‘Shut up, Jack, it’s not working. What are you going to do? There’s only one village on the island for Christ’s sake.
I don’t even know if there’s a hospital. There won’t be anywhere for me. Are you planning to wrap a plastic bubble round a house so that we can live in a fucking oxygen tent? Thanks for your concern, but it’s not going to happen.’
Baxter finally realised that it really was time to stop talking. He meant well but she was right, he wasn’t helping. He just seemed to be making things worse for Harcourt and digging a deeper hole for himself.
‘So what are you going to do?’
Silence.
‘Nothing,’ she eventually replied. ‘I’ll just sit here in this bloody suit until I can’t take it anymore. Then I’ll end it.’
Michael woke up in agony just before seven o’clock the following morning. He and Emma had spent the night sleeping on the floor in the little room where they’d sat together and talked through the early hours. He’d been lying on the hard concrete and Emma had been lying on him. Every bone in his body ached. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Seeing their dark surroundings reminded him what had happened and what was already planned for later. Their long and difficult conversation echoed around his head. His heart sank when he remembered that he would be leaving her today.
Emma was still sleeping soundly. Michael carefully eased himself out from underneath her and made sure that she was comfortable and warm before quietly going out of the room and following the corridor down to the building’s main entrance. He pushed the door open and stepped out into a bright and cold morning. The sky was clear and blue and the sun strong. A powerful, gusting wind blew across the airfield, waking him fully. A short distance away was the helicopter, the sun glinting on its curved surfaces and reflecting back at him. Remembering what he’d come outside for he found a less-exposed corner of the building, leant against the wall and began to empty his bladder.
‘Morning, Mike,’ a voice suddenly said from out of nowhere. He looked round and saw that it was Donna. She was sitting on a chair at the edge of the runway, staring out across the airfield. A couple of months ago he would have been mortified at being caught urinating in such a public place. Today he didn’t care.
‘Morning,’ he said nonchalantly as he shook himself dry and did up his fly. ‘You all right?’
‘Fine,’ she replied, shielding her eyes from the sun as he walked towards her.
‘What you doing out here?’
‘Originally the same as you,’ she answered factually.
‘Other than that, nothing much. I just wanted to get some air, that’s all. Still can’t get used to being able to be outside.’
Michael nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.
‘Bloody cold though, isn’t it?’
Donna looked up into his face. He was staring into the distance and it was obvious that he had things on his mind.
‘You okay?’
He crouched down next to her but didn’t immediately answer. From where they sat the bodies on the other side of the fence seemed miles away. From such a distance he couldn’t make out individual figures - just a constant, shifting mass of grey-green decay. Phil Croft had mentioned that he thought the corpses might not be able to see the survivors for much longer because of the steady deterioration of their faces and eyes. Their limited eyesight may have reduced, but the fact they remained on the other side of the fence in such vast numbers seemed to be proving the doctor’s theory wrong.
‘Cooper tells me you’re leaving us.’
‘You make it sound like I’m disappearing for good,’
Michael grumbled in reply. ‘I think we’re planning to leave later today. All depends on us being able to fly in this wind I suppose.’
‘How’s Emma feel about it?’
‘She’s ecstatic,’ he answered sarcastically. ‘She’s really pleased.’
‘I bet.’
‘She understands.’
‘What happens on Cormansey is important.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you realise how important?’
‘I think so.’
‘This could make the difference, Mike. This is the best chance we’ve had. This is the best chance we’re going to have.’
‘I know,’ he said again.
Michael stood up, brushed himself down and walked out onto the runway in front of him. He thought about what Donna had just said, and he found the sudden gravity and importance of the day strangely humbling. Until now he hadn’t stopped to think about what he was going to do in any great detail. Sure, he’d considered the practicalities of getting over to the island and he’d paid lip service to starting to build a future for the group. Outside and unprotected, however, with the cold wind biting into his face, he began to fully appreciate the enormity of the task ahead.
Michael was ready to face the bodies again.
After weeks of inaction he was ready to work hard and fight to clear the island of death and decay. He was ready to start planning and working and building and grafting to try and make something positive out of the skeletal remains of the past.
Behind him Richard Lawrence emerged from the door at the base of the observation tower and walked over to where Donna was sitting.
‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘Just taking in the air,’ she replied, giving him the same answer she’d given Michael minutes earlier. ‘It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to do this.’
Michael turned around when he heard the conversation.
He slowly walked back towards the others.
‘We’ll be looking to leave around midday, okay?’ said Lawrence.
‘Will we be all right with this wind?’
The pilot laughed.
‘This is nothing,’ he answered. ‘I’ve been up in far worse than this recently. Trust me, this is a good day for flying. A little breezy, but nothing I can’t handle.’
His apparent confidence did nothing to inspire Michael.
Much as he genuinely did still want to make the trip over to the island, he’d been quietly hoping for a delay. Although he understood why, things suddenly seemed to be happening at an uncomfortably quickening speed. He wanted to spend some time with Emma before they were separated. They’d spent just about every minute of the last eight weeks together. Now that they were going to be apart, however, every last second suddenly felt more precious.
Without saying anything else Michael turned and jogged back to the observation tower to find her.
The morning seemed to be over in minutes. For the first time in recent memory Michael prayed that time would slow down. Take-off was delayed by an hour but that wasn’t enough. He’d wanted longer.
The helicopter’s powerful rotor blades sliced through the air above their heads as Lawrence flew Michael, Peter Guest and another man called Danny Talbot across the dead land. The spare seat between Michael and Guest was loaded up with their belongings and supplies. What was quickly becoming a regular, almost run-of-the-mill journey for Lawrence was far more of an unsettling experience for his passengers. As well as being used to flying, the pilot had also grown accustomed to the view of the scarred and overgrown landscape from the air. For Michael, Guest and Talbot the turbulent journey was an uncomfortable education - a painful reminder of the incomprehensible scale of the tragedy which had destroyed the world around them.
