After some bad experiences, they had decided on a strict policy of not letting anyone else inside, but they made an exception for him. Nevertheless, two armed men always greeted him on the balcony, checking him over before letting him into the building. Sylvia tried to persuade him to move in with them - that there was plenty of space - but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He had to wait at home. He had to be there when she finally made it.
By the second week, the increased numbers of infected began to curtail his visits to his neighbours. Shouting to be let in was too dangerous. It attracted them, and there were more of them than ever out there. He had tried counting them but had given up at a hundred. They seemed to have been drawn to the village from the surrounding countryside. No-one really knew why. The speculation was that the residents represented a food source, but they didn't want to think too long or hard about that.
Eventually, it became too dangerous to even try. Instead, he developed a daily routine of chatting to anyone who was willing to listen, using the white board from the office to write messages on. He checked in every morning and again in the evening. It was as much for their sakes as it was for his. They liked to know that he was ok … whether he needed anything.
Everyone in Park Mews knew he was waiting for Lisa. Some thought him insane, others stupid, but they all supported him. No-one, not even Sylvia, believed that she would come … that it was just a matter of time before he gave up and joined them. Until then, they respected what he felt he had to do.
On the morning of Day 17, a few days into the third week since the outbreak, he was woken at dawn by the cries of the infected outside. They were agitated. Extremely agitated. Their moaning filled the air in a wall of sound that made the whole house vibrate.
Somewhere in the distance, underneath it all, he thought he heard screaming. He went to the window. The street below was heaving with infected. They were flowing like a river towards The Tempest, where they merged with another stream coming from the other direction. The river then flowed down the road that ran along the side of Park Mews.
Then he heard gunfire. Something was definitely going on. He scanned the building opposite for someone who could tell him what was happening. No-one was there. Frustrated, he went downstairs to make a coffee.
He couldn't go outside into that hellhole. He'd just have to wait. He hoped everyone was ok. It sounded like someone was in trouble. The possibility that it was Lisa briefly entered his head, but he let it slip away. No-one could survive out there. That wasn't how it was going to be. That wasn't how she was going to come back to him.
He drank his coffee and waited for half an hour or so, until the noise outside subsided.
No more gunfire either. That was good. Whatever had happened was over.
He went back upstairs and looked across the street again. There was a woman sitting in a chair by the window. He didn't recognise her as Michelle or Sylvia. She seemed to be asleep, her face partly hidden in the shadows. Her hair was thick and wavy and tied back in a ponytail. He couldn't make out the colour. His skin tingled as the hairs on his forearms stood on end. He blinked a couple of times trying to focus.
His breath caught in his throat.
The shape of her face was familiar, but he was probably just imagining it.
Then she opened her eyes with a start and stared right at him.
She looked like Lisa.
She jumped to her feet and placed her hands flat against the glass.
It was Lisa! It was her!
She was home.
Chapter 17 - Day 17 - Attwood Common
Lisa woke with a start, disgusted with herself for falling asleep. Her eyes immediately scanned the house across the road.
The blind in the bedroom was open. A figure was standing at the window looking straight at her. The body shape and broad shoulders were instantly familiar. She jumped up, placing her hands flat against the cool glass. His features were unmistakeable. His hair was longer and there was a heavy stubble on his jaw, but it was definitely him.
He saw her at the same time. Mimicking her movement, he pressed his hands against the glass. He stayed like that for a moment, just staring at her, then he opened the window. His mouth moved. He was calling to her. She fumbled with the catch and pushed the window open.
Fresh air rushed in, carrying with it the sound of his voice.
"LISA!"
She reached out of the window towards him. He did the same. She couldn't speak. She was crying. They stood like that for a while, reaching across to each other, until he turned away and disappeared out of sight. She took a breath and swallowed, uncertain that her voice would work.
"Neil!"
He returned a few minutes later. She could see him bent over. He appeared to be writing. He raised a large board to the window. It was the whiteboard from the wall in their office. There were words written on it in red marker pen.
"I'M COMING OVER. TELL THEM TO LET ME IN."
She looked down at the street below.
