force a response from the desperate figure. ‘Is there anything we can do to…’
She let her words trail away into silence as the body approached. The world was silent save for the gusting wind and the relentless clump, clump of the creature’s uncoordinated feet on the gravel as she took step after painful step towards the three survivors. The corpse tripped on an edging stone and fell towards Carl who instinctively jumped back out of the way. Emma leant down and helped her back onto her unsteady feet. The body walked slowly between them, completely oblivious to their presence, and then continued out towards the road. The road curved gently to the right but the woman’s course remained relatively straight until she’d crossed the tarmac and become entangled in a patch of wiry undergrowth on the other side.
Michael and Emma watched the pathetic creature for a little longer. Michael couldn’t help but think about what might happen to her. In his mind he pictured her staggering on through the dark night, through wind and rain, and he felt a sudden and surprising sadness. A poor defenceless old woman – a mother and grandmother perhaps – who had left for work last Tuesday just as she had done on any other day, she was now destined to spend what could be an eternity wandering without direction or shelter. He had managed to quickly build up a resistance to such thoughts and feelings in the city but now, now that they were out in wild, comparatively inhospitable surroundings, he found himself being deeply affected by the plight of the innocent victims of the disaster.
Carl had disappeared. Emma could see him moving around inside the cafe and she gestured to Michael to follow her into the building.
A short passageway led them to a large, dark and musty room which they cautiously entered. There were various bodies scattered around numerous tables and slumped awkwardly in comfortable chairs. Michael smiled morbidly to himself as he walked past the corpses of an elderly couple. They had been sitting opposite each other when they’d died. Alice Jones (that was the name on the credit card on the table) lay back in her seat with her head lolled heavily on her shoulders, her dry eyes fixed on the ceiling unblinking. Gravity had caught her husband somewhat differently. He was slouched forward with his face buried in the remains of a dry, mouldy serving of what was almost week-old scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon.
There was a noise from the kitchen area and Carl appeared carrying a large plastic tray.
‘Found some food,’ he said as he threaded his way over to the others through the confusion of corpses. ‘Most of the stuff in there has gone bad. I managed to find some crisps and biscuits and something to drink though.’
Without responding Emma walked past the two men and made her way towards a large glass door at the end of the room. She pushed the door open and went back outside.
‘Where the hell’s she going?’ Carl muttered.
Emma wasn’t out of earshot.
‘I’m not eating in there,’ she shouted back into the building. ‘You two can if you want.’
Michael looked around at his gruesome surroundings and obediently followed her back out into a grassy area beyond the car park. Carl also followed, a little slower than Michael because he was carrying the food and was having difficulty seeing his feet over the edge of the tray. Two bodies sitting in a bay seat by the window caught his eye. A woman and a man, both of whom looked like they’d been about his age, had been sitting next to each other when the virus had struck. Spread out over the table in front of them was a tourist map that was marked with spots and dribbles of dark dried blood. On the ground, twisted around his parents’ feet and around the legs of their table, was a young boy. His exposed face was frozen with pain and fear. At once all that Carl could see were the desperate faces of his own wife and child, and the sudden recollection of all that he had lost was almost too much to bear. With tears streaming down his cheeks he carried on out to the others, hoping that the gusting wind would hide his weeping from them.
Michael and Emma had sat down next to each other at a large wooden picnic table. Carl sat opposite them.
‘You okay?’ asked Michael.
‘Does anyone want a can of coke?’ Carl said, deliberately ignoring his question. ‘There are some other cans inside if you’d prefer. I think I saw some bottled water…’
‘Are you okay?’ Michael asked again.
This time Carl didn’t answer. He just nodded, bit his lip and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He began to busy himself by opening the food he’d brought outside.
‘You look tired,’ Emma said gently, reaching out and giving Carl’s hand a quick and reassuring squeeze. ‘Maybe we should stay here tonight. I know it’s not ideal but…’
Her unexpected touch triggered a change in Carl. Suddenly, and without any warning, his defences seemed to crumble.
‘Either of you two got kids?’ he asked, his voice wavering and unsteady. Both Emma and Michael looked at each other momentarily and then shook their heads. ‘I did. I had a daughter. The most beautiful little girl you’ve ever seen. She’s got… I mean she had…’
‘Hurts, doesn’t it?’ Emma said, sensing Carl’s pain and sympathising (but not fully understanding) his obvious agony. ‘My sister had two boys. Great lads, I saw them a couple of weeks ago and now…’
‘Christ,’ he continued, not listening to a word she’d said, ‘they do something to you, kids. When we found out we we’re expecting Gemma we were gutted – I mean absolutely fucking devastated. Sarah didn’t talk to me for days and… and…’
‘And what?’ Michael pressed gently.
‘And then she was born and everything changed. I tell you, mate, you can’t understand what it’s like until you’ve been there yourself. I watched that little girl being born and that was it. You never really know what life’s all about until you’ve been there. And now she’s gone… I can’t fucking believe it. I feel so fucking empty and I just want to go back home and see her. I know she’s gone but I want to see her again and just…’
‘Shh…’ Emma whispered. She tried desperately to think of something to say but instead settled on silence. She didn’t fully appreciate the extent of Carl’s pain, but she knew that nothing she could do or say would make him feel better.
‘I’m fucking starving I am,’ he sobbed, forcing the conversation to change direction. He grabbed a packet of biscuits and tore them open. A gust of wind picked up the empty cellophane wrapper and whisked it away.
As they ate Michael watched Carl sadly. He had always done his best to keep himself to himself and had often
