"I don't know …"
"Got a better suggestion?" Anita raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"No."
"Come on then."
They made their way back to the other end of the boat and into the cabin. Inside the smell was even worse, but otherwise it was remarkably clean and tidy. The floral green curtains that matched the scatter cushions on the sofas, and the brightly coloured, hand-made pottery on display in the galley area gave it a warm and homely feel. There was a closed door between the sleeping and living areas. The infected banged and scratched on its other side.
They donned their protective gloves and Lisa took out her pistol releasing the safety. Anita shot her a warning glance.
"Just in case," she reassured her.
"Jesus! Be careful with that thing," Anita muttered as she prepared to open the door.
It worked like a dream. Lisa positioned herself outside in the corner of the deck beside the door. Anita poised and ready to move, flicked open the interior door and, without pausing for introductions, sprinted back outside. She stepped up onto the bow of the boat, turned and waited.
The infected lumbered and crashed after her, crockery clattered to the floor. This one had been a very tall, heavily tattooed, balding, middle-aged man. As it burst through the doors, it paused momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. It was so tall it was eye-to-eye with Anita standing on the bow. Lisa didn't hesitate. She launched herself at it, pushing off from the edge of the boat and using her whole bodyweight to ram it with her shoulder. It went over instantly, tipping into the water, this time with more of a splosh than a plop. The women high-fived as they watched it bobbing away after its companion.
"Nice!" Anita nodded slowly with a satisfied smile.
"Very!"
Lisa was euphoric. They had their boat. It stank, and they still had to work out how to get it going, but they were in.
The bow end was so tightly snarled up in the roots that it was holding stable, even in the strong current. They made their way through to the cockpit. Lisa's eyes immediately jumped to the ignition panel. The key was in the slot, a jaunty, day-glow-yellow tennis ball key-ring dangling from its end. She beamed at Anita, her euphoria notching up a degree or two.
However, when she looked at the gear lever, tiller and array of various other lights and switches, her confidence began to waver.
"How difficult could it be, eh?" Anita's eyes glinted with amusement.
"Pretty easy when you have this!" Lisa jubilantly held up a fat and tattered, ring-bound boat manual.
For the next hour or so, they floated on the river as Lisa devoured the manual, working out what all the levers and buttons were for, and how to work every aspect of the boat. From time to time, she got up and examined a particular item, occasionally pushing a button or flicking a switch and noting the effect. She was in her element. This was what she did best. Making sense of complex information. Thinking and working things out. Planning. Anita left her to it.
It was early afternoon when, after a couple of initial splutters, the engine started running. Anita sprinted over the roof to the cockpit, where Lisa was standing hands on hips.
"I can't believe how well this is going!" Lisa grinned up at her.
"I hate to say it, but you're right. It's perfect!" Anita jumped down beside her. "Let's get going then! Tell me what I need to do."
"Hang on. We can't just set off. Stratford is just around the next bend. There are locks and tight turns to navigate. It's nearly two now. It could take us a few hours or more until we get the hang of this and are able navigate them confidently. Call me overcautious, but I don't fancy getting stuck in the town after dark. I think we should moor up properly here overnight and wait till morning."
Anita looked deflated. "'How difficult can it be?' You said!"
"I know, but we have to think. We have to use our heads. It's the only way this is going to work. It's the only way we're going to do this. We've got to learn from our past mistakes. Stop rushing into things."
"Ok. Ok. You're right. Look! Come and see what I've been doing."
Lisa followed her inside. She had opened all the doors and windows and tossed out any soiled soft furnishings and bedding. She had wiped down all the surfaces with a bleach-based cleaning spray. The place smelt better. Not good, but better. She had been through the lifeless fridge and all the cupboards, thrown away any mouldy or rotten items and sorted out what was still good to eat. And there was a lot of that: a huge selection of tinned and dried goods and long-life cartons, as well as chocolate and booze. Tattoo-man had a nicely stocked bar going on.
Lisa picked up an almost full bottle of Mount Gay Rum. "Wow! This is even better than I imagined."
Anita waved a six-pack of snack size Kit Kats at her. "And chocolate! We have chocolate!"
After greedily polishing off the entire pack of Kit Kats, washed down with a glorious cup of rum-laced coffee, they went outside to see exactly what was tethering the boat to the bank and try to free it. As Anita untangled the rope that was caught in the roots, Lisa scanned the riverbanks. Apart from a couple of infected roaming aimlessly in one of the gardens on the other side of the river, they were completely alone. It felt wonderful.
Having freed the boat and moored it up properly, they spent the rest of the afternoon just appreciating the tranquillity and solitude of the river, enjoying the brief respite from the horrors of the new real world. They set
