by Alex Scarrow
‘I’m infected now?’
No answer. Perhaps that was too dumb a question. He had another one to which he had to know the answer.
‘Am I going to die? Am I going to be dissolved . . . turned into mush?’
No harm to you. We/I wish to help.
‘Well then get out of me!’
There was no answer to that either.
Autonomous supercluster structure ‘Fish’ – his name was accompanied by the sudden taste of sardines on his tongue, a literal interpretation of his nickname. That taste quickly changed to something else, something sugary-sweet, as if the virus were, just like him, learning a new language – is unaffected at this stage.
‘Am I still alive? Am I still human?’
Unchanged. Yes. Framework is unaltered.
‘Why have you left me unaltered? Not that I want to be altered. I just—’
Awaiting instructions from supercluster-designate-representative.
Another flavour arrived on his tongue, something indescribable that had a hint of vanilla to it. He instinctively, somehow, knew the flavour meant Grace.
This morning everyone had woken and rallied early with a palpable sense of excitement mixed with foreboding. Today was the day that was going to end with them all knowing whether this nightmare was finally over . . . or whether they were going to have to dig deep, find a new home and start again on the long-term business of survival.
Naga was keen for them to get going. There were granola energy bars and energy drinks in the store. They all had one of each, clambered aboard the trucks and set off.
The engine of the lead truck growled to life, and those who were walking wearily shouldered their bags and backpacks, ready to resume what would hopefully be the final day of their journey.
. . . [We don’t have much time left, Grace.] She felt Jerry squeeze her hand as they trudged in silence. [If rescue is waiting for us, we will all be tested and discovered and destroyed. Which is why we have to act soon. Now.]
{Jerry, this is more important than us.} She turned wordlessly to look at the children walking behind them. {There’s a much greater community out there. It’s all of us. Billions of lives. Humans and so much more.}
[I know.]
{I was called to a . . . I suppose you’d call it a ‘conference’ or something. We discussed the next stage of their plan.}
[What is their plan, Grace?]
She sensed Jerry’s exasperation. {They haven’t told you?}
[Only that they want what’s best for us. My connection to the larger community has been limited. They seem to trust you more than me.]
{Or perhaps they feel sorry for what happened to me? The point is that there are stages to the plan. I don’t know what the next stage is, but I do know they are really worried about the number of people who have not been included.}
[Infected.]
Grace hated that word. It sounded harmful. It sounded malicious. {Invited.}
[There can’t be that many. Virtually everyone died in the first stage.]
{They have been gathering information. Just bits and pieces of knowledge about how many remain out there. That radio message, for example, they need to know how many are left and whether they might be a threat to us.}
Jerry looked at her suspiciously. [You’re planning something?]
{I sent a friend with a message for them.}
She imagined by now Claudia would have made her way, escorted by guide-clusters through the network of tributaries, to where the main concentration of superclusters had converged. If they had something that resembled Congress, that was it.
Her message would have been heard by now, and they would understand what she was hoping to achieve.
[What was the message?]
{I think there’s a way I can reach out to the remainders.}
[What do you mean by ‘reach out’?]
{I mean talk with them.}
[They won’t want to talk. They’ll want to destroy you.]
Grace knew that all too well. She didn’t need Jerry to remind her how quickly rational thought could give way to knee-jerk panic.
[As soon as they find out what you are, you know they’ll destroy you? Why do we need to talk to them anyway? Their days are numbered. They’re obsolete.]
{We need to find out if they’re a threat to us.}
[How would they be a threat?]
{If they have weapons? What if they’re working on some sort of ‘cure’? That radio message . . . it means enough of them survived to manage a rescue. It means they’re organized. It means they’re dangerous. You heard the message too. Isn’t that why you were heading down here, to learn more?}
[No.] Jerry looked at her. [We knew the message would draw the remainders out into the open.]
{Make them easier to attack?}
[Of course.]
She sensed Jerry didn’t like how his reply made him sound.
[We just want to help. You can’t explain it to them, that this is for their benefit. You have to just get on and do it.]
{I think we have different goals, then.}
[Grace, we should absorb everyone right now. Before we encounter any more people. Merge our clusters, produce child fabrications as bait and generate a large number of creepers . . .]
He was talking about the larger crustaceans. They called them [. . . . . .] The name was a taste that vaguely reminded her of peppermint. The nearest translation of the meaning of that taste was gatherers.
[This road is where others have already come, and more will. We could intercept everyone right here. It’s a perfect opportunity.]
There was some sense in what Jerry was suggesting. Whatever small bands of people were left alive and yet to travel down to Southampton were likely to come this way. But how many had already passed through?
And, far more importantly, how many people had come to rescue them? How many ships? From which countries?
How many remainders were left out there?
That was the danger to them.
Humanity living, planning, organizing . . . preparing. Fighting back like an immune system.
She had to stop them.
CHAPTER 47
Their slow, plodding journey by truck came to final full stop just after midday. As their short convoy passed a place called Eastleigh, the M3 branched off, leaving them on a double-lane A-road heading into Southampton city centre. Shortly after, they encountered the tail end of a far more recent traffic jam – a mixture of trucks and vans, and in one case a touring coach, all of them quite clearly abandoned over the last few days. Their tyres were not sagging and cracking or completely flat; there were no mini-jungles of long grass and nettles growing beneath them.
There was a hastily written sign propped up in the rear window of the SUV in front of them.
Responding to US rescue. Have walked from here. Roads blocked from this point on!
Naga called everyone out of the two trucks and they assembled together in the space between them.
She was smiling. Leon noticed a lot of them were, including Freya.
‘So there you go, ladies and gents. It’s definitely not just us making the trek. There are others too!’
A cheer went up.
‘It doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a rescue party waiting for us,’ said one of Royce’s men.
‘Well, actually, I think it probably does, Osman,’ Naga countered. ‘Otherwise whoever parked up those vehicles ahead of us would have come back for them and they’d have gone elsewhere.’
‘Or there’d be a sign,’ added Freya. ‘No rescue, folks. Just a big waste of time.’
Osman was going to say something else, but Royce talked over him. ‘I agree with her.’ He nodded at Naga. ‘People wouldn’t have dumped their vehicles unless there was a good reason. What worries me, though,’ he added, ‘is that there could be thousands ahead of us. We might have to fight our way on to those ships.’
Naga tutted. ‘It’s not some cretinous Jason Statham movie, Royce
. We’re not going in guns blazing. I’m sure there’ll be UN troops. I’m sure there’ll be some kind of registration and processing, and probably a fair bit of queueing.’
‘Naga,’ interrupted Freya. ‘Last night Leon suggested we scout ahead, before we commit?’
Leon nodded. ‘We should see what the situation is before we just leave our trucks and supplies behind.’
‘Yes I suppose so, but I don’t know.’ Naga wrinkled her nose. ‘We’re so-o-o close now, I’m thinking we might as well just walk the last bit.’
‘We don’t know what’s happening in Southampton yet,’ said Leon. ‘We should at least get a look first.’
‘Leon’s right!’ said Grace. She shrugged her shoulders as if that alone made her point. ‘We should be careful.’
Naga gave that a moment’s thought and then finally nodded. ‘All right, Leon. Just go and take a quick look, then come back and let us know what the situation is. I suggest the rest of us go through what supplies and personals we’ve got left in the trucks and work out what we’re taking and what we’re leaving behind.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Come along – off your bums, everyone!’
The meeting broke up and Leon headed for the rear of the leading truck where his rucksack was stashed inside along with dozens of others. He climbed up, rummaged through them until he found his, then dropped back down on to the road.
‘I’m coming.’
Leon turned to see Freya, Grace standing beside her.
‘Uh . . . maybe it’s best you just stay here, Grace.’
‘I’m coming,’ she said firmly.
Freya laughed at her firmness and looked at Leon. ‘You going to argue with her? I’ve already tried.’
‘Grace, I’ll be an hour or two, tops. It’s gonna be OK.’
‘I’m coming.’ She turned to look at Freya. ‘And you are too.’
‘Huh?’ Freya looked surprised. ‘I am?’
‘Yes. The three of us.’
Leon shook his head impatiently. ‘No, come on, Grace. Don’t be silly.’
‘I’m NOT being silly!’ she snapped at him. ‘The three of us are going together! That’s final.’
‘I don’t know how far we have to go. And Freya’s legs . . .’
Freya shrugged. ‘I’m not that bad. I could actually do with stretching them a bit.’
‘See?’ added Grace. ‘She’s perfectly fine.’
‘Oh for . . .’ He rolled his eyes. ‘OK.’
‘And Fish. He’s coming with us too.’
‘Jeez, Grace, who suddenly put you in charge of things?’
‘Fish,’ she said again. ‘Two girls – we need two boys . . . to protect us.’
‘You don’t need protecting – you need gagging,’ said Freya.
Leon looked across at Fish, who was looking even more vacant than usual, staring bleary-eyed at the commotion of backpacks being passed around him. Leon guessed his protest-camping outside last night had left him sleepless and exhausted. All the same, if another guy were needed, he’d rather have Fish than that surly-faced Royce.
‘All right. What about your new boyfriend, Jerry? I suppose he’s coming along too?’
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ she replied. ‘And no . . . he’s staying right here.’
Leon turned to Freya and she spread her hands with a What’re you gonna do? look on her face. Lovers’ tiff?
‘I do believe The Grace hath commanded,’ said Freya.
‘Right.’ Leon swung the strap of his backpack over one shoulder. ‘I better go let Fish know he’s coming along and see if Naga will let us grab a couple of guns.’
He headed across the road to talk to her.
Freya leaned against the back of the truck and called to Denise. ‘My backpack . . . just there. That one, the red one. Can you toss it over?’ Denise pulled it from the pile and slid it along the floor of the truck. ‘Thanks.’ Freya picked it up and shrugged the straps on to her narrow shoulders, then grabbed her walking stick, leaning against the tailgate. ‘You seem really fired up this morning, Grace.’
‘I’m excited.’ She smiled. ‘We’re finally going home.’ She cocked her head at Freya. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Good.’ Freya grinned. ‘Actually really good.’ She patted her left hip. ‘Dr Hahn gave me a stash of some mega painkillers and it seems like they’ve been doing the job, since . . .’ She let the rest of her sentence go. Change of subject. She shot a look at Jerry, who seemed to be holding court with the children he’d come with. ‘You two lovebirds fallen out or something?’
Grace shook her head. ‘Nope.’
‘Only I noticed a lot of hand-holding the last couple of days and I couldn’t help thinking—’
‘He’s not my boyfriend, all right?’
‘Fine.’ She raised a hand in surrender.
‘Yes, that’s not a bad idea, Leon. Take a couple of guns to be safe,’ said Naga. ‘See Royce. He’ll sort you out.’
‘Thanks.’
Naga reached into the open passenger-side door of the truck and pulled down an unfolded map from the passenger seat. She opened it up, kneeled on the tarmac and spread it out. Leon got down beside her.
‘So I’m guessing if there’s a big processing camp or something like that, it’ll be over here where the quays are. I think that’s where the cruise ships used to dock, so maybe they’ll be using the buildings there to process passengers coming aboard.’
‘Right.’
Naga guess-measured the distance across the map with her thumb. ‘What do you think? About six or seven kilometres?’
Leon frowned. ‘What’s that in miles?’
‘Oh, you Yanks and your imperial. That’s about half in miles. Say four miles. So, four miles there, just look OK, don’t do anything else, then come back, all right?’
‘Yup.’
‘You taking Royce or any of the knights with you?’
‘Taking Fish.’
‘Really?’ She shrugged. ‘He’s not going to be much protection.’
‘He’s better company. Anyway, we’re scouting, not fighting.’
‘What about virals? Do you want to take a fire extinguisher? Just in case there are any lurking around?’
‘Sure.’ The damned things were heavy, but he could take it in turns with Fish to carry it on his back.
Naga looked at him. She smiled and patted his hand. ‘I’ve got a good feeling about this. I’m so glad you two turned up at the castle.’
‘You’d have come across someone else heading down to Southampton, eventually,’ said Leon.
‘I suppose so.’
She looked down at the map. ‘I just hope we’re not the last ones to arrive, like Royce said. That would be totally rubbish, wouldn’t it? ‘Sorry ladies and gents, no room left. Try again next year!’’
Leon nodded. ‘That would suck.’
‘Anyway, don’t dawdle. Hike there, take a look and hurry back.’
‘OK.’
‘I guess we’ll see you in two or three hours. Be careful, Leon.’
‘Will do.’
CHAPTER 48
Leon led the way, surprised at how energized he felt, how eager to complete the last few kilometres of their eventful journey. Before the virus came, he guessed, the entire journey would have taken just a few hours on a good traffic day.
It had taken him and Freya seven months.
The road into the city centre looked like so many others: Terraced houses fronted by small gardens that had grown tall and wild. Road tarmac cracked from the big freeze of the last two winters. Here and there the mouldering humps of uncollected dead leaves piled in the blown-open doorways of newsagents and off-licences.
And, just like every other dead town these days, it was no longer a horror show of rotting corpses and tendrils of slime. That time was long gone, leaving behind mere mummified parcels of bone, cloth and hair. And buildings patiently accepting their gradual dereliction as a matter of course: Nature’s scruffy piecemeal conquest of what h
ad always been hers.
He realized he was pulling ahead of the others and stopped and waited for them to catch up. Freya’s walk was looking easier than usual. She was dragging her left foot slightly, but it seemed the action was less uncomfortable today. She looked better than she had for quite some time.
‘How’re you doing?’
‘Surprisingly well,’ Freya replied. ‘To be fair, I’ve been sitting on my butt for a week.’
She looped a hand through his offered arm and they continued walking down the abandoned road. ‘I was actually expecting to see more life than this,’ she said. ‘You know, more general activity.’
‘There’s been recent activity. Look.’ He pointed at drag marks in the road and a chalkboard braced against a chair on the pavement. Head towards quays. It’s safe. No recent signs of virals, was scrawled on it. In the corner was yesterday’s date.
Freya nodded. ‘I was hoping it would be like the approach to a festival or something. Lots of stewards pointing us in the right direction: this way to whatever, that way for toilets – that kind of thing.’
‘And hot-dog vendors on the pavement?’
She smiled. ‘Yes, please.’
Leon looked around. ‘You’d think we’d hear something, though. A public-address system or something.’
‘I know. It’s pretty unimpress—’ Freya dug her fingers into his forearm suddenly. ‘Oh, shit!’
‘What?’
‘You hear that?’
Leon cocked his head. Nothing but the gentle stirring of the small stunted trees along the pavement.
‘A hissing. Listen!’
He tried again, then heard it, very faintly. Tish-tish-tish-tish, like a small dog panting frantically.
Freya stopped walking and tugged Leon to a halt. She glanced around the deserted road at the terraced houses, some with kicked-open doors that led into dimly lit interiors; at the abandoned cars and vans on the pavement, some of them hidden up to their headlights by tall tufts of nettles and grass.
A hundred different places for those snarks to hide and wait.
‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ she whispered.
Fish was getting used to the strange transition from Inside world to Outside world. It only took the desire: a simple thought expressed clearly, and it seemed to happen. Far less trouble than getting up from an armchair, opening the back door and stepping into the garden.
