A pile of dead infected lay on the other side of the gate. Behind them, the rest of the horde continued to push against it, reaching and snarling. Anita was sitting on the ground a few feet away from her. Her head kept flopping forward onto her chest, as though it was too heavy for her neck. Her hand was bleeding again.
"Nita, are you ok?"
Anita raised her head with difficulty and looked at Lisa.
"Just … wiped … out," she gasped.
Her eyes stared out of her filthy face. Her hair was matted, and her clothes were smeared with a mixture of mud and blood. Lisa realised she must look the same. No wonder these people were afraid of them. She got to her feet. The crowd stepped back a couple of paces. She raised her hands, palms facing out.
"Thank you for helping us. I understand what that means … the risk you've taken."
"Don't come any closer," one of the men commanded. Lisa thought she recognised him.
"We're not infected. We've not been bitten. We're no threat to you. I live here. I'm just trying to get home."
A silver-haired woman stepped forward from the crowd.
"Lisa …! Is that you?"
"Oh, my God! Sylvia!"
Lisa gasped, stepping towards the woman, arms outstretched.
The crowd murmured and two of the men immediately stepped forward, aiming their weapons at her.
"I didn't recognise you! Oh, Lisa! I can't believe it!"
Sylvia threw her arms around her, and held her in a tight embrace, ignoring the protests of the crowd.
Lisa let her head rest on her friend's shoulder. She breathed her in. It felt so good. In that single moment it felt as though the end of her journey had begun. Just being with someone familiar, someone she knew and loved, was like waking up from a long, terrible dream. She closed her eyes and sighed.
From that instant, Sylvia took charge. Reasoning and negotiating with her, understandably anxious, fellow survivors, she carefully examined the two women one at a time, from head to toe, and reassured the group that they were uninjured apart from superficial scrapes and bruises … and a gunshot wound to the hand.
The men, albeit a little reluctantly, were persuaded to lower their weapons. A couple of other women approached the newcomers, offering soft words of support and concern.
Gradually, the crowd began to relax, breaking off in twos and threes, talking in low voices, returning to whatever they had been doing before the early morning drama. The two women helped Anita away towards one of the houses. Sylvia explained that they were taking her to the doctor's house.
She took Lisa gently by the elbow, leading her through a small gate towards some open patio doors, where long, white net curtains were billowing in the breeze. She guided her inside and onto on a voluminous soft, beige sofa, then sat down opposite her on a matching footstool. She silently took Lisa's hands in hers, her eyes full of questions.
Lisa's thoughts were racing. There was only one thing on her mind. Only one question she needed to ask. But she was afraid. Paralysed by fear. Afraid that the answer was going to be the one she dreaded. The one she didn't want to hear. She opened her mouth, but she couldn't release the words. She closed it again.
Sylvia spoke softly.
"It's alright, Lisa. Neil is alive. He's been waiting for you!"
Lisa crumpled. A huge animalistic howl swelled in her chest and rose up into her throat. It erupted from her lips, bringing with it every fragment of fear and effort, and doubt and belief, that she had carried inside her for the past few weeks. Her throat ached from the pressure of it as it burst through, and from the others that rose up to follow it. She gripped Sylvia's hands unable to speak, unable to breathe, battling to get some intelligible words out in between the howls that were now coming in waves.
"Where … is … he?" she managed.
"He's at home, across the street. He's been waiting for you since the first night. We tried to persuade him to wait over here with us, but he wouldn't. Said he had to wait for you at home, that he had to be there when you got back."
"I have to see him." Lisa stood up. "I have to go to him."
"I don't think you can do that right now. There are too many infected out there. But I have an interim solution. Come with me."
Sylvia got up to go outside again, beckoning her to follow.
Lisa followed her to the far end of the gardens, towards a tall town house where a child was playing with a small dog on some decking. As they approached, a young woman came outside and protectively took the child's hand.
"It's alright, Michelle. This is Lisa, Neil's wife. She's come home."
"Oh my God!" the young woman spoke. "Come in. Come in. Come upstairs."
Lisa followed her inside and up the stairs to the first floor sitting room. The room was dark, and she pulled the blind up half way. "We mostly keep the blinds down so as not to be seen by them."
She gestured Lisa over.
Barely breathing, Lisa stood at the window. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her house was directly in front of her. The blinds were down. The horde was still milling about in the street below.
She could hardly believe it was real. She remembered the dream she'd had when they'd been mugged for their bicycles. Maybe she was dreaming now? Maybe she was actually lying unconscious or dying outside the wrought-iron gate, and her oxygen-starved brain was creating these
