together. But then again, maybe they’ll just stay underground.’
‘Christ, imagine spending the rest of your life in a bunker………’ Phil Croft mumbled, finally making an effort and becoming part of the conversation.
‘Better than not having the rest of your life,’ Clare said quietly.
‘You think so?’ Cooper asked. ‘You didn’t see what it was like down there. Anyway, we don’t know for sure if those are the only options. Whatever happened here might not have happened everywhere. I think it did, but it’s always possible that there are some safe areas people could get to.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Croft.
‘But do you see what I’m saying?’ Baxter continued, seizing on a lull in the conversation and picking up from where he’d last spoken. ‘You’re talking about all these different scenarios but the bottom line is that something’s inevitably going to change, isn’t it? It’s damn unlikely that nothing’s going to happen. The law of averages says that things will never stay the same.’
‘What the bloody hell are you talking about?’ Steve Richards sighed from his seat in the darkness.
Baxter stared across the room in the general direction of the younger man. It was too dark for him to see exactly where he was sitting.
‘Have you looked outside recently?’ he asked, his voice suddenly cold and deadly serious.
‘I try to avoid looking out of the window,’ Richards smirked.
‘Too fucking grim for my liking.’
‘Do yourself a favour and go and take a look out front will you? There are bloody thousands of those things out there now and none of them are going anywhere. For whatever reason they’re attracted to us and there are more and more of them arriving every hour.’
‘What’s your point?’ Richards asked.
‘Seems to me there’s going to come a time when the sheer volume of them outside is going to start causing us real problems.’
‘Why? Do you think they’ll get in?’ wondered Heath, his voice low and nervous.
‘They might,’ Baxter replied, ‘but I don’t think it’s very likely. I’m thinking more about us trying to get out. We’re going to have to leave here for supplies eventually, aren’t we? There’s only so much we can store here.’
‘He’s got a point,’ Donna agreed.
‘The more I think about it, the better the argument is for packing up and getting out of here right now,’ Baxter continued.
‘There’s also a lot to be said for sitting still and waiting,’ Phil Croft added. ‘But you are right, Jack, things are going to change no matter what we do. The bodies will change for a start.’
‘How?’
‘They’re decomposing, aren’t they? No matter how determined or persistent those bloody things are, there’s going to come a time when they physically won’t be able to do what they’re doing any longer.’
‘And how long’s that going to be?’ Donna pressed. ‘How long do you think it will take them to rot completely?’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘Six months,’ he suggested although he was far from certain.
‘Six months!’ Heath protested.
Croft shrugged again.
‘Could be. Might be longer. Might happen in half the time.
There are a lot of unknown factors we’re dealing with here.’
‘Such as?’
‘The disease for a start, we don’t know what effect it might have on the speed of decomposition. And then there’s the fact that they’re above ground. I guess they’d rot quicker if they were buried, but it might be that exposure to the elements and the physical effort of moving around wears the bodies down at a faster rate. I don’t know for sure.’
Donna suddenly stood up. The other survivors watched her.
‘This is bloody brilliant,’ she said with genuine excitement in her voice for the first time in weeks. ‘Do you hear what you’re saying?’ She looked around at the blank faces staring back at her. ‘Six months and we could be over the worst of this. Six bloody months and we might well be able to do whatever we damn well like again!’
‘So we just need to find somewhere safe to hide out until then,’ said Baxter.
‘Stay here,’ Heath immediately suggested. ‘We can stay here until it’s safe to move.’
‘You haven’t been listening, have you?’
‘We need somewhere better than this, somewhere stronger and more isolated,’ Donna announced.
‘You need the base,’ decided Cooper, his voice filled with resignation.
32
He didn’t know how he had let it happen. In just a few minutes he had experienced a full range of emotions – from glorious realisation, joy and fulfillment through to shame, utter despair and regret. All of the confused and pent up feelings which Michael had forced himself to hold onto and suppress for weeks had now, in a moment of rash madness, been allowed to bubble to the surface and show themselves. The situation he now found himself in was painfully awkward and unexpected. He felt frustrated and embarrassed, exposed and naked.
It was early morning. Michael didn’t wear a watch anymore but he knew by the low level of light beginning to trickle in through the skylight that it was about five or six o’clock, maybe a little later. He’d managed to sleep for a while but, ultimately, the night had been as long and interrupted as most other nights in the motorhome had so far been. But the last few hours had been subtly different. Lying next to Emma (who, in comparison, had slept relatively soundly) he had spent much of the hours just gone watching her. She had rolled over to face away from him in the darkness. Instinctively he had snuggled down behind her and put his arm around her body. His hand had brushed her breast.
Both survivors were fully clothed, but just the sensation and the slightest touch of her warm, soft bosom had been unexpectedly exciting and had reminded him in an instant of feelings of desire and lust which had been forgotten for what felt like forever. He had pushed himself closer to her in the darkness, pressing himself against her, praying that she wouldn’t wake up but, at the same time, wishing that she would respond. He had wished that she’d turn around and hold him and kiss him and stroke him and caress him and tell him that everything was going to be all right.
For a long time Michael had wrestled with his conscious.
How could he allow himself to think about love and sex when the world outside was dead? What kind of a human being was he to even consider his own lust and sexual desires ahead of the devastation that had taken place beyond the fragile walls of the motorhome? But regardless of how his brain and his conscious screamed at him and demanded that he should behave, his heart and other more basic, carnal instincts drove him to act differently.
In the semi-darkness he reached down under the bedding and unzipped his trousers. Troubled and nervous at first, he began to touch himself in a way that had been forgotten since the nightmare had begun. Initially uncertain, with each passing second his quiet excitement had mounted steadily and soon he was moving quickly, enjoying the unexpected freedom and holding onto Emma as tightly as he could without waking her.
She was the reason he was doing this. He knew that he didn’t dare risk telling her how he felt for her and how much he wanted her but, for the first time, he finally allowed himself to consider, admit and accept the depth of his feelings for the only other human being remaining in his world.
His hand movements became quicker. Faster and faster as he reached the moment. Caution and control gave way to excitement. He couldn’t stop. He knew that the silence and movement might betray him but he didn’t care. He’d had a need
– a physical lust – which needed to be fulfilled. And then it happened. The movement stopped, a split second pause and then sheer pleasure followed by relaxation.
Suddenly paranoid and self-conscious, Michael did up his trousers and immediately began trying to work out how he was going to clean the bedding and his clothes without Emma asking questions or discovering what he had done. A once-familiar feeling of post-ejaculation regret bordering on disgust washed over him. What had he done? Christ, billions of people dead and there he was, wanking under the bedclothes like some dirty little schoolboy. He felt ashamed, and that shame increased infinitely when Emma rolled over. She was awake. Worse still, he could tell
