Surviving The Evacuation (Book 10): The Last Candidate

by Frank Tayell

  “What did you say the range was, four thousand miles? That won’t get you to the U.S.”

  “It’s enough to reach Canada,” she said.

  “Is there an airfield?”

  “I don’t know, but we can clear a stretch of coastal road if needs be. We’ll carry the fuel from the tankers on our ship. We will refuel the plane, and then we will fly over New England.”

  “After that, the fuel will be gone,” I said.

  “We’ll look for more,” the admiral said, “though there would hardly be any point if we didn’t have a plane into which to put it. We’ll find some, or we won’t, but we will look. We will try. What more can we do?”

  “What more can any of us do? So you fly the plane overhead, hope people see it and head towards where it lands? We could do that in Europe. We could do it in Britain. We wouldn’t even need to land, but have the plane head to the coast where ships could be waiting, ready to bring the survivors to Anglesey.”

  “That is not where my crew come from,” the admiral said. “They want to go home, and they will. Whether I take them there or not, they will go. Better it is as an organised group where we’ll have a better chance of making it out alive.”

  “What about Elysium and Belfast? It sounds like you’re not planning to come back to Wales.”

  “I would call those insurance,” the admiral said. “Not for this year, but for the next five years. We don’t know what we’ll find in America. It might be a radioactive wasteland. The undead might not die. We might find no survivors. In which case, when the plane is out of fuel, we may need to return. And—” But she stopped.

  I took a guess at what she was going to say. “If you don’t occupy Elysium, Markus will. If America is uninhabitable, then you will need somewhere for your people to call home. I don’t think you plan for it to be Elysium. I think you mean Anglesey, and that will be easier to seize if you begin the expedition in a safe harbour on this side of the Atlantic.”

  “My duty is to humanity and to my crew,” the admiral said. “I think the two are interchangeable.”

  “How long will it take to cross the Atlantic, to clear a road for the plane to land? How many people across Europe might die in that time?”

  She shrugged, not in indifference, but in indication that her mind was already made up.

  “I could stop you,” I said.

  “Perhaps, but you won’t,” she said. “If I thought you would try, then you and your family would have been taken straight to Elysium.”

  “That’s why you let Annette and Daisy come with Sholto? Huh.” I was at a loss for words.

  “I mean you no harm,” the admiral said. “Nor even your brother, who made a mockery of our most sacred institution, but as I told you, my duty is to humanity and to my crew. I won’t let anything get in the way of that. Anyway, we are heading to Anglesey, and I told you what I planned because I know you can be trusted. You want a safe refuge for your family, and you know that Anglesey won’t be that place after Markus wins. You need me, Mr Wright, so you will keep your silence on this matter.”

  I bit back my anger. “For now, but I’ll need something in return.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, standing up, “but it’s always good to stockpile favours.”

  “It’s a dark end to a dark trip,” I said.

  “It’s not that bad,” Sholto said.

  “You’re only saying that because you want to go back to America,” Kim said. “What have we really achieved this last month? Simon, Will, and Lilith are dead at the hands of Rob. That he died hardly makes up for it. We found some survivors, but could have found more if we’d arrived only an hour sooner. There are ponies on Connemara, and a tortoise in Belfast, but other than birds and whatever it was we saw near the zoo, they’re the only animals we’ve seen. Elysium is habitable, but less so than we thought, and now it’s occupied by Marines. The same can be said for Belfast, as long as you count a rusting container ship in the harbour as being in the city.”

  “Don’t forget Major Lewis,” I said.

  “I won’t,” Kim said. “No, I don’t think I’ll forget that in a hurry. And there’s the ammunition expended, the rations used, the ship-oil, and time, of course.”

  “We’ve got a plane,” Sholto said.

  “The admiral has a plane,” Kim said. “And she has Elysium and Belfast, and a scheme to take all the fuel from Svalbard. What do we have?”

  “A place with her, if it all goes wrong,” Sholto said. “But it won’t. Markus won’t win the election.”

  “Which won’t stop the admiral from leaving,” Kim said.

  “So we let her,” I said. “We make her departure, and that of the plane, seem like it was the plan all along. I’m sure we can come up with a rationale for that. I don’t know if I believe her. Does she really want the plane to find survivors in America? Or is removing the plane from Anglesey, like the oil, ammo, and shutting down the power plant, a ploy to further force Markus into a suicidal attack? Probably both, but the bigger issue, the one we’ve not really addressed, is whether Umbert will make the kind of leader we’d want.”

  “I say he’s all right,” Sholto said. “Not the greatest candidate, but not the worst.”

  “What’s he like as a man?” Kim asked. “What’s he going to be like as a leader? What’s—”

  The door opened. Annette came in.

  “You’re going to miss it,” she said. “We’re getting close to Anglesey!”

  Chapter 10 - Homecoming

  17th October, Day 219, Anglesey

  Though we’d sailed through the night, we had to wait until dawn to approach the harbour, and that approach was made agonisingly slowly. It was gone ten o’clock before we stepped off the ship.

  “I wasn’t expecting a welcoming committee,” I said. “It looks like I wasn’t disappointed, but I thought a few people might have come to meet us.”

  “It’s the signs, isn’t it,” Kim said. “You expect there to be customs and police, baggage handlers and smiling ferry-staff welcoming you to Wales.”

  Instead, the ferry terminal at Holyhead was echoingly empty. The signs were still there, but it felt as abandoned as any ruin we’d seen in England or Ireland. The only clue that this was the entry point to what remained of civilisation was the trio standing in the otherwise empty lounge. Mary O’Leary sat in her wheelchair. George stood next to her, his arm still in a sling. A British sailor stood behind. I didn’t know the man’s name, but I recognised him as one of the Vehement’s crew. After what had happened to Donnie, I wondered if the man was a bodyguard as much as a driver for Mary’s wheelchair.

  “Céad míle fáilte,” Mary said warmly, and loudly enough to echo around the cavernous chamber. “Aren’t you all a sore sight for weary eyes? Yes, you’re very welcome here, very welcome indeed.”

  Tamara, Billy, and Charlie took a step back under the onslaught of such an effusive greeting. Siobhan stood her ground, but only just.

  “How d’you do?” Colm said. “You’d be Mary O’Leary?”

  “Now, how did you guess that?” Mary replied with a smile directed at the trio of children. “But weren’t there more of you?”

  “Dean and Lena are staying with Kallie for now,” Siobhan said.

  “Ah, the poor girl who was shot, of course,” Mary said. Behind us, sailors began streaming past. “Well, we can’t stand here, getting in the way. Come, please. We’ve clean clothes, hot water, and warm food waiting.”

  “We’ll go with you,” Kim said. “I know I could do with a hot shower. Come on, Annette.”

  “I was going to go with Sholto,” she said.

  Kim raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine,” Annette said. She handed Daisy to my brother. “Come on, then,” she said to the children, took a step, and turned towards Mary. “Where are we going?”

  Mary laughed. “Let’s give them the tour.”

  Daisy struggled in Sholto’s grip as the group processed from the roo
m. The flow of sailors slowed to a trickle, and soon it was only Sholto, Daisy, George, and myself left in the hall.

  “A longer trip than you planned,” George said.

  “It was,” I said.

  “I’m going to leave you two to discuss it,” Sholto said. “Come on, Daisy, let’s get you home.” There was a depth to his tone that suggested he was glad for the excuse to leave.

  “How’s your arm?” I asked George.

  “Aches all the time,” he said, walking over to one of the wide windows that looked down over the harbour. “How about yourself? How did the leg hold up?”

  “My brain forgets I can’t move as fast as I’d like,” I said.

  “What did you think of the pike?”

  “The— oh, yes. I left that at Elysium. It was good. A little too long in the shaft.” It seemed like an age since he’d given it to me. “The harbour seems quiet,” I said. “That’s what’s missing. I didn’t notice it as we were sailing in, but the boats are gone.”

  “Not gone,” George said. “Though we did lose a few. Had a storm a couple of weeks ago. Had another last week. Lost twenty souls. At least, I think it was twenty. There’s a margin of error because we don’t know how many were on the boats. Not exactly. That’s the real tragedy here.”

  “Twenty gone?” I echoed.

  “No, about twenty dead,” George said. “Another fifty or so who upped and left. Their boats never returned. Don’t know where they went, but the seas were calm, so we assume they made it.”

  “What about the rest? Where are the other boats?” I asked.

  “Around the coast. Most people have come ashore. The weather did that. Mary was right. The first whiff of winter caused everyone to dart for dry ground. Some have harboured their boats near their new homes. The rest of the craft have been beached along the shore. Most of those were on the verge of sinking, anyway. My concern is for the sailing boats that are being used for fishing. If we lose them… Well, one problem at a time. Chief Watts wanted a word with me. I know it won’t be good news, and know that there’s nothing I can do to fix today’s problem, but the chief is a man who likes to spread bad news around. We can walk and talk.” He turned his back on the window. “You missed the plane’s arrival. Everyone came to see it land. Well, most people. The farmers on the Parsons’ farm were too busy with a ploughing contest. Three teams, three fields, and a prize for the quickest, straightest furrow. You should check them out, there’re some good ideas there. Willow Farm didn’t turn out, either, but that was in protest at the technology. That man, Bishop, he went as far as holding a rally in the evening. There were some fishers at sea, a few surgeons who were operating, a mother in labour, and another two who— well, all told, there were about six thousand people gathered at the airport. It was quite a sight.”

  “Six thousand? I wish I’d seen it.”

  “Yes, I don’t know whether we’ll see the like again,” George said. “Markus gave a speech.”

  “He did?”

  “To all six thousand,” George said. “It wasn’t meant to be him, of course. I’d arranged for Dr Umbert to say a few words. While Dr Umbert was walking out onto the runway, Markus started talking from his spot in the crowd. He’d brought a loudhailer. He’s not the most gifted of public speakers, but he talked for a long while about the future and the past, about what we could have again. The man even promised we could fly people home, you know, those people who weren’t originally from Britain. Madness and nonsense, but the content wasn’t important because he kept talking until the crowd grew bored. Umbert tried to say a few words, but people drifted away while he was talking. Did you hear what happened to Donnie?”

  “Someone attacked him.”

  “Not quite. Someone undid the screws holding a ladder in place. We told everyone that he slipped and fell, but it was definitely sabotage. Captain Devine’s certain of that. We didn’t want it widely known, of course, partly because we’ve no idea who did it, and partly because we’re not too sure whether Donnie was actually the target.”

  “Then who was?” I asked.

  “Well, now, that’s the question,” George said. “Donnie was over on one of the grain ships, giving them an inspection. That’s not his job, of course, but it was a duty he’d taken on himself. I’m not entirely sure why, and he can’t remember.”

  “That sounds bad.”

  “It’s not. Not really. He can’t remember the day it happened, and his skull was fractured, but beyond that, he’s fine. Or he will be. Until we know why he went to the ship, we can’t be sure that anyone else knew he was going there, thus we can’t be certain that he was the person being targeted. The captain’s investigating, of course. Whoever the target actually was, it’s still an attempted murder. We’re just not sure that Markus was behind it.”

  “That’s one more problem to be dealt with.”

  “After the election,” George said. “And as Mary keeps reminding me, we should leave the detective work to the police.”

  “Do you think Markus is going to win?” I asked.

  “After that stunt at the airport? Probably. Get the door, would you? No, not those. We managed to restore electricity to most of the harbour, but no one can figure out how to get the automatic doors here to work. Use the emergency door to the side.”

  I pushed the door open, and was immediately struck by the smell of fish and smoke. It was very different from the earthy-peat of rural Ireland, the damp decay of Belfast, and the salty spray of the sea.

  “The smell of life,” I said. “The sound, too.” That had been muffled inside the terminal building, but Holyhead seemed noisier than before. That might have been a function of being surrounded by so few people for so long. A handcart was being pushed along the street, the back filled with an odd assortment of pipework that must have been stripped from some nearby house.

  George raised a hand, and got a perfunctory nod from one of the three pushing the cart. “They’re meant to be expanding the industrial launderette,” he said as they passed. “We’re running low on clean clothes, and I don’t want to waste time sending an expedition for more. Better we clean what we have, although, that’s a lot of pipes. I wonder if they’re building a still on the side? One more thing to check on an increasingly long list. We’ll take the scenic route. Yes, Markus is a problem, but he’s not my problem. Captain Devine couldn’t find anything illegal going on in that pub of his. At least, nothing that could be directly pinned to him.”

  We walked past another old pub that was being cleared out.

  “Morning, Prudence,” George called to the woman scrubbing the windows. “How long until you open?”

  “Any day now, George,” the woman replied. “Any day now.”

  George didn’t speak until we were out of earshot. “Now that,” he said, “is either blind optimism, or blinkered stupidity, I can’t work out which. She wants to open a restaurant. Fair enough, says I. Trouble is, we don’t have a currency or an economy, and soon we won’t have any food.”

  “Is there something wrong with the fish?”

  “Oh, we’ll have fish as long as we have boats,” George said, “but there’s a problem with the grain. A mould took root in one of the cargo-carriers. Maybe it was a fungus; do they root? Anyway, a spore must have been carried into the other ships. It’s spread. We’ll be out of grain by Christmas.”

  “Christmas?” I stopped in my tracks. George didn’t, and I had to carry to catch up. “We’ll be out of grain in a matter of weeks?”

  “Hence the ploughing competitions, and Heather Jones dragging people into Menai Bridge. She’s been setting up indoor greenhouses. They’re sort of halfway between hydroponics and a hot house. The potential is quite impressive, but the present reality is that it’ll give us the seed stock we’ll need next year, but only a small supplement to our diet this winter.”

  “Yes, Sholto mentioned the work going on in Menai Bridge, but what are we going to eat in January?”

  “Well, if we have boats, we
have fish. I don’t think we’ll starve, but it’s going to be short rations for a long while. Too short to justify a restaurant, but Prudence always dreamed of opening one. I told her that she shouldn’t, that it would be a wasted effort, but I couldn’t tell her about the impending crisis. That meant there really wasn’t any reason for her not to give it a go. She’ll realise her mistake soon enough, though probably not before she starts writing the menus.”

  “Huh.” I mulled that over. “I heard food was tight. Didn’t realise it was quite that bad.”

  “No, son,” George said. “You didn’t realise how much we’ve been relying on the old-world. Not just for food, of course, but for everything. We’re like an upside-down pyramid, resting on the quicksands of time. The question is whether we sink before we topple over.”

  That analogy sounded like one of Mary’s. “Do you know about the admiral?” I asked.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s claimed Elysium, and Belfast too, by the look of the way we left things.”

  “Is there much there?” George asked.

  “In Belfast? More than in Bangor,” I said. “But not enough. Not much food to speak of, nor any fuel. So you do know. What about the deal with Svalbard for the oil?”

  “It’s not like we have much use for it,” George said. “I know, I know, we could find a use, but why go to the trouble when the admiral’s got one on the table.”

  “She left about twenty people in Belfast. We lost a Marine. Major Lewis—”

  “I got the radio report,” George said. “A pity, that. Most deaths are, always have been. Now, with so few of us, the cloud of grief isn’t spread so thin. You know, she asked me and Mary to go with her.”

  “To America?” I asked.

  “To Ireland,” George said. “Mary’s always wanted to return, but the Ireland she wanted to return to died in February. If you ask me, the Ireland she wants to return to is the one from her youth, and I know too well that you can’t go back.”