higher and higher and, at the same time, having to keep control of my emotions and stop myself from running out of the house and getting back on the bike. Eventually I was at the top, standing on the landing, holding onto the bedroom door handle with my hands shaking.
I listened carefully. There was no noise coming from inside the room. I coughed, and still there was no reaction.
My mind was filled with memories of my family.
I pushed the door open and waited.
Nothing happened.
I looked at the bed and saw that they were both still there, still covered up by the duvet I’d draped over them before I’d left. I could just see a few curls of Sarah’s hair peeking out from under the covers. Much as I wanted to see them, I didn’t want to look at either of them. I wanted to remember them as they were and it was enough just to know that they were still together. I leant across and kissed them both through the bedding before I said goodbye. I shut my eyes and told them that I loved them and that I would always be thinking about them.
And that was all I did. I didn’t want to disturb them or move them. I just wanted to know that they were both still there. I just wanted to be sure that they were still together. It was more for Gemma than any other reason. I hadn’t been able to get the nightmare thought out of my mind that either one of them might have walked and that my beautiful little girl could have been on her own somewhere.
As it was she was okay. She was lying safe in bed, curled up tightly next to her mum.
And then came the question of what to do next.
The survivors had gone – I hoped they’d moved on, but I knew in my heart that something fucking terrible had happened to them.
My family were safe and were resting peacefully and I knew that I wasn’t going to go back home again.
I hadn’t expected to be on my own. Getting into the council depot that I’d talked about before suddenly didn’t seem like much of an option. Okay, so I could get myself in there, but then what? I’d already discovered that I didn’t have the balls to kill myself. So was I going to just sit there and starve or wait to die from dehydration, loneliness, boredom or old age?
The farmhouse I’d just come from was the safest place left.
40
Michael came in from outside.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ he said, his face flustered. Immediately concerned, Emma stopped what she had been doing and rushed out to him in the hall.
‘What is it?’
‘The van,’ he replied. ‘It’s completely fucked. There’s oil and all kinds of stuff leaking out. Looks like something’s cracked underneath.’
‘So can you fix it?’ she asked. A sensible question. Michael shook his head despondently.
‘I haven’t got a bloody clue,’ he admitted. ‘I can drive a car, fill it with petrol and change a tyre but that’s about all. I wouldn’t know where to start with something like this.’
‘So what do we do? Can we get by without it?’
‘We can, but we’d be taking a hell of a chance. What if the same thing happens to the Landrover?’
‘So what do we do?’ she asked again.
‘We go out and get ourselves another van,’ he replied.
And so, less than an hour later, Michael and Emma again found themselves leaving the relative safety of Penn Farm and heading back towards one of the dead villages dotted around the decaying countryside.
For once Michael’s usually keen sense of direction let him down. Distracted by a body lurching out at them from out of nowhere at a cross-roads, he took a wrong turn which soon led them out along a long, straight stretch of narrow road. The road climbed for more than a mile before becoming flatter and more level. At the top of the climb the trees and bushes which had surrounded them before and obscured their view disappeared. Everywhere suddenly felt empty, spacious and open. Intrigued, Michael drove through an open gate and into a wide field dotted with a handful of cars. They had arrived in a dusty, cliff-top car park where, from the far side of the field, they could see out over the ocean. Neither of them had thought that they were this close to the coast. In the confusion and disorientation of the last few weeks their whole world felt like it had been pulled and twisted out of shape beyond all recognition. Maps and atlases had been forgotten and put to one side as they had struggled to survive from day to day. Strange as it seemed, the ocean had been the last thing that Michael had expected to see.
A little more relaxed than they had been before (perhaps because for once they couldn’t see a single body nearby) they drove to the area of the car park which afforded them the best view of the seemingly endless expanse of water below them and stopped. Michael switched off the engine and slumped back in his chair.
‘Screwed that up, didn’t I?’ he smiled.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Emma mumbled as she wound down her window slightly. The noise of the wind and the sea was loud and welcome. As well as shattering the otherwise all-consuming silence of the world for a while, it also camouflaged any sound which the two of them might make.
The sight of the ocean filled Michael with an unexpected combination of emotions. He had always loved the sea as a child, and seeing it now made him remember a handful of memories of childhood holidays, when the sky had always been deep blue, the sun huge and hot and the days seemingly endless. The memory of those long-gone innocent days filled him with a now familiar sadness and grief. But those heavy, desperate feelings were also matched by a slight elation because, for once, the two of them were free from the confines of the farmhouse and the barrier and, for a short time at least, away from the millions of bodies which plagued their lives.
‘Safest thing to do would be to take one of these cars,’ he said, gesturing out across the car park. ‘We’ll find
