There’s bound to be one close to the capital.’
‘You must have some idea.’
‘Why? I didn’t know where our base was until I was in it.
Look, these are the kind of places you don’t know you’re reached until you’re standing on top of them. I’ve heard that some of these bunkers are in the middle of cities, others are more remote. Christ, you might have lived next door to one for the last ten years and not known anything about it.’
Phil Croft sat down next to Donna.
‘If we could get to your base,’ he began, the tone of his voice tentative and uncertain, ‘would you be able to get us inside?’
‘You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m burying myself underground with the fucking army,’ Nathan Holmes hissed from a short distance away. ‘Completely out of your fucking mind.’
Croft shot a quick, disappointed glance in his direction and then turned back to face the solider again.
‘Would they let us in?’ he asked again.
Cooper couldn’t answer with any certainty.
‘They might,’ he said quietly, ‘but on the other hand they might not. They might not let me back in. It depends if the decontamination process works, I suppose. I left the base but I never made it back, did I? The others that left with me might not have been able to get back inside. If they couldn’t remove all traces of the disease then they’d have left them on the surface.
For all I know they might have let it in when we left. The whole bloody base might be dead by now.’
‘What kind of protection did you have?’ Donna asked.
‘Inside or outside?’
‘Outside.’
‘Full body suits and the best breathing kits the government could buy,’ he answered.
‘So,’ she continued, ‘while you were away from the base you couldn’t eat or drink or……?’
‘Theoretically we could,’ he interrupted, finishing her sentence for her. ‘The suits were designed to let you eat and drink and get rid of waste but we didn’t carry much in the way of supplies. We weren’t intending to be above ground for too long.’
‘What if those others can’t get back into the base because their suit or their equipment’s contaminated…?’
‘They’ll have left them on the surface.’
‘To die?’
‘Suppose so.’
‘And did you know that when they ordered you to go outside?’
‘No-one said as much but it doesn’t take a genius to work it out, does it?’
‘No wonder you’re not rushing to get back.’
‘Part of the job,’ Cooper mumbled nonchalantly.
‘And are you still on duty?’ Croft quipped.
The soldier shook his head.
‘I quit,’ he said, deadpan. ‘I quit the moment I found out I could breathe. You don’t have to spend long out here to realise the whole planet’s dead. I figured I might as well try and make the most of the little freedom I’ve got left. They probably think I’m dead anyway.’
‘Might as well be,’ muttered Holmes.
30
Ignorant to the potential dangers of being out alone, and with a sense of smug satisfaction warming him against the cold late autumn wind, Michael stood on top of a bleak hillside and watched as another truck full of soldiers clattered down the overgrown track back, he presumed, towards their base. He’d found the track again earlier and had followed it as far as he’d dared to go on foot before heading back to the relative safety of the motorhome. He and Emma had then driven to the point where he’d stopped walking. Michael sensed that they were near to finding the base and the return now of more troops in their transport was proof that they were close. Feeling more positive than he had been for days he turned around and put his thumbs up as a salute to what felt like a small but significant victory. The afternoon light was fading and cold rain was beginning to spit down. From the comparative warmth and comfort of the motorhome a short distance away Emma watched and waved back, acknowledging his achievement.
Before turning and going back inside, Michael looked down at the track for a little longer. There was a body walking along it now. A single pathetic, rotting, disease-ridden cadaver that pointlessly dragged itself along after the long gone transport.
Even now after so many days and weeks had passed Michael found it hard to accept what had happened. He watched the lone figure with equal amounts of fear, hatred, pity and pain.
Although they had intentionally stayed as far away from the rest of the remains of the world as possible, coming into contact with the corpses was inevitable. As they had earlier watched the behaviour of the creatures change from the shelter of their farmhouse hideout, so they had since seen that change continue unabated. Whereas originally these reanimated bodies had been empty shells, now emotion, control and direction was undeniably beginning to return. It was almost as if their brains had been anaesthetised by the disease and the numbness was gradually fading. Originally hollow and unfeeling, the bodies now seemed to be gaining a purpose. First the ability to interpret and respond to basic stimuli had returned, then something resembling base emotion - the need to protect themselves and find an answer to their pain perhaps? More recently Michael had sensed a vicious inquizitiveness about the bodies which was quickly mutating into anger and hate.
It was cold. The wind, rain and low temperature reminded him that he wasn’t safe. He ran to the motorhome.
‘Well?’ Emma asked as he let himself inside and closed, locked, barred and blacked-out the door behind him.
‘More of them,’ he answered, quietly and breathlessly.
‘We’re close, aren’t we?’
He nodded and wiped the rain from his face and hair.
‘We must be.’
A moment of silence followed. Michael took off his wet outdoor jacket and kicked off his muddy boots. Now that he was safely indoors Emma busied herself with what had become a nightly ritual - covering every window, vent and door with wooden boards and heavy black material. They knew that even the smallest pinprick of escaping light might be enough to attract the bodies. Emma didn’t mind the gloom. It helped her to forget the cramped and squalid conditions that they found themselves living in.
‘Tomorrow morning we should try and get closer again,’
Michael whispered as he sat down opposite Emma at the small table. ‘It doesn’t matter how long it takes, does it? We’ll take things one step at a time. I’ll walk a little further down the track then we’ll drive the van down when we know what’s there.’
‘Are you sure this is the right thing to do?’
‘Of course it is, why?’ Michael was surprised by her comment.
‘Because this is the army we’re dealing with here,’ she explained. ‘Do you think we’re going to be welcome? They might not have come across any survivors yet. And look at the state of us. They’ll probably think that we’re dead and that we’ve just…’
‘Do you really believe that?’ he interrupted. He sighed and shook his head and looked down at the table.
‘I don’t know,’ she stammered, unsure. ‘We’re the odd ones out around here, aren’t we? They’re not going to be expecting…’
‘They’re not going to be expecting fucking corpses to turn up in a camper van, are they?’
‘No, but…’
‘But what? They’ll see the van, they’ll see us and we’ll be okay.’
‘What if they see you when you’re walking?’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘Sounds like you’re just trying to find reasons not to do this.’
