'I can't answer that, Steve. It seems trite to say that accidents will always happen, even to the most careful. The fact that you weren't accused, not even in private, surely absolves you from any responsibility.'
The company didn't ask me to complete my contract'
'Do you really wonder at that? My God, they wouldn't be so heartless.'
'It may have been the best thing for me, to fly that same route, to try to carry on as normal.'
'How could your employers know that? It could have been the worst thing to have done. I can't believe you've been so foolish as to allow guilt to shadow your life for so long.'
'It hasn't, Kate. Oh, it was bad for a long, long time, but gradually the thoughts found their own little hideaway at the back of my mind. I wasn't too well received at other companies after the crash, despite the inquiry's findings, and I was desperate to get back in the air. I needed to find my own peace.'
The perspiration that trickled from his forehead was due to something more than humidity. Thank God an old friend came along just at the right time. Harry McKay and I learned to fly together and we'd kept in loose contact over the years. He suggested our own charter company; he'd handle the business side, I'd do the flying. Harry had a little money of his own and knew where he could find more. We'd be up to our ears in debt for a few years, but it would be our own company and eventually all the profits would be ours. Debt or no debt, profit or no profit, I jumped at the chance. From that moment on we were so busy that I was able to keep those bad memories suppressed, even though I was always aware they were lurking on that shelf, ready to slip down—'
'Or be taken down and dusted off? Is that what you do from time to time?'
He twisted his head to see her face. 'You're harder than you look,' he said.
'No, I just hate to see someone indulge themselves in self-torment. You were cleared by the inquiry and by your own
company, even though everybody loves a scapegoat. It seems to me you've been punishing yourself because the authorities didn't. Maybe you'll take this world destruction on your shoulders, too. Sure, you can take my part of the burden as well. I don't need it.'
'You're being bloody—'
'Silly? Am I really? Isn't guilt supposed to be a primary condition of the human psyche?'
He smiled. 'Is this meant to shake me out of my self-pitying stupor?'
Kate tried to turn away, her anger flaring, but he held her. Tm sorry,' he said. 'I know what you're trying to do and I'm not mocking. I'd even go as far as to say I'm grateful. But just telling you about it has already helped. It's as if I've let something go, set those memories free. Maybe I was the gaoler of my own memories all this time, when all they wanted was to be set loose. And what you said about this world destruction is partly true: it doesn't minimize what happened on that day, but it kind of overshadows it.'
She relaxed against him. 'Haven't you spoken about the accident to anyone else before?'
'Couple of people, Harry for one. Usually in drinking sessions.'
'Was the other person a woman?'
'No. As a matter of fact, it was a doctor. Not a shrink. Just an ordinary GP. You want to hear about it?'
She nodded against his shoulder.
'About a year after the accident I developed sore testicles - at least, that was what it felt like to me.
You can smile, but when that happens to a man he fears the worst. I let it ride for a while, but it got no better. Finally, I went to see my doctor and he diagnosed an inflamed prostate, said it was due to stress.
I offered that flying was a stressful occupation,
but he was smarter than that. He explained that after the helicopter went down and all those lives had been lost, I had kept my emotions in check, had never allowed the breakdown that should have naturally followed - not necessarily a huge, hysterical breakdown, you understand, but perhaps a brief nervous collapse. I hadn't allowed it and the body won't be fooled. The inflamed prostate was a physical manifestation substituting for a mental one. The damage wasn't permanent, just a little uncomfortable for a while, and eventually it passed.'
'But the anguish didn't.'
'No, I told you - it found its little place to rest on. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that my only penalty for a stupid mistake was sore balls, when it was death for all those others, misery for their families. Doesn't that strike you as hilarious?'
*You suffered more than that. And it's never stopped for you, no matter how much you kept the hurt inside. You talk of penalties without realizing that life itself doesn't punish us; it's something we confer on ourselves. We create our own atonement. We manufacture our own crucifix and nail ourselves to it.'
Culver was momentarily too surprised to answer. Whether or not he agreed with Kate's philosophy, he knew he had misjudged her. He should have realized there was more to her by the way she had adapted inside the shelter, how she had helped Clare Reynolds nurse the sick, himself included, how quickly she had accepted - no, adjusted to - the hideous and traumatic change in all their lives. And she had proved she was no fluttering, fainting damsel in their escape from the shelter.
Why are you looking at me like that?' Kate asked. 'Haven't you heard a thing I've been saying?'
'Oh yes, I've heard.' He kissed her forehead. 'And you may be right. How come you didn't mention all this before?'
Her exasperation rapidly vanished. 'How come you didn't tell me about the crash before?'
Culver was about to reply when movement caught his eye. 'It'll have to keep. Looks like the others are stirring.'
'Steve ...' She pulled at him as he began to rise.
He looked down at her quizzically and she returned his kiss.
A frightened voice called out. 'Oh God, where is everybody?' Culver answered. Take it easy, Ellison.
You're safe enough.' He pulled on his boot and reluctantly got to his feet, gazing down at Kate as he rose. He gently touched her hair before walking over to the engineer, limping slightly as he went. Kate followed.
The others were waking, disturbed by Ellison's shout. They stared around them, startled by the mist.
Culver did a quick check as he approached: Ellison, Dealey, Fairbank stretched out beneath a fallen tree.
Jackson and one other engineer, a man he knew as Dene. Five of them, he and Kate, making seven. Had they lost others in their flight through the ruins? He didn't think so; the rest had probably drowned or been torn to pieces by the vermin back inside the shelter. Or maybe even burned to death: the choice of death was varied.
Ellison looked relieved to see him. 'What is this place?' he asked, rising.
'As far as we can make out, it's what used to be Lincoln's Inn Fields,' Culver replied. 'What's left of it.'
Ellison tried to penetrate the mist. The rats ...?'
'Stay calm. We left them back in the shelter. We're safe for now.'
Dealey had risen only to his knees as if the world was still unsteady. This fog - is it a dust cloud?'
'Use your head.' Culver grabbed his arm and hauled him up. 'Can't you feel the heat, the humidity?
After all that rain and with the sun beating down, the place has become a steam bath. And if that makes you uncomfortable, just wait until the insects start biting.' He turned towards the fallen tree. 'How're things, Fairbank?'
The small stocky engineer yawned, then grinned back at him. Things is hungry.'
That sounds healthy enough. Jackson, Dene?'
The two other engineers looked less happy. They rose and joined the others, eyes warily watching their surroundings.
'Any injuries?' Culver asked of them all.
'Do bruises and grazes count?' said Fairbank, reaching the group.
'Only rat bites and broken limbs are eligible.'
Then I'm not even in the race.'
'Check yourself, anyway. You never know what you did to yourself back there.'
