by Frank Tayell
“But they did bring their weapons?” Bran asked.
“Some did, yes,” Kim said. “But it’s the same as with the food, they don’t know how many they’ve brought. Reading between the lines, it’s machetes and tools more than it’s guns and ammo.”
“Which is a situation we’ve been in before,” Mary said. “Let’s not forget that.”
“No,” Kim said. “Their next impending problem will be fresh water. They left that behind, too. Their desalinisation gear is working overtime but doesn’t stand a chance of keeping up. They’re sailing here in a freighter and cargo ships that were designed for crews of a dozen.”
“Do they have enough water for today?” Bran asked.
“Yes, and maybe for tomorrow, but no longer, and that’s with them on short rations. I’m reading between the lines, again, though.”
“We’re on short rations ourselves,” Mary said. “We can’t hold out hope for rain. What about freshwater sources?”
“There are some streams to the north of Dundalk Bay,” Bran said. “We can ask Commander Crawley to send a team to mark a route, perhaps even ship some containers there. However, I think we should depart before they arrive.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for them?” Mirabelle asked. “We can have fresh water and hot food ready when they get here. We could even find some new clothes and other bits and pieces.”
“Can we really, dear?” Mary asked. “How long have we been here, and how many clean and dry stitches of clothing do we have between us?”
“That’s my point,” Bran said. “Though I’d put it in the starker terms of available calories. The grain we salvaged from the wreck represents our entire reserve, for us and them, enlivened by a paltry selection of spices. After it’s consumed, and for as long as we are here, we’ll be relying entirely on fish. Did they say how many small boats they’ve managed to save?”
“No,” Kim said. “But they didn’t have many in Belfast to start with.”
“I don’t suppose they know how much fishing gear they’ve salvaged?” Bran asked. “No? We didn’t find much here in Dundalk. Not that many of us are skilled with line or net.”
“What you mean,” Mary said, “is that we won’t be able to catch enough fish to feed us all.”
“Exactly,” Bran said. “Food, water, even coal; the longer we stay here, the more resources we consume that the admiral needs as much as us. We’ve thirty meals each aboard The New World, and we won’t find any more here. What we need, what the admiral needs, is a safe harbour somewhere warm within sailing distance of green-leaved trees that contain either fruit or birds.”
“Somewhere we can scavenge new clothes, medicines, and all the rest,” Mary said. “Yes, I agree. And for that, we’ll need better ships. That means Calais. How long will it take us to reach there?”
“Commander Crawley thinks two days, perhaps three,” Kim said. “But if we depart now, we’ll have to leave most of the supplies here in the college, not at the coal depot.”
“It doesn’t make much difference whether we move them or the admiral does,” Bran said. “What’s crucial is finding out whether those ships in Calais can sail or not. My mind is very much on what we’ll do if the answer is not. Thirty meals each, that’s ten days, maybe fifteen. Maybe we’ll get lucky in Calais and find a ship stocked with tins, and a harbour full of fish. Maybe there’ll be a storm that delays us, and one so strong we can’t fish. Maybe the ships there are unusable, and we’ll have less than a week to find food or face starvation.”
“Remaining here, we could only give the admiral a welcome,” Mary said, “but that won’t keep them safe. No, we’ll leave, and we’ll do it today, now.”
“As soon as the last stragglers have finished breakfast, we should secure the canteen and the supplies we’re leaving behind,” Bran said. “We’ll travel to the waterfront in one large group, like we did when we moved from the hotel. I’ll ask Commander Crawley to leave a rear guard behind to secure the coal depot and landing site. We’ll leave them a boat, and ask they cross the harbour, and mark out a couple of streams. I’d say Vasco Fonseca should command it, but we can leave behind some of the ship’s crew who… who might prefer to be reunited with their old comrades.”
“Agreed,” Mary said.
“What about the helicopter?” Mirabelle asked. “Do we bring that with us?”
“There’s space on deck, just about,” Bran said.
“When we reach France, it would make searching for Bill easier, Kim,” Mary said.
“Yes, yes, it would,” Kim said, realising that the final decision was being left to her. “But the helicopter is only useful as long as we have fuel. I didn’t ask Kallie if they were able to salvage any aviation fuel, but I can’t imagine they did. That means the only source is still the remaining tankers up near Belfast International. No, best we leave the helicopter here.”
“Good,” Bran said. “That will forestall an argument with the pilot over whether the admiral or Mary is in overall command. That’s an issue we’ll have to settle, but one I’d like to put off for now.”
“Then we’re all agreed?” Kim asked. “Good. You won’t need my help on the journey to the harbour. Before we leave, I’d like to return to the hospital. We never did confirm that it was empty of the undead, and we should at least tell the admiral that before she arrives. But, really, it’s this mystery over the Irish survivors I want an answer to. Did they bring the ammunition from Dublin, and did they then take it all with them? We’ve found about half the ammunition, right?”
“Fifty-thousand rounds of 9mm,” Bran said. “And an assortment of grenades, shotgun shells, and a small collection of other personal weapons and ammunition.”
“So we’ve found about half of what that log said they had. They might have taken the remainder with them, but why leave some behind? They had time to set up those sound-lures, after all. They might have used the ammunition, I suppose, but what if they didn’t? What if it’s in the hospital?”
“What you mean is that curiosity is eating you alive,” Mary said. “But it would be pleasant to discuss that mystery as an alternative to the problems they had in Belfast. Bran, you’ll go with her.”
“He really needs to lead the people to the harbour,” Kim said.
“I think I can manage that well enough on my own,” Mary said. “While it would be nice to have some answers to the mystery of our missing Irish survivors, it would be worse if we left here having suffered another tragedy. Off you go. We’ll see you at the ship.”
“Do you think those clouds look like snow?” Annette asked.
“I think it’s smoke from the fire in Belfast,” Kim said.
“No way,” Annette said. “It can’t be. That’s miles from here.”
Blocked drains and flooded gutters left them a narrow, mud-coated path down which to trudge. Bran was on point with Ken and Dee-Dee. Donnie and Mirabelle were just behind, with Kim and Annette at the rear.
At a crossroads where a pair of pubs faced one another, the rain and snowmelt had drained into the cellars. The windows of the public houses were intact. The brickwork appeared sound. The signs, cleaned by the rain, almost sparkled. But those flooded pubs would be the first buildings to collapse, bringing down the houses that shared an adjoining wall. It wouldn’t happen today, nor tomorrow, and probably not before the admiral left Dundalk, but they would be ruins long before anyone ever returned to this town.
Bran stopped, crouched, raised a warning hand, but then waved the all-clear without a shot being fired.
The previous night had been a sleepless one for all in Dundalk as they’d waited for the next infrequent update from Belfast. That tension had spread to the sentries, and a dozen shots had been fired into the night, though dawn’s first light had shone on only one new corpse outside their barricade.
“We won’t be coming back, will we?” Annette said. “I mean, it’ll be France, then Spain or America, but we won’t come back here.”
“To Dundalk,
no,” Kim said. “I was just thinking the same.”
“I meant Ireland,” Annette said. “I kinda like it. More than Anglesey, anyway.”
“Even though there’s more undead and far less electricity?”
“It’s… even without the sabotage, we’d have had to leave Anglesey some time,” Annette said. “We knew that from when we first arrived there. Here, it’s different, because wherever we end up, it’ll be somewhere like this, won’t it, a small town close to the sea?”
“I expect so.”
“This town wasn’t so bad. Yeah, it’s kinda sad that we’re leaving. What about you, Donnie?” she asked.
“What’s that?” Donnie said, turning around.
“Are you sad about leaving?” Annette asked.
“You mean am I sad about the prospect of sleeping on board a ship where I won’t wake every morning worried that the undead have surrounded us during the night? No, I can’t say that I am.”
“I meant sad about leaving Ireland,” Annette said. “Leaving your home.”
“My flat was in Belfast,” Donnie said. “Don’t they say home is where you hang your hat, though I never was one for hats. They always blew off in the wind.”
Mirabelle laughed.
“What about you, Kim?” Annette asked. “Are you sad about leaving?”
“Leaving here? No. I’m glad we’re alive, and thankful for that. Donnie’s right. Home’s an idea in time, a state of mind, not walls and roofs.”
“An idea in time?” Annette repeated. “Yeah, I like that. Still, I’ll miss Ireland. But we’ve got to leave. We’ve got to find Bill.”
“We do,” Kim said.
They trudged onward.
“Kim?” Annette asked.
“Yes?”
“Exactly how are we going to find Bill?”
“With the satellites,” Kim said. “We’ll find the plane first, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Yeah, but… but what if we can’t find the plane?”
“We will.”
“Okay, but you know that we might not?” Annette said. “I mean, what if they didn’t land in France? What if they just kept going?”
“That’s why we have to find the plane,” Kim said.
“Yeah, but—”
But Bran had stopped and crouched down again. This time, he stayed crouched, and waved them all forward.
Kim ushered Annette ahead, checked the safety on her rifle, and then checked the road behind. They were alone, but only now did she realise that, if they had to flee, they’d have to run in single file along the flooded road. Slowly, more alert than ever, she caught up with the others, but it wasn’t a zombie that had caused Bran to stop.
“Ahead. Do you see?” Bran said.
“It’s the cat!” Annette said.
The cat sat in the middle of the road, watching them beadily. Mostly black with patches of grubby white fur, the ragged red collar around its neck hung loose, betraying how skinny it had grown in the last months.
“She looks hungry,” Annette said, taking a step towards her.
“Try not to look like food, then,” Donnie said.
“Ha-ha, not funny,” Annette said. “Here, puss. Here, puss.” Doubled-over, hand extended, she sidled towards the cat who blinked, stood, and ran away up the road. “See! See what you did!” Annette said, rounding on Donnie.
Just behind them, the eave-window of a two-storey terraced house shattered. Glass fell, splashing onto the flooded pavement below as an arm reached through the broken frame. A head followed, but the rest of the zombie got caught on the jagged pane.
“Mine,” Bran said, firing before anyone else could. He carried one of the submachine guns salvaged from the depot and to which Rahinder had affixed a suppressor. The shot was louder than from one of their rifles, but the echo soon died away.
“Clear,” Bran said.
“And the cat’s gone,” Annette said.
“She’s following us,” Kim said.
“How can she be, when she was in front?” Annette said.
“Fine, then she found us, but that means she’ll find us again. It looks like she was heading to the hospital. Maybe we’ll catch up with her there.”
The hospital had changed since the day that they’d first found it. The undead killed during the survivors’ fighting retreat had been trampled by the thousand-strong pack that had swept from the building. The abandoned ambulances had been shunted into one another, the wing mirrors broken, their bumpers crushed. Kim reached for the handle of the nearest door, but the frame was so distorted it wouldn’t open.
“Pity.”
“You wanted something from inside?” Annette asked.
“I wanted to—”
Near her feet came a soft scraping. Kim pushed Annette away from the ambulance, and jumped back herself, as a decaying arm swept out from beneath the vehicle. The arm swung back, then forth, and then slapped onto the concrete. Black pus oozed from broken skin as exposed muscles tightened, and the zombie hauled its shoulders, then its head from beneath the ambulance. Kim had already slung her rifle and had her machete in hand. She stamped her foot down on the creature’s wrist, breaking the bone and pinning its arm. As it tugged, as sinew ripped, as its mouth snapped at her leg, she stabbed the heavy blade down.
“Why can’t they just die?” Annette said.
“I know,” Kim said.
“Back up,” Bran said. “Stay alert.” He fell flat to the ground and peered under the remaining vehicles. “Looks clear.” He pushed himself back to his feet.
“Mum— I mean… I mean, what were you looking for in the ambulance?” Annette asked.
“Where were they going, and where did they come from?” Kim said, looking away so Annette wouldn’t see her smile. “Did they come from Dublin, and then go on foot to the barracks, or was this where some of them came after they left those barricades in the town? I suppose I’m really just trying to find enough answers that we don’t have to go inside.”
The hospital itself had barely changed since their first visit. More windows had been smashed, the door by the ramp behind the ambulances had been ripped from its hinges, but otherwise it was as darkly forbidding as when they’d first seen it.
“Well, there’s no point putting it off,” she said. “How do we do this?”
“The corridors are narrow,” Bran said. “We don’t want to get in each other’s way. Ken, Dee-Dee, you go through that door over there. That building seems to be connected to this one by that corridor. Walk the exterior. Always keep the windows on your left. You’re looking for ammunition or other caches of supplies. Stick to the exterior until you find yourselves back at the main entrance. Kim, you and I’ll go inside, into the interior. Annette, you’re keeping the time, you have a watch?”
“Sure.”
“After thirty minutes, if we’re not outside, fire an un-silenced shot. Mirabelle, Donnie, you stay here, too. Watch the road. If more than ten zombies come, fire an un-silenced shot. Ken, Dee-Dee, if you get in trouble, do the same. Wherever we hear that shot, that’s where we’ll go. Thirty minutes, no more.”
Inside was dark. The floor was damp, the carpet sodden with what Kim hoped was rainwater. Bran turned on his torch. Kim did the same, the weak beams adding to the second-hand light from broken windows. A polystyrene panel snapped beneath her feet as she ducked around an aluminium ventilation pipe which had fallen through the false ceiling. Ahead, Bran paused just before an open door. At least, the top two thirds were open. The bottom third was still attached by its lower hinge. He tapped his rifle against the wall, and then kicked the broken door, which barely moved.
Kim pushed aside a jumble of hanging wires, and then saw what Bran had seen. There were zombies inside the room, lying next to the door, unmoving.
Bran raised his rifle. “Okay,” he said.
Kim wasn’t sure if he was talking to her, or to the undead, but they didn’t move.
“They’re dead?” she asked.
�
�I think so,” he said.
“Trampled when the pack pursued us?”
“Must have been,” Bran said hesitantly, as he focused his torch on the hairless scalp of the upper-most creature. “It doesn’t look damaged.”
“I suppose people could die from brain injuries without there being any obvious trauma,” Kim said. “I’m grasping at straws here.”
Bran raised the light’s beam, scanning the room. “Ten dead, nothing else in there. Nothing obvious. No clue how they ended up in the room in the first place. Let’s move on.”
Kim took the lead. The next door had been completely removed from its hinges, and lay in two parts on the corridor’s floor. Inside the room, a desk had been upturned. On the other side were bones, still covered in as much skin as cloth.
“Doesn’t look the corpse of a zombie,” Kim said. “But it’s not been eaten by rodents. Or insects.”
“Don’t forget the thousand zombies that were in here before we arrived. Even a mouse is smart enough to stay away from that kind of hell. That submachine gun, that’s an MP-7.”
Kim picked it up. “Empty. That’s the same type you found in the barracks?” She bent down, and pushed the corpse’s collar aside. Hanging around spine and rotten flesh was a pair of identity discs. She pulled them free.
“Let me see?” Bran said. “Dutch. Well, I think that confirms they were connected to the people we found in the barracks. The question is whether they were part of the same group.”
“You think they might have arrived later?”
“Maybe. This hospital wasn’t marked on that map we found, and it’s not inside their barricade. The group in the barracks might have arrived first, aiming to secure the town and the harbour. They failed and had to flee, but had no way of warning the second wave.”
“How much time do we have left?” Kim asked, playing the light around the detritus littering the room.
“Twenty minutes,” Bran said.
“Let’s keep going, hope we find a more obvious clue somewhere else.”
