As they ate, Lisa imagined the little, grey-haired woman preparing food in the galley, washing dishes at the sink and carrying endless cups of tea, and sometimes something stronger, out to her husband at the stern. She imagined him standing, bare-chested and tattooed, at the back of the boat, one hand on the tiller, cup of tea in the other, as he navigated the boat down endless, sleepy waterways. She thought of them now, bobbing down the Avon together towards the Severn and onwards to the sea. At least they'd given them a fitting end.
Later, they drank some wine and played Scrabble by candlelight. None of the electrics worked as the battery was flat. It was charged by the engine, but they didn't want to take the risk of making a noise until they were ready to leave, or waste fuel just to charge the battery. Compared to the camp, they were in relative luxury and could easily do without electricity for a little while.
Throughout the night, they took turns to keep watch. While one was awake, the other slept, for the first time in days, in a proper bed on fresh cotton sheets under a soft fluffy duvet.
Lisa took the second watch from three until seven. She sat on the roof of the boat on a plastic chair, wrapped in a blanket. It felt magnificent to be outside alone in the depth of night and not feel afraid. The water lapped gently against the side of the boat. The only other sounds she heard were the calls of night birds and the rustling of small creatures rooting in the undergrowth. This was the best she'd felt for a long time. She had slept well, and was relaxed and well fed.
As dawn broke, she snuggled into her chair smiling to herself. It was going to be a good day. Her plan was working. Anita had cheered up. She was sure this time she was going to make it. She was sure Neil would be there, waiting. She wondered where he was right then. Was he awake? Was he thinking of her?
She whispered to him, "I'm coming. I'm coming home. Wait for me, my Darling. Wait for me."
Chapter 11 - Day 11 - Luddington
Anita's face was still puffy with sleep when, just after seven, she joined Lisa on the roof with a steaming cup of coffee. She pulled up another chair and they sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks and relishing the normal sights and sounds of the Warwickshire countryside. For those few precious moments, they could almost forget that the world as they knew it was changed forever.
"We could just stay here," Anita murmured.
Lisa looked at her.
"It's a good idea. We could come back here, or find somewhere similar, once Neil is with us."
She got up, stretched, and folded her blanket.
"Breakfast?"
Anita muttered something unintelligible under her breath.
After eating their fill of porridge and canned peaches, they finally set off towards Stratford. Lisa stood in the cockpit at the stern, steering, and Anita perched on the bow, legs dangling over the edge, scanning the banks and the route ahead for infected, obstacles or any other signs of danger.
The noise of the chugging engine was reassuring. The boat felt solid and strong. They glided slowly up river. They were only a couple of miles from the town, but it meandered through open countryside. For the first half hour, the only sign of life, or otherwise, that they came across was an infected farmer fussing in its tractor on a road bridge over the river. Agitated, but unable to get down from the cab, it watched as they sailed beneath it.
Eventually, they heard the sound of rushing water from where the river ahead forked into two. Lisa slowed the boat to a halt and surveyed the route ahead. On the left was a fast-flowing weir, creating a mini-rapid as it tumbled into the river. Their first lock was on the right. She'd been mapping their progress in the Waterways Guide, so had anticipated this. She dropped anchor and they secured the boat to the tree-lined, left-hand bank, while they discussed their strategy for the lock. Fortunately, it was surrounded by open fields, so they were going to be able to work out their technique, free from the added complication of having to fend off infected at the same time.
They left the boat and walked down the towpath to inspect the intimidating structure. The gates were closed, and the water was level with the river above the lock. They worked out how to open the sluice and the gates, letting the water drain into the river below the lock until the waterline was level. Anita waited by the gate while Lisa carefully guided the boat inside. They closed the sluice and the gates, waited for the water level to rise again, then opened the top gates and cruised through into the upper part of the river.
They were jubilant. But, although they had the technique right, and it seemed fairly straightforward, the implications of repeating the lengthy process in the presence of a threat from infected, or other, survivors were not lost on either woman. They would be extremely vulnerable.
Lisa found herself picturing a variety of frightening scenarios. Infected dropping from the sides of the lock onto the boat, or surrounding Anita as she wrestled with cranks and slow-moving gates and paddles. Annoyed with herself, she pushed the images away. They would be fine if they just took it steady and dealt with each situation as and when it arose. They just had to be patient and use their brains and their agility to their advantage.
But there was
