by Robin Crumby
As she turned to leave, something near the rim caught her eye. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a body with a thick mooring rope tied around its neck, trailing up the slope. Its features were barely recognisable, charred and disfigured, half-covered with lime. Riley shuddered and turned away, realising that this must be Jack. She closed her eyes and hurried past, not daring to look again.
Stepping on to the rocks and the spit stretching back towards Milford, she bathed her face in the afternoon sun, staring back towards the island. There was a light sea swell. Shadows from passing clouds hurried across the waves.
From here, the island looked so tranquil, like a haven from the chaos of the last few years. She now knew the true horror. The island was as damned as anywhere else. One way or another, without a vaccine, those who remained would fall victim to the virus. Those who fled faced an uncertain future on the mainland.
Looking back towards the castle keep, she saw Scottie had kept his promise. Fluttering above the Gun Tower was the Union Jack in all its glory. It was a fitting tribute to their former leader and all he had achieved here. He would not be forgotten.
Riley looked around the lichen-covered castle walls, feeling nostalgic, remembering the good times they had enjoyed here and acknowledging the bad. She closed her eyes, inhaling the sea air. It felt good to be back.
She made a solemn promise to herself. They would keep the home fires burning until Zed and the others made it back here alive. It was up to her now. They would survive or die fighting for what they believed in. There could be no other way.
