by Chris Harris
It was very hard to get to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Over the following week, we kept fires burning continuously at various points around the compound so that we could dispose of the dead rats quickly and easily. If you didn’t pick one up and throw it on to the nearest fire as soon as you’d killed it, it was soon eaten by another. And that would just keep them around for longer.
The packs of dogs had finally dispersed, the rats having proved to be a much easier source of food for them. We spotted the odd one or two chasing rats, but as we weren’t leaving the compound much, we had other things to worry about.
The base in Herefordshire had been overrun as well, but they’d been able to protect most of the food they had stored. The crops in the fields and the polytunnels had been ruined, but plans were in progress to replant as soon as the rat population had diminished enough.
Paul and I undertook a tour of the groups closest to us in an armoured car. The group at the food warehouse in Redditch had fared the best. As all their food was stored on racking, they’d been better able to protect it. One particularly inventive resident had fabricated a cone-shaped collar that prevented the rats from climbing the racking.
The others had been less fortunate. To a greater or lesser degree, they’d all been invaded by the rats and had lost most of their meagre supplies. We distributed the supplies we’d brought with us, in the hope that these would keep them going.
For most of them, this had been the final straw. Although they’d hoped to remain independent, they just didn’t feel that this was possible any more. They announced their intention of heading for the base, where they would do all they could to aid the recovery from there.
Paul and I tried to talk them round and we did manage to persuade some of them to change their minds, but few could see a way past the difficulty of having lost most of the food they’d worked so hard to gather or grow. I can’t say I blamed them.
After discussing the issue with Jerry’s brother, Jon, we decided that the best course of action would be to use every vehicle we had and orchestrate one large convoy to transport everyone who wanted to return to the base in one go. We didn’t have enough supplies to feed them all, and as some had virtually no food left at all, it would be best to start out as soon as possible.
Of course, that would leave us without any transport other than my Land Rover, but we decided that wouldn’t matter. It would only be one or two days until the convoy returned.
The following day we re-visited the groups that wanted to go and instructed them to pack what they needed and wait for transport, which would be arriving the day after. As we were planning to use all the vehicles and would therefore have sufficient space, we advised them to bring anything they thought would be useful as it was unlikely that they’d be able to return.
Once all the vehicles had left, the road seemed deserted. Most of the soldiers had also now gone and weren’t due to be replaced until the convoy returned in a day or so.
Paul and Harry, as always, had been reluctant to return home and once again had managed to find a reason not to go back to the base. Paul felt that his skills as an SAS Captain were needed here.
Harry clearly didn’t want to be too far from Kim.
Except for Paul, Harry and Chris, and two soldiers who’d elected to remain as they had no family back at the base, for the first time in months, only the original inhabitants of the road were left.
To mark the occasion, Pete announced a day of rest. We’d all been working furiously “rat-bashing” (this had had become something of a local sport) and putting everything back in order after the rat invasion, or the “chickapocalypse”, as some of us were referring to it, given its catastrophic effect on our chick population. Thankfully, the number of rats was diminishing day by day, although the ones that remained, presumably the “ninjas” of the rat race, seemed infuriatingly adept at evading capture. The easiest way to kill them was from a distance, using an air rifle, and Stanley and the other children on the road had proved such good shots that they had taken the job over from the adults. Every day they would set themselves up at various positions around the compound and run a competition to see who got the biggest “bag” of the day.
It was typical of our community to use humour to get us through the tough times, and I was reminded of a story I’d heard from Paul about the terrible war in Afghanistan.
When the British and American forces had been attacking the heavily defended Tora Bora cave complex, they’d suffered horrendous casualties. The Americans had referred to them as: “Tora Bora: caves of death!” whereas the British had called them “Tora Bora Tomkinson”, after the well-known socialite.
Our community now consisted of thirty-nine adults and fifteen children.
The children quickly dispersed for the day, either to play or to continue rat hunting, an activity they never seemed to tire of. In the meantime, Pete adjusted the guard rota so that it changed regularly, and no one was kept away for too long, then we all settled down to a day of relaxation and laughter.
Some hours later, I noticed Jerry looking thoughtfully at Jo. Since her husband had been killed at the barricade at the time of the kidnapping, she’d understandably been left heartbroken.
She’d always been quite a frail woman and her husband’s death had left her very low. We were hopeful that time and the friendship we could offer her would help her to recover, and it had been nice to see her smile and join in with some of the conversations that were taking place in the kitchen.
“Jo, do you feel OK?” asked Jerry. “You look a bit hot and flushed.”
Leaning forward, he felt her forehead.
He quickly withdrew his hand. “You’re running a bit of a temperature. Have you had plenty of water today?”
Jo said she hadn’t and that, yes, she was feeling a bit warm, but she would drink a few glasses of water, take a paracetamol and would soon feel better.
An hour later, she stood up, looking a little pale, and said she was still feeling a bit under the weather and would go for a lie down.
Jerry nodded and promised to pop in and check on her in half an hour.
She took two steps forward and fainted.
Jerry and the people closest to her ran forward to help, while the rest of us stood up uncertainly, in case we were needed. At Jerry’s request, we all stood back to give him the space to examine her.
After a quick examination, I could see the concern growing on his face and he quickly began to check various parts of her body. Then he stood up abruptly, and took a step back.
“Stay back, everyone!”
Turning to Fiona, he said urgently, “Go and get my bag, and bring the box of gloves and masks with you, please.” Without asking questions, Fiona sped off.
He turned to the rest of us and said, “I need to examine her further and I don’t want to frighten anyone, but unless I’m mistaken, she has some sort of virus. Don’t worry, she’ll be OK, but until we know what it is, I think it’s best if you all keep your distance.”
I looked at him carefully. He was worried but he wasn’t giving anything away.
He asked me to fetch the wheeled stretcher we’d acquired on one of our scavenging trips. Then donning masks and gloves, some of us helped him take her into his “surgery”.
Jo’s illness had cast a shadow over the day. As we waited anxiously for news, the children piled in, looking hot and bothered after their games. Two of them, Laura and Ben, approached their mother.
“Mummy,” said Laura, her face puckering up as she started to cry, “I don’t feel very well.” As she sat them both down Ben, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet, vomited and passed out.
Everyone took an involuntary step backwards. Three people falling ill and fainting in such a short space of time. Something was going on.
As someone ran off to fetch Jerry, we stood in silence, exchanging nervous glances.
CHAPTER NINE
“They’ve got the bubonic plague. I’m abs
olutely certain. The symptoms are easily identifiable.”
Silence. We all stared at him in shock. The bubonic plague: The Black Death. We weren’t in medieval England! Nobody caught the Black Death anymore.
Jerry, looking pale and grim, continued.
“Yes, it still exists. Admittedly most modern cases have been in Africa, but given the right circumstances it could easily occur here.” Shaking his head, he added, “I blame myself. I should have insisted on better precautions as soon as the rats appeared.”
“Why?” asked Becky.
“Fleas, Becky. The fleas on the rats carry the bacteria. The fleas bite us and the infection spreads.”
“What’s the treatment, Doc?” asked Harry.
“Antibiotics, basically. Hopefully what I’ve given Jo, Ben and Laura will work. My one concern is that even though I’m certain of my diagnosis, the timescale wasn’t what I’d expect. Admittedly, I’ve never treated someone with this before, but I’ve looked it all up and it seems to be affecting them differently. I’m worried we may be facing a new strain of the disease.
In light of this, I’m recommending that we immediately start operating under quarantine conditions. We’ll need to separate ourselves off from each other as much as possible to try to limit the spread. We don’t know who’s already infected; we could all be. Only time will tell.”
We all looked at each other, fear making us dumb.
“If you could all individually collect a mask and surgical gloves from the boxes I have here and go back to your house, we’ll work out the finer details later. As soon as anyone feels the slightest bit ill, you must tell me. The sooner the antibiotics are given, the better the chance you’ll have.”
I spoke up, “Jerry, we all know from history that the Black Death killed off about half the population of Europe. How good is this treatment? You don’t sound certain.”
He shrugged, “Truthfully, I don’t know. I know without treatment the death rate is about eighty percent. With antibiotics, the survival rate is usually quite good, but as I said, this isn’t following the usual pattern. I can’t be certain, but I don’t have a good feeling about this.
The rats have been feasting on rotting human flesh for weeks. Bacteria can mutate and adapt to the environment they’re in. My concern is that we may be dealing with something new. Without a full laboratory test, we won’t be able to tell.
Now please, go back to your houses and keep a careful eye on each other. If anyone falls ill, I’ll do everything I can to help. But to be honest, treatment is simple: antibiotics, fluids and general care. And we can all do that.
If this spreads, I could get it as well, so I’ll prepare as many doses of antibiotics as I can and leave detailed care instructions so that you’ll be able to look after each other.”
Turning silently, and clutching our children close, our household made its way back home.
We gathered in the kitchen, still masked, and gazed helplessly at each other.
“What shall we do?” asked Jane, breaking the silence.
A scurrying noise made us all turn, and we watched miserably as a rat ran across the kitchen floor and disappeared through the open back door.
“I don’t think we can hide from this,” I said. “We’ll just have to hope that the precautions we have in place now will be enough. If we already have it, we won’t be able to do much about it. And if Laura, Ben and Jo have it, the chances are that someone else will have it too. Most likely, they’re standing in this room.”
We all peered at each other, as if careful scrutiny might be sufficient to force the hidden organism to reveal itself.
I began again, “I think we should exercise extreme caution. Why don’t we all grab some food and drink and retreat to our rooms for the next twenty four hours or so? There’s no point in trying to be a hero. Keep your masks on. If you have it, you won’t want to spread it to the rest of your family, and if a member of your family has it, they’ll need you to stay well so that you can look after them.”
With a few “good lucks” and “God bless yous”, we all shut ourselves in our rooms. After an hour in one room, struggling to entertain the children, it hit me that we were now more isolated than at any other time in our community’s history.
Communication between the families was limited to shouting through closed doors to each other and we had no idea what was happening in the other houses. We also had no idea who, if anyone, was on guard duty.
The whole situation had arisen so suddenly that we’d had no time to put any measures in place. All we could do was follow Jerry’s directions.
Only now, after contemplating the matter for an hour or two, did it occur to me that there could well be other serious consequences from the outbreak.
“Becky,” I said, coming to a decision, “I need to go and sort a few things out.” At the look on her face, I hastily added, “Don’t worry, I won’t go near anyone.”
Before she could argue, I gave the kids a quick hug and headed out.
Before leaving the house, I checked through everyone’s door to see if they were OK, explained that I was going out for a while, and asked if they needed anything.
Outside, the road was silent and deserted. It was the strangest feeling. At most times of the day or night there was always someone out and about. To find the road empty was an unsettling experience. Now it looked like all the other abandoned roads in the city.
Shrugging off my feelings of unease, I hurried over to Pete’s house and called to him from his doorstep.
As he opened the door, I stepped back. By unspoken agreement we both felt more comfortable with six feet between us.
“Is everything OK at yours?” he asked anxiously. “I think Allan might have it; he’s trying to get Michelle to leave him alone, but she won’t hear of it. Jerry’s been round and given him a dose of antibiotics, so fingers crossed we caught it in time.”
I felt despair. Hard to believe that Allan, who had always been so strong and dependable, could have succumbed to the infection. In some ways, you could understand it with children and older folk because they were much more susceptible. But if Allan had caught it, then so could any one of us.
I dragged my thoughts back to the reason I was there in the first place.
“Pete, I’ve just realised there’s no one on guard duty. We were all knocked off balance by Jerry’s diagnosis, and we just blindly did what he told us. But we can’t leave ourselves undefended, no matter what’s happening. We’re just asking for trouble.”
I watched as a look of dawning comprehension crept over Pete’s face, swiftly replaced by a look of embarrassment. To think that he, of all people, could have been caught out! The poor man was so mortified that I smiled in spite of myself.
“Pete, don’t blame yourself. None of us remembered, and you’ve had other things on your mind. You’ve got a sick friend in your house. I only thought about it when I was sitting in my bedroom trying to think up something to do.”
Pete nodded, somewhat mollified by my words. He now had that familiar look on his face; the one he always wore when he was planning. A noise from further up the road made us look round.
Harry, Paul, Chris and the two other soldiers were approaching, their faces half hidden by full face gas masks and all wearing surgical gloves.
Harry spoke, his voice oddly muffled, but sounding slightly sheepish all the same. “They might look like overkill, but they’re infinitely better at keeping things out than those face masks you’ve got. In fact, they’re horrible to wear for any amount of time, but we’ve got them so we may as well use them. I’ve managed to scrounge up ten more sets. I think it would be best to give them to the people who are more likely to have had contact with the infected.”
He placed a bag on the floor between us. “We’ve also realised that in all the fuss, no one’s been watching the perimeter!”
Pete interrupted. “Yes, that’s why Tom came to see me. Thanks for the gas masks, if that’s what you call them now. Jerry
and Fiona will need them and I’ll allocate the others as necessary.”
“I’ve had a think and I’ll work out a rota for guard duty, taking into account the need to contain the spread of the disease …”
I grinned. Pete was back in action.
Paul stopped him by raising his hand. “They’re actually called respirators, but gas masks works just as well. Don’t worry, Pete, we’ve already talked things through and the five of us can manage the security situation. The rest of you have friends and family to worry about. We don’t.”
Paul caught the look I gave him. “OK ,Tom. Friends yes, family no. But for the next couple of days, let us take care of things.”
Pete shook his head. “It’s too much to ask,” he said. “It’s very kind of you, but five of you can’t cover everything.”
“Yes, we can,” said Harry firmly. “With the exception of Chris, we’re all soldiers. A couple of days on reduced sleep is nothing we haven’t done before. And if we need more help, we can raise the alarm using the normal procedures and you can all come running! Don’t worry, we can do it. Anyway, we insist, so that’s the end of it.”
He paused and you could tell he was smiling behind his mask. “Don’t make me get all ‘royal’ on you guys. You can still be hanged for disobeying a direct order from a monarch, I believe.”
I laughed. “Oi, Prince Boy. You ain’t my monarch … yet!”
He snorted inside his mask. “I can always get Grandmama on the radio if you like.”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. “OK, OK, I agree. Thank you, thank you all. Pete, they’re making sense to me. We can always be on hand in case they need us. Let’s go back home.”
Pete nodded and added his thanks. As I walked home, he called after me that he would get the gas masks to the right people.
CHAPTER TEN
I was woken up the following morning by Jerry banging on my bedroom door and calling my name.
