The previous summer, she and Neil had spent an afternoon and evening in Stratford. They'd gone to see a production of Hamlet at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. In the afternoon, before an early dinner in the theatre's restaurant, they'd taken a stroll around the riverside gardens.
They'd watched as a narrowboat was being manoeuvred around a tight corner under a bridge, where the canal entered the wide expanse of a basin in the centre of the town. They had tittered with sympathetic amusement, and cringed with embarrassment, as the, clearly novice, bargees tried in vain to negotiate the lengthy vessel around the tight corner.
The show went on for some time and drew a large audience of well-intentioned tourists and theatre goers, all offering advice. They scraped, bumped and wedged the boat against the unforgiving concrete walls, attacking it from different angles again and again until they finally chugged slowly away, red-faced but relieved, to a chorus of cheers and applause.
She estimated it had taken them at least 15 minutes to get out of the situation. The canal was narrow at this point, and the boat fitted snugly within it. She couldn't recall the specific details, but the crowds of onlookers on the bank had seemed very close to the boat.
The scenario playing in Lisa's head, was of Anita and her, struggling to get their boat around that same corner watched by a crowd of onlookers. However, this time they were not encouraging tourists and friendly theatre-goers, they were a frenzied horde of rotting infected that were baying for their blood.
After they passed the weir, the river widened considerably. Continuing under a couple of bridges, which marked the start of the town, they held a steady course along its centre, keeping well away from the banks. They easily negotiated a second lock.
As they got further into the town, they began to attract the attention of a few infected hanging around some buildings on the left bank. However, the recreation grounds which ran along the right bank, opposite the town, were clear. They passed the bandstand where the teenage couple had taken shelter on the night of the outbreak.
When they reached the waterside area in front of the theatre, they both gasped. The whole area was seething with infected. It had always been a popular spot for locals and tourists to enjoy fish and chips or ice cream, a street performance, or a spot of people-watching. It seemed to be just as popular with the recently deceased. Every subset of society that could be found there before the outbreak, was represented now, but as a more ghoulish version of themselves.
Lisa put the boat in neutral and joined Anita on the bow, as they drifted in the centre of the river, taking in the spectacle. Colourful tourists with expensive cameras dangling from their necks, market traders wearing fat money belts, well-dressed elderly ladies, uniformed shop-workers, security guards, buskers, young parents, teenagers, children, and even some Shakespearean actors in full Elizabethan attire, all mingled aimlessly in a bizarre danse macabre.
For a while, the women just watched, captivated by the performance. This was the first time they'd been able to observe the infected in such detail from a safe distance. It was both tragic, and uncomfortably comic, at the same time. A few, that had noticed the boat, had made their way to the water's edge, moaning, and reaching towards it. Some of them toppled into the water and were immediately swept away by the strong current.
Up ahead was the exit where they had to leave the river to join the Stratford-upon-Avon canal. The route passed under a pedestrian bridge into a basin beyond. But, between them and the relative safety of the wide basin, was a lock. This time it was not going to be so easy. The lock was surrounded on both sides by hordes of infected.
The lock was full, and the bottom gates were closed. They were going to have to close the top gates and paddles to empty the lock before they could open the bottom gates. They would then have to wait inside the lock while it filled before they could enter the basin.
"Jesus! How are we going to do this? It's impossible," Anita said.
Lisa looked at the structure. It was a double lock, wide enough for two boats to fit in side by side. If she could keep the boat in the centre, they might be alright. Any infected that came over the edge would end up in the water and hopefully get sucked under by the powerful currents created by the surging water.
Lisa's mind was working overtime. She had the beginnings of an idea. She looked back at the crowds of infected. They had settled down and seemed to have lost interest in them while the boat had been floating quietly with the engine turned off. She ran to the back of the boat and turned on the engine again. Almost immediately, the noise levels on the bank increased and small groups of infected started moving towards them once more.
She pointed at them.
"Watch, Nita!"
After a few moments they started tumbling into the river and drifting downstream.
Anita watched, grumbling under her breath.
"There's hundreds of them. They're all over place. It'll take hours for them all to fall in."
"I'm not saying we wait for them all to fall in, but I have an idea. Just listen. You don't have to do it if you don't think it'll work. It's risky, but I think we could pull it off."
Five minutes later, Anita was hopping off the boat onto the other side of the river and sprinting for the cover of Lee and Emma's bandstand. Lisa had suggested she take one of the pistols, but the girl had opted for her
