Surviving The Evacuation (Book 15): Where There's Hope

by Tayell, Frank

  “It’s the company that counts,” Chester said. “And we wouldn’t have had much time to enjoy even the biggest suite before the cruise ship reached Ireland, and then we’d have had more company than we could handle. No, this is far better. And I prefer the name, too. The New World, it’s appropriate. Yep. I’d say I’ve got everything I want. Everything I need.”

  “Me, too.”

  “The plane, the grain ship, the nuclear power station, that was all sabotaged?” he asked.

  “It was,” she said. “And the last two grain ships are on the verge of sinking. Another few months, and they’ll be gone. They really need that cruise ship. No, let me rephrase that. They really need a lot of new ships, but they’ll have to find a way of making do with that cruise ship. Do you really think Faroe could work for us?”

  “I’m not sure, but Bill was,” Chester said. “He said it was the only logical refuge. For the winter, at least. Sorcha agrees, which is unusual enough for me to think there really isn’t a better option.”

  “It’s counter-intuitive,” Nilda said. “It’ll be colder and darker.”

  “Yep, but if we’ve electricity, we’ll have three months with our feet up, watching the telly in the warm. Except for when we’re fishing, or raiding the mainland for supplies.”

  “Or cleaning,” Nilda said. “And cooking, doing laundry, and all the rest. It’ll be harder than life before, and harder than it would have been on Anglesey, but it’ll be far, far better than living aboard small ships. And maybe it won’t be so hard as London. Ah well, I suppose what we think doesn’t matter. It’s up to the admiral now. They almost had a mutiny among her crew, did I tell you? That’s not what they’re calling it, but that’s what it was. Some of her Americans demanded they go back to the U.S.”

  “It’s unlikely to be any better than Europe,” Chester said.

  “No. And Faroe is halfway between. It’s out of our hands. I’m almost glad of that. And we’ll know what decision she’s made soon enough. I think I’ll get you some new glasses, too,” she added.

  “These are fine,” he said. “I’m getting used to them.”

  “They’re for a ten-year-old girl, Chester.”

  There was a knock on the door. “It’s me,” Aisha said. “The children insist you both come up to the deck to wave off the Ocean Queen. And if you don’t come up, they’re threatening to come and get you. Sorry.”

  “We’re on our way,” Nilda called back.

  “No rest yet,” Chester said, pulling on his borrowed clothes and his filthy boots.

  “And you need new shoes,” Nilda said.

  “We can do some shopping when we get to Calais,” Chester said.

  “And that’s finally killed the mood,” Nilda said.

  “You sure it’s safe to bring the children with us?” Chester asked. “There’s still time to move them onto the cruise ship.”

  “I don’t think they’d be safer aboard the Ocean Queen,” Nilda said. “There’s still a chance that ship will head straight across the Atlantic after Dundalk. No, Tuck thinks they’ll be safe enough, and its not like we’re taking this ship anywhere near the harbour.”

  Chester was mobbed when they reached the viewing deck at The New World’s stern.

  “Hang on, hang on,” he muttered as the children tugged at his coat.

  “You’ve got to come and see,” Simone said.

  “And I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said.

  He spotted Jay and Kevin, already standing by the viewing platform’s rail. He gave them a nod. They grinned back as he was dragged over to them. The Ocean Queen was already underway. Chester joined the children waving farewell to the cruise ship. As soon as their attention was focused entirely on the ship, he eased his way to the rear of the crowd, and then over to the open bulkhead door where George and Kim were in quiet conversation.

  “How’s Bill?” Chester asked.

  “He needs another operation,” Kim said. “He needs a dozen, but Dr Harabi doesn’t want to operate while we’re underway. She’ll start when we get to Calais.”

  “But he’ll be fine,” George said. “A bullet wound, a broken bone, a bit of frostbite, it’s nothing the doctor hasn’t seen before.”

  “I know,” Kim said. She forced a smile. “It’s good to see you again, Chester. Thank you for bringing him back to me.” She glanced at the open ocean, then returned inside.

  “Let’s go and find ourselves somewhere to sit,” George said. “There’s been too much climbing up and down during the last few weeks. My knees are killing me.”

  Chester followed George through the door and into a small glass-fronted room that offered a view of the sea and the deck where the children still waved to the disappearing boat. George collapsed into one of the five chairs. Chester sat opposite.

  “You should see the rooms on that cruise ship,” George said. “It really is a floating hotel. Some of the chairs in that lounge, they’re so soft that, once you sit down, you need a team to pull you out of them. This ship, these chairs… it’s all a bit functional. What is it they say, that the smallest splash of luxury can corrupt more completely than an entire bath of gold? Always wondered whether that meant the bath was made of gold, or filled with it. Either way, doesn’t sound too comfortable.”

  “I wouldn’t mind one of those,” Chester said. “A bath, I mean.”

  “You’re out of luck, I’m afraid,” George said. “Lisa Kempton might have scrimped on the luxury, but she knew what she was doing when she built this ship. The swimming pool can be sealed and filled from the desalination tanks so it becomes an additional fresh water storage tank. Neat idea.”

  “It is.” Chester leaned back, and closed his eyes.

  “Quite some adventures you’ve had,” George said. “I look forward to hearing the details, though not just yet. We heard back from the admiral. She’s made her decision.”

  “Already?” Chester opened his eyes.

  “It wasn’t a difficult one,” George said. “She’s sending the Amundsen north to Svalbard by way of Faroe. Thaddeus will take a team ashore, and see what the islands are like. The Amundsen will pick them up in a few days on its way down to a mid-sea refuelling rendezvous with the Ocean Queen. Did you hear about Cornwall?”

  “No.”

  “Radiation is still leaching from there into the sea. Add in the leaking reactor on Anglesey, and the Irish Sea will be a no-go zone for the next generation. If we’re staying on this side of the Atlantic, we’ll have to hug the west coast as we travel around Ireland.”

  “If?”

  “Well, it depends on Faroe, doesn’t it?” George said.

  “What about the people of Creil?” Chester said. “What about the convoy from Ukraine? What about Flora’s people who went off looking for them?”

  “What about Dundalk and Elysium?” George said. “They’re barely hanging on. Barely surviving. The undead come, day and night. Not many, sure, but we’re out of ammunition. Every day is a battle. Every meal is fish. Every night is a dark and increasingly long one. America is the problem. The idea of it hangs over our heads. It’s not a dream that the grass is greener, but that it’s a golden wave of wheat, waiting to be harvested. In some ways, this reminds me a lot of the darkest days of the 1980s. Things were so bad, that anywhere, even somewhere we knew nothing about except photographs in a magazine, seemed better than staying where we were. Ah, but we stayed, didn’t we? Sorry,” he added. “Over the last few days, I’ve found I have a lot of time to remember. Not sure it’s particularly healthy. Anyway, the decision has been taken. Sholto will take a look at Faroe, but the final decision will be the admiral’s.”

  “And what about Scott, Amber, and Salman? What about the convoy?”

  “What about them?” George asked. “I mean that in all seriousness. We’ve got the satellites, but we didn’t find your crashed plane. We didn’t realise there were people still in Calais. We can look, but we might not find them. For how long do we look? No, don’t answer because t
hat’s another decision we won’t make. Nor will the admiral. It’ll be determined by our chances of survival in Faroe. Even if it’s not been destroyed, and not overrun, after a week or two we might find ourselves with no choice but to leave again. That’s the bitter reality. I want us to be the help that comes to others, but we’re in no position to help anyone right now.”

  “I can’t believe Belfast’s gone,” Chester said. “Nilda said it was sabotage.”

  “It was. And Belfast is gone. The harbour, anyway. I’m not sure about the city, but without a safe anchorage, we can’t use it as a base to go to the airport and repair and retrieve those helicopters. Even if the satellites find the convoy, we might not be able to rescue them.”

  “Trains,” Chester said. “Trains are the answer. I’ve been puzzling over it the last few days. The helicopters would only be used to ferry people onto ships, but we don’t have enough ships with enough landing space for a proper airlift. I suppose we do now, if we can find diesel for the Courageous. Even then, though, and even if we had the helicopters, an airlift would take days, maybe weeks. No, trains are the answer. Ten diesel locomotives, with a dozen carriages each, and a railway line that runs from the Pyrenees to the coast, that’s how we do it.”

  “We’d have to find the trains,” George said. “And get the convoy to a railhead, since it’s unlikely they’ll grind to a halt in a railway town. Still, yes, that’s a scheme I can work with. I’ll draw up some plans, and see if we can dig up some maps. But it all depends on Faroe. Calais first, though. You know the plan? We’re going to leave here at midnight. We’ll arrive around three, and stop about ten miles away. We’re sending two teams ashore. Leon’s taking some people to the south of the harbour. Bran and Tuck are taking people to the north. They’ll move in at dawn. And then we’ll see what comes next.”

  “I best get my gear together.”

  “No. Absolutely not. You’re sitting this one out. We’ve enough soldiers and sailors to undertake the mission.”

  “I know the terrain,” Chester said. “And I’ve done this before.”

  “Not quite like this,” George said. “That decision has been made.”

  “Did Nilda ask you to talk to me?”

  “Nope. This is all me. You’re not going. Nor is Nilda. Not this time. Sadly, I think there are going to be many more times in our near future where you’ll have a chance to play the damn-fool hero. And if I was a bit younger…” He sighed. “But I’m not, and you need to get your strength back before you re-join the fray.”

  “And Flora, is she coming with us?”

  “She’s staying with the Courageous. At least for the next couple of days. There’s twenty volunteers with her. Two of them are Leon’s people. They’ve been instructed to scuttle the ship if it looks as if it’ll fall into enemy hands. Enemy?” He sighed again. “Cartel gangsters, pirates, slavers. Call them what you like, but they’re an evil that can’t be allowed to take root. We had our troubles on Anglesey, yes, but nothing quite like this. We had our blinkers on. We thought we could bring civilisation back to what it was, except we forgot what it truly was like out there in the world. What life could be like without laws and police. Well, we know now. We’ll have to prepare for war. Prepare, and hope it doesn’t come. Ah, the kids have stopped waving. You better get out there before they notice you’ve sneaked off.”

  Day 261

  29th November

  “So this is Calais,” Jay said, stamping his feet on the snow-covered quayside. “You know, I think I prefer Belgium.”

  “It’s not all like this,” Chester said. “In fact, I’d say some of it is worse. There’s a security fence ringing this part of the harbour, and that’s keeping the undead out.”

  “Still, it’s France, so that’s another country I’ve visited,” Jay said. “It’s turning out to be quite a holiday.”

  “It’s not a holiday,” Nilda said. “Remember who was here. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

  “Yeah, but Leon said they’d all gone,” Jay said.

  “He said vehicle tracks led away from Calais,” Nilda said. “That doesn’t mean none have stayed behind.”

  “How do you prove a null,” Chester said.

  “What’s that?” Jay asked.

  “Something Bill said. Don’t worry about it. Sorcha’s waving. We should catch up.”

  Jay trudged across the snow-coated harbour to where Locke and Jennings were waiting. More slowly, Nilda and Chester followed.

  “There were over two hundred of them,” Chester said.

  “That’s what Leon said over the radio,” Nilda replied. “But it’s only an estimate. I’d like a more accurate figure of exactly how many were here, but I’m not sure we’ll get it.”

  “Still, it’s more than I thought. A lot more,” he said. “We were lucky. Very lucky. It puts that business in Creil into perspective. It wasn’t just a couple of dozen people trying to seize power. They were planning something far bigger. Makes me wonder, makes me worry, that there might be more of them out there, in other towns and redoubts.”

  “It makes me worry there might be a few who’ve stayed behind,” Nilda said.

  “I’d say that was unlikely,” Chester said. “They were low on food, on ammo, and in fear of attack. Now that’s an interesting thought. Despite their numbers, they worried about an attack. Makes me think they aren’t professionals. That’s a lot of supposition, I know, but one thing I’m sure of is that they were ready to leave. With us gone, why would they stay? No, if Leon believes they’ve left, then I’ll go along with that.”

  “It’s not quite a victory, though,” Nilda said. “Not if they left with three tanks, a snowplough, and who knows how many trucks. And we don’t know where they’ve gone.”

  “Belgium, I suppose,” Chester said. “And as soon as Tuck, Bran, and Leon return, we’ll go there ourselves.”

  “We’ll have to scuttle the Courageous,” Nilda said. “We can’t fight a pitched battle against tanks and come out unscathed. Ah, it’s a shame. I liked Nieuwpoort. It’s the sort of place I could see myself living. The fishing is good. The houses haven’t been completely looted. And there are fewer zombies than in London.”

  “With that horde roaming Europe, it’s not safe,” Chester said. “Nowhere is, not on the mainland.”

  “No, I know. And it’s nowhere near the Pyrenees. All being well, that’ll be our next destination, albeit another temporary one. On the plus side, it’ll be warmer. Warmer than Faroe, anyway. I have to say, I’m not looking forward to three months of weather like this, even with electricity. Still, it’s a shame about Nieuwpoort. There were really a hundred million zombies in that horde?”

  “Maybe more,” Chester said.

  “I can’t imagine America being any different to Europe, so let’s hope that Faroe turns out okay. Ah, Jay’s signalling. We should catch up.”

  They trudged through the snow to Jennings, Locke, and a grinning Jay.

  “What is it?” Nilda asked.

  “It’s good news, boss,” Jennings said.

  “It was a call,” Jay said. “Leon called in.”

  “And?”

  “They’re about two miles from Calais,” Jay said. “Following the tracks left by that plough and tanks.”

  “I know,” Nilda said. “What’s the good news?”

  “The enemy turned south, boss,” Jennings said.

  “South? So they’re not going to Belgium,” Nilda said. “That’s something, I suppose.”

  “A bittersweet victory, isn’t it?” Locke said.

  “The colonel will follow the tracks for another mile,” Jennings said. “Then they’ll turn back.”

  “What’s it like out in the countryside?” Chester asked.

  “You mean how many zombies are there?” Jennings said. “The colonel didn’t say.”

  “Let’s not give ourselves anything else to worry about,” Nilda said. “We have another half hour, but I don’t think we’re achieving much out here. Let’s fini
sh what we came here to do, and get back into the warm.”

  “Jay, you go with Norm and Sorcha,” Chester said. “I want to have a word with your Mum. If that’s all right?” he added, turning to Nilda.

  “Nowhere is any safer than anywhere else,” Nilda said. “But don’t touch anything, Jay,” she added. “Remember what Chester said about that Russian destroyer. We just need a photograph of the man Captain Fielding shot so she can confirm it was Rhoskovski.”

  “Aye, aye, Mum,” Jay said.

  He, Locke, and Jennings continued trudging through the snow-covered harbour, towards the quayside. Chester and Nilda headed for the seawall.

  “They’ve gone south,” Chester said. “I wonder why. A new decision by their new leader, I suppose. And I wonder if they’re heading to Creil.”

  “Sorcha’s right,” Nilda said. “It is a bittersweet victory. With what Captain Fielding said about that destroyer, and with the mines in the harbour, and that other mine in the Channel Tunnel, we can’t risk looking for salvage here. I don’t think we can even risk scavenging any diesel. You know, part of me wishes we could have had a battle that finished it here and now. I know it’s not possible. How would we destroy a tank? I’m sure Tuck has a few ideas, but there’s no way we could do it without taking losses.”

  “Now you’re sounding like a general,” Chester said.

  “I know. And the thing is, Chester.” She stopped and turned to him. “The thing is, I think I have to. We all do. Back in London, before we left, I didn’t really think about what that sabotage in Anglesey meant. This news about the cartel, those people, it’s brought it home. Truly. For the last year, we’ve been hoping to find other survivors. Anyone who’s survived this far, anyone who survives the winter will fight to keep what’s theirs. If they shoot first, we’ll have to shoot back regardless of whether we could be friends if we had a chance to talk. And then there are people like this cartel, people with whom talking is pointless. Even if we had found them here, even if we’d had one great battle, it wouldn’t have been the last. There will be others like them, and others not nearly so bad but probably some who are worse. Killing them won’t end it, because it is how we’re going to live, how we’re going to survive.”