fit.”

  “I wonder, sometimes,” Kim began, “whether I—” There was a moan from near the window. Mary pivoted in her chair. “It’s Alan. He’s waking.”

  Kim stood, as Alan rolled onto his side. His arm stretched out, and he groaned. Kim saw his eyes, and knew he was undead before the zombie kicked a leg out in an attempt to stand. Kim dragged the machete from her belt, and swung it down. The zombie died. Kim breathed out, then looked to the other two patients, but they were both still motionless.

  “He must have been bitten, infected, but not immune,” Kim said.

  “There can’t be many like that still alive,” Mary said. In her hands was a small pistol. She put it back into her bag. “Ah well. Two are still with us. We must count our blessings.”

  Kim stared at the blood on her machete, the dead man at her feet, and then at the old woman. “Seriously? You seriously believe that?”

  “Not really,” Mary said. “But it’s better than cursing misfortune.”

  Chapter 28 - Turbines

  22nd November, Dundalk, Day 254

  “There, see?” Annette said, pointing out of the bedroom’s window at the dawn view of Dundalk. “It’s a wind turbine.”

  Kim took one glance out the window, then sat on the bed. “Yes. Fine. That’s a wind turbine, but did we need to come to the very top floor to see it? Climbing thirteen flights of stairs is no way to start the day.”

  “You’re getting old,” Annette teased.

  “I really feel like I am,” Kim said. She pushed herself up, then walked to the window. “It is a large turbine, isn’t it? I think it’s taller than the hotel. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it when we were on the ship. For that matter, it must be visible to everyone outside.” She looked down from the turbine at the buildings nestled below. “So, that’s Dundalk? We’re barely in the suburbs. I’d say it’s about four kilometres to the harbour. Maybe three. I can’t see… no, I can’t see a quay or jetty or anything. Maybe there’s a port; it’s hard to tell.”

  “There’s lots of houses,” Annette said. “I suppose there’s lots of shops, too. Some factories, I think, over there. And there’s a church, and some playing fields next to it, so I think that building behind the trees is a school.” She tapped her finger against the glass. “But I think the wind turbine is best. We could get it to work, couldn’t we? I mean, we’re going to be here for a few days, so isn’t it better we have some lights?”

  “Maybe,” Kim said.

  “You mean maybe we could get it to work, or maybe we won’t be here that long?” Annette asked.

  “Maybe both,” Kim said. The turbine towered over Dundalk, a behemoth casting its shadow like a monstrous sundial. Shadow? She looked up. There were gaps in the clouds. “When did it stop raining?”

  “Dunno. While I was asleep. Oh, that’s not good, is it?”

  “Not really.” Kim crossed to one of the room’s two armchairs. It was a bedroom, but in a suite, and with furniture to match. The chair was ridiculously comfortable, and it was so tempting to sleep. Her own night had been a restless one. She’d left Mary with the sick, and had gone to the barricade to stand watch over Mirabelle as much as for the undead. Only when the guard had changed, and the coder had gone to bed, had Kim done the same. She’d dozed fitfully, imaging each snore and grunt as the sound of one of the living turning into the undead.

  “We do need lights,” she said. “I didn’t realise how many of our torches were the rechargeable plug-into-the-wall kind. On Anglesey, that made sense, but the batteries began to die last night, and so tonight, we’ll have a problem.”

  “So we just use fires until we can get the turbine to work,” Annette said.

  “If we can get it to work,” Kim said.

  “Rahinder will know how,” Annette said confidently. “And if he doesn’t, I bet Chief Watts does, and he’s just a phone call away.”

  “True. But what if the turbine’s attached to Ireland’s national grid?” Kim asked. “We might be able to generate power, but how do we divert it to a local supply?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Annette said, “and I don’t need to. Nor do you. That’s Rahinder’s problem, right?”

  “Well, maybe,” Kim said.

  “So we could move there, then?” Annette said.

  “Maybe,” Kim said. From her chair, she could only see the cloud-flecked sky. Those clouds were heavy and dark, but she didn’t think they’d storm for another few hours, by which time they’d be over the mountains to the west. “Was I right, did I see a river?”

  “I can see two, I think,” Annette said. “Maybe it’s just one.” She traced her finger against the window. “No, I think there are two. That would sort out the water problem.”

  “It would. It would.” Kim said. She’d been woken from her fitful sleep to find that the lack of water had created a new problem that should have been all-too-foreseeable. Some things were inevitable, and so, throughout the hotel and all through the night, the toilets had been used. With no way to flush them, they had filled, and the hotel was becoming unsanitary. They would have to leave. She’d said that to Annette, though more as part of a general gripe at another morning beginning without coffee, and Annette had dragged her all the way up to the thirteenth floor.

  Annette unslung the rifle, and peered through the optical scope at the town. “I think it’s one kilometre to the turbine, five to the harbour. That’s an hour’s walk. I… Here, look. I think that’s a hospital.”

  “Where?” Kim came back to the window, took the rifle, and peered through the scope.
Ten degrees west of the turbine and half a kilometre further northwest was a building with a squad of ambulances neatly parked outside. “I can see eight ambulances. Yes, that might be a hospital.”

  “That’d be good,” Annette said. “I… I was looking through the… well, it’s a journal. You know, the pieces of paper that were behind the reception desk. A group of people came here, about a month after the outbreak. There are no dates or anything, and it doesn’t say how many people, but I think there were about eighty, maybe a few more. A lot of it is about who specific people were and how they’d died. In between that, the person writing it talked about where they were going. Kim, they were going to look for people they’d been separated from. The guy writing it, his name was Tam. That’s someone Siobhan and Colm were with, wasn’t it?”

  “Tam? I think so, but I’m sure that’s a common name.”

  “I think they were looking for Siobhan and Colm,” Annette said.

  “Don’t tell anyone. Not now. We’ll tell Siobhan when we see her, but… no, that’s not a story that will cheer and enthuse. Here.” She handed Annette the rifle.

  “Don’t you want it back?” Annette asked.

  “I don’t want you to have to need it, but you might, and I cleaned it myself. I know it won’t jam.” She felt a wave of sadness at the world they lived in. “One day,” she said, “we’ll throw our guns into the sea.”

  “Yeah,” Annette said. “When we run out of bullets.”

  Mary was in the dining room, sitting at a table covered in used crossbow bolts that she was hard-sharpening. As Kim walked in, she felt every eye in the room fall upon her.

  “Hello, dear,” Mary said cheerfully, and loud enough for her voice to carry. Other than Donnie stalwartly scraping a spoon across a bowl in the far corner, everyone was silent. “What does the town look like?”

  “Good,” Kim said, addressing Mary, but picking her words to suit the group. “There’s a wind turbine, about a kilometre from here.”

  “You can see it in the car park,” Donnie said, his mouth slightly muffled.

  Kim smiled. “And Annette made me walk all the way up to the thirteenth floor to see it!” There was a low chuckle from around the room. “I don’t know if we can get it to work in the time that we’re here, but we’ll investigate it. A little further north is a building with some ambulances outside. Either location could work as a redoubt, but the key thing, today, is moving from here to somewhere closer to the harbour.”