and everyone seemed cheered by the fine weather. I remember the sun dazzling off the water as if it were no more than a huge placid lake. We took off and flew at a height of fifteen hundred feet towards our designated oil rig. We were soon over it and flying past, gradually descending to our inbound level...'
Kate raised her head and looked at him in puzzlement.
'Sorry,' he said. 'Standard procedure for rig landing is to fly five miles beyond, descend to two hundred feet and head back, preferably with the wind behind. The rig shows on radar, although the blip disappears from the scanner when it's within a mile's range; after that you rely on sight.
'Everything was normal, no problems at all. I was still on the outbound course, levelling off, when we ran smack into a thick sea mist.'
He shivered, his body becoming tense, and Kate held him tight.
'It was sudden, but no cause for alarm. I turned the machine and headed back in the direction of the rig, flying even lower to keep visual contact with the sea. I should have risen above the fog bank, but I figured we were close to the rig and would soon be clear of the mist.
But you see, the fog was shifting and moving in the same direction - that's why it had come up on us so swiftly when we were outbound. Then, without any warning, I had nothing at all to focus on.
'I should have switched to instrument flying, but I was confident I could rely on my own instincts to take us clear; all I had to do was maintain a constant altitude. The Civil Aviation Authority has a term for it:
"Pilot disorientation", an overwhelming compulsion for a pilot to believe in his own senses rather than what his instruments tell him. They say it's a common phenomenon, even among the most experienced aircrew; all I know is that my stupidity cost the lives of those men.'
'Steve, you can't blame yourself.' She tugged at his collar as if to shake sense into him.
'I can, and I do,' he said quietly. 'Every pilot who has lost his aircraft and killed his passengers and who has himself survived feels the same way, even when no fingers are pointed at him. It's something there's just no refuge from.'
She saw it was pointless to argue at that moment. Tell me what happened,' she said, and this time there was no reluctance on his part to continue.
We hit the sea and bounced off. We hit again and the floor was ripped out. One of the flotation tanks must have been damaged, too, because next time we hit, the copter flipped over and sank.
'I found myself outside, lungs full of freezing water. Don't ask me how I got out, I don't remember; maybe through an escape hatch, or maybe I just floated through the ripped floor. I was semi-conscious, but I could see the helicopter below, sinking fast, disappearing into that deep, never-ending gloom. I broke surface, coughing water, half-drowned, that
murky vision already working its own special torture. I tried to get rid of my lifejacket, tried to tear it off so I could go back down, help those still trapped inside the helicopter, anything to relieve me of my guilt there and then, even if it meant my own death; but other hands grabbed me, held me there. My junior captain had escaped, too, and was clinging to me, one of the surviving riggers helping him. They stopped me diving and sometimes I curse them for it.
'Only eight of us made it. Other bodies were recovered later, but most went down with the Sikorsky.
We were lucky that another helicopter was preparing for take-off on another rig close to the one we were headed for; when we lost radio contact and disappeared from the radar scanner, it was sent out to search for us. By the time it reached our last point of contact, the fog bank had drifted on and we were visible. They winched us aboard just in time; any longer and the cold would have finished us, even though the weather itself was mild.'
Culver sighed deep and long, as though some of the pain had been released with the telling. His voice became flat, unemotional. The wreckage was never recovered, so the investigators couldn't be sure if instrument failure had been involved; but from my own account and my co-pilot's, "pilot disorientation"
was assumed. The CAA rarely classes it as a sign of incompetence or negligence, so no action was taken against me. It was my fault, of course, but not officially, and no one voiced any accusations.'
'And yet you blamed yourself,' said Kate.
'If I'd followed the book, those people would still be alive.'
'I can't answer that, Steve. It seems trite to say that accidents will always happen, even to the most careful. The fact that you weren't accused, not even in private, surely absolves you from any responsibility.'
The company didn't ask me to complete my contract'
'Do you really wonder at that? My God, they wouldn't be so heartless.'
'It may have been the best thing for me, to fly that same route, to try to carry on as normal.'
'How could your employers know that? It could have been the worst thing to have done. I can't believe you've been so foolish as to allow guilt to shadow your life for so long.'
'It hasn't, Kate. Oh, it was bad for a long, long time, but gradually the thoughts found their own little hideaway at the back of my mind. I wasn't too well received at other companies after the crash, despite the inquiry's findings, and I was desperate to get back in the air. I needed to find my own peace.'
The perspiration that trickled from his forehead was due to something more than humidity. Thank God an old friend came along just at the right time. Harry McKay and I learned to fly together and we'd kept in loose contact over the years. He suggested our own charter company; he'd handle the business side, I'd do the flying. Harry had a little money of his own and knew where he could find more. We'd be up to our ears in debt for a few years, but it would be our own company and eventually all the profits would be ours. Debt or no debt, profit or no profit, I jumped at the chance. From that moment on we were so busy that I was able to keep those bad memories suppressed, even though I was always aware they were lurking on that shelf, ready to slip down—'
'Or be taken down and dusted off? Is that what you do from time to time?'
He twisted his head to see her face. 'You're harder than you look,' he said.
'No, I just hate to see someone indulge themselves in self-torment. You were cleared by the inquiry and by your own
company, even though everybody loves a scapegoat. It seems to me you've been punishing yourself because the authorities didn't. Maybe you'll take this world destruction on your shoulders, too. Sure, you can take my part of the burden as well. I don't need it.'
"You're being bloody—'
'Silly? Am I really? Isn't guilt supposed to be a primary condition of the human psyche?'
He smiled. 'Is this meant to shake me out of my self-pitying stupor?'
Kate tried to turn away, her anger flaring, but he held her. Tm sorry,' he said. 'I know what you're trying to do and I'm not mocking. I'd even go as far as to say I'm grateful. But just telling you about it has already helped. It's as if I've let something go, set those memories free. Maybe I was the gaoler of my own memories all this time, when all they wanted was to be set loose. And what you said about this world destruction is partly true: it doesn't minimize what happened on that day, but it kind of overshadows it.'
She relaxed against him. 'Haven't you spoken about the accident to anyone else before?'
'Couple of people, Harry for one. Usually in drinking sessions.'
'Was the other person a woman?'
'No. As a matter of fact, it was a doctor. Not a shrink. Just an ordinary GP. You want to hear about it?'
She nodded against his shoulder.
'About a year after the accident I developed sore testicles - at least, that was what it felt like to me.
You can smile, but when that happens to a man he fears the worst. I let it ride for a while, but it got no better. Finally, I went to see my doctor and he diagnosed an inflamed prostate, said it was due to stress.
I offered that flying was a stressful occupation,
but he was smarter than that. He explained that after the heli
copter went down and all those lives had been lost, I had kept my emotions in check, had never allowed the breakdown that should have naturally followed - not necessarily a huge, hysterical breakdown, you understand, but perhaps a brief nervous collapse. I hadn't allowed it and the body won't be fooled. The inflamed prostate was a physical manifestation substituting for a mental one. The damage wasn't permanent, just a little uncomfortable for a while, and eventually it passed.'
'But the anguish didn't.'
'No, I told you - it found its little place to rest on. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that my only penalty for a stupid mistake was sore balls, when it was death for all those others, misery for their families. Doesn't that strike you as hilarious?'
*You suffered more than that. And it's never stopped for you, no matter how much you kept the hurt inside. You talk of penalties without realizing that life itself doesn't punish us; it's something we confer on ourselves. We create our own atonement. We manufacture our own crucifix and nail ourselves to it.'
Culver was momentarily too surprised to answer. Whether or not he agreed with Kate's philosophy, he knew he had misjudged her. He should have realized there was more to her by the way she had adapted inside the shelter, how she had helped Clare Reynolds nurse the sick, himself included, how quickly she had accepted - no, adjusted to - the hideous and traumatic change in all their lives. And she had proved she was no fluttering, fainting damsel in their escape from the shelter.
Why are you looking at me like that?' Kate asked. 'Haven't you heard a thing I've been saying?'
'Oh yes, I've heard.' He kissed her forehead. 'And you may be right. How come you didn't mention all this before?'
Her exasperation rapidly vanished. 'How come you didn't tell me about the crash before?'
Culver was about to reply when movement caught his eye. 'It'll have to keep. Looks like the others are stirring.'
'Steve ...' She pulled at him as he began to rise.
He looked down at her quizzically and she returned his kiss.
A frightened voice called out. 'Oh God, where is everybody?' Culver answered. Take it easy, Ellison.
You're safe enough.' He pulled on his boot and reluctantly got to his feet, gazing down at Kate as he rose. He gently touched her hair before walking over to the engineer, limping slightly as he went. Kate followed.
The others were waking, disturbed by Ellison's shout. They stared around them, startled by the mist.
Culver did a quick check as he approached: Ellison, Dealey, Fairbank stretched out beneath a fallen tree.
Jackson and one other engineer, a man he knew as Dene. Five of them, he and Kate, making seven. Had they lost others in their flight through the ruins? He didn't think so; the rest had probably drowned or been torn to pieces by the vermin back inside the shelter. Or maybe even burned to death: the choice of death was varied.
Ellison looked relieved to see him. 'What is this place?' he asked, rising.
'As far as we can make out, it's what used to be Lincoln's Inn Fields,' Culver replied. 'What's left of it.'
Ellison tried to penetrate the mist. The rats ...?'
'Stay calm. We left them back in the shelter. We're safe for now.'
Dealey had risen only to his knees as if the world was still unsteady. This fog - is it a dust cloud?'
'Use your head.' Culver grabbed his arm and hauled him up. 'Can't you feel the heat, the humidity?
After all that rain and with the sun beating down, the place has become a steam bath. And if that makes you uncomfortable, just wait until the insects start biting.' He turned towards the fallen tree. 'How're things, Fairbank?'
The small stocky engineer yawned, then grinned back at him. Things is hungry.'
That sounds healthy enough. Jackson, Dene?'
The two other engineers looked less happy. They rose and joined the others, eyes warily watching their surroundings.
'Any injuries?' Culver asked of them all.
'Do bruises and grazes count?' said Fairbank, reaching the group.
'Only rat bites and broken limbs are eligible.'
Then I'm not even in the race.'
'Check yourself, anyway. You never know what you did to yourself back there.'
Each man examined his clothing for tears and his skin for abrasions. There were cuts and plenty of bruises, but no bites.
We were lucky,' Fairbank said.
'Luckier than those poor bastards we left behind,' Jackson remarked angrily and a silence fell over them.
It seemed natural that Dealey should break the silence. We must get away from here. I believe it's still not safe to be out here in the open.'
Each man, soul-weary and afraid of what lay ahead for them, studied the dishevelled Ministry man with quiet,
brooding disdain, as though now holding him solely responsible for the deaths of their colleagues and friends left behind in the Exchange. Kate sensed and shared their contempt, yet oddly felt a tinge of pity for Dealey. He stood among them, a small, balding, middle-aged man, his clothing torn, his face and hands filthy, his shoulders - his whole demeanour -stooped and tremulous, and she knew it was wrong of them to attribute so much blame to him. The grand folly was universal.
She broke the tension, anxious to avoid the confrontation that was looming and which would be so pointless. Will it be possible to get out of London?' she asked, not just of Dealey but of all of them.
Dealey, no fool and aware of their resentment, was grateful for her question. Tes, yes, of course. But there is an easier way than going overland. And there is still a safe place for us here in the city—'
What city, you—' Jackson took a step towards Dealey, but Culver held his arm.
'Easy,' he said. 'I think I know where Dealey means. First, though, we've got a few minor things to take care of. I could do with some food, for one, and I think we need to rest up a little more before making plans. Besides, I've got a rat bite that I need treated before I do any more walking.'
We can't stay here,' Dealey insisted. This very mist may be thick with radiation.'
'I doubt it. The most critical time is over and besides, the long rainfall must have flushed most, if not all, the radiation away. Anyway, we've spent a whole night in the open; if we were going to be poisoned, it'll have happened by now.'
'But there's been no All-clear.'
'Christ, get it into your head, Dealey: there's never going to be an All-clear. There's no one left to give such a signal.'
That's not true. There are other shelters, many of them; the main government shelter under the Embankment will still be intact, I'm sure.'
Then why no communication from them?'
'A breakdown somewhere. EMP, collapse of the cable tunnels - any number of things could have broken our communications with other stations.'
'Let's cut out the crap,' Ellison interrupted. 'Right now we need food and maybe something for self-protection, if we can find anything. I don't like the idea of travelling unarmed.'
Jackson agreed. This looks like as good a place as any to rest up in. At least it's open ground and man, I'm sick of confined spaces.' He turned to Dene who nodded in agreement.
Fairbank just grinned approval and Kate said, You need something on that wound, Steve. It looks clean enough and there's no puffiness around the bite, but you never can tell.'
Culver frowned at Dealey. 'I'd rather we all stayed together, but if you want, you can go your own way. It's up to you.'
After a moment's hesitation, Dealey said, ‘Ill stay.'
Culver hid his relief: the civil servant had too much valuable 'inside' knowledge for them to have let him leave. 'Okay, let's decide on who our scavengers are going to be.'
'I'll be one,' Fairbank promptly volunteered. 'And you won't be the other,' he told Culver. We'll try and find antiseptics, medicines and analgesics along with some food, while you rest that leg. I know the area and where to head for; let's hope we can burrow our way into some of the shops.' He wiped sweat from his face and neck
with his hands, then glanced at Jackson and Dene. You two game?'
'Sure, we know the area too,' Jackson said for them both. Dene, a thin, sallow-complexioned man in his early twenties,
appeared less certain, but did not feel inclined to argue.However, he thought of something that the others seemedto have overlooked. 'How we gonna find our way back in thisfog? I mean, the streets won't exactly be the same, will they?'
'Is your wristwatch the type with hands?' Culver asked. The engineer nodded. You can just see the haze of the sun.Got it? Okay, south is midway between the hour hand andtwelve o'clock. It'll give you a rough bearing on where thepark is; once you locate it you'll soon find us. Try and getback within the hour and save us some worry.'
'If you can find anything left to burn, a fire might help us,'Jackson suggested.
We'll manage something. Just be careful and don't takeany chances.'
Fairbank clicked his tongue against his teeth and pointed.The three men set off together, backs to the sun, heading towards the area that had once been High Holbora.
Culver and the others watched the mist swallow them up.It was an eerie and foreboding sight, and the immenseemptiness they left behind had little to do with unoccupiedspace.
Culver shook off the feeling, concentrating on the task in hand. 'Kate, will you help Ellison collect wood
- branches,fencing, anything that hasn't burned to charcoal - and bringit here? Any paper would help too
- search the litter bins.And keep within shouting distance.'
Ellison appeared ready to object, but evidently thought better of it. He walked away, a hand brushing flies from theair before him, and Kate went with him.
Culver slowly turned to face the last man left with him.'Just me and you now, Dealey. I've got one or two questionsand you're going to give me straight answers. If not, I'll breakyour bloody neck.'
Alex Dealey shifted uncomfortably against the tree stump, itsblackened, jagged shape rising above him like an accusingfinger pointed at the night sky. Not far away, the fire thathad been kindled earlier in the day and constantly fed withanything that would burn, hued the mist orange. The blazewas welcome not just for its warmth against the sudden chillof the night air, but because it held the all-prevailing darknessat bay, and with it, its terrors. The others, except Culver andthe girl, who it would appear had found warmth and comfortin each other, stayed close to the protective glow, gazinginto the brightness, conversing in low-murmured voices.Occasionally laughter broke the quiet tones, although neverraucous, always subdued, as if the men were afraid the soundmight carry to hostile ears. Dealey stayed apart from thegroup, his hunched shoulders covered by one of the blankets the three engineers had brought back with them from theirforage into the ruins, for their resentment of him was obvious, unequivocal, and discomforting. Fools. Ungratefulbloody fools.
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