But Anita seemed to have settled right in. She was more animated and talkative than Lisa had ever seen her. For the first time, she truly appreciated the magnitude of what the girl had done for her, and what she had given up in terms of her own needs and desires by accompanying her on her quest. At that moment, she realised she loved her for that. Whatever happened from now on, she would never forget it.
She listened as the group exchanged their survival stories, theories about what had caused the outbreak and about what the future held. But Lisa was struggling. As well as the nausea and banging headache, the realisation that she had got so close to home, and Neil, before she was snatched away, was beginning to sink in. She felt flat and down. She couldn't make herself care about these strangers and their stories and theories.
As the group talked, she looked up from her porridge from time to time, nodding, smiling or frowning in the right places. But she had only one thing on her mind, and that was to get out of there as soon as possible and find Neil. Admittedly, he might be here, as Anita suggested, but she seriously doubted it. If her instincts were right, she had to get out of here as soon as possible and head back to Attwood Common. She wasn't totally stupid though. She understood that she needed to rest and recover for a bit, or it would be a suicide mission. But, as soon as she felt better, she had to leave. This time, to avoid any more near disasters, she was going to need a better plan.
After breakfast, Anita took Lisa on a tour of the camp, partly to help her get her bearings, but also to see if they could find Neil, or at least rule out the possibility that he was there.
"I've asked around, but no-one has come across a Neil. But I don't really know what he looks like. And I don't know his last name! Your last name! Jesus! How crazy is that?"
"Crazy!" Lisa nodded, instantly regretting it as fresh new waves of pain crashed against her skull.
"Well?" Anita said.
"Huh?"
"What is it? Your last name."
"Oh, it's Saunders. What's yours?"
"Holder. Anita Naomi Holder. Come on Lisa Saunders. Let's go and find your husband."
The girl chattered away as she strode across the compound. Lisa hurried after her, as quickly as her headache would allow.
"As well as the army tents and the mess tents, there are 18 disaster relief tents. Each one takes about 40 survivors and they're still putting up more. There's got to be 700 people here already, and more are arriving every day. Jesus! Isn't that amazing?"
"Amazing," Lisa quietly agreed.
"It all seems pretty well-organised. They must have a register of some kind coz everyone has to give their name and address when they arrive."
They made their way to the main tent where most of the army comings and goings seemed to emanate from. After several initial futile attempts to attract someone's attention, they were eventually directed to another smaller tent towards the far edge of the camp.
Inside, a spotty boy soldier, who could have been no more than 18, worked his way through a ring binder containing the names of all the occupants of the camp in alphabetical order.
"No, sorry ladies, there's no record of a Neil Saunders arriving or leaving since the camp was first set up on Day 4."
"Have people left?" Lisa asked.
"Not many, but a few. Sometimes people have found out that their relatives have been in another camp, or holed up somewhere else and they've gone to try and find them."
"Other camps?" Anita and Lisa asked in unison.
"Yes." He looked up in surprise. "There are eleven in England, four in Scotland and two in Wales, so far."
"Do you have a record of the people in the other camps?" Anita asked.
"To an extent. I can't promise that they're up-to-date, but when we have been able to communicate with any of the others, we have taken names."
"Can you look for my parents?" Anita continued. "Please? Mr. and Mrs. Holder. From Epsom."
The boy flicked though a couple of other ring binders. After a few moments his fingers stopped on an entry and he looked up.
"Natasha and Peter? Northcroft Road? There's another person listed with them. A Tyler Holder."
"My brother. Jesus! That's them. They're all alright!" Anita sat down and closed her eyes. "Oh, thank God! I can't believe it." She was shaking.
"Oh, I'm so pleased for you, Nita." Lisa dropped to her knees in front of her and took her trembling hands in her hers. "That's fantastic news."
Anita looked at her. "I'm sorry, Lisa. Neil's not on the list. I feel bad."
"It's ok, Nita. Honestly, I know he's at home. I just know it. It's all going to be fine."
Thanking the boy, they turned to leave the tent.
"You might want to check the message boards, just in case," he called after them.
"Message boards?" Lisa asked Anita.
"I know where they are," Anita said, pointing to the other end of the row of tents. "I've already had a look but let's check them out again."
At the opposite edge of the camp, close to the perimeter, was a row of wire-mesh barriers that served as the camp message board. As they got closer, the women stopped and took in the scene before them. The barriers were covered with hundreds of messages.
Some were neatly typed, others were handwritten, and some were scribbled on scraps of paper with whatever had been to hand at the time. Some were on postcards, some were wrapped in plastic to protect them from the elements, and others were tattered
