“It’s inland. If you’re planning on heading for the ocean, you’re going to have to sail right through Lowestoft to get there. Oh, and I might not have mentioned,” I add sarcastically, “there’s a bit of a war going on up there right now.”
“Well, that could work in our favor,” Joseph says optimistically. “A distraction.”
“You think? I’ll tell you something, fight or no fight, if anyone gets so much as a sniff of just one of you, then everything else will be forgotten and the hunt will be back on. All the infighting will stop and you’ll be the only targets again.”
Another frightened murmur spreads quickly through the group. Many of the Unchanged are staring at me now. I make momentary eye contact with Chloe. Perhaps she doesn’t fully follow the conversation, but I can tell from the expression on her face that the implications of what she’s hearing are clearly understood. Jake, sitting on a desk and swinging his legs, lifts his hand and points a finger at me.
“I bet he can show us a better place to find a boat,” he says, his voice initially quiet but steadily gaining in confidence. “He knows where to go,” he tells the others.
“He’s already told us he’s not interested in helping,” Tracey says.
Jake’s not listening. “Then make him do it.”
“We can’t.”
“You can show us, can’t you?” he says again, looking straight at me. “We were by the sea when you found us. You must know where the boats are.”
Joseph looks back at me again. “Well?”
“I know of a couple of places, but you’re not listening to me, are you? It’s going to be hard enough for any of you to get anywhere near Lowestoft. Then, if by some chance you do manage to find a boat, there’s the little question of getting it going. I don’t know anything about boats or engines—”
“We do,” he interrupts. “You think we haven’t planned for something like this? Do you think we’ve just been sitting down here twiddling our thumbs and staring into space for weeks on end feeling sorry for ourselves? We knew this day would come eventually. As good as it was, this place was never going to last. Where’s Todd?”
A man emerges from the gloom at the back of the group. A gangly, awkward-looking guy with an Einstein-like shock of gray-white hair, he acknowledges Joseph and nods at me.
“Who’s this?”
“My name’s Todd Weston,” he answers, stepping over and around people to get closer to the front. “I know my way around boats. You get me to it, I’ll sail it.”
I lean back against the wall and look up at the ceiling. How the hell am I going to get through to these people?
“Do you really think you’re just going to trot along to Lowestoft, pick yourselves up a boat, and sail it away into the sunset? Didn’t you hear me, the place isn’t full of tourists anymore, it’s a fucking war zone. Plus there’s so much smoke and shit in the air that you can’t see the fucking sunset anymore, never mind sail away into it.”
“Where exactly is the fighting?” Joseph asks.
“Want me to draw you a fucking map?”
“Don’t be facetious. I just want to know if the fighting’s near the boatyards,” he says, his voice annoyingly calm, bordering on patronizing.
“I don’t know for sure. It seemed to be concentrated in and around the compound in the center of town from what I saw of it, but—”
“So theoretically we could get in and out again without anyone noticing?”
“Hardly. What are you planning? Are you going to bus people in?”
“Lose the sarcasm and change your attitude, Danny,” he snaps, his voice suddenly harder. “We’re talking about people’s lives here. Stop looking for excuses and try to find a way out. That’s what the old Danny McCoyne would have done.”
“Yeah, and the new Danny McCoyne wouldn’t bother at all. Look at me, for Christ’s sake. I’m a dead man walking. I’m riddled with cancer, I’ve just had seven shades of shit kicked out of me, and—”
“And you’re still going. You’re standing here helping, whether you realize it or not. You continually underestimate yourself. Don’t forget, Danny, you’re the man who managed to find the proverbial needle in the haystack. When the whole country was falling apart and going to hell around you, you were the one who managed to find his daughter and save her. I don’t know of any other father who could have done that. If it wasn’t for you, she’d have been—”
“I didn’t save her,” I interrupt angrily, doing all I can not to think about Ellis.
“What your daughter became and what happened to her wasn’t your fault. You did all you could, more than most. You fought your way into the heart of the biggest fucking battle of all, then managed to get yourself and your girl back out again before it was too late. I don’t know anyone else who’s done anything near comparable. Peter Sutton was in awe of you, you damn fool.”
“Then he was the fool, not me.”
“Can’t you see, you’re our only option, Danny. Without you we’re screwed.”
“I’m screwed anyway.”
“I know that, and I’m truly sorry, but what else are you going to do with the time you have left? You’re not the kind of man who’ll just crawl under a rock and wait there to die, are you? You’re better than that. Go out with a purpose. Give people something to remember you by.”
I know he’s being deliberately overdramatic and playing to his captive audience, but the thing is, there’s a part of me that knows he might be right. I am different from the rest of the useless, brain-dead fucks that inhabit this poisoned, dying country. My problem is I’ve always struggled to accept responsibility, and I don’t see why I should start trying to change things now. Surely it’s too late? Joseph looks at me expectantly for an answer, and I do all I can to look anywhere else. Tracey glares at me. Parker and Todd are a little less vicious but no less hopeful. Dean holds his rifle, looking like he’s about to point it at me to try to force me to help. I look from face to face, then find myself looking straight at Chloe and Jake again.
Deep breath.
“Okay, I’ll ask you once more, how do you think you’re going to get everyone onto a boat? Assuming you can find one, that is.”
“No one said that was what we were planning,” Todd says. “When Pete, Joseph, and me first started talking about this, we ruled that out right away. We knew that if we had to get away fast, we’d end up bringing the boat to the people, not trying to take the people to the boat.”
“What, here? Are we close to a river or…?”
He’s shaking his head at me. Joseph explains.
“We were going to split up. Peter and I were going to find the boat with Todd. Everyone else was going to head to a prearranged point farther down the coast and wait for us.”
“What prearranged point?”
“We hadn’t got that far,” he admits.
“Great.”
Every nerve in my body that still feels anything is screaming at me to shut up and get out of here, but there’s something screaming equally loud at me not to. As hard as it is for me to accept, Joseph’s right. When I think about everything I’ve seen and been a part of in Lowestoft these last few days, I know I can’t just turn my back on these people. There’s more decency and civility here in this cramped bunker than there is in the rest of the country combined. Besides, I’m just fooling myself if I think I’m going to get far on my own. My body is well and truly fucked, and I’m living on borrowed time. My choice now is simple and stark: Whether I’m left down here or I manage to crawl back up to the surface, I can either die alone or try to do the right thing by these Unchanged. The last Unchanged.
There’s a hushed, expectant silence throughout the bunker.
“Southwold,” I eventually say.
“What?” Joseph asks, looking confused.
“That’s where you need to go. That’s your ideal meeting point, ten miles south of Lowestoft. Get everyone down there, then get a boat from one of the yards in town and sail it down the coast. With a little luck you’ll find something near the ocean. Southwold is a dead place now. It’s your best option. Probably your only option.”
“So will you help us?”
