by Chris Harris
Realising that something must be wrong, I hastily scrambled out of bed and yanked the door open. The sight of Jerry in a full-face gas mask gave me quite a start. He looked like something out of a horror movie.
“I need a word with you outside. Now,” he said quietly, and made his way back down the stairs. Having recovered from my shock, I threw some clothes on and followed him down.
He stood in the middle of the deserted kitchen area, careful to stay six feet away from me, removed his mask and took in a deep breath of fresh air. The anguish on his face made my heart sink.
“Jo and Laura died last night and we lost Ben twenty minutes ago.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“There was nothing I could do; the antibiotics just didn’t kick in quickly enough. I haven’t seen or heard of anything this aggressive. They didn’t stand a chance.”
The words felt like a physical blow. I stood there for a moment looking at him, then instinctively took a step towards him, wanting to comfort him. He recoiled and took a step back.
“Don’t, Tom,” he said, wiping his eyes, “you need to keep your distance. I’ve been in extremely close contact with them. And the way this is spreading, it has to be highly contagious.”
My heart sank even more. “Why? How many more are infected?”
“Allan was the next person to pick it up, but for some reason he’s responding better to the antibiotics …” He paused, “or he’s as strong and stubborn as an ox, and naturally resistant to diseases and it’s nothing to do with me. Ten more people are also showing symptoms now,” he added, reeling off their names, “but they’re not doing so well. I’m not sure if any of them will make it.”
I began to say something but he held up his hands, “Tom, just listen to me. There’s no time to waste. I need you to look after my children for me. Everyone who isn’t sick must leave immediately. In my opinion, it’s the only way to avoid infection. Just look around you, for God’s sake! The place is still crawling with rats and once someone has it they’re highly infectious.”
Dumbfounded, I asked without thinking, “Where shall we go?”
He looked at me and it struck me that he seemed to have aged years overnight. “Oh, for pity’s sake, Tom. Anywhere but here! You work it out. Fiona and I will stay here and do what we can for the sick. If we’re careful about using the masks and we protect ourselves from flea bites, we should, in theory, be safe enough.”
Paul must have seen us talking and came and joined us. Jerry quickly updated him on the deaths and the newly infected. I watched as he quickly took in what Jerry was saying and remained silent for a minute, thinking it over.
“Well Jerry, I think that’s a brave decision and I think it’s the right thing to do. We’ll do everything we can to help.” Briskly, he turned to me, “Tom, I’ll organise this. When it comes to mobilising quickly we’ve been trained to do it. We’ll have to use your Land Rover and trailer, so could you get those ready please? I’ll need Pete as well. He’s got all the inventory lists.
Tom, find another adult on the way to getting your car, and send them to me. If we pull together we can be gone in a few hours. Will that be quick enough Jerry?”
Jerry nodded, “As far as I’m concerned, you should really leave now, but a few hours won’t make much difference, given the measures we’ve taken. For anyone already infected, there’s not much we can do for them. We just need to get as many people away from the vermin as we can. They’re the reason the plague is here.”
I hurried back to the house and summoned everyone from their rooms, asking them to meet me in the kitchen.
Five minutes later Michael was on his way to Paul with all the children who were old enough to help, and the women were packing rucksacks for each family with a few changes of clothing and other essential items.
Although my Land Rover hadn’t been used since the rescue mission, we’d been careful to maintain it so that it would be ready to use at a moment’s notice. Up until now it had proved invaluable so we’d taken the precaution of using a solar trickle charger to keep the battery topped up and routinely starting it up and running it for half an hour every week. This had clearly paid off. After disconnecting the trickle charger, it started without hesitation.
I pulled it forward, manhandled the trailer on to the tow bar, and after winding my garage door up, drove out on to the road.
Paul was still deep in discussion with Harry and Pete, surrounded by a crowd of adults and children. The two soldiers looked decidedly eerie in their masks.
Paul beckoned me over. “Right,” he said briskly, “we’ve drawn up a list of supplies we need to prioritise. Enough for thirty days for thirty people. The other essential supplies are going to make quite a big pile, so let’s get it all sorted and loaded and then we’ll see if we have space for anything else.”
He turned to me. “Tom, while we’re doing that, I want you to give some thought to where we should go. You’ve got the local knowledge and you’ve spent a lot of time out of the compound on scavenging missions.”
I nodded, “OK no problems. What type of location should I be thinking of?”
He thought for a second. “Ideally somewhere remote enough to have escaped the rats. Trees to provide shelter and fuel and nearby fresh water. Anything else we can hopefully bring with us.”
“OK, I’m on it.” I went back to the Land Rover, pulled out a road atlas and took myself off to a table in the kitchen area. I already had a rough idea of the best area to head for. In theory, the countryside on the south side of the M42 motorway that encircled Birmingham should provide plenty of suitable places; it was just a matter of identifying the best one.
When I glanced up from the map five minutes later, I could see that Paul and Pete had formed a chain gang and my trailer was rapidly filling with a variety of boxes, containers and sacks. I knew I could trust them not to miss anything, even though this was being organised in a huge rush.
I quickly pinpointed a suitable place. It was a small wood surrounded by open countryside. It was less than ten miles away, so even at walking pace it shouldn’t take more than three or four hours to get there. I had vague memories of the wood from driving past it many times over the years.
The map showed a stream flowing through a nearby field and from what I could recall, it was about as good a location as we were likely to get without a more exhaustive and time-consuming search. Time was the one thing we didn’t have.
On my return, I noted Harry and Chris busy creating another pile, which consisted of cooking, camping and survival equipment. Another soldier was checking through a smaller but much more dangerous looking pile of guns and ammunition.
Harry looked up as I approached and gestured towards the car. More stuff was being packed on to its roof rack and into the boot. “We’re almost there with the supplies.” He nodded at the two piles, “We should be able to balance this lot on top. If everyone carries a full Bergen containing their personal stuff and whatever else we need to add before we leave, we should be ready to go.”
When I showed them our intended destination Paul nodded, “What are we worrying about? It’s only about half an hour away at a steady drive … if we forget anything serious, one of you can always pop back and get it.”
Jerry, hurrying past him at the time, overheard him and snapped, “Don’t be an idiot, man, three more of us are showing symptoms. I don’t want any of you back here until I give the ‘all clear’. I’m going to have to give everyone a full check-up before I allow them to leave anyway. We can’t risk anyone carrying the disease with them.”
Without waiting for a reply, he hurried off, his face careworn and weary. People he considered to be friends were dying and there was nothing he could do about it.
Paul and I looked at each other soberly, and then set to work again loading up the supplies.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
True to his word, Jerry carried out a thorough examination on everyone who was planning to leave. Six more people wer
e found to be showing early signs: elevated temperatures, heart rates and blood pressure. They were immediately placed in isolation.
Only time would tell if they had the disease. So far, according to Jerry’s records, this particular strain was taking a maximum of one or two days to develop. If after that time the patient didn’t develop it, Jerry would agree to them joining the rest of us. In the meantime, those of us who were fortunate enough to have left already would need to keep our masks on for the next few days. Providing the place we fled to was free of the source of the plague (the rats/fleas), we could reasonably assume that we were free of infection, and it would be safe for us to remove the masks.
We all agreed that if anyone developed any symptoms after leaving, they would be isolated as soon as possible and delivered back to the compound. They would have to sit in the back of the empty trailer during the drive to lessen the risk of infecting others.
Paul and the two soldiers confirmed that they would be staying on to guard the compound and help look after the sick, to the best of their abilities. Although it was left unsaid, we were only too aware that part of this would involve burying the dead.
Harry and Chris were coming with us. Although our knowledge about how to survive in the wild had improved considerably since Chris had begun his training sessions, we knew his expertise would vastly improve our chances. We were still just “townies” after all. Harry would be assuming responsibility for “security matters”.
A few families were now faced with an agonising choice. If one or more of their family members was sick, should they all stay?
Or should one person remain behind to help care for them while the others left for the relative safety of an unknown destination? In the end, if the sick person was an adult, as heart-breaking as it might be, their families reluctantly agreed to leave without them. If, however, the sick person was a child, then one of their adults was chosen to remain. There had been many tough decisions to make since the event, but no parent was prepared to leave their sick child alone.
Somewhat understandably therefore, amidst the frenetic preparations for departure, emotions were running high.
While I was helping to secure the supplies and equipment on the car and the trailer, Paul came over to me.
“I’ve just been talking to Hereford. They’ve got an outbreak there as well. They don’t know if it came from the rats or the new arrivals, but the first people to come down with it were the ones from the convoy. This is bad. They’re on total lockdown now. No one gets to go in or out, basically.”
I stared at him in dismay. “The good news,” he continued, “is they’ve got enough masks and special suits for most of the people above and below ground. They’re working on a system of diagnosis and separation for everyone. Hopefully that’ll limit the spread.
The bad news is, we really are on our own now; we can’t expect any help from the base for the foreseeable future.”
“Oh, well,” I shrugged, “so we’ll be pretty much back to where we were before you showed up and saved us all eh?”
Detecting my sarcasm, he smiled and just said, “Fair point.”
Before long we were ready to leave. We knew we couldn’t put it off any longer.
The people who were staying waved and smiled, their faces wet with tears. They knew they had a dreadful ordeal ahead of them and that they would probably have to watch their friends and family members die. Those who were departing, walking beside the heavily laden Land Rover as it crawled along, and waving frantically back, must all have been wondering if they would ever return.
And if they did come back, would there be anyone left to welcome them?
Worst of all were the reactions of the smallest children. Larry, Jerry and Fiona’s five-year-old, had to be dragged out of his mother’s arms and although he finally submitted to holding Becky’s hand as she tried to comfort him, he sobbed uncontrollably, straining to look back over his shoulder all the way down the road until the houses were out of sight. Mercifully, his brother Jack was too young to understand what was happening, and was enjoying being carried on Kim’s hip as she walked beside Harry.
The dogs ran back and forth barking excitedly, full of joy at the prospect of being allowed to run free again, having been restricted for so long by the stray dogs and the rat epidemic.
We were all in agreement on the route and, as the roads were familiar to us all, we didn’t need our maps to guide us there.
Weighed down by the heavy loads on our backs, twenty five of us: seventeen adults and eight children left our homes behind and walked with heavy hearts into an uncertain future.
CHAPTER TWELVE
We made good time and once I’d estimated that we were less than an hour away from our destination, we halted for a rest.
The adults gratefully lowered their rucksacks to the ground and stretched their aching shoulders and muscles. We were all far fitter than we’d been before the event, but some of us, particularly Pete and Mary, who rarely left the road and were also getting on in years, were visibly flagging.
The dogs happily threw themselves down and fell asleep, as if sitting around was a waste of their time and the only way to deal with the boredom was to nap.
While Chris deftly lit a fire and heated up a few kettles of water, the rest of us watched as the kids, who ten minutes previously had been complaining loudly of feeling tired, launched themselves into a game of tig.
In no time at all we all had a brew in our hands and were munching gratefully on the snacks that were being handed round.
The children only agreed to sit by the fire once the chocolate bars were brought out as an inducement. Chocolate was a rare treat. As we removed our masks to eat and drink, we all tried to keep our distance from each other.
At Harry’s request, I took out the map so that he could study our destination again.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll head off on my own for a bit and approach the wood from the other direction. Just to be on the safe side.”
No one could argue with his logic.
He finished his tea and carried out a quick communications check to make sure his radio was working, so that we could stay in touch. He then pulled a smaller day sack out of his over-packed Bergen, and putting it on, asked me to stash his Bergen somewhere on the trailer.
Finally, he grabbed his weapon and prepared to leave.
After walking just five paces down the road, to everyone’s bemusement, he made a sudden U-turn and walked decisively up to Kim, who was staring at him in astonishment. Before she could speak, he’d removed his mask and hers, grabbed her, and to everyone’s delight and her great embarrassment, kissed her passionately.
Releasing her after several seconds, he turned to us, and with a cheeky grin on his face, walked away again saying, “Keep an eye on her, please; she means a lot to me.”
Chuckling at Kim’s confusion, as she tried not to smile, and tidied herself up, we prepared for the final leg of the journey.
The place looked exactly as I remembered, as we made our way down a narrow country lane about forty minutes later. A metal farm gate led into a field, which sloped gently up to the woods. Even with its heavy load, I figured the Land Rover should have no problem negotiating the gradient.
Looking at the gate, I realised that it was locked with a heavy-duty chain and padlock.
“Pete, tell me you brought some bolt cutters with us?”
“Tom!” he said, his eyebrows raised in mock outrage, “What do you take me for? Back left corner of the trailer; it should be just under the bag of tarpaulins.”
I grinned as Bob, who was standing by the trailer, quickly retrieved them and walked to the gate.
“May I?” he asked.
“Of course, pal. That’s if your injuries will let you,” I replied, with a straight face.
Bob was an excellent storyteller and a natural entertainer. Although he’d made a full recovery, after being shot during a savage attack by an unfriendly gang on one of our scavenging trips,
he was always more than happy to show his scars to a willing listener. His favourite story was how he, and he alone, had saved the community one day, and that only somebody as heroic and immune to pain as he was, could possibly have stood up to the ensuing surgery that was needed to save his life, without any anaesthetic.
The story seemed to change and become more dramatic (and to us, more amusing) with every telling.
Our version of his story, which we delighted in relaying to whoever had been listening to him, included a detailed account of how he had shouted and sworn at everyone, while being rolled unceremoniously home in a wheelbarrow and that, in Jerry’s opinion, the layers of fat on him had saved him from more serious injury. By this time, Bob would be looking decidedly hangdog and the person listening to the story would be in fits of laughter…
The bolt cutters sliced easily through the chain.
Looking up at the woods perched on top of the small rise, I thought about Harry’s caution in wanting to approach from a different direction.
I signalled to Pete, who was taking a turn at driving, to turn off the engine.
I addressed everyone, “What shall we do? I know there’s probably no one around but should we reconnoitre it first?”
It didn’t take long to agree that the best course of action would be to check it out first.
Six of us (three men and three women) shrugged off our rucksacks and after a quick weapons check, set off up the slope to the woods, holding our weapons across our chests with the muzzles facing downwards, as we’d been trained to do.
I studied the thicker vegetation that naturally grew around the edge of a wood, where there was always more sunlight. Everything looked normal.
I sniffed. A faint but familiar smell came through my mask.
Wood smoke!
Just as I was about to mention it to the others, a voice called out from the thick bushes facing us.
“Stop right there! Don’t move! We have eight guns pointing at you.”
The training we’d all received from Captain Berry kicked in, and as one, we brought our weapons to our shoulders and lowered our profile by dropping to one knee, searching for the threat through the sights of our rifles.
