Disintegration

40

With the rest of the group still indoors, Jas slipped out and crept over to the bus, which had been abandoned right outside the hotel entrance yesterday. In the sudden euphoria which had followed their successful looting expedition, they had simply unloaded enough food and drink to get them through the night with the intention of finishing the job in the morning. It was still early and nothing had so far been done. Lethargy, hangovers, and general tiredness seemed to have affected everyone. Everyone except Jas.

Feeling undeniably guilty and uneasy, he crept onto the bus and began to pick up boxes of food. He carried them back through the hotel, taking care not to be seen, and took them up to the middle room on the first floor of the east wing of the building: room 24 East. Hardly anyone slept over there and that room, he’d discovered, was one of the largest. The first floor felt safer than the others. He’d stopped on the glass-fronted staircase for a while and had studied the almost identical west-wing part of the building opposite and the enclosed grassy courtyard below. He knew that if anything happened and he ended up trapped in the room he’d just chosen, he’d have the security of being off the ground floor but would still be low enough to get out of a window should he need to make a sudden escape.

His plan this morning was simple: fill the room with supplies so that they had an additional stockpile which he could get to in the event of an emergency. The others could use it with him. Well, some of them, anyway. Whatever the reason, it made sense not to store everything they’d managed to scavenge in one part of the building.

He was getting off the bus for the seventh time when he got caught.

“What the hell are you doing?” Webb asked, stepping out from around a corner, early morning cigarette and beer in hand. Jas jumped back with surprise. The panic on his face was clear and Webb chuckled as he swigged from his can of lager.

“Nothing,” Jas answered quickly.

“Like hell. Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Just piss off, Webb,” he said. “It’s none of your business.”

“Yes, it is. That’s my stuff you’re taking.”

“It’s our stuff,” he corrected him.

“Whatever. Point is, it’s not your stuff, you thieving bastard. I’ve been watching you for the last half hour. I know where you’re stashing it.”

Jas sighed dejectedly. How could he explain to this stupid little shit what he was doing without him thinking he was simply creaming off the best of their supplies for himself—which, if Jas was completely honest with himself, he was. Did he need to explain himself at all?

“Look,” he began, deciding he should give it a shot and see how Webb reacted, “at the moment everything we’ve got is scattered around this place. Most of it’s up by the restaurant and the conference room, lots more still out in the bus.”

“So you thought you’d help yourself?”

“All I’m doing,” he replied, determined not to give Webb opportunity to argue, “is putting some of it somewhere else. What if there’s a fire and half the building goes up in smoke? What if someone gets sick like Anita and Ellie and we have to shut ourselves away from them? What if the bodies get in here?”

“Bullshit,” Webb spat, full of animosity. “You’re a liar. You’re not going to tell anyone else where you’re putting this stuff. You’re taking it for yourself, you fucker.”

“Shut up,” Jas said, struggling to remain calm and not overreact. He’s not worth it, he silently told himself. Unable to suppress his anger, he dropped the box he’d been carrying and moved threateningly toward Webb.

“You’re a fucking thieving bastard,” Webb continued, his anger unabated and his confidence buoyed by booze. “Wait till I tell the others what you’re up to.”

Jas lunged for Webb and grabbed him by the neck. After checking that no one else was around he pushed him up against the nearest wall, knocking his head back with a satisfying thump.

“Do yourself a favor and shut up,” he said, his voice disarmingly calm. “You’re not going to tell anyone anything.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because if you do,” he whispered, moving even closer so that his face was now just millimeters from Webb’s, “I’ll tell them what you did to Stokes.”

Webb immediately stopped struggling. He mouthed a few silent words but, for a second, he was unable to respond.

“Didn’t do anything,” he eventually mumbled. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did,” Jas said ominously. “I saw you.”

Not waiting for a response, he picked up his box and disappeared back into the building, leaving Webb standing useless and alone outside.

41

“If there’s one thing we’ve got plenty of here,” Ginnie said, her arms fully loaded, “it’s white sheets.”

Hollis moved to let her through and watched as she disappeared outside to find Martin and Caron. Gordon followed close behind. Those two seemed to be attached at the hip, he thought as he pushed past him, desperate to catch up. Finally Lorna came through, her hair tied up in a long ponytail, struggling with yet more linen.

“Here, let me,” he said, holding the door open. She smiled briefly, but didn’t say anything. Hollis ducked into the kitchen to pick up another pile of sheets, then followed the rest of them out.

The early morning cloud had remained but had steadily lightened from dark gray to a brighter white as the sun tried to break through. It wasn’t much after eight but it felt much, much later. Funny how our body clocks seem to have synchronized themselves with the sun and the moon, he thought as he walked across the lawn toward the others. Previously he’d have got up when it was time to go to work and gone to bed when he’d finished watching TV or come in from the pub. Now the only thing which happened with any regularity was the steady progress of the sun across the sky, and they’d all matched their daily routines to the light. Up at dawn, ready to sleep by dusk.

Martin was flapping like an overprotective mother hen. Caron seemed to have a better grasp of the task at hand.

“No, Martin,” she protested, “we need to start over here and put the letters the other way up to how you’re suggesting. Down the lawn, not across it, see? H … E … L … P…”

As she spoke she pointed to where she thought each letter should go.

“She’s right,” Gordon agreed. “We can make the letters bigger if we do it that way.”

“Doesn’t really matter which way up they go, does it?” added Ginnie enthusiastically, pleased to have finally found something to occupy her time.

“Keep your voices down,” Hollis nervously warned. They were almost at the boundary fence, near to the gap he’d gone through with Martin earlier. They could hear snatches of music in the distance and he felt uncomfortably close to the dead. If only they knew just how many bodies he’d seen gathered on the golf course.

Lorna didn’t speak. Ignoring the others as they fussed and argued, she began laying down the first sheet and opening it out. Using sand, soil, stones, and whatever else he could find, Hollis followed her around and weighed down the edges of the material.

“Think this is going to do it?” he asked as she unfolded the second sheet.

“We’ve got nothing to lose by trying, have we?”

Following her lead, Gordon and Ginnie also started to work. Ginnie lay two sheets down to form the cross of the H, Gordon secured them. Hollis was fetching more linen when a football bounced up off the grass and hit him in the face, knocking him back. Sudden, searing pain coursed through his injured ear. He looked up angrily to see Sean approaching. Webb wasn’t far behind.

“Sorry,” Sean began, jogging toward him. Hollis barged past.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yelled at Webb, the blinding pain and anger making him temporarily forget the volume of his voice. “Are you fucking stupid?”