“No. Nothing. It’s okay,” I said quickly. “It’s… weapons, I guess. Axes. Knives. A lot of them. I think they must have come from the battle in the hotel.”
“This was the survivor? He didn’t get to Anglesey.”
“Doesn’t look like it.” I backed out of the kitchen. “We’ll look somewhere else for a kettle,” I said.
“What if we went overland,” Dean said. “The diesel will go further if we put it in a car.”
“It’s a good point,” I said. “But where do we go?”
“The airport,” Dean said. “You said there’s fuel there, right?”
“There was aviation fuel there shortly after the outbreak,” I said. “The government was stockpiling it. Wait.” I thought back to the conversations I’d had with Donnie. “Actually, I’m not sure. They were stockpiling tankers, and he thought they had aviation fuel in them. I don’t know if Donnie actually checked. Anyway, the point is that the tankers were there, but we don’t know how much fuel would have been left when they went to collect the plane.”
“But there’s a chance, isn’t there?” Dean said. “More of a chance than checking houses and garages.”
“If we found a car and drove,” I said. “The zombies would follow us there. I doubt we could drive back the same route. And there’s the question of what everyone else will do while some of us are looking for fuel.”
“We should stay together,” Kallie said. “At least until we find somewhere safe.”
“And this place isn’t safe,” Siobhan said. “There’re too many corpses, and before they died, they spent too long here. We won’t find food. We have to leave, and that means going east.”
“I think we can get to Belfast,” Kim said. “Maybe to the Isle of Man. I don’t know what Belfast is like now, but I went ashore on the Isle of Man on our way up to Svalbard. We didn’t find any survivors, but there were the undead.”
“And we’re going to find zombies in Belfast,” Dean said.
“Yeah,” Colm said. “But a city means cars. It means buses. There’s the small airport by the harbour. There might even be a sailing boat or two. It’s a big city. We might find something.”
“And maybe we’ll find some people from Anglesey there,” I said. “A big coastal city like that, it’d be an obvious place to look for supplies.”
“You think so?” Kallie asked. “You really think they might be there?”
I wished I hadn’t said that. “I don’t know,” I said.
“They might be,” Kim said. “But if they’re not, at least we’ll be heading towards safety.”
“Belfast, then,” Colm said.
“Belfast,” I echoed.
Chapter 19 - Belfast
10th October, Day 212
“There it is,” Colm said darkly. “Belfast. Home. I thought I’d never see it again. Almost hoped I wouldn’t, but we’re back where we started.”
The increasing urbanisation of the shoreline had forewarned us of our proximity to the city. The patchwork of fields, broken by the rare town and frequent village, had become a long stretch of rooftops. Occasionally interspersed with a swathe of parkland, it was more common to see a dark scar left by an uncontrolled fire. Then came the cranes and towering buildings, the hotels and office blocks. Not as many as in London, sure, but it was the largest concentration of tall buildings I’ve seen since… well, since leaving the old capital. In contrast to Colm, I didn’t find it bleak, or depressing. If anything I began to feel the opposite, almost as if I, too, was coming home. Partly this was due to the proximity of Anglesey, so close, but so impossibly far without the fuel, but mostly it was being back in a proper city. That was how I felt this morning, and that feeling has grown stronger. We’re safer than we’ve been since we left The New World.
We haven’t taken shelter in Belfast itself, but aboard a monolithic container tanker, the John Cabot. It’s flying a Bahamian flag, but, going by the customs forms in the handful of containers we’ve opened, it departed most recently from China. The Cabot dropped anchor outside and to the north of the harbour. I think, though I can’t be certain, that’s because it arrived after the cruise ship was sunk. The wreck of that passenger liner now blocks the entrance to the Victoria Channel, the waterway that leads through the docks that line the city’s naval entrance. I think we could get the launch past that wreck, but there’s no need to waste any more fuel. The Cabot’s crew are long gone. They took the two lifeboats, but left the life-rafts. As long as we don’t mind a long climb up and down the side of this monstrous ship, and a longer row, we’ve a way of getting to the shore.
“The question is where to go next?” I said, after an hour of tramping through the ship, searching for the living and the undead.
“Are we sure there’s no one on board?” Kallie asked.
“You mean no thing on board,” Dean said.
“Yes,” Colm said reassuringly. “We’re as sure as we can be that we’re alone. The hatches were sealed. The doors were closed. The crew didn’t even open any cargo-containers. They must have known there’d be nothing useful in them.”
“I reckon they departed China before the outbreak, then stayed at sea until they ran low on supplies,” I said. “As soon as they arrived here, they abandoned the ship. There’s been no opportunity for the undead to get on board. It’s not like they can climb a ladder.”
“We can’t be one hundred percent certain,” Siobhan said. “The children shouldn’t be left alone, but I think we’re safer than we’ve been in longer than I want to think about.”
“Which brings us back to Bill’s question,” Kim said. She gestured at the ruined harbour visible through the control room’s wide windows. “Something bombed Belfast. It looks similar to the damage that the airport on Anglesey sustained. They said those were cluster bombs.”
“Does it matter?” Dean asked.
“Yes,” Kim said. “Information is the difference between life and death. What’s key here is that the damage is far worse than it appeared on the satellite images.”
“You’re saying this is recent?” Dean asked.
“No,” Kim said. “I’m saying that we need more practice at interpreting satellite imagery, but also, when we go out looking for supplies, we need to be aware that the buildings around us could collapse at any moment.”
“It wasn’t like this when we left,” Colm said. “The bombs must have been dropped afterwards. The channel was clear, so the cruise ship was sunk afterwards, too. Maybe that was the target of the bombing run. Ah, who knows? So, what do we need? Fuel’s at the top of the list, right?”
“Food and drinking water are right at the top,” Kim said. “Soap and clothes are close behind, but we might find those in one of the containers. But, yes, fuel’s our priority. The launch has less than ten miles’ worth, assuming we’re travelling in calm weather.”
“But you said there’s going to be some at the airport, right?” Dean said. “Let’s just go there and get it.”
“We’re not talking about George Best Airport on the other side of the harbour,” Colm said. “The international airport is twenty miles away. That’s two days’ walk, there and back, or one by bike.”
“So let’s find some bikes,” Dean said.
“And trailers,” I said. “And containers for the fuel. And it’s aviation fuel, not diesel so we need a lubricant. We’ll also need a book that tells us what kind of lubricant and in what quantity.”
“You don’t know?” Dean asked.
I think Kim must have sensed my patience was draining. “Once we have the fuel, we’ll have to practice on a truck or car engine,” she said. “We can’t do that without bikes and a trailer, and that all adds up to more time than we’ve got food for. And it might be unnecessary if we can find diesel somewhere closer.”
“We can take a look at the George Best Airport,” Colm said. “The harbour, too. They had their own fuel tanks.”
Our eyes went to the window, and the devastation beyond.
“Is there anywhere else?” Siobhan asked Colm. “Where would you look?”
“The same places as everyone who didn’t get out when we did,” he said. “There was no evacuation here, not like in England. No rationing, either. There was talk of it, there was a lot of talk, but the zombies came, and the government had already gone. From what you said about the airport, they must have pulled back to protect strategic installations. I suppose we might find all the supplies we need there, but what did they consider strategic? I’d have thought Belfast Harbour would be at the top of the list. Since it wasn’t, where do we look?”
“Maybe that’s why the harbour was destroyed,” Kallie said. “Maybe they stored the supplies here.”
“Enough talking,” Dean said. “Aren’t we going to go somewhere?”
“He’s got a point,” Siobhan said. “We’ll split into three. The children will stay here and can help search through the containers. Colm, will you check the harbour and the George Best Airport? As for the other group, Dean, you lived here, too. Where would you go?”
“What? I… I dunno.”
“If you’d not left with Colm, where would you have gone?” she asked.
“Um, the caves? No, the castle, I s’pose,” Dean said.
“Worth a look,” Siobhan said. “If there are survivors in Belfast, that’s where they might have gone. But where would you look for food?”
“Dunno. Houses. Shops.”
“The zoo,” Kallie said.
“You don’t mean we’re going to eat the animals?” Tamara asked.
“No. They won’t be there,” Dean said.
“The keepers will have let them go,” I said hurriedly and before Dean could say anything else. It’s stupid, isn’t it, trying to maintain something of a child’s innocence in these times.
“But there would be food for them,” Kallie said. “Those pellets that they put in the buckets. You know, when you went to feed the giraffes, Dean. Remember, when we went on the school trip four years ago?”
“I… yeah,” he murmured, embarrassed.
“Where’s the zoo?” I asked.
“Due north of the castle,” Colm said. “And that’s due west of here.”
“They’d have a lot of vehicles in a zoo,” I said. “Land Rovers, lifting gear, trucks. Maybe enough that they’d have their own fuel tank.”
“Then it looks like we have a plan,” Kim said.
“You’re happy about the route to the castle?” I asked Dean. Siobhan was going to ensure the ship was secure. Colm and Lena were scouting the harbour. That left Kim, Kallie, Dean, and I to go to the castle and zoo.
“Yeah, sure. It’s that way.”
He waved a hand towards the shore on the other side of the bay. According to Colm, we had to cross the motorway, walk down two streets, then across a golf course, down two more streets, and then follow the signs. I made a note to look for a street map in the first house we came to. Relying on second-hand memories was a recipe for getting lost, and we didn’t have time for that. There were five hours before dark. Theoretically, it was only a few miles, but that included at least a mile of rowing.
“And you’re sure about the camouflage?” Kim asked.
“What do you mean?” Dean asked.
“Wear it if you’re comfortable,” Kim said. “But don’t confuse comfort with concealment. The city is concrete and bricks, not trees and bushes.”
“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Dean said, hauling himself over the side of the ship, and down to the life-raft below. I thought wistfully of a pulley and winch as I began my slow descent.
The raft had no engine, the sides were low, and there was barely room for us, let alone our gear. I’m not sure how big a crew a container ship required, but I don’t think more than eight could fit uncomfortably in one of the rafts.
“So where in Belfast are you from?” Kim asked as we rowed away from the John Cabot.
“Castlereigh,” Dean said.
“Was it nice?” Kim asked. “Did you like it?”
“I guess,” Dean said.
“Of course you did,” Kallie said. “I liked it, too. Not at first. I was six when we moved. We got here in September, and I remember it just kept getting colder and colder. Everyday I thought, surely it would have to warm up. That winter seemed to go on forever. But I grew to love the winters, when you could feel grateful just knowing that spring was on the way. Oh, and being able to go into a centrally heated house when it was a thick frost outside, that was marvellous.”
Her words became background as we rowed around an industrial site ringed with a triple-thick chain-link fence. It was a pleasant litany of a happy childhood, and I almost regretted it having to end when went ashore.
All was quiet and still as we picked our slow way towards the motorway that ran north from Belfast along the coast towards Whiteabbey.
“You okay, Bill?” Kim asked. I’d stopped on the motorway’s hard shoulder.
“I… It’s different,” I said. “The signs are the same, but the motorway is different from England.”
Dean glanced at the asphalt, then at me. “What? It’s not wide enough for you, or something?”
“It’s not hemmed in by chain-link fencing,” I said. “It’s not full of zombies. Did I tell you about the car ride we took, the one that went under the motorway?”
“This isn’t the time, Bill,” Kim said. “Play the chronicler later.”
There was a soft whistle from Kallie, crouched on the roof of an abandoned delivery van. She pointed north, then raised a hand, holding up one finger. Dean jogged towards her, drawing an arrow as he ran.
“The enthusiasm of youth,” Kim murmured with a wry grin. She slid the safety off the rifle and followed. I took the rear, limping slowly, looking south as often as north. We’d come ashore at what I’d describe as the northern limits of Belfast. There were a dozen abandoned vehicles in sight, but for the most part, the road was empty enough that a vehicle could be driven down it. From the look of the gouges in the paintwork, broken lights, cracked bumpers, and shattered windows, I think vehicles had been driven down it, and at speed. Were those survivors trying to get into Belfast, or away? Or both? That thought didn’t depress me. If anything, the sight of the motorway buoyed my spirits even further. It would take decades for nature to reclaim the road. I’m not sure what we’ll use it for, but even if it’s only looting these houses, the relatively clear motorway will make it easier. Walking towards the van, the zombie still blocked from view, I began to see the shape our future could take. It was a momentary vision, one hard to remember now, and one that was gone with the hiss of an arrow being loosed.
“Chest,” Kallie said.
Dean loosed again. I heard the arrow skitter along concrete.
“Damn it,” Dean muttered. “The string’s wet.”
Kallie jumped down from the roof of the van. “Don’t rush,” she said. “You always rush.”
Dean muttered something I didn’t hear. From the way Kallie’s eyebrows raised, she had. Dean’s third arrow hit the mark, piercing the zombie’s skull.
“Any others?” I asked Kallie.
“We’re clear,” she said.
“This way,” Dean said, cutting across the motorway. He set a quick pace, one that was hard to keep up with, and impossible to keep up with quietly. That was a mistake. So was bringing the teenagers with us on a journey through their old home city without first spending time to learn about the places and people they’d once known.
“Wait up,” I said, grabbing Dean’s arm when I realised he wasn’t leading us directly to the castle. “I thought there was meant to be a golf course.”
He shrugged. “Roads are quicker than grass.” He gestured at the fence. “We break this down, go through the garden, then it’s just a couple of streets away.”
“You sure?” Kallie asked, her tone suggesting that she wasn’t.
“Yeah. Yeah, positive,” Dean said.
Before I could stop him, he’d drawn his knife
, rammed it between two fencing panels, and levered them apart. Wood snapped louder than a gunshot. I grabbed his arm, dragging him back as Kim put first her gun barrel, then her eye to the gap.
“Clear,” she said.
“I’m going first,” I said. Dean shook his head, but didn’t stop me from taking down enough of the panels that we could climb through. The back garden was familiar. Not in the particulars, but similar to those I’d seen so many times before. The lawn was overgrown in the middle, bare under the trees planted in opposite corners farthest from the house, and already partially covered in fallen leaves. Those same leaves covered the patio furniture. The double-glazed kitchen windows were unbroken and smeared with dust. At the side of the house was a narrow path, barely two feet wide, with a gate that was even narrower. The paving slabs were coated in a dark green moss, slick from recent rain.
Dean pushed past me, almost running to the gate. That’s when I should have realised what he was doing, but I’d been distracted by another realisation. The seagulls we’d seen around the harbour, and close to the shore, were completely absent. Before I could warn Dean, he had the gate open, and was running through it.
“Zombies!” I warned, just as Dean yelled the exact same thing. Kim sprinted through the gate, Kallie close on her heels, and I hurried to catch them. I couldn’t see Dean. I couldn’t see the zombies, either. I saw Kim run into the front garden and raise her rifle before she stepped out of view. I saw Kallie raise her bow. I heard the sound of an arrow. I heard the sound of a shot. Then I was through the gate, into the front garden, and I saw the undead. It seemed like a slow wave about to crash down on us. A sea of snapping mouths and clawing arms. They’d been in the street, quiet, motionless, until they heard the sound of the breaking fence.
One of them had knocked Dean from his feet. Barely registering Kim and Kallie firing bullet and arrow into the mass, I shoulder-charged the zombie pinning Dean to the ground. The zombie rolled off, and lurched upright barely before I’d raised the sword. I swung at its head. It was a hasty blow. The blade slashed across its face, but I lost my grip. The sword pinwheeled into the pack of zombies staggering towards us. I grabbed Dean’s collar, hauling him to his feet and back towards the house.
Surviving The Evacuation (Book 9): Ireland Page 22
