He heard movements downstairs in the kitchen and went down to join Rob.
Rob was understandably keen to head home himself. Nothing had changed overnight. It was clear that the crisis was not going to blow over in a day or two, as they had first hoped. Although it would involve moving one of the other cars, Neil offered him the use of the van.
But Rob had already decided he might have a better chance on foot. During the night, he'd thought it all through. They knew all the roads into the city were blocked, and he doubted he'd get very far in a vehicle. If he encountered any infected, he was pretty sure he could outrun them as they didn't seem able to move very fast. His plan was to go down to the canal and follow the towpath for a few miles. It passed only a short distance away from his house. He was a runner and knew the route well. It was part of one of his regular weekend circuits.
He crammed as much of his stuff as he could carry into his backpack without it slowing him down or hampering his movement, and armed himself with a sturdy metal rod from the rigging. They wished each other well, and he hopped over the barricade and set off jogging down the street that led to the canal.
Neil had mixed feelings as he watched him go. There was a bit of concern for his safety, and some guilt that he hadn't tried harder to persuade him to stay, but he understood that Rob had to do it. He had a wife of his own to get back to, and, unlike Neil, he still had no idea whether she was dead or alive. He'd have done the same if it was him. He felt a pang of envy. Envy that Rob was actually doing something. Something purposeful. Then the envy gave way to a wave of self-indulgent loneliness that, for a few moments, threatened to engulf him.
He shook it off. He had made his decision to wait, and that was what he had to do. He couldn't give in to self-pity. He had to keep himself busy. Make sure he was ready for when she got back.
He started by reinforcing the barricade in the archway. An infected teenage boy had managed to wedge itself between the van and the wall, and was writhing around trying to get through. He couldn't allow the parking area to get overrun. He needed to keep the access to the garage clear, as it was full of extra supplies. Three or four times a year, they went to Costco and stocked up on canned goods, bottled water and household cleaning materials. Everything they couldn't keep in the house, they stored in the garage. God only knew how long this was going to go on for. They might need those extra supplies.
He spent the next couple of hours dragging the heaviest things he could find from the garage and piling them onto and between the cars and the walls.
Around mid-morning, Peter emerged from the back garden of Number 15. He was clearly embarrassed that he'd not thought of doing it himself, nor come out sooner to help. He cited Jenny as the reason. According to Peter, she was terrified. Terrified to be left alone and terrified about what might happen to him if he set foot outside.
Neil said he "understood" and that Lisa would have been the same if she'd been there - although he knew that she wouldn't. He just wanted to make the man feel a bit better. Good God, there was no shame in being afraid. You'd be stupid not to be! They were in the middle of a nightmare. No-one else was out and about, and for good reason.
Only, Lisa was out there! Out there alone. But she was coming back to him, and the only thing he could do for her was wait … and believe.
That day was the first day of 'The Waiting'. If he'd known how long he was going to have to wait, it might have been harder. But he kept himself busy. Minutes became hours, and hours became days.
A couple of days passed.
But he trusted that she was coming home, and that no matter how long it took she would get there. He ate, slept and got up in the morning. He found things to do. He boarded up windows and fortified the front door. He dragged the mattress from the spare bed to help stabilise the barricade outside. Peter gave him the one from their spare bed, too. He checked for more emails several times every day, until the power went off and the internet went down.
On the third day, people in the village let their guard down. When it was evident that the emergency services were not coming to save them, they took matters into their own hands. They took to the streets, looting the shops and empty houses and killing the infected. It wasn't long before someone was bitten, and the infection spread like wildfire. The numbers of infected multiplied exponentially. Some people packed up and left.
A couple of days later, when the army dropped leaflets about a safe zone, more people left, this time including Peter and Jenny. He had to partially dismantle, then rebuild, the barricade to let them out, watching wistfully as they disappeared out of sight.
The residents across the road in Park Mews had secured their complex. There were a few of them in there, including Lisa's friend Sylvia. They seemed to be doing ok. From time to time in the first week, after everyone else had left, he'd go over there just for bit of company and to find out what they knew, if anything.
He'd let them know he was coming by shouting across the
