“Are you sure she’s got the same thing that killed Anita?” Jas asked.
“Well, her symptoms are the same and she’s been getting worse as quickly as Anita did.”
“So she’s probably going to die, isn’t she?”
Although she knew the answer, Caron didn’t want to say it.
“She … she might not,” she stammered awkwardly. “Anita might have had some other medical problem that we didn’t know about. She might have—”
“I think she’s going to die,” Hollis said, “and a few more of us probably will too if we don’t leave here.”
“But you can’t just abandon her!”
“Does she say anything when you walk into her flat?” Jas asked.
“No, but—”
“Does she sit up in bed? Does she look at you and talk to you? Does she even know you’re in there with her?”
“Sometimes. Most of the time she’s asleep or—”
“By the time we’re ready to leave here that poor cow won’t have a clue what’s going on. She won’t know if she’s on her own or if we’re all in the room with her. More to the point, she won’t give a shit.”
“We can’t just leave her here to die. It’s inhuman!”
“Then maybe we should put her out of her misery?” Hollis suggested. “If what’s going to happen to her really is inevitable, speeding it up is only going to help.”
“Christ, she’s not a dog!” Caron screamed, crying now. “You can’t just put her down!”
“I’ll do it,” Harte said, surprising the others. “Give her some dignity…”
“
“There’s more dignity in dying quickly and quietly at the hands of one of us than there is lying in a dirty flat, surrounded by thousands of dead bodies and in so much pain that you lose your mind.”
“No one’s trying to force you to do anything, Caron,” Jas said, his voice a little calmer, quieter and less emotional than the others. “All we’re saying is that we can’t afford to take Ellie with us. If you want to stay here and nurse her then that’s up to you.”
Caron didn’t answer at first. She stared angrily into the darkness, her mind filled with so many painful thoughts and impossible decisions that she couldn’t make sense of any of it.
“When did you last check on her?” Lorna asked. Again, Caron didn’t answer. She tried asking another question. “Have you seen her this evening? Did you go up there after the bodies first got through this morning?”
“I haven’t seen her for hours,” Caron eventually replied, having to force herself to spit the words out. “I haven’t seen her since early this morning.”
“Why not? I thought you’d—”
“I’m too scared,” she admitted. “I don’t want to go in there anymore after what happened to Anita, all right? I don’t want to catch what she’s got.”
“Then there’s your answer,” Harte said under his breath as Caron’s sobbing filled the room.
“The longer we leave this, the worse it’s going to get,” Jas said. “If the germs don’t get us then those bastards outside will. Look what they did to Stokes.”
“Poor bastard didn’t know they were there until they’d got him,” Webb said from where he’d been sitting on the floor next to the arm of the sofa. He swallowed hard and hoped that the others were sufficiently wrapped up with their own problems not to notice his sudden nervousness.
“You’re right,” Hollis agreed. “We’ve all seen it. Their behavior is changing. They’re more aggressive, and they’re working together.”
“So where would we go?” Gordon asked, begrudgingly beginning to accept that leaving now looked like their only option. Silence.
“In the summer,” Driver suddenly announced, “I used to drive the two-twenty-two out of Catsgrove.”
“Fuck me, Driver,” Harte gasped. “I didn’t even know you were in here!”
“He’s always in here,” Lorna muttered angrily. “Lazy bastard never goes anywhere else.”
“What were you saying?” Hollis asked, trying to pick out Driver in the darkness.
“I used to drive the two-twenty-two,” he repeated. “Day trips to the coast.”
“What? You want to go to the seaside? You’re a fucking idiot,” Webb cursed.
“On the A197 out of town,” he continued, unfazed, “you pass this bloody huge exhibition center. Make a good place to go, that would. Out in the country. Loads of space. Nothing else for miles.”
The room was suddenly, completely silent. Even Caron had stopped crying to listen to Driver and think about his suggestion. Hollis wondered why he’d waited until now to speak up. Whatever the reason, he was glad that Driver finally had.
22
After a sleepless night and an hour spent collecting her belongings from her flat, Caron climbed the stairs to the room where Ellie laid. Her nervousness increased with each step she took. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to be coerced into doing this. She clutched a polyethylene bag full of drugs in her hand but didn’t know whether she’d be able to use them. She didn’t even know if she’d be able to go into Ellie’s room this morning. The stench had been appalling when she’d last checked on her. She’d made a halfhearted attempt to clean her up but the mess had been too severe. Ellie’s bedding was heavily soiled but, as Hollis had pointed out, the poor girl was bound to be long past the point of caring now. It would have caused her more distress to get her up and clean her than to leave her lying in her own shit.
The cold wind blew through an empty window frame, gusting into Caron’s face like a slap across the cheek. She walked down the final long, dark corridor and reached the door to Ellie’s flat. She was too scared to go in, too scared to stand outside and too scared to go back downstairs without having seen her. She could hear the others out in the car park, loading their supplies into the bus and one of the vans. She didn’t want to leave, but she definitely didn’t want to stay either. When she’d looked out the window first thing this morning the barrier at the foot of the hill had all but disappeared, obscured from view by hundreds of bodies which had managed to drag themselves across during the long hours of the night just ended. Only the steep slope had so far prevented them from getting any farther.
Closing her eyes and struggling to hold her nerve, Caron cautiously pushed the door open and looked inside. No movement. No sound. She tiptoed into the flat and peered through the bedroom door. Still no movement. Christ, the smell was worse than she remembered: the stagnant stench of sweat, vomit, and excretion mixing with the ever-present wafts of death and decay drifting in from outside. Was Ellie dead? She wasn’t moving. Maybe it would be better for all concerned if she’d gone in her sleep. Caron took a few steps farther into the bedroom, the drugs gripped tightly in one hand, a handkerchief held over her mouth and nose with the other.
“Ellie,” she whispered lightly. “Ellie, honey, are you awake?”
Ellie still wasn’t moving. Caron crept a little closer, not wanting to get too near. Her foot kicked Ellie’s doll, sending it spinning across the floor. She cringed at the noise and squinted into the darkness. Ellie was on her side with her back to her and her torso uncovered. She still couldn’t see any movement. Was she breathing? Maybe she should try and touch her and check for a pulse or—
“Jesus!” she screamed with surprise as Ellie threw herself over onto her back with a sudden, painful groan of effort. Caron immediately felt disappointed that she was still alive, and then felt massive guilt that she’d actually wished the girl dead. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she’d hoped she’d been put out of her misery, or whether it was because she didn’t want to have to do it for her.
Ellie groaned again, half-opened her eyes and mumbled something unintelligible. Without realizing she was doing it, Caron backed away.
“I’ll get you some water,” she whispered, her eyes filled with stinging tears. She went through into Ellie’s living room and found a half-empty plastic water bottle sitting on a windowsill. Unable to take her eyes off the girl’s bedroom door, she crushed as many pills and capsules as she could manage, added them to the water and shook the bottle. For half a second she considered drinking it herself. That was stupid. She couldn’t allow herself to think like that. She looked at the bottle in her hand and wondered whether it would actually have any effect at all. Would
