Disintegration

natural light, and they were so tightly packed that they’d acted like a canopy, muffling the rest of the world. Now that he was finally up straight again he could see over the heads of the dead. Almost all of them stooped, walking with their heads bowed as if the weight of their skulls were too much for their weakened bodies to support. He hadn’t appreciated that before, but he hadn’t been this deep in corpses and dared to stand still before now either.

Music.

He had to be imagining it. Could he really hear Martin’s music? He was sure he’d imagined hearing Amir’s voice just a few minutes earlier—was this just another cruel trick of his tired and increasingly confused mind? No, he could definitely hear it. His ears suddenly seemed to lock onto the frequency of the tune playing in the distance and it gradually became clear. A god-awful, screeching country and western tune was echoing around the golf course. Thank God for Martin Priest, he thought. He cautiously allowed himself to peer out around the side of the tree, quickly pulling his head back in again when a particularly grotesque figure raised its emaciated arms and lunged toward him. Christ, for a second in the confusion it looked like Stokes, but he knew that was impossible. It was just the low light and his nerves playing games with him. He looked again … slowly … carefully … forcing himself to concentrate … and then he saw it. The clubhouse. A couple of hundred meters away. Reachable.

I’m going to get out of here.

Webb dropped back down to his hands and knees and began to crawl.

52

Hollis and Gordon carefully lifted Martin out of the bus, hauling him up through the door.

“You stupid bugger,” Gordon cursed as he struggled with his heavy legs. Martin groaned but didn’t respond.

“He just panicked,” Hollis whispered, putting his hands under his shoulders and lifting, “That’s all. He was just trying to protect this place.”

“Just trying to protect himself, more like.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

They reached the end of the bus. Hollis jumped down and called Howard over to help lift Martin down. Groaning with his awkward weight, between them they lowered him to the ground. There was movement all around them as Harte, Lorna, and Ginnie cleaned the drive—scraping up what was left of the dead with shovels, then transporting it in wheelbarrows and buckets away from the hotel.

“Mind out,” Hollis said, almost backing into Harte and knocking him into a waist-high pile of fetid corpses and dismembered limbs.

“Watch what you’re doing,” Harte grumbled, realizing who they were carrying. “You going to chuck him on this pile? Stupid bastard nearly got us killed just now.”

“No, he didn’t,” Hollis said quickly. “You nearly got yourselves killed. You were the ones who drove into a field full of dead bodies and started blowing cars up. Nothing to do with Martin.”

“Suppose it was our fault he crashed into us as well,” Harte said.

Hollis shook his head, refusing to be drawn into yet another pointless argument. “Whatever.”

The road clear again, Harte threw down the shovel he’d been using and walked back toward the hotel. Howard, Hollis, and Gordon followed carrying Martin, who continued to moan. Ginnie and Lorna were close behind. They found Caron sitting on the steps outside the main entrance. She looked up as Harte stomped past her, then moved to the side to let the others through. It had started to rain—just a light mist—but it was refreshing and cool. Caron decided she’d rather sit out and get wet than go back indoors, no matter what dirt or germs were being washed down by the water. Lorna stopped and sat down next to her.

“You all right out here?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine,” Caron snapped.

“Sorry,” Lorna mumbled, surprised by the strength of her reaction.

“It’s all right,” Caron replied. “Don’t want anyone fussing, that’s all.”

“That’s your job, isn’t it?” she said sarcastically.

“I’ve given all that up,” she said quietly, taking a swig from a bottle of wine. She offered it to Lorna, who took it gratefully.

“Shame,” she said, wiping her mouth. “You were good at it.”

Caron shook her head and stared out toward the edge of the hotel grounds. “I don’t think so.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because all the people I’ve tried looking after recently are dead.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, love,” Lorna whispered secretively, “pretty much everyone’s dead, and it had nothing to do with anything you did or didn’t do for them.”

Caron thought for a moment.

“Suppose,” she said, drinking more wine and shivering with cold. “Do you know what we need to do now?”

“What?”

“Absolutely bloody nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I might be drunk,” Caron blathered, “but I know what I’m talking about. The more you try these days, the less you get. Those boys went outside today and tried too hard, now we’ve lost Amir, Sean, and Webb.”

“Webb’s no great loss.”

“No, but the others were,” she replied angrily, slurring her words slightly as she became more emotional, “and we didn’t have to lose them. Now if we all just sit still, be quiet, and do nothing, we’ll be okay.”

The rain began to fall with more persistence. Lorna stood up, then reached back down and held out a hand to Caron.

“Come on,” she said, hauling her up onto her unsteady feet. Together they walked through the cold and quiet building, along the glass-fronted corridor which ran along the edge of the courtyard. She glanced up and saw Howard pounding back down the staircase at the end of the opposite wing. Gordon was following close behind.

“More trouble,” Caron said dejectedly. “It’s always trouble when people like Gordon and Howard start moving quickly.”

Lorna sighed as they walked toward the restaurant. “You don’t know that, but you’re probably right.” She braced herself for bad news but was surprised by the self-congratulatory smiles which greeted her.

“It worked,” Hollis said as she walked over to him and took a can of beer.

“What worked?”

“Jas’s little stunt outside today,” he explained. At the mention of his name Jas turned around and grinned.

“You should see it!” he enthused. “We’ve just been watching upstairs. We shifted thousands of them today, and the rest are more interested in the fires we started than anything we’re doing here.”

“Congratulations.” Lorna smiled, not exactly sure how she felt. Was it even worth reminding him of the pointless sacrifices which had been made? Perhaps it was better just to shut up and not burst his bubble.

“I don’t think we should do anything else today,” Harte said, picking up where Jas had left off. “But maybe we should think about getting out of here tomorrow or the day after that. We could take one of the trucks from the road junction.”

“Are we going to gain anything from that?” Lorna asked cautiously, remembering Caron’s earlier words.

“You can just stay here if you want to,” he snapped.

She sighed. The arguments were becoming disappointingly stale and familiar around here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Caron announced, her drunken voice louder than intended.

“Shut up, Caron,” Jas laughed. “You’re pissed.”

“I might well be,” she replied. “but I’m not stupid.”