"Just wait there. He'll appear soon enough. He checks in every day, just to let us know he's ok – oh, and for a bit of human contact, I suppose," Sylvia surmised.
"I'll get you a cup of tea and something to eat. You must be starving. How does a tuna sandwich sound? We have bread and mayonnaise but no butter, I'm afraid."
"That sounds fine," Lisa murmured, unable to drag her gaze away from her bedroom window.
The two women left the room and she stood, motionless, in front of the window. The house looked relatively intact. The front door appeared undamaged and the ground floor windows were boarded up with what looked like bits of their office furniture.
She was able to get a proper look at the barricade that blocked the arched entrance to the garage and parking area they shared with the other three townhouses in their row. Her red BMW and Neil's van formed the main structure of the barricade, parked nose-to-nose across the entrance. The space above and around the cars was crammed with mattresses, their garden furniture and the contents of their garage. She recognised some of the large black containers Neil used to store his camera equipment in.
Sylvia reappeared with a cup of tea and a sandwich. She put them on the coffee table and pulled an armchair closer to the window. "You might as well sit down. You could be there some time."
Lisa sat down.
Although she didn't think she was hungry, she wolfed down the sandwich. The tea was strong and made with powdered milk, but it was hot and sweet, and soothing.
When she'd finished, she allowed herself to sit back in the chair and relax a little. She made herself comfortable in between the cushions … and she waited.
Chapter 15 - Day 1 - Lincolnshire
Neil and his crew had just finished filming the final day's play of the National Bowls Championships in Lincolnshire. They were in the process of packing up as much as they could that night, but would return to dismantle the rigging fully the next morning. They were almost ready to get into the vans and head to the nearest pub for a well-deserved pint, when the familiar staccato BBC breaking news alert rang out from Neil's phone.
"Who's dead now?" Rob, the runner, quipped, throwing a coil of black cable into the back of the van.
Neil chuckled as he packed away his camera. Rob had a point. Every time that alert rang out these days, it seemed that yet another celebrity had died. Was that really breaking news? He'd begun to ignore it unless he had nothing better to do than check his phone, which didn't happen often. He jumped into the driver's seat to wait until the others had finished up. Despite himself, he opened the BBC News app. His brow furrowed as he read the post.
"Erm … seriously, Guys, it actually looks as if something major is happening this time," he called to the crew.
He got out of the van, phone in hand. The others stopped what they were doing and wandered over.
For the next ten minutes, they stood around reading news articles from different sources. The reports were sketchy and confused, accounts of riots and extreme acts of violence breaking out all over the country. They seemed to have started on trains leaving London but were spreading rapidly. There was video footage on Facebook and Twitter of panic and bloodshed, people running and screaming, and attacking each other.
Neil's thoughts immediately turned to Lisa. She was in London for a meeting and was due to travel home that afternoon on the train from Euston. He punched in her number. It rang out until the answer phone kicked in.
"Hi! It's Lisa. Sorry, I can't get to the phone right now. Leave me a short message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
"It's me, Lis. Just heard the news. Checking you're ok. Hope you get home safe. Give me a call when you get this.
"Love you," Neil said, before he hung up.
He spoke to the crew. "This doesn't look good, Guys. What do you say to packing up completely now and getting home tonight?"
"Good shout, Mate!" Craig, one of the other cameramen nodded. The rest of the crew agreed. Some of them were still on their phones trying to reach their families. Their normally jovial faces were pale and serious.
Packing up fully was usually a three-hour job. They did it in two. They worked silently. From time to time, one or other of them tried phoning home again, or checked the news and updated the others. Things were escalating dramatically. Neil tried Lisa a couple more times, with no success. He was beginning to worry.
By the time they'd finished, the phone lines were completely jammed, but the picture was a little clearer. What seemed to have occurred was some kind of coordinated bioterrorism attack. Those who were infected were committing frenzied attacks on those who were not, and this was how the infection was spreading. There were accounts of cannibalism. The army had been mobilised to try and regain control of the streets, and an emergency meeting of COBRA was already in session. It was around eight and beginning to get dark when the three-van convoy eventually set off. They had a three-hour journey ahead of them.
The first part of their route was on minor roads, and they made painfully slow progress. The traffic was unusually heavy, and some roads were closed, but they encountered no direct trouble until they joined the main road into Lincoln. Only then did they begin to witness signs of the developing crisis for themselves.
Sirens blared, alarms wailed, plumes of smoke spiralled into the air, and helicopters circled overhead. Police
