Day Thirty - Hindhead Part 2 (Season 5: The Rain)
Author: R R Haywood
Date: 2024-05-11 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Zombie Apocalypse
Description: The Undead. The UK's Bestselling Horror Series. The Undead Hindhead Part 2. Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, Amazon & Audible bestselling author, RR Haywood. One of the most downloaded indie authors in the UK with nearly four million books sold and over 25 Kindle bestsellers. *WINNER OF DISCOVER SCI-FI BEST RELEASE OF 2023 * The Battle For Gatwick is over, but the team are broken. They desperately need rest. But rest is not to be found because the darkest days still lie ahead in season five of The Undead. This book was authored by Richard Haywood and not generated by any machine or artifi

THE UNDEAD THIRTY

RR HAYWOOD

1899 INC LTD

Copyright © 2024 by RR Haywood

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

Untitled

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Also by RR Haywood

SEASON FIVE: THE RAIN

HINDHEAD PART II

“This is some trippy shit…”

1

Thursday, 18th August

Day Thirty-Five

It isn’t right.

It isn’t fucking right.

‘Try again.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Try again, Roy!’

‘Howie. I can’t. The machine,’ Roy says. His face in anguish.

‘What does that mean?’ I stare at the defibrillator, but my mind is racing so much, I can’t read the words. ‘Why won’t it work? Make it work. No! Look. Manual override. We can do it again!’

‘We did it, Howie’ Roy says, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘We did it three times.’

‘Do it again!’

‘It’s too late!’

‘Don’t fucking say that!’ I yell at Roy as though he alone has the power to call it.

He goes to speak but cuts off with a sob. Mo on his side, curled up and weeping. Danny staring with wide, terrified eyes. Carmen still holding Reginald. Paula crying. Marcy crying. Tappy crying. Nick crying. All of them crying, and that rain keeps coming down into the flood waters surrounding us.

The only thing that Dave feared.

The one thing that he couldn’t ever defeat.

I stare over the edge to the waters below and never before have I felt so much hate inside of me. And it’s a filthy hate too. A downright dirty, nasty, spiteful hate because we did everything asked of us, and now Dave is lying dead on the wet floor of a fucking balcony in some shitty clinic on a hillside near Haselmere.

It isn’t right.

It isn’t fucking right.

I move to Dave’s side and take his head in my hands. The pink beret still wedged on his head now stupid and mocking. I gently pull it off and use it to clean his face, and stare into his eyes. Knowing there must be something still inside of him. ‘Dave?’ I whisper his name. Holding him gently. Remembering that day I walked back into Tesco and found him alone killing the infected. ‘Don’t go… Please…’ my voice breaks off in a choke. ‘Dave… Please…’ I whisper again and nod, and urge him to wake up.

But he doesn’t wake up.

And his head is limp.

And his eyes don’t look at me.

I put his head down and even that feels wrong. Like that single act accepts the finality of it and makes it real. An urge to pick him back up. An urge to cradle him.

But I don’t do anything.

Because Dave is dead.

I turn my head to look at Reginald, but even he, for once, has nothing to give. No words. No explanations. No anything, and the pain in his eyes is as real as everyone else’s.

I stand up. Not knowing what else to do, and in that moment, I realise the raging floods have stopped, and the waters have become still and formed another vast inland lake dotted with islands.

I stare back the way the rapids took us and can see the top of The Devil’s Punchbowl hills about a mile away. Henry will still be there. With the children and the people we saved.

But we didn’t save Dave.

I didn’t save Dave.

Why didn’t I watch out for him?

I knew how terrified of water he was.

I should have grabbed him. I should have checked. Why didn’t I check?’

‘Stop it, Howie,’ Paula whispers, as broken hearted as everyone else.

She weeps, and sinks into Clarence. His arm wrapped around her. His good hand resting on Mo, and that single act of kindness from a man to a child makes me want to weep too.

But I don’t cry.

I can’t.

I’m too full of hate.

And anger.

Because this is wrong.

I look back at Dave as though expecting him to sit up. As though this is just a trick. A game. A mistake, and it’s almost like I feel triggered by the fact that it’s not. It offends me. It insults me. It’s an affront that needs resolving. It’s a wrong that needs to be made right. Because we did everything we should have done. We fought back. We kept going. During all of the times we could have stopped, we kept going.

Meredith barks.

Then I remember that she isn’t with us.

She barks again. I run over and see her swimming past, barking up at the balcony. External steps to the side. Nick runs for them and whistles, and helps the dog get up and out of the water.

She pushes past him and everyone else and goes straight to Dave, and stares down with her coat dripping water. Her ears pricked, and my hope rises because I know she can sense the life still inside of him.

But she whines and turns away, and shakes, then heads to Mo to lick his face. His arms go around her. Danny stares at nothing. His arms wrapped around his legs.

I close my eyes.

I feel the hope vanish.

Because Dave is dead.

‘I’m done,’ Paula whispers. ‘I’m done, Howie. I’m not fighting anymore.’

‘It’s okay,’ Clarence says, trying to soothe her.

‘I mean it,’ she says while looking at me as though I made this happen. ‘Fuck the infection.’

Fuck the infection.

I frown.

I’ve heard that somewhere else.

‘No, I mean it,’ Paula says to one of the others. ‘We’re done. Howie was right. We’ve given enough.’

Fuck the infection.

‘Then it will win,’ Reginald says quietly.

‘It wins anyway! You said that to Howie. You said humans are done! The infection’s the only thing keeping us alive!’

We’ve had this conversation.

No.

I’ve had this conversation.

With Paula? With Reginald?

‘I don’t care what happens to this world now, Reggie!’ Paula shouts. ‘We’re done! I’m not losing another one for those… For those fucking cunts out there! They took Dave. THEY TOOK DAVE!’

They didn’t take Dave.

The floods did.

The waters.

I frown.

I remember.

‘You don’t see the good you are doing, Howie! If the other side wins, this world is lost. You must fight.’

‘Fuck you!’

‘You will fight,’ she says and reaches out to grip my chin, and comes in close as though she can see all the way into my very soul. I try and shake my head, but she’s as strong as Clarence. ‘You will keep going. You will fight. Or I will take what you love… And I will cut this world off.’

‘They took Dave,’ Paula sobs, her voice cracking with raw emotion as she sinks back into Clarence and starts weeping harder than I’ve seen before.

But I know she’s wrong.

I know who took Dave.

And I know why.

And that anger I had inside?

That rage?

Yeah.

It gets a whole lot worse.

‘Give him back,’ I say quietly as the dog pulls away from Mo Mo to stare at me as I look out into the sky, and the rain pelts my face. ‘Give him back,’ I say it again. Louder. Harder. Making sure it or he, or her, or whatever the hell it is can hear me. ‘Give him back.’

Power inside.

Pulsing. Rushing. Surging up.

‘I said we would get the Panacea out. I said we’d finish it… Give him back... You give him back, or I swear to God and the Devil, I will turn, and I will destroy this fucking world.’

‘Howie, your eyes have gone red!’ Marcy says in alarm, on her feet and looking at me as the dog takes a step out.

‘Boss, your eyes,’ Clarence says.

‘Give him back,’ I say, glaring into the air.

‘Get behind me,’ Clarence orders, yanking the others back as he comes closer. ‘Boss. Look at me…’

But I don’t look at him.

I look down at the dog as she sinks her head, and her eyes go hard, and her lip comes up to show me her teeth as she lowers into her stance. Ready to face off against me. Sensing the infection inside taking control. ‘I swear I will destroy this fucking world… Give him back.’

‘Howie!’ Clarence yells.

‘I will turn.’

‘You are turning,’ Clarence tells me. ‘What’s happening?’ he asks, glancing to Reginald.

‘She told me! She fucking said she’d take what I love if I didn’t fight, and we’d lose this world.’

‘Who did?’ Clarence asks.

‘Someone said that to you, Howie?’ Reginald asks, coming closer to Clarence’s side. ‘Who said to you? You are turning. Your eyes are fully red. The dog can smell it in you. I can see it in you! This isn’t the way, Howie! This isn’t our way! Look at me,’ he says, pushing past the dog to grab my face in his uninjured hand. Fearless Reginald coming in close as though he can see into my soul, just like the Old Lady in the dream. ‘What did this person say to you? TELL ME!’

‘She said if I don’t fight, then she’ll take what I love and cut this world off.’

‘When, Howie? Who?’

‘A few nights ago.’

‘We’ve been in the garden centre for a week!’

‘The first night.’

‘The first night? A dream? You had a dream? A dream, Howie! You had a bloody dream!’

‘It was more than a fucking dream!’

‘But they never are,’ Reginald says, and his face falls as though he had sudden hope, and he sags into me. His grip easing. His head butting mine. ‘You fool. You bloody fool…’

‘She meant it,’ I whisper at him, feeling the tears start to flow. ‘And you were there. You told me and Clarence off for putting pineapple on pizza…’ my voice finally breaks with the first sob as Clarence comes in next to us, wrapping his arms around our shoulders as I feel him start to cry.

‘And she said the Panacea comes from the future when all things live without suffering and fear… And some bad guys brought it back here and made it into the infection. And she said we were the thing keeping this world going, and that we had to keep fighting.’

I stop talking as the weeping hits me. I hear the others crying hard, but I feel Reginald and Clarence crying as we hold each other.

‘You can’t turn,’ Reginald tells me quietly. ‘I won’t let you. You know that, Howie.’

I nod and push my head against his, and we cry together. Soaking wet and broken hearted.

‘But I think we are at an end,’ Reginald says in a voice we can all hear. ‘It’s okay though. I planned for this.’

‘Lilly?’ I whisper.

‘Let her and Henry tear each other apart. We’ll go somewhere. Just us. We’ll go somewhere, and we’ll have a dinner party, and we’ll listen to Roy’s stories… We’ve done enough now.’

I nod into him again and feel Clarence doing the same, and I don’t know why, but that makes me cry even harder.

‘Can I come?’ Carmen asks, making us look over to see her standing alone and weeping. ‘I don’t want to go back to Henry’s team.’

‘Oh god, Carmen. Of course,’ Paula says, pulling her into her arms. ‘We’ll stay together. All of us. We’ll find a boat, and we’ll take Dave with us. And we’ll bury him properly.’

‘A fire,’ I say. ‘A big, fuck-off fire. Just definitely not a boat though. He hated boats.’

A few heart-breaking snorts that bring on more weeping, and Reginald shifts slightly until I spot Danny still sitting on his own next to Dave.

‘Mate! Danny,’ I say, rushing towards him.

‘Oh god, Danny!’ Paula says, seeing the same thing. ‘Why didn’t you stand up?’ she asks as we take his arms and start pulling him to his feet.

‘I didn’t want to leave, Dave.’

‘Dave isn’t there now, Danny,’ she says, pulling the lad into a hug. ‘His soul is gone. That’s just his body.’

‘No,’ Danny says as we all look at him and his big, round eyes, and he shakes his head. ‘I can still feel him,’ he whispers.

Silence, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I look down at Dave. ‘Is he still here, Danny?’

‘Jesus, Howie,’ Paula says. ‘Don’t ask him that.’

‘Danny? Is he still here?’

‘I said stop!’ Paula snaps at me.

Danny hesitates. Showing the same uncertainty as before. ‘I don’t know. But I can… Inside… I think.’

‘Fucker,’ I say. ‘She’s holding him.’

‘Who is?’ Paula asks.

‘She is! And I know exactly where,’ I tell them all with a manic glare and an even more manic nod.

‘What are you doing?’ Marcy asks me as I drop to Dave’s side and pull the gel pads from his chest.

‘You’re not having him! You hear me! You wait there, Dave.’

‘What the fuck! Howie?’ Marcy says as I yank my top off and stick the gel pads to my own chest, then hit the button on the machine marked manual override.

‘No!’ Roy shouts.

‘I’m coming, Dave!’ I yell into the sky and hit the button, and it zaps me so hard I fly off my feet and hit the railings, and go straight over the side, into the waters, and the last thing I hear before my mind shuts down from the incredible pain in my chest is Marcy calling me a twat.

2

I open my eyes with a gasp, expecting to vomit the water I ingested, but that does not happen because I am no longer in the flood waters, nor am I wet.

I look around at what was once a suburban street, where semi-detached and detached houses lined each side. Now they are nothing more than rubble, but from the size and placement, and equal distance, I determine what was here before. The addition of the play park is also a strong clue. Although that too is now long rusted and broken.

I look up at a torn, red sky, which could suggest a global nuclear war or, perhaps, a natural phenomenon such as a volcano or even a meteor strike.

Whatever it was. It appears to have left this place, whatever place this may be, barren and inhospitable.

Although not entirely lifeless, as can be told from the whisperings sounding out on all sides. Not that I feel any sense of fear from those noises. Such is the level of my skill in any close quarter combat situation. Perhaps then, it should be they that fear my presence. And they would be wise to do so.

I turn to walk off, and I stop and frown.

First, from the notion that I am not the same as I was.

And second, from the woman sitting on a basic wooden chair at a basic wooden table in the middle of the street.

It is obvious she is waiting for me, and further, due to the placement of the other chair, that she is expecting me to sit upon it and engage in discourse.

A weird and strange sight it is, or, as Alex would say, this is, indeed, some trippy shit.

‘Who are you?’ I ask.

‘They call me The Old Lady. That is how I am known. I am not a person. I am an entity. A system. I was tasked to ensure, through discovery, that the many worlds stay on the path to get through The Age of Wrath to a time that will be known as The Age of Enlightenment. At which point, those worlds will combine, allowing free movement between those worlds, and all things within them shall live in harmony without suffering or fear. Please. Sit down.’

I look from her to the chair and the world around us and based on the raw data I have right now, I determine that my best course of action is to engage in further dialogue with this woman to establish more intelligence.

I sit down.

‘Are you okay?’ she asks me.

‘Yes,’ I tell her, detecting no pains or issues that would suggest that I am not okay.

‘Your mind is different here.’

I stare at her, and upon hearing the words, I connect them to my earlier notion that I am not the same as I was, and upon thinking that, so my mind floods with memories that previously were just facts, but now, suddenly, I have context to those memories. Individually and, of course, all of them taken together, which ultimately give shape and depth to my life. But in a way I had never previously known. Or rather, in a way that I was not previously capable of knowing.

I look at the woman. ‘I am not autistic here.’

‘No, Dave. You are not,’ she says with a deeply respectful tone of voice and a soft, caring smile, and I cannot help but return the smile. First, from knowing what her facial expressions mean, but also, from the simple fact that I am now able to smile. Whereas before, I was not.

‘You have a beautiful smile,’ she tells me.

I smile wider and can feel it in my eyes and cheeks in a way I have never experienced before, and it’s as though I have gained access to an otherwise hidden part of my mind for the first time in my life.

‘Why?’ I ask.

‘Because here it is safe to do so,’ she says, although I do note, she speaks with great care as though choosing each word.

‘Here?’ I ask, and the conundrum presents in my mind in a way it never has before because I would simply not question where here was. Now I do, and I look around again and then recall that when I first arrived, this woman was not in this street on that chair behind this table, but then a moment later, and without any sound or show of arrival, she was here.

‘Is this Mr Howie’s dream?’ I ask, recalling the way Mr Howie described a location he came to call the other place. I recall he said the sky was red and torn, and the buildings were all broken. ‘Which means Mr Howie has been here before, which confirms my suspicions that this is a projection of Mr Howie’s mind that I am in while my physical body is back in the real world.’

‘It is,’ she says.

‘Mr Howie said that he believed he died in order to travel to this place. And if I recall correctly Sergeant Blowers also spoke of this place when he died.’

She nods. ‘You are dead, Dave. Although as with Howie and Simon, and all of you in fact, the thing you have inside makes it very hard to kill you. Or for you stay dead, for that matter. The same thing happened to Paco. He was dead, and any doctor in any hospital the world over would have rolled him into a body freezer. And yet. And yet. And yet…’ She cocks her head and smiles, but the smile is different this time. Suggestive. Conspiratorial. I understand this. She is suggesting I am dead in the real world, but the infection is not letting me die.

‘Will I go back?’

‘Do you want to go back? See, Dave,’ she says and crosses one leg over the other, and leans across the table without giving me the time to make a reply. ‘I told him. I told Howie what I would do.’

‘What did you say to him?’

She flaps a hand with a dismissive gesture, which I do not like.

‘What did you say to him?’

‘Something. I said to him now, you listen, Howie. Your world is hanging on by a thread, and you need to get back into the fight. But he wouldn’t listen. He was demanding answers, and people never listen when they are demanding answers.’

I think that is an accurate depiction of Mr Howie.

But even so.

I do not like it.

‘I do not like what you say about my friend. Choose your words with greater care.’

She looks sharply at me. I hear a foot scuff in the building line to my right and a scrape of a gun against brick to my left.

‘I can kill you before they ever reach here or fire a shot. Stand them down.’

‘Easy, Dave,’ a woman says from the left. Mixed race. Very beautiful. Lean and strong. She holds her hands out to placate me.

‘Roshi, we’ll be fine,’ The Old Lady says, inclining her head as though to give a silent order. ‘And Bear. You too.’

A tall, brooding man with deep set eyes emerges from the right.

I’d kill them both within seconds.

Despite the fact they are armed.

I’d position in such a way they couldn’t fire without risk of hitting the other and kill The Old Lady, which would bring them into striking range.

‘Fuck me,’ the woman called Roshi says. ‘You can see him calculating how he’d do us.’

‘As I said. I’ll be fine,’ The Old Lady says, giving another silent order that makes them walk off. ‘And as for you, Dave. I am not your enemy. And as I also said, I am not a person. This is a manifestation,’ she says, motioning herself. ‘Howie needs to fight. I told him that. I made it very clear that if he did not fight, I would take what he loved and cut that world off.’

‘You told him this in a dream?’

‘We have a rule. We cannot cross into the physical worlds.’

‘We?’

‘Freedom and I. The Old Man. We stay in our constructs. Even this is bending the rules. Anyway. Despite having a whole town of time travellers, and despite having open access to the inventor of time travel, perversely, we do not have a great deal of time.’

‘My death is a warning then?’

‘Yes. No. Not just a warning. A foretelling. Howie cannot just release the Panacea without culling more of the infected. It won’t work.’

I pause to think of all the information I know about our plans set by Reginald and much discussed by Mr Howie, Paula, and Major Henry. And I can see that Reginald was right. As is The Old Lady. The numbers of the infected are too many. Focussing only on releasing the Panacea now will mean we lose the war. The other side will evolve faster than we can react to, and in turn, they will wipe us out, whether we have the Panacea or not. Because even the Panacea does not render someone impervious to bullets and blades. Whereas Mr Howie, especially since the puppy incident, no longer wishes to engage the infection in order to save people and now only wants to seek and release the Panacea, and fulfil his own personal vendetta of also finding and killing everyone responsible for releasing it.

‘They are both wrong, and they are both correct,’ I tell her. ‘Releasing the Panacea now will help, but it will not ensure victory. Victory in our sense can only come from attrition. We must reduce the numbers. Send me back. I can ensure both are done with a greater use of our resources. We should be using Lilly. She is young, but she is a very great asset. Lilly can find the Panacea and ensure it is released while Mr Howie draws the infection towards him. Doing it this way plays to their greater strengths.’

‘Absolutely. But it will never work,’ she tells me with a tut of frustration that suggests she has thought the same thing many times.

‘I would suggest Lilly is, at least in some way, on the autism and or Asperger’s spectrum. That can be used to our advantage. She doesn’t have empathy for people she does not hold personal value to. As for Mr Howie, he is highly capable of absorbing damage. We draw the infection to us. Lilly goes for the Panacea with Major Henry. Why would that not work?’

‘Because, sadly, as brilliant as people are, they’re also filled with grudges and spite, and meanness, and even in the most obvious of times, when not working together could cause a whole apex species to become extinct, they would rather tell the other person to get fucked.’

I frown at the way she swears. She uncrosses her leg and crosses the other, and it seems she is waiting for me to ask my next question.

‘Then I will do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘Find and release the Panacea, and then cull the infection.’

‘Oh. I see. And then what, Dave?’

I do not understand her question.

‘I have no doubt you are capable. Howie said it himself. All they ever needed to win was you. You’d do it easily. I’ve run testing programs and can see that if I sent you back as you are now, you would win that war within a few weeks.’

I stand up. ‘Then I shall go.’

She holds a finger up and smiles, and shakes her head all at the same time. ‘And then what, Dave?’ she asks again.

‘What is the answer you want me to give? It is obvious you already know whatever answer you want. Didn’t somebody say people don’t listen when they are demanding answers?’

‘That!’ she says with a click of her fingers at me.

I show scorn at whatever that might be. ‘I am tired of you. Send me back. My friends can rest while I resolve matters. They have done enough.’

‘And then what?’

‘Do not ask me that again.’

‘What comes after your victory, Dave?’

‘The Panacea will have been released. People can live without suffering or harm, and still with a great deal of the existing infrastructure left to use.’

‘And when they disagree? And when they fall out over which God to follow?’

‘That is their concern. I will be with my friends.’

‘Your friends? So, you’re going to go back and tell Reginald and Howie your plan, and they’ll just accept it? Or will they argue? Or make other suggestions? And how will you deal with that? Knowing that your ideas are absolutely the right ones.’

‘By convincing them.’

‘Yeah. You’ll convince them alright,’ she says with a heavy sigh. ‘Howie will never agree to it.’

‘But it is the most logical plan.’

‘Howie won’t do it. He’s got his vendetta.’

‘In that case, I will tell Mr Howie that I will also find and kill the people responsible.’

‘Then we’ll do it together, Howie will say to you.’

‘And I will say no. I will go it alone.’

‘Mr Howie won’t accept that. In fact, I am not sure there is any reasoned logical argument you or anyone could present that would ensure Mr Howie and the others do as you tell them. Especially Marcy or Reginald. Or Henry, come to think of it.’

‘In which case,’ I reply. ‘And as temporary measure only, I would therefore hold them within a restricted capacity to keep them safe while I complete the mission. And obviously, provide them with everything they could need.’

‘You’ll imprison them?’

‘Not a prison. A secure area.’

‘Ah! A golden cage. I’m sure they’ll love that, Dave. And what about Lilly? Who, as you correctly state, doesn’t give a shit about anyone she holds no value for. So, when she opposes you?’

‘Lilly may well have to be temporarily detained also.’

‘Got it. And when you release them all, they’re just going to jump up and down for joy and absolutely not work together to take down this new, despotic tyrant called Dave.’

‘I am not a tyrant.’

‘You imprisoned them for having different ideas.’

‘For their safety.’

‘Said the tyrant.’

‘I warned you to choose your words with greater care.’

‘Said. The. Tyrant.’

I go to offer rebuke, but she smiles in a way that suggests a parlay and lifts her hands.

‘Dave, your intelligence is far beyond that of Reginald’s. But your skill at killing is as equal to that intelligence, and the two do not merry maketh the man. You would see that every idea of yours would be better than anyone else’s. And this energy you are exuding. This aura of pure control would make even the most formidable of men feel weak around you. If Danny were to use his gift right now, he’d say you are projecting all the colours, all at once. Everywhere. You would dominate every room you were in. You’d dominate every conversation. You’d win every fight. Every battle. Every war. And then what? What would Dave do next after tasting that power? Would you give it up and go, and sharpen knives, and do drill? No! You’d seek control. More control. All of the control, and there is nothing on that planet that could stop something as intelligent and as capable at killing as you. Only one other person came close to you, Dave. He united the tribes against a common enemy too, and then killed millions of people. The history books suggest it was forty million. Trust me. It was far more. And he was smart like you, and he could fight, but he became so unstimulated, he made pyramids from the bones of the people he killed and raped thousands of women just to keep himself busy. He restructured the evolution of the human species. I’ve seen it. Golden lines all leading to one big, thumping, glowing orb called Genghis Kahn.’

She sits back and sighs again, and waggles a finger at me.

‘You’re too dangerous to be anywhere as you are. And you’re too intelligent not to know what I’m saying is wrong.’

‘Then why am I here? If this place even exists, because there is still every possibility this is a projection formed from the shared consciousness, and I am experiencing nothing more than a dream.’

‘Dave!’

A shout from a voice I know well, and I give a great smile of joy at seeing Blinky running towards me. ‘Patricia! You look so well!’

She stops dead and looks to The Old Lady. ‘Who the fuck is this cunt?’

‘I am Dave,’ I tell her and take a step forward with a desire to greet with touch and show how much I have missed her, but she backs up and clenches her fists.

‘You’re not Dave.’

‘I am Dave without autism. This is me, Patricia.’

‘Awesome. Go do a crossword. You’ve got about a minute,’ she tells The Old Lady. ‘Mr Howie just used a defibrillator to electrocute himself while standing in a puddle of water. Bye then, Dave-not-Dave. Tell the other Dave I’d still have his babies.’

‘I am the other Dave.’

‘You’re not. You’re all smiley and shit,’ she says and runs off.

‘We miss you!’ I call after her.

‘Fist me,’ she yells and disappears while I consider her words and determine that electrocuting himself while in a puddle of water is, indeed, a very Mr Howie thing to do.

‘He knows I am here. Mr Howie is mounting a rescue.’

‘Because he loves you, Dave. Because they all love you. And that’s why I took your autism away. So you’d feel that love and know just how deeply valued you are by your friends.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Is that not enough?’ she counters, looking up at me as I think to exclaim that no, of course, it is not enough. I have intelligence. I have control over my mind and the ability to compute and understand nuance, and I was given all of this for emotions?

And then it hits me.

That she was right.

That already, within minutes of gaining my mind, I am discounting that to which I hold value, and in so doing, I am worse than Lilly.

The thoughts still my tongue and my mind, and I think of the jarring sensation inside when Blinky stopped and looked at me the way she did. That rejection hurt, and by focussing on that, I become aware of all the other emotions I have for the people I love, and it fills my eyes with tears, and my heart seems fit to burst.

Danny and Mo. Their cheeky smiles and endless energy. The bond between Cookey, Blowers, and Nick. Tappy our driver. Charlie and Jess. Meredith. Roy and his bow, and his stories. Paula. Marcy. All of them. Even Clarence. Singular and united. The energy of each. The love for each. Reginald too. And although I know that right now my intelligence exceeds his, Reginald is about as clever as a human can be.

And of course, Howie.

He came back to Tesco.

He took me with him.

He offered me food and warmth, and he never left my side.

Not once.

Even before the outbreak, he checked on me every day. He asked how I was. He came and got me at meal breaks.

Nobody else ever did that.

And now he’s electrocuting himself while standing in a puddle of water to rescue me. Fearless to his own death. Fearless to everything. And the fact he’s doing that means he jumped off the cliff at Hindhead to come after me.

‘They all did,’ The Old Lady whispers, and I do not ask how she knows the thoughts in my head.

‘I’M COMING, DAVE!’ Mr Howie’s disembodied voice calls out. Seemingly far away, and it feels like my chest is swelling. Like there is a sudden deep but beautiful pain within my heart. For all of them. For what they are trying to do. For the pain and suffering they are enduring. Nobody asked them too either. They did it because Howie said it was the right thing to do.

‘That’s what I wanted you to feel,’ the Old Lady whispers as the tears pour over my cheeks.

‘You can send me back,’ I tell her and nod to show I understand it now. I know my role. To be Howie’s shadow to the end.

‘That’s a very great sacrifice,’ she whispers. ‘That world has only your team. There is only you. You must finish what you started.’

‘Why is our world so important? If you already have many other worlds? And if ours is so dark, why not cut it off?’

She smiles as though I finally asked the right question. ‘What came first? The chicken or the egg?’

I frown. Then I get it. ‘The infection becomes the Panacea… It starts in our world and then travels out to the others when they get through the Age of Wrath and combine during the Age of Enlightenment. Our infection is what they take in to achieve life without suffering. Our world is essential then.’

‘Every world is essential, and every hair on every head holds value. But come. You must go back,’ she says. We stand, and she takes my hands in hers. ‘It has been an honour meeting you, Dave.’

‘If you can. And if you have that ability, will you give me control of my mind for just a few seconds when I return? There is something I need to do. There is something I need to say.’

She smiles again as I feel a great pain in my chest and figure it’s the infection restarting my heart.

‘You bloody twat, Howie! You’d better stay dead!’ Marcy’s voice swims through the air around me.

‘I bloody told you!’ Blowers says.

‘It’s not real!’ Carmen says.

I listen to them bickering and arguing, and suddenly I long to be back with them. ‘Just a few seconds,’ I tell the Old Lady. ‘Please. Let me say what I need to tell them…’

‘They already know,’ she tells me.

A pain. A whump.

I fly off backwards off my feet and open my eyes, and feel the rain lashing my face, and suck air into my lungs.

‘I said don’t do it!’ Roy shouts. ‘You were standing in water, Howie.’

‘Whatever. Zap me again. I’m going back in,’ Howie says.

‘Oh, my fucking god!’ Marcy shouts.

‘It’s not real!’ Carmen says.

‘I’m going with you, boss!’ Blowers calls.

A smile on my face. A feeling of love in my heart. I sit up and see them all clustered around Howie, trying to push the gel pads on his chest while Marcy tries yanking them off, whilst also trying to jab at the machine, while Roy slaps his hands away, while everyone else bickers and squabbles, and the dog whines and presses her head into my leg. I smile down at her and look back up as the emotions start to fade and go away. But I have to say something. I have to tell them I love them. I want to say it just once. But already the reasons are going away in my mind. ‘Hello,’ I call out.

‘Hang on, Dave!’ Marcy snaps, flapping a hand at me while fighting to pull one of the gel pads from Howie’s chest as Blowers grabs the other one and sticks it to his belly.

‘Stop doing that!’ Carmen says.

‘I’m going with the boss!’ Blowers says.

‘Going where?’ Nick asks. ‘Is there food?’

‘Hello,’ I say again, feeling a sudden urgency before it’s too late.

‘Dave, hang on!’ Howie says. ‘SHIT THE FUCKING BED!’ he yelps at sight of me on my feet.

‘What?’ Marcy asks, turning to glance, then looking away, then screaming out as her legs give way. ‘Dave!’ she gasps, and that sets the rest of them off. All of them spinning to see me on my feet, staring at them because I had something to say.

But I don’t know what it was.

The smile fades. The memories. The thoughts. The ideas. The notions. The nuances. The emotions inside.

It all fades.

My face feels wet. I look up.

It is raining.

‘Dave,’ Howie gasps.

I look at him. ‘Yes, Mr Howie?’

‘Are you… Are you okay, mate?’ he whispers.

I do not know why he is whispering. I think perhaps there are some infected near, and we don’t have weapons now after being in the water. ‘Yes, Mr Howie,’ I whisper back.

I had something to say.

But I don’t know what it is, and then they are all touching me and crying, and I don’t know why. I don’t like being touched. And I don’t know what to do when people are crying.

But right now. I think it’s okay that they are touching me, and being in the middle of them all isn’t a bad idea because we’re surrounded by water, and I can’t swim.

I think that was what I had to say.

‘I need to learn to swim, Mr Howie.’

He laughs and cries as though this is very funny and very sad at the same time. They all do.

‘Best line ever, Dave,’ Cookey tells me while crying hard.

‘Is Marcy a swimming instructor?’ I ask.

‘Actually. Yeah, I could do with some extra lessons,’ Cookey says.

‘You know what. I think I could too,’ Nick adds and gets thumped by Tappy, but they all smile and laugh and cry at the same time.

I still don’t know why.

‘We’ll find someone. I promise,’ Howie tells me. ‘And mate. Fuck me. Don’t ever do that again.’

‘Do what again?’

‘Wear pink wellies, Dave. I meant fall off a cliff and drown in a raging flood! No. Not even gonna snap at you. I’m never gonna snap at you again. And I know you hate emotions and feelings, but I’m going to say it. I love you, Dave.’

I had something to say.

But I don’t know what it is, and I’ve learnt that the best thing to do with Mr Howie is just to say yes.

‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

‘What do you mean, yes?’

‘What?’

‘Oh, my fucking god, he’s doing it on purpose. Someone, find us a boat. Nick!’

‘I’m not the boat guy!’

‘Blowers! Stop it,’ Carmen says as I see her trying to pull the gel pads off Sergeant Blowers’ chest, and I take them all in. Bickering and squabbling.

‘Chaos,’ Paula says quietly and kisses my cheek. ‘Beautiful chaos…’

3

Saturday, 13th August.

Day Thirty

The day after Gatwick, and the rains fall from the sky. Lashing the bay, the camp, and the fort.

It takes the intense heat from the air and slows the pace as the early risers stare at the rain from their tents. Watching it fall from the sky and listening to the sound of it drumming the surfaces.

Lilly jogs for the office to see the room already full. Norman and Lenski. The section heads. George, Kyle, and Marion. Low chat, and the clatter of the cups as brews get made. The smell of deodorant, toothpaste, and coffee, all mingled together. The air humid, and the floor covered in drips from the rainwater carried inside.

‘Lilly,’ Norman says, the first to see her, and the room falls to silence.

It was late when she got back from the camp last night, and they still don’t know what happened. A keen expression in Kyle’s eyes. A hint of relief perhaps that she’s okay. An expectancy in all of them.

‘Shall we sit down?’ George asks.

Chairs scrape, and cups are placed on the big meeting table as Captain Janu and his men walk in. The new woman with them. She came in yesterday. An ex-soldier that protected her group down to the last few until Howie and Henry reached them on their way to Gatwick.

‘Hi. I’m Kat,’ she says, nodding to Lilly.

‘Ex PTI,’ Jock says in his strong Glaswegian accent. Nodding at Kat. ‘And the newbie, so she’d better get brewing up.’

‘And this is for you,’ Kate says, pulling her hand out of her pocket to show Jock a middle finger. Stress on her face. The obvious signs of recent, severe trauma. Overly aware of everything. Borderline twitchy, but she’s no different to everyone else. ‘I’ll do it,’ Kate adds, heading over to the hot water and mugs.

‘It’s just boiled, Kat,’ Kyle calls.

‘Cheers. Anyone else?’ Kate asks, glancing over to heads shaking and voices murmuring.

‘So, what happened then?’ Jack asks, the grizzled soldier with a long moustache now working as a guard unit in the fort under the charge of Captain Janu. ‘We heard gunfire.’

‘Aye. We were gonna come over, but Captain Shaw said to stand down.’

Lilly glances at George, seeing him offer a discreet nod. ‘Well,’ Lilly says, walking over to sit down next to George. ‘Mary and I discovered that Willie, Elvis, Patrick, and Tyson planned that attack we had when the infected came over the wall.’

‘What the actual,’ Jock mutters.

‘They fucking planned it?’ Jack asks.

‘They put the whole fort at risk?’ Captain Jansu says with a filthy look. ‘These men. Where are they?’

‘Dead,’ Mary says, making everyone turn to see her in the doorway. Her flame-red hair pulled back. Her eyes as hard as the expression on her face. An instant hardening to the energy in the room. She steps inside and unslings her rifle, and leans it against a wall next to the others, then tugs her waterproof smock off, and stares at the table and all the seats now taken. ‘I’m not here as Lilly’s girlfriend now. I’m here to represent the camp.’

‘Ah. Of course. Yes,’ George says, pushing to his feet. ‘We need to make room at the table. At this end.’

‘This end will be fine, George,’ Mary says, stepping up to the opposite side of the table from George, Lilly, and Kyle. Chairs shuffle with rushed whispers as the others make room and find a chair for Mary to take her seat. ‘And I think in future it’d be grand to wait for the camp to be here for morning prayers,’ she says casually, almost conversationally, sitting down and smiling around at the others.

‘Do ye want a brew, Mary?’ Kyle asks.

‘It’s no bother,’ Mary says.

‘You drink coffee?’ Kate asks, seeing Mary nod. ‘Have mine. I haven’t touched it. Milk, no sugar. I’ll get another one.’

‘That’s kind of you. Kat, is it? Eggy said he heard you were a PTI. Is that right?’

‘I was, yeah.’

‘Do ye mind if we have a chat after this? I want to run some drills. But let’s get his out the way first. I heard from the doorway there what Lilly said. Do ye want to know what happened? Have ye told them much yet?’

‘No,’ Lilly says, detecting the harder energy in Mary while also feeling a slight pulse of worry at what Mary will say.

‘Aye. Well. Lilly and I were here in the fort. Lilly decided she wanted something from the marine estate, so we went over, but the lads blocked me from going into the camp. They were debating who the new leader was going to be, and they didn’t want me near it. So Lilly and I go about our business, and we overhear the four men at the back talking quietly about what they did.’

Lilly watches on. Knowing Mary is lying and not mentioning anything to do with Pamela or how they found out.

‘And so, I went in and confronted them,’ Mary says.

‘I can see how that went,’ Kyle says with a grimace.

‘Aye. It went exactly like that, Father,’ Mary says.

‘They went for Mary first,’ Lilly says as every head twitches from Mary to Lilly. ‘Mary called them out, fair and square. I was there. I saw it. They reacted first. Mary didn’t have a choice.’

‘Hold on. Mary didn’t have a choice?’ Norman asks, his barrister mind processing the facts faster than most. ‘You said all four were killed.’

‘Aye. I killed them,’ Mary says.

‘All four?’ Norman asks to a palpable reaction. ‘Wasn’t one of them your brother?’

‘Aye. Willie. I shot him through the head. I shot the others too. One aimed at my back, and Lilly got a shot in, but I finished him off. I killed all four of them. They turned against my people. They set Peter up. They put my camp at risk, and they put this fort and the wee children, and the immunes at risk. I’ll not abide that. Not for anyone, and any person that crosses that line will get the same from me again.’

‘Jesus,’ John says, leaning back to rub his jaw, sharing a look with Pardip and Aggie.

‘Are you camp leader now?’ Lenski asks. Blunt and direct. ‘I hope this is so.’

‘Aye. I am.’

‘Good,’ Lenski says. ‘But I am sorry for brother.’

‘Aye,’ Mary says, the pain flitting across her face.

‘May I ask,’ Norman says gently. ‘Will the camp accept you as leader?’

‘Before that? No. Never. Now, though? We had a vote after Lilly left. I was voted in properly.’

‘Big majority?’ Norman asks.

‘Aye. Unequivocal. A few gripers, but there always will be,’ Mary says and looks across the table with a second’s worth of eye-contact with Lilly. The two of them silently agreeing to the lie after discussing last night that there is something else going on that they can’t see and don’t know about. A feeling within both that they’d been played, but without knowing by whom or how. They agreed to not do anything rash. To think and be cautious.

And so, Mary switches her gaze to George, who sits quietly, assessing it all without expression until his face suddenly shows the shock of everyone else.

‘Well. My word. What a turn of events. Henry was right. It was a coup all along with Peter. Yes. And that attack. I did think it was odd. How did the infected know to come over the only unprotected part of the wall? That’s what I kept asking myself, and I thought. Well. It makes sense now. But may I echo Lenski and say how sorry I am you had to do that, Mary. I should add I would have given instant assistance if you’d called for it.’

‘And if I had needed it, I would have asked,’ Mary counters. ‘They didn’t listen when I said I can hit harder and shoot straighter than any man, and I’d advise anyone else not to make that mistake.’

‘Quite. Yes. No intent to patronise,’ George says, holding his hands up. ‘It was a genuine retrospective offer.’

‘So, what happens now?’ Norman asks. ‘Is the camp stable? Can we send people over today? Will they be safe?’

‘Will my people be safe coming here?’ Mary asks him.

‘Of course! Why wouldn’t they?’

‘Then why ask me the same fecking question. We’re not cannibals, Norman.’

‘No. Right. Yes. Of course. I didn’t mean-.’

‘The camp is stable. I’ve control over it, and I’ll be making changes. There’s plenty of women like me that want to do guard work and learn to shoot, and not just cook, and clean. So you’ll likely see new faces, and aye, the energy will be up and down, but that’s why I’m here. You’ve got your fort here. And I’ve got my camp and the bay.’

‘The bay?’ Lilly asks.

‘Aye. The bay. Is that a problem for you, Lilly?’

‘Aye. Shit! I mean yes. I’m not mocking you when I say aye, it’s because we spend so much time together. But yes. The bay isn’t yours.’

‘Well. I think this is a topic we can debate,’ George says.

‘We are debating it,’ Lilly says.

‘Aye. And it’s mine,’ Mary says.

‘Not yours,’ Lilly says.

‘Not yours either. You’re not even on the bay. You’re next to it.’

‘We’re in the bay’ Lilly replies with a fast back and forth.

‘Aye. You’re in my bay.’

‘No. We’re in my bay,’ Lilly says.

‘You can’t have it all, Lilly.’

‘Nor can you.’

‘But we do have it! We’re living in the fecking bay.’

‘Shall we just say our bay and share it?’ Kyle says to more than a few murmurs of agreement and nods at the good idea as Mary squints her eyes at Lilly, who stares back with her usual defiance. ‘George?’ Kyle asks.

‘No, please. I’m enjoying this,’ George says with a perfect touch of humour as he motions Lilly and Mary. A few chuckles. A few smiles. The tension eased a touch.

‘Okay. We can share,’ Lilly says. ‘Our bay.’

‘Aye. Our bay then. Which means I get a deciding vote in matters relating to the bay.’

‘Aye. Agreed. Bugger! I mean yes,’ Lilly says.

‘I said aye to someone yesterday,’ Norman says.

‘You say this to me many times,’ Lenski tells him.

‘Do I?’

‘Aye,’ Lenski says, easing the tension a bit more with another few chuckles. ‘Is simple. We share bay. We share fort. We share camp. No tribes. No sides. We not need this. We not men with guns and dicks spraying the peepee. My dick is big. No! My dick is bigger. We all want to live. We all want food. We share same goals. No? We have immunes in here. People in the camp are immunes. We all want Panacea. We all support Mr Howie. Yes? Good. Mary? Do you need things? We give them to you. Your people can come in here. Is no problems. They welcome.’

‘Well said!’ Aggie says.

‘Right. Well. Certainly, never a dull day,’ Norman says. ‘That said, it’s more than a little dull out there with this rain. Can we continue with the wall in this weather?’ he asks with a look to John.

‘You can get containers back here. But you might struggle getting the plant machinery over the grass to put them in place,’ John says as the other builders murmur in agreement.

‘Eggy said the same thing,’ Mary says. ‘I’m sending them out to get as many new containers as we can, and we’ll see what we can do. Have you any word from Howie?’ she asks with a look to George.

‘Negative, but that’s not unexpected.’

‘That fireball that went up at Gatwick probably destroyed their comms,’ Kyle says.

‘It was over forty degrees when they got to us,’ Kate says. ‘And that was hours before Gatwick. The roads were melting, it was so hot.’

‘Lilly will know better,’ Kyle says. ‘But my experience of Howie is that they’ll hunker down for a day to recover.’

‘Howie never stops,’ Lilly says, hiding the surprise inside at knowing that and also at realising that from everyone here, she is considered to be the Howie expert, and again, that surge of emotion spikes inside that she turned against him. ‘Unless they’re hurt,’ she adds. ‘But even then… They don’t get hurt like normal people.’

‘Said the woman who dug a bullet out of her arm with a pair of tweezers,’ Dr Carlton says.

‘Without anaesthetic,’ Anika adds.

‘Fuck me,’ Jock murmurs as the other share words and looks at Lilly looking so young and angelic.

‘But this rain though,’ Kyle says, looking to the door. ‘Ye can’t fight in rain like this.’

‘Nothing stops war faster than a downpour,’ Jock mutters. ‘Warm though. Warm enough to shower in it.’

‘That reminds me,’ Lilly says. ‘Does anyone remember Pamela?’

‘Pamela?’ George asks, hiding all reaction once again.

‘Oh god, her,’ Norman says with distaste.

‘She went out with that bad lot,’ John says.

‘No. I don’t think she did, now I come to think of it,’ Norman says.

‘Pamela?’ Lenski asks.

‘The big woman,’ Norman says. ‘Obese, filthy hair, mouth always covered in chocolate. Stank to high heaven.’

‘She never leave with Tommy friends,’ Lenski says with a show of disgust. ‘Have you seen her?’

‘No. I just thought about her last night when I got back,’ Lilly says. ‘It was raining, and I thought we need to get more of the back rooms cleared.’

‘Ah, yes. She was always skulking about the back rooms, wasn’t she,’ Norman says. ‘Talking of which, Lenski. If we don’t get busy on the bay, I think we need to make that a priority and clear more rooms. There are plenty here we can use.’

‘Can you build in this rain?’ Lenski asks with a look to John.

‘Ha! Don’t ask a builder that,’ Jack says with a laugh. ‘Yeah, love, we can’t work in the rain on account of our hammers getting wet.’

‘Dick,’ John says with a good-natured eyeroll. ‘Go and guard something. And in answer to your question, Lenski… Not really, no. Oh, shut up!’ he calls over the jeers. ‘Our hammers get wet. No, but seriously. We can try.’

Lilly and Mary sip their coffees with a discreet glance as the chats roll on.

George does the same. Drinking his coffee while thinking fast. George also knows it was Pamela, or rather Polina, that told Lilly and Mary about overhearing Patrick, Tyson, Willie, and Elvis. Which, in turn, sparked the anger inside of Mary. Which, of course, was planned for by George. Because it had been him that made the deal with the four men way before Peter was killed.

George was seeking control of the fort, which meant a change of leadership, and installing who George wanted to be in charge. The four lads thought it was them, but that would mean leaving a loose end, and George could not allow that.

Hence setting Pamela up to be found on purpose by Lilly and Mary. Which is why all the chocolate bar wrappers and empty cans of soda were left on the balcony of the restaurant to be found when George suggested they clear that area.

It was only a matter of time then until Lilly went back to nose around, which, in turn, duly sparked their ferocious tempers. So much so that Polina said she almost died in the ensuing violence from Lilly. But then, Polina always did push it right to the edge. Which is why she was so good at what she did, and why she was one of Russia’s best deep cover operatives and now working for the New World Order, along with many other former operatives from around the world, George included.

But it’s also very interesting that neither Mary nor Lilly mentioned that it was Pamela that told them.

Why hide it?

Because they suspect something else is going on. That’s why.

Which means treading carefully.

But then that’s nothing new.

George has been treading carefully his whole life.

That’s why he was recruited, but then George’s world of spies and espionage, despite operating on a big planet filled with billions of people, was really quite a small community, which is how the leaders within the New World Order would have known about George.

And about the fact he had always played second fiddle to Major Henry Campbell-Dillington. One of the most feared and respected security team leaders in the world.

In any other country or team, or even era George would have gained and held the top spot, but not when Major Henry already held it.

That got to George.

It festered inside.

Because men like George have to win, and anything less than winning is failure.

But he convinced himself he was alright with it. He even reached a point in his long relationship with Henry that it didn’t feel like a leader and a subordinate, but rather, two equals side by side.

But then overtime sheets and expenses claims would always have to be signed off, and each mission would have to go through Henry to be greenlit, so even with the most relaxed of working relationships, there was always the feeling and essence of a hierarchy.

The years went on though, and George realised the end was approaching. Retirement was looming, which meant he’d never gain that top spot. He’d settled that in his mind, and thought he’d accepted it.

Then they contacted him.

They said what was coming.

They called it the New World Order.

They said George would be a leader at the very top. Not Henry. George.

He said no, but you don’t say no to people like that. They find a way, and so George ended up working as a double agent, but not for Russia or Iran, or China, or indeed any country at all. In fact, he was working with Russians, Iranians, Chinese, and people from every security organisation across the globe. Planning and preparing for the end.

Making ready for the outbreak and the New World Order that would follow, where they would all live long, healthy lives as Kings and Queens amidst wealth and with absolute power.

George knew Polina had also been recruited. But then he had known Polina for many years. Their paths had crossed many times, and each time resulted in a frantic bout of lovemaking, made all the more exciting because it was so forbidden.

George also knew Polina would be in the fort because that was planned far in advance. The fort was designated to be a site of significance and meant to house, and detain the immunes during the early phases of the outbreak and until the infected had died out.

The outbreak still caught George by surprise. He was on holiday with his wife on a Greek island when it hit because it was released six months prior. Polina had already began prepping her rooms in the tunnels and said she just about got into the fort when it happened and then used the tunnels to get out and gather supplies.

Not that George knew that. Nobody knew anything, and they still don’t. Not even the assets now arriving in the fort.

George spoke to Stanislav, the Russian man he met in the fort when the guy followed him into the disused rooms as though peering in from nothing more than curiosity and found George coming out from the back after finding the half-eaten chocolate bar.

‘These rooms are old and filthy,’ Stanislav said.

‘Indeed. They are,’ George replied politely as he worked through the mounds of junk to get closer. ‘What do you think of these end of times?’ he asked quietly.

‘I think it is the start of the new world order,’ Stanislav replied in the same muted voice with eye-contact held. ‘Why was it early?’ he asked in a rush of words.

‘No bloody idea. Did anyone contact you?’

Stanislav shook his head with a bitter look. ‘We were meant to be five. Three died the first night.’

‘My condolences. We were on a Greek island,’ George said as the guy tutted. ‘The other Russian couple here? Have you checked them?’

‘The man is Russian. The wife is Estonian or Lithuania. I’m not sure, but I said what do you think of these end times? They said it was the start of the new world order.’

‘That’s four of you in then. More might reveal themselves as we go along.’

‘Orders?’ Stanislav asked.

‘As per the original plan. Keep your heads down and stay passive until activated or needed. You’d better go, we don’t want to arouse any suspicion with Lilly.’

‘The young girl? They keep saying she is like a demon here. I don’t see it.’

‘And hopefully you never will,’ George said as Stanislav looked dubious but walked out, and George thought back to the outbreak hitting and how he and Marion headed straight to Henry’s safe house on the coast. Which meant George putting himself back into the complete mindset of being a member of Henry’s team. That was the secret to being deep-cover. The ability to convince yourself, when needed, that you really were that person living that life, which, in turn, meant that you made the right decisions and gave off the right energy.

It also meant feigning all ignorance when Frank and Carmen went undercover in the secret mountain facility and met Neal Barrett. That’s how every agent works because to be truly deep cover, means never slipping and having a mind that can split into two.

George always excelled at that and never made a mistake.

Unless he ever saw Polina, that is.

She was the only thing that ever made him falter.

He knew she was in the fort when he found a note in his trouser pocket when he woke one morning after arriving. A single word in cursive script.

Privet

It meant Polina had got into his and Marion’s room without being seen.

That, in turn, and once Henry had gone off with Howie, led George to start searching the back rooms until he found the half-eaten chocolate bar and left his own note in code, giving instructions for Polina to be caught by Lilly and to snitch up Willie, Elvis, Tyson, and Patrick.

George saw Mary and Lilly go over last night. He tracked them using his night-vision scope and saw what happened in the fort. Which is why he decided to go down into the tunnels and found Polina in her room. He was amazed at the state of her. Disgustingly obese, and she was filthy.

But knowing it wasn’t real made the difference to George, and there was something about it too. Polina had always been slim and incredibly beautiful. So to see her in that way sparked something inside. That he alone knew the woman she truly was and would be again.

There was something terribly sexy about her, and the fact she was so big made George horny as hell. But then they’d always had that passion between them. That air of forbidden temptation. The lure of what you can’t have, coupled with the reality that they could never develop anything past very infrequent sexual encounters, which then made it safe to wish and dream, and conjure lives that could never be, while all the time knowing it really was nothing more than a fuck for the sake of it.

But last night.

Her stomach and her thighs. And her boobs were so big and heavy.

‘And they’re heavier when they’re wet,’ someone says.

‘Nice too,’ he murmurs and blinks at the others looking at him, and quickly replays the conversation, and determines it must be about the wood they use to build the shelters. ‘Yes. Wood, eh? Much heavier when it’s wet,’ he adds to a few agreeable murmurs.

‘All you can do is try,’ Marion says, giving him a loaded look before walking out.

A look that makes almost makes George feel guilty for what he did with Polina.

But men like George don’t feel guilt.

They couldn’t do what they did if they felt things like guilt.

‘I think we’re done? Everyone happy?’ Norman asks, bringing George’s mind back to the meeting. ‘George? Anything further from you?’

‘Nothing we haven’t already said. Try and get some more structures built. I know it’ll be hard, but we don’t know how long this rain will be in for. Ah, yes, before I forget. Captain Janu. Ammunition? How are we looking?’

‘We are low,’ the former Gurkha officer says. ‘Taking into account the rounds used during the last contact, I would suggest we have only enough to repel one serious attack.’

A fresh wave of worry goes through them all.

‘Mary? Have you got much over there?’ Kyle asks.

‘No. I checked last night. The lads let it run down. Eggy said they figured they could get more from here.’

‘Well. That does pose a challenge,’ George says.

‘You can just go and raid somewhere, can’t you?’ John says.

‘Ach, if it were that simple,’ Kyle says. ‘We’re thirty days in, John. Every soldier would have gone for the army ranges and stores, and the stash points would have gone too, unless we can get into London, which we can’t. We’ll have to wait for Henry and Howie and come up with a joint plan.’

‘Agreed,’ George says. ‘Meeting adjourned. Hopefully we’ll have a more comfortable pace today in this rain.’

‘Before you all go,’ Mary says as the chairs start scraping. ‘I’ll be holding morning drills over in our bay,’ she adds with a glance to Lilly. ‘Like Blowers does with his team to keep them sharp. We need to do that. I’ve plenty of girls that want to get stuck in, and I was thinking if any of your immunes over here want to step up and take responsibility for their own safety, and not leave it for everyone else. And the rest of you are welcome too. We need to stay fit. Kat, can you run some basic drills?’

An hour or so later, Lilly turns her face to the sky. Heaving for air and glad of the cold rain on her hot skin. A hard drill. Brutal even. Mary said she wanted to do what Blowers does with his team, and she meant it.

Jogging up and down the road, then relays, and star jumps, and squat thrusters, and push ups before fire and manoeuvre exercises.

‘That was good. Well done, guys,’ Kate calls out. Lean and tough, without an ounce of fat on her frame. Everyone else with flushed cheeks and pouring with sweat.

‘Ye did well, girls!’ Mary says, her flame red hair pulled back as she gives a thumbs up to the women from the camp. More than a dozen of them, with the lads and guys not too stubborn and not too proud to accept Mary’s leadership. Lilly was surprised at how many women came out to do drill and how many were now armed, but as Mary said, they’d never been given the chance to do anything like that before.

‘What do you think then, Blondie?’ Mary asks, strolling over and looking as fresh as anything.

‘I think I’m very unfit,’ Lilly says, waving a hand at her.

‘Ach. Ye not unfit. Ye just not as fit. Especially not that Kate woman. I love her, FYI. Hard as nails. And those Gurkha men. Are you alright there, Father?’ she calls with a laugh at Kyle bent double.

‘Fine! Just checking the ground for something.’

‘Are ye heck as like,’ Mary says. ‘But that was a good start. We’ll build it up and get fitter than anything in no time. Okay, girls! Get washed and changed and don’t forget you take your turns on guard and patrol, and on the walls from now on. We all chip in.’

They flap hands and shout responses as Lilly clocks the way the people that came over from the fort are standing in amongst the people from the camp. ‘A shared endeavour,’ she says to herself, figuring this will help unify them all.

‘Aye. See. I said it was a good thing,’ Mary says. ‘Ye not the only genius, Blondie.’

‘True, but I’m the only evil genius.’

‘Fair point there,’ Mary says, looking past the group to the wall in the distance while thinking back to the attack. ‘How did they know?’

‘Know what?’ Lilly asks, with the words prompting another memory.

‘The infected. How did they know to come over that bit of wall? Literally the only bit not protected by barbed wires.’

‘That’s made me think of George,’ Lilly says.

‘George?’

‘I said to him how did you know? And he said know what, just like I said to you. But I meant his immunity because what else would I be asking about? Clearly meaning how did you know you were immune?’

‘Ah, but George asked know what? So it wasn’t clear to him what you meant.’

‘Exactly,’ Lilly says. ‘So what else could it have been?’

Mary shrugs and clocks the way Lilly is staring past her to the wall.

To the only section of wall left unprotected.

‘How did he know they were coming? That’s what he thought I was asking,’ Lilly says.

‘He saw them,’ Mary says.

‘Well, yes, but he was looking for them. And he had that scope,’ Lilly says, trying to join the dots. ‘The night-vision scope that we thought he only used so the others could see him fighting with bare knuckles and be all impressed.’

‘Right. Got it. Actually, no. I don’t got it. What are ye saying?’

‘He knew. He knew they were coming, and he knew they were coming over that section of wall, which is why he was facing it.’

‘Did ye watch a lot of Bergerac when you were younger? Murder-She-Wrote? Columbo? I liked Columbo… And just one more thing,’ she says in a good mimicry of the famous line.

‘And that’s why they put Bobby on the wall the day after,’ Lilly continues. ‘Because they knew the attack was planned and arranged. Which is why they figured it was safe for Bobby to guard the wall.’

‘Go on, say it… Just one more thing.’

Lilly fixes a serious look at Mary. ‘Just one more thing… We need to talk to Bobby.’

‘Jesus, Bobby,’ Mary says as they look around the two shipping containers, wedged end on end at the edge of the parking area used to store the incoming refugees’ vehicles. Smart sofas and comfy chairs. Bookcases stacked with hardbacks and paperbacks. More shelving filled with vinyl records and DVDs. All of them neat and in line. Side tables adorned with expensive lamps. A thick red, curtain sectioning off one end with a glimpse to a perfectly made double bed covered in posh linen. Rugs on the floor. High-end and thick, but then everything is high-end. And it all looks amazing too. The colours. The themes. The artwork on the walls. Like a billionaire’s penthouse apartment in New York or London.

‘It’s nice to see you, Mary, and Miss Lilly, of course,’ Bobby says with his charming manner. ‘Would you like some tea or coffee? I also have a great selection of wines if ye fancy a tipple.’

‘It’s 9 in the morning, Bobby,’ Mary says.

‘Right ye are, Mary. No wine. Tea, is it? Tea for two? Duncan! Will ye get Mary and Miss Lilly some tea, please?’ he calls to another lad appearing at the end, who darts off as Bobby motions to a set of sofas arranged around a coffee table. ‘Actually, Duncan!’ he yells. ‘Get Miss Lilly a can of that Cherry Cola. She likes the Cherry Cola, she does. Did ye want ice in that, Miss Lilly? With some ice, Duncan!’

Lilly blinks at the young lad in his empire, thirteen at most, but then she’s only sixteen herself. ‘Brave New World,’ she mutters, sitting down on a gorgeous chesterfield as Duncan comes back with a tray. Tea for Mary in a fine porcelain cup and saucer, and a tiny silver teaspoon. Sugar cubes in a bowl with silver tongs. A glass of Cherry Cola for Lilly, with ice cubes clunking and floating within the still fizzing liquid. She doesn’t even like Cherry Cola. She only asked Bobby that one time if he had Cherry Cola because of the empty cans they found in the boatyard, which they later realised were left by Pamela.

Something in Lilly’s mind nags again.

Something, something.

Something not right. As Mary said, it felt like they were played or set up, or something. It’s annoying, and it bugs her. Hence, why they’re here.

‘Ye a little tycoon, so you are, Bobby,’ Mary says.

‘Is that what ye here for?’ Bobby asks, still with his easy, charming smile, but Lilly detects a fleeting hint of worry in his eyes. ‘I know you’re in charge now, Mary, and I’m a big supporter of feminism. I always have been.’

‘Will ye feck off with that shite, Bobby,’ Mary says.

‘Business is business, Mary. And the first rule of business is to not hold hate against anyone. Capitalism works best when people can move freely, and every group feels supported. I support your leadership, Mary.’

‘What the heck is he on about?’ Mary asks.

‘I think Bobby is concerned that the new change of leadership might upset his trading abilities,’ Lilly says.

‘Ah! Are ye shitting yourself a wee bit cos I’m in charge now? But we’re not here to shut you down. We want to-.’

‘Unless you don’t comply,’ Lilly cuts in quickly as Bobby shoots her a look. He knows Mary. He knows how hot-headed she is, but she’s also balanced and kind, and decent. But Lilly is different. Lilly makes Bobby nervous. It’s like talking to a wolf.

‘What is it you want?’ Bobby asks.

‘Information,’ Lilly says.

‘I tell no tales,’ Bobby says quickly, shaking his head. ‘I say the same to everyone. Ye want something. You come and ask, and I’ll get it, and I promise discretion. No questions asked, and I tell no tales.’

Lilly sips the Cherry Cola and puts the glass down on the coffee table, then sits back, and stares across to Bobby. Remembering the lessons from George. Never say more than is needed. Conceal your intentions. She remembers another one too. Appeal to people’s self-interest.

‘Do you like trading freely, Bobby?’ she asks politely.

‘Aye. Of course,’ Bobby says, feeling the tension increase.

‘Because you’re very good at it,’ Lilly says with a sudden bright smile as Mary stays quiet, sensing Lilly has a play at hand. ‘And Mary and I were talking, now that she’s in charge of the camp, and I’ve got the fort, obviously with George, but yes, so Mary and I were thinking it might be good to get you to come over into the fort and offer your trade to people there. We thought that might help them.’

A change in Bobby’s manner and energy as the spark of interest steals into his eyes.

‘I mean. The people in the fort are scared, but there will still be things they want. Music. Movies. Books,’ she says, motioning the things within Bobby’s small palace.

‘Aye. I can do that,’ Bobby says with a guarded look in his eyes.

‘We could set you up with a stall. You come over daily, and people come and see you, and well, yes. I think that would be a very positive service to the fort. What do you think?’

‘I like that idea very much, Miss Lilly, but what do you want for it?’

‘I want you on my side, Bobby.’

‘I tell no tales.’

‘But you will to me,’ Lilly says.

‘To us,’ Mary adds, giving Lilly a look before glancing back to Bobby sitting quietly and thinking hard.

‘I don’t like telling tales,’ Bobby says with a shake of his head. ‘I like freedom to trade.’

‘In my camp,’ Mary says, ‘and in Lilly’s fort, and in our bay.’

‘Ach, Mary.’

‘Ach, Mary yourself, Bobby. Nothing is free in this life. You know that. And we’re not asking a lot. But I don’t know if it escaped your attention, but the bleedin’ apocalypse is going on, and there are things happening.’

‘Who brought the infected here, Bobby?’ Lilly asks, snapping Bobby’s head over as he swallows. ‘How did they know to come over that section of wall?’

‘How would I know that?’

‘I think you do know that.’

‘How? I’m a trader. I look after the cars.’

‘Did you bring the infected here?’

Bobby squirms. Not liking this one bit, but again, his senses tell him to tread very carefully, and he glances to Lilly. Seeing her cold, blue eyes fixed on him while remembering what she does to people. ‘I didn’t bring them here, but I know Tyson and Patrick, and Willie, and Elvis had it planned. But I only knew after. I didn’t know before. I would have told you, Miss Lilly. I swear it.’

Lilly stays silent, with a nod for him to keep going.

‘They said after. They told me to guard the walls with my crew. I said we’re not guards. We do the vehicles and trading. They said I’d get first pick of whatever comes in. I said what about the infected? What if they come again? We’re just kids. We shouldn’t be guarding anything. Tyson said they won’t come. I said how do you know that. He said he knows; then Patrick told me not to worry about that. And I said again, ye can’t ask kids to guard the wall. We can shoot, and we can fight if we must, but we’re not men. But Willie told me we had to do it, and they said the infected won’t come unless they want them to come; then the other three told him to shut the feck up, and they argued, and they told me I didn’t hear Willie say that. But I didn’t bring them, Miss Lilly. I’m not stupid.’

Lilly studies him closely. Seeing the worry play out and the way he speaks and fidgets, and from all those things, she gets the very strong sense that he’s telling the truth. Mary looks to her. Nodding once. Silently saying the same.

‘Do you have anything else to tell me, Bobby?’ Lilly asks.

Bobby nods. ‘There’s a woman.’

‘What woman?’ Mary asks.

‘She’s fat, and she stinks something awful. She pops up in the boat yard, and I seen her around here and by the edge of the camp.’

‘Pamela,’ Lilly says quietly.

‘Aye. Got to be her,’ Mary says. ‘What about her, Bobby?’

‘I just seen her.’

‘Is that it? Ye’ve just seen her? Did she say anything to you?’

‘No, because I can’t get close to her. She disappears like that,’ he says with a click of his fingers. ‘But I can smell her when I go where she was. She stinks something rotten, so she does.’

There’s something not being said. Something in the air, and both Mary and Lilly look at Bobby, waiting for him to continue.

‘I don’t know. I just… Well. I think. I think she brought them here.’

‘The infected?’ Mary asks.

‘Aye. I saw her that day. Earlier. She was at the edge of my parking area, but I was busy, and when I looked again, one of my cars had been taken. I didn’t mind. I mean. They’re not my cars, and there’s plenty there, and if someone takes one urgently, then who am I to stop them? But that car was back after that wee attack we had.’

‘Are you sure?’ Lilly asks.

‘Aye, I’m sure. I know my cars, Miss Lilly. It was an old Lada. Beat up and dented, but those things run forever. I’m telling you for real. If I had my back to the wall and needed a car to get away, I’d pick a Lada over a BMW or a Merc any day of the week.’

‘Get to the point,’ Mary says.

‘The point is it came back. The Lada. Ach. It sounds stupid. But she went out, and she came back, and that attack happened.’

‘And they came over the only unprotected part of the wall,’ Mary says. ‘Which she’d know about if she was skulking around.’

‘Anything else?’ Lilly asks.

‘No. Nothing. I swear it. Miss Lilly. Ye don’t need to put a grenade in my mouth.’

‘Ach, Bobby. Lilly wouldn’t do that,’ Mary says, then thinks for a moment. ‘She probably wouldn’t do that.’

‘Okay. Thank you, Bobby,’ Lilly says. ‘Do not repeat any of this to anyone else. Do you understand?’

‘Aye,’ Bobby says. ‘So what you said about the fort?’

‘You can trade there. You have my direct permission. But you report anything weird to me and Mary. Not to anyone else.’

‘I’m not a snitch.’

‘Do ye want to trade or not?’ Mary asks.

‘And just so you know,’ Lilly says as she stands up with her own charming smile. ‘This is how capitalism works. You help us, and we let you build your business up.’

‘And will ye stop any competitors?’ Bobby asks.

‘Ye cheeky shit, Bobby!’

‘Miss Lilly just said it. This is how capitalism works. I grease the wheels, so I can trade, but my payoff is you don’t let anyone else compete with me.’

‘And who the feck is going to compete with you?’ Mary asks.

‘That’s fine,’ Lilly says. ‘I’ll make sure Lenski and Norman know. Deal?’ she asks, offering her hand.

‘Aye. I’ll take that deal,’ he says, shaking her hand. ‘Are there any red lines for you, Miss Lilly?’

‘What’s a red line?’

‘Anything prohibited?’

‘Prohibited? What like?’

‘People ask for things, Miss Lilly. They want chocolates. They want a book. They want something to drink to help them sleep. They want some medicines. They want a porno mag or a mucky movie.’

‘Bobby!’ Mary says.

‘I’m not bothered. No drugs, though. I mean like hard drugs,’ Lilly says.

‘Cannabis?’ Bobby asks.

‘Do ye have cannabis?’ Mary asks.

‘No?’ Bobby says with a comical expression.

‘I’m really not bothered,’ Lilly says. ‘But no heroin or cocaine, or anything like that.’

‘Got it,’ Bobby says.

‘Bobby? Do you have heroin and cocaine?’ Mary asks.

‘Why? Do ye want some?’

‘Bobby!’

‘What?! Okay. I’ll get rid of the hard stuff.’

They step out into the pouring rain, tugging waterproof coats on and trying to keep their rifles dry as they head back towards the bay through the camp.

‘Did you believe him?’ Lilly asks.

‘Aye. I’ve known Bobby his whole life. I think he was worried and wanted it off his chest.’

Lilly nods. Thinking that makes sense.

‘And I can see my brother saying that,’ Mary adds. ‘Willie would blurt something like that out.’

She falls silent, with her face growing hard as even Lilly detects the change in energy.

‘Are you okay?’ she asks and reaches out to touch Mary’s hand.

‘Ach, look at you learning empathy,’ Mary says, blinking the tears away.

‘With the people I care about,’ Lilly says, gaining another searching look from Mary as they come out of the camp onto the road now packed with cars and more new arrivals. ‘In this rain?’ Lilly asks, meaning nobody thought Howie would keep fighting in this weather, especially not after Gatwick yesterday.

‘They’re from Rye,’ Eggy calls over as Lilly radios the fort to get some people over to process the arrivals.

‘They were amazing!’ a woman says. ‘Oh my god. They were just like… And Donna and Jim kicked off, but then I feel so bad cos I went for Donna, and then someone shot Jim… Are they here? Can I say sorry?’

‘Who?’ Lilly asks, trying to keep up.

‘The pink hats!’ Linda says, the woman that went for Donna and Jim in Rye.

‘Pink hats?’ Mary asks.

‘They all had pink hats on,’ someone else says.

‘They were berries,’ someone else calls.

‘Berets. Not berries.’

‘Berets?’ Lilly asks.

‘The pink hats!’ Linda says, nodding eagerly. ‘The berets. They were all pink, and they told us to come here. Mr Howie and Dave, and Paula, and Marcy, and that great big fella.’

‘That’s such a good idea, though,’ a guy says as they all cluster around Lilly and Mary while Eggy slides off to avoid getting sucked into any demanding work. ‘Wearing pink like that. Genius!’

‘That’s their thing, right? Like my uncle said the UN wear blue, or was it white?’ another man says. ‘But yours is pink!’

‘Pink,’ Lilly says, knowing Howie’s group enough to know there must have been some kind of joke or bet going on, which meant they all ended up wearing pink berets. But she can also see the effect it has had, and again, the lessons from George run through her mind. Always be bold. Court attention. Play to fantasies. Build hope. Work on the hearts and minds. And one other. Master the art of timing.

Her mind runs fast, but then Reginald always did say Lilly was hyper intelligent, and she smiles that charming grin that floods her features with warmth. ‘Yes, pink! That’s our colour. Mary, are your girls bringing our pink armbands out?’

‘Pink armbands?’ Mary asks, detecting the urging prompt in Lilly’s tone and manner. ‘Right! Yes! They’re bringing them right now. I’ll go and check. We had to wash them. The weather the last few days. So hot and dusty! And then this rain.’

‘We thought everyone would be in pink hats,’ Linda says.

‘Well, our bravest fighters get the hats,’ Lilly says, winging it on the spot. ‘And the rest of us show our solidarity by wearing pink armbands or other, er, pink things? When they’ve been washed. So, Rye then? The coastal place, right? We’ve actually lost comms with Mr Howie, but did they all seem okay?’

‘I think the little fella with the glasses lost some fingers, but they took a boat and set fire to the town, and then got us all out,’ Linda says. ‘I feel so bad though. We had this couple called Donna and Jim being right cunts to us. Kept the food all locked up and threatening us with this shotgun, so like, soon as we got outside I just lost it.’

She chats on as Mary moves back into Lilly’s side and quickly wraps a freshly cut length of what looks like a pink bed sheet around Lilly’s upper arm while sporting her own.

‘Yeah, and so I went for them, and it all went off, and we must have seem so ungrateful. And that Mr Howie seemed so angry, but we didn’t blame him. Poor guys. They are bloody heroes doing all of that. Going from town to town. Oh, you’ve got a pink armband on! See. I said they’d be in pink,’ Linda calls to the others. Most of them too shocked to realise Lilly and Mary didn’t have them on a moment ago.

‘I can see the boat with the bay workers coming in,’ Lilly says, taking a bunch of pink strips from Mary as she quickly skirts the new arrivals and rushes over the beach.

‘In this weather?’ Norman asks.

‘Sounds like a one off,’ Lilly says. ‘Something happened to Reginald. They took a boat and brought him back or something. I don’t know. But put one of these on.’

‘What are these?’ Anika asks as she and Doctor Ann get handed one each.

‘Howie and his team are all wearing pink berets, and these survivors are saying how positive that was for them.’

‘Okay. Right. So, it’s like a badge thing then?’ Norman asks. ‘Like the UN always wear blue, or was it white?’

‘I love pink,’ Anika says, wrapping one around Ann’s arm.

‘Sandy!’ Lilly calls, handing more over the edge of the boat. ‘Get these over and tell Lenski to get every section head a pink armband. I’ll explain later.’

‘Weird, but okay,’ Sandy says and there it starts.

There on the beach. Just in the same way it did for Howie in Rye, with them all wearing pink berets. A simple thing done for a joke, but things catch on and can become icons with meanings far beyond what they were ever intended – and by the end of that day, a day filled with non-stop rain, every section head in the fort and every guard in the camp is wearing a pink armband.

‘Good work, Lilly!’ George says later in the evening in the offices when he finally gets her alone. ‘Brilliant. Truly brilliant. You saw an opportunity and took it! And look how it’s caught on!’

‘I remembered your lessons,’ Lilly says. ‘Master the art of timing.’

‘I knew you had great skills in you, Lilly! Do you see the unity you’ve brought about? It’s become a thing we can use to sell that hope and keep people positive. Pink!’ he adds with a laugh at his own armband. ‘Next time we see Henry or Howie, we’ll nab some of the berets they’ve got.’

He sits down with a grin and a chuckle and lifts his mug of tea to drink.

‘You seem happy,’ Lilly says.

‘Indeed. I think we’ve turned a corner. You and I, I mean. We’ve got that balance now. You’re out there on the ground being a visible leader, and I’m in the back office. All well with Mary? I heard you both went to see Bobby.’

Lilly shows no reaction but nods amiably. ‘I had an idea to let him trade in the fort. People need things. He said he even supplies dirty magazines,’ she adds with a chuckle.

‘Well. People do have needs. And what harm does it do? That’s fine. Another great idea. Well done. Bobby could be a good asset too. You should tell him that’s how capitalism works. We let him trade, and he keeps his eyes and ears open. What’s that smile for? Ah, already said it to him, did you? My word. You really are as sharp as Reginald said, eh?’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘And this smiling suits you. Being hard-faced is good when you need it, Lilly, but charm nearly always works better, and then,’ he adds, leaning closer with a glint in his eye. ‘When you need to be really vicious, you switch like that!’ he clicks his fingers like Bobby did earlier. ‘And it reminds them just how bloody dangerous you are.’

‘Thank you. I enjoy these lessons with you, George. I’m learning a lot.’

‘We want the same thing, Lilly. I am not your enemy.’

‘I understand that now.’

‘Good. Good! Wonderful stuff. Pink! Genius. Who do you think came up with that? My money’s on Cookey.’

‘Pink is more a Marcy thing perhaps?’ Lilly says.

‘Ah! Yes. Marcy. Pink. Well, we shall have a wager on it. I say Cookey. You say Marcy. The loser makes the other one’s tea for a day. How about that?’

Lilly can’t help but smile at the charm and energy coming from George. Something has changed. He’s almost glowing.

‘Anything else to report?’ George asks.

‘Er, no. I don’t think so. Mary wants the drills to continue. It has helped the two sides come together. And she’s got quite a few of the women from the camp being trained to be guards. And I did chase them up, but Eggy and the others are all saying they can’t build the wall in this weather. The trucks will sink in the grass in this rain. I ran it past John and Pardip, and they said they were right.’

George nods. But Lilly gets the impression he’s not really paying attention.

‘Well. I’m sure we can get back to it once this weather is calmer. Right. Well. You must be hungry. Head over to the canteen and get some food. I’m going for a walk.’

‘Of course,’ she says, standing up as he springs to his feet and heads out. ‘See you in the morning, George.’

‘Yes. See you, Lilly.’

She heads out after him. Aiming for the canteen while figuring she might go back over to the camp and see Mary again.

But she clocks George walking towards the back and can’t help but notice how he walks in the shadows. Something about it.

Something, something.

She slows and turns to head after him, then remembers who he is, and the very great skills he possesses, which means he will surely detect any attempt to follow him.

She watches him disappear somewhere near the back and mentally marks the rough area, and slowly works her way over to far end of the fort. Dark shadows and doors leading to rooms as yet uncleared. Most of them filled with junk and rats.

She’s sure he went this way.

But why?

Anyone going for a walk would go up top and walk the outer wall, so they can see the lights on the camp. Everyone does it. Even now in the rain.

But then she remembers what Bobby said.

That he thought Pamela brought the infected here.

And again, she remembers asking George how he knew, except George didn’t know what she meant. Which means there were two things he knew in advance.

One was that he was immune.

The other was that he knew the attack was coming.

And if Bobby was right, and Pamela did bring the infected here, then it means George and Pamela must know each other, and Pamela does like filthy back rooms filled with junk and rats.

‘Just one more thing,’ she whispers as she turns to head off, knowing what the next part of her and Mary’s mission is.

To find Pamela.

4

Sunday, 14th August

Day Thirty-One

‘Blondie?’

‘What?’

‘It’s raining.’

A snort of laughter from Lilly at the way Mary says it while sitting in the boat with her feet up. Wearing a big, waterproof, hooded smock and sipping hot tea from the plastic lid-cup of a thermos.

It rained all day yesterday and last night too, and it’s a hard rain. Lashing down with a relentless barrage of water falling from the sky.

It’s certainly stopped all the work. The wall can’t be built in this rain.

‘We should focus on clearing the rooms in the walls,’ Lilly said at morning prayers.

‘Already in hand,’ Norman replied. ‘George sat down with Lenski and I yesterday and worked a plan out. We’re going to start on the east side rooms.’

‘They’re the worst ones,’ Lilly said and just stopped herself from saying surely you should do the easiest ones at the back first.

But that something, something came back into her head. She figured that maybe George directed them to the east side to keep them away from the far end where she saw him disappear.

‘But yes. That’s great. You guys know what you’re doing,’ she added instead.

‘Bit worried about those back rooms at the far end actually,’ George said. ‘I’ve been checking them all over. And there’s some nasty cracks in the walls. Worried if we disturb it too much, the ceilings might come down.’

‘Ah, yes, good thinking actually,’ Norman said.

‘Aye. Best to stick to the east side for now,’ Kyle added. ‘There’ll not be much else going on, I shouldn’t think. Not in this rain.’

That was it, and Lilly let the conversation flow on while biding her time to find a way into the rooms.

Later, while everyone else pottered about and stopped to have endless chats about the rain, which Lilly hated, she figured to go spearfishing, and no sooner than later, she was on a boat with Mary. Seeing that Mary had by then discovered that being the camp leader and dealing with constant questions was actually kind of annoying.

Which is why she appointed Eggy as deputy.

‘Eggy is now the deputy leader,’ she proclaimed while in the middle of a hubbub of questions and queries.

‘Am I feck!’ Eggy said in panic at having to do some actual work.

‘What are you griping about? Do ye know what a deputy does? They get someone to make them tea all day, and they sit down, and the people come and ask questions, and they dispense their wisdom, or some shite like that.’

‘Ah, well. If it’s sitting down and dispensing shite, then I’m your man,’ Eggy said and duly told Kathy to make him some tea. Kathy told him to feck off and make his own tea, so Eggy deputised someone else, who then deputised someone else, which ended up with pretty much everyone in the camp deputised in some form or another.

But it did mean Mary could scarper and hide in a big smock on a boat with a thermos of tea while Lilly played at being a seal.

‘Ye fecking nuts, Blondie,’ Mary said when they stopped the boat out to sea a little but still in good sight of the bay, the beach, and the fort. And the people looking over from the ramparts and out of the beach containers at Lilly wearing shorts and a wet-suit vest, pulling goggles on, and gripping a walloping great big speargun, in a boat, with Mary drinking tea.

‘Those two are bloody nuts,’ Anika said while sheltering on the beach in her sports gear after drill, while all the time wearing a thick, pink armband, as was everyone else. The sight of the spear made her think of arrows and how much she missed Roy. Anika thought about him a lot since they slipped off into the dunes with a bottle of rum the night of Clarence’s boat.

What really stood out was that for a man as handsome as Roy and for the skills he possessed with his bow, there wasn’t the least trace of vanity about him. If anything, she saw a raw vulnerability.

‘And now I won’t ever get sick,’ he told her, and she saw the depth of his confusion in his eyes. ‘And my head. You know? It can’t grasp that because I’ve used the fear of dying as a way of coping with the world. But anyway. Enough. You’ll be running off if I keep going.’

Anika didn’t want to run off at all. The way he spoke made her want to kiss him. So she did. Then they had another kiss, and one thing led to another. Which is not something Anika would ever dream of doing. But it was the end of the world, and Roy was charming, attentive, and caring, and utterly bonkers, but in a way that Anika found very alluring.

They made love on the beach, which quite a lot of people did that night, such as Nick and Tappy, and then later, Lilly and Mary.

But they also made love several more times after that.

And in the morning too. In the sea.

Which was the single most erotic thing Anika had ever done.

Now it’s hard not hearing from him. She keeps reaching for a phone that isn’t there. All she can do is hope that he’s okay. But as he said himself, ‘We’ve become very hard to kill. Which Howie doesn’t like hearing. He doesn’t like the idea of us being the same as the infection. Howie hates that.’

It was a remarkable insight, albeit fleeting because the night soon ended, and things happened, and then Roy was gone.

Now she sips from a mug of tea and stares out to Lilly slipping into the water, with Mary passing her the speargun. Then she’s gone. Diving down for a long minute.

When she surfaces, she’s not alone, and they all spot the big, round head of the seal bobbing nearby.

‘I wouldn’t do that for all the tea in China,’ someone mutters.

‘Same,’ someone else says. ‘I know they’re passive, but seals do go for people. I’ve seen it on YouTube. Especially if they’ve got young nearby.’

But Lilly doesn’t feel that same sense of fear as everyone else, and so she treads water and waits, and watches the creature’s big, round eyes. The rain lashing down. The sea as flat and calm as anything.

It flips over and dives down. She goes after it. Seeing it through the goggles, swimming gracefully towards the depths. She swims after it. Using her flippers to try and keep up as the twisted metal of broken cars and vehicles come into view on the seabed. Dark shapes that look sinister and dangerous.

A flash of silver. A shoal of big fish dart out. Fat and long, and the seal moves like a missile. Becoming sleek and fast, and with a twitch of its tail, it takes one from the side and surges up to surface.

Lilly pops up a second or so later. Thrilled at the sight and still feeling the urge to eat a raw fish. Watching the way the seal devours it. Chomping away until the thing stops flapping.

She thinks it will stop now it’s eaten, and for a few moments, it seems content to just paddle or float, or bob, or whatever they do, and watch Lilly as Lilly watches it.

Then, the same as before, it flips and dives, and again, Lilly goes with it, but she gets ahead of herself, as is her character, and startles the shoal away before the seal has a chance to position, and in a clear act of retaliation, the seal gives her a solid body bump to the side.

They surface again, with the seal further away, projecting an aura of being pissed off.

‘Did ye get one yet?’ Mary asks from the boat.

‘Not yet,’ Lilly says and waits to dive again, this time staying behind the seal and watching what it does. How it moves. The way it first finds the shoal, and then how it positions to make the shoal move out so it can snag a fish from the outer edges.

Up and down she goes. Over and over. Becoming obsessed with the act of it. Thinking of nothing else. Only that she must catch a fish. She fires the speargun three times, but each time it goes wide, and she has to hand it to Mary to reload for her.

‘I’m getting cold, Blondie,’ Mary tells her while pulling the firing band back.

‘Go back then. I’ll swim over when I’m done.’

Mary takes the boat back to the beach and walks past the others still hanging around in the containers and into her caravan to put on a thick winter jumper and leggings, then back out under her smock, but she stops and thinks, and goes back in to grab a book, and then heads over the beach, into her boat, and back out to sea.

‘I thought you were going back,’ Lilly says when she surfaces again.

Mary just tuts and tries to find a way to read her book without it getting soaked while Lilly dives back down, and then again and again, over and over. Watching. Learning.

She surfaces again. Exhausted and wanting to stop, except she can’t because she hasn’t won yet.

She dives down again. They go deeper into the waters. She nears the seabed. Seeing a car filled with dead bodies. Two corpses in the front. Three in the back. She doesn’t know how or why, only that they are there, and mostly eaten away by sea creatures. No hair. No eyes. Fat and bloated, and very white.

A flash of silver catches her eye as a big shoal swim inside the car to nibble at the bodies. Lilly looks for the seal. Expecting it to dive and send the shoal out. She spots it holding position further away, and from the angle of her and the shoal, and the seal, she gains the very strong sense that the seal is waiting for her to send the fish to it.

She twitches her flippers. Surging down and aiming the gun, but not firing. Getting closer. Seeing the fat, silver, scaly bodies seemingly content. They spot her. They move towards the seal. It turns quickly, snagging one as the shoal darts back towards Lilly. A chance to take. She fires and spears a big fish through the side. An urge to shout and whoop. and she strikes up for the surface.

‘Ye got one!’ Mary shouts, her voice drifting over, with the people looking from the shore and from the ramparts to Lilly holding a big fish up.

A cheer from both sides. Voices whooping. People clapping. Bored by the rain and glad of something to see.

‘That’s gonna be nice all fried up,’ someone says in the container on the shore.

But Lilly doesn’t want to fry it up.

That wasn’t the reason for spending the whole day in the sea.

‘No…’ Mary says, holding a finger out as Lilly lifts the still living fish towards her mouth. ‘The fecking thing’s still moving!’

‘Did she just bloody bite it?’ Doctor Carlton asks in the container. ‘Am I seeing things?’

‘Nope. She’s definitely biting it,’ Anika says as they all watch Lilly biting into the side of the fish, chomping down the same way as the seal. Chewing the flesh and the bones, and the scales. Feeling the salty warmth of the meat in her mouth. Biting it again. Tearing chunks out of it.

Something about it.

Something very real.

‘Is it nice?’ Mary asks.

‘Not really,’ Lilly says as Mary bursts out laughing.

‘Why you still eating it then?’

‘Because I caught and killed it.’

‘Aye. I guess there’s sense in that. Let me try a bit.’

Lilly swims over, passing the spear up with the now dead fish still on the side as Mary takes a small, delicate bite and chews thoughtfully before nodding and taking another bigger mouthful.

‘Do you like it?’ Lilly asks.

‘Aye. Love it.’

‘Do you want another one?’

‘No! One’s enough. Do ye want some more?’

‘You have it,’ Lilly says.

‘Ye trying to woo me there, Blondie? Being all alpha and catching me a fish.’

‘Something like that,’ Lilly laughs. ‘We need to find a reason to get into the back rooms in the fort.’

‘Your mind doesn’t stop, does it?’ Mary says, eating the rest quite happily. ‘We’ll find a way in.’

‘Do you think Bobby has any night vision goggles?’ Lilly asks.

‘I should think that wee shite probably has a cruise missile somewhere.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen of the fort. The Pink Shop is now open and ready for trading. Please, find us in the big, pink tent next to the canteen.’

‘Where the feck did he get a pink tent from?’ Mary asks as they stare down into the fort from the upper rampart later that evening.

Lilly can see it. A big, pink marquis tent, high enough to walk into and with pink fairy lights all around it. Right next to the canteen too. ‘Bobby told everyone we’d ordered him to do it,’ Lilly says. ‘And he told Jaspal that he had to announce when he was open.’

‘We’ve created a monster,’ Mary whispers, shaking her head at the temerity of the lad.

‘There’s George,’ Lilly says, spotting George come out of the offices and head towards the canteen, but he veers off with a quizzical smile and heads past the queues into Bobby’s new shop.

Lilly holds position on the upper part of the fort, watching everyone below.

‘How’s Eggy enjoying being deputy?’ Lilly asks while they wait.

‘Oh, he hated it at first. Now he’s all puffed up and strutting about. He even put a pink armband on. He said you’ll never get me in one of those bloody things when I offered him one.’

‘Are you regretting taking charge?’

‘Nah. He knows I’m the boss, but I can’t be doing with all the questions. Mary, I don’t want to be with my Jordan no more. Can I leave him? Mary, I think I might be gay too. Will you tell me ma. Mary, I took a big shite, and now my toilet is blocked. Peter used to get someone to plunge it.’

‘Painful.’

‘Aye. It really is. I can see why you got deputies now and let them deal with it. Georgie’s coming out, so he is. Look at him laughing. I see what you mean now. He’s got a spring in his step. Where’s he going?’

‘He’s heading to the back again. Let’s go up and see which room he goes into.’

They stick to the shadows and track George heading towards the far end and into the deep, dark shadows. But they catch another glimpse when he crosses a light spill up in the far corner and then as he heads along and once more disappears.

‘That’s the old armoury,’ Lilly whispers. ‘That’s where Lani blew herself up.’

‘Is that when Howie did the dirty with her on the desk and came out with his pants down?’

‘Apparently,’ Lilly says, frowning into her hood. ‘But why go into those rooms?’

‘Changing his route,’ Mary says as Lilly looks at her wide eyed.

‘You bloody genius!’

‘Am I? I mean. Ahem. Of course, I am,’ Mary says.

‘There must be more than one entrance or tunnel, or whatever they’re using.’

‘Ye still think he’s going to see that Pammie?’

‘Why else would he disappear? And if she led the infected here, and George knew the attack was going to happen, then they must be working together.’

‘Pamela though? The Pamela? The fat one? The stinky, greasy haired woman?’

‘Yes.’

‘No. I’m not buying it. She’s thicker than a thick shite.’

Lilly purses her lips. Knowing what Mary said makes sense, and that actually Pamela is most likely suffering quite severe learning difficulties.

But something though.

Something, something.

‘Let’s go and see that shop,’ Lilly says, sensing they need to be seen and visible to avoid any hint of them snooping around.

They head down the long slope to the ground level proper and around the packed canteen. The windows steamed up from the hot food and hot people inside and the humid air.

It looks cosy though. So do the new structures put up. Warm, orange lights inside. Just barracks for the most part. Shared rooms with beds for single women with children and more of the orphaned kids they keep taking in.

Another one under construction. John and Pardip said they couldn’t build in this weather, until Bobby marched in at the head of a squad of workers and quickly got them putting a base down and erecting a tent, and filling it with stock and shelving.

‘So, you really can’t build in this weather, eh?’ Norman asked as John and Pardip cleared their throats.

They head into the new store. The Pink Shop painted in nice lettering on a sign inside. Good lighting, and the floor feels solid and even. A counter at the back laden with books and magazines. Shelves to the sides filled with snacks, sweets, candies, fizzy pop, and all manner of things. Another shelving unit behind the counter with beers and wines on display. Posters on the shelves. Paintings in frames. Mirrors and stools. Pillows and bedding. Hairbrushes and all the little things someone might suddenly need.

A pretty, young woman behind the counter grins as they enter. ‘Welcome to The Pink Shop,’ she says in a voice which is distinctly not from the camp.

‘Aye ye alright there, Mary?’ Duncan asks, walking out from a hidden back area with another attractive young woman. Both of them with boxes filled with DVD’s that they start stacking neatly on the shelving.

‘How they supposed to watch those?’ Mary asks.

‘With the units we’re renting out,’ Duncan says, nodding to the counter and the young woman showing them a small, battery-operated DVD player with built in screen. ‘That’s Jessie, by the way, and this is Roxy.’

‘Hello!’ Jessie and Roxy say.

‘And where are they from? Is Bobby trading in people now?’ Mary asks.

‘I’m not a trafficker, Mary!’ Bobby calls, leaning into view. ‘They’re from the fort. I asked if they’d wanted to work for me. And I pay a fair wage, I do. First rule of business. Look after your team.’

‘You’ve a lot of first rules, Bobby,’ Mary says.

‘Looks nice though,’ Lilly says with a genuine nod.

‘It makes me happy that you say that, Miss Lilly. Mr George said the same thing just now, he did. And Father Kyle was here before. He said to mind I don’t trade the porno mags to children or any booze.’

‘Jesus,’ Mary says. ‘Don’t Jessie and Roxy mind you trading those?’

‘People have needs,’ Jessie says as the other one nods. ‘And it’s like totally up to a woman what she does with her body.’

‘S’totally feministism,’ Roxy says.

‘Feminism, but close enough,’ Bobby says, having justified his actions with a very charming speech when he first talked them into working for him. Mainly because they were very pretty, and beauty sells. ‘Did ye want to see the back area?’ he adds with a look to Mary and Lilly that suggests they do, indeed, want to see the back area.

They go past the counter into a small room filled with a desk and a swivel chair and wait as Bobby drapes a thick curtain across the gap to seal them in. ‘I’ve got something to report,’ he whispers.

‘Aye. Well, go on then,’ Mary prompts.

‘Are ye up for another trade?’

‘Another fecking trade? You’ve blagged all this using our bloody names!’ Mary whispers at him.

‘Aye. Cos that was the deal we had, and now I want to expand on that.’

‘Expand? How about I expand your nose across your face?’

‘What do you want?’ Lilly asks, unable to stop herself feeling impressed at the lad.

‘I want to set up a wee bar.’

‘A fecking bar?’ Mary asks.

‘A bar?’ Lilly asks.

‘Aye. A bar. Like a pub.’

‘No,’ Lilly says.

‘Ach, but will ye listen to my reasons.’

‘No,’ Lilly says again. ‘What information do you have?’

‘What do I get?’

‘Bobby!’ Mary whispers at him.

‘How about a café?’ Lilly asks.

‘A café?’ Mary and Bobby ask at the same time.

‘Yes. Like a coffee bar or hangout place.’

‘I’m right next to the canteen.’

‘He’s right next to the canteen,’ Mary says at the same time.

‘Yes, but people go there for their meals because they have to. It’s the only place. But they could come to your diner café coffee bar whatever after or before and sit, and chill, and listen to music.’

A slight pause as Bobby assesses the negotiations, then thrusts his hand out. ‘Deal.’

‘Okay,’ Lilly says, taking his hand. ‘Report then.’

‘George asked me to spy for him,’ Bobby whispers. ‘He came in just now and said he loved it all, and came in here, and closed the curtain, and he said he’d make sure good things happen if I tell him things I see or hear before I tell anyone else.’

‘My immediate concern, Bobby, is the speed in which you just told me that, which makes me wonder if you said the same thing to George about our deal,’ Lilly says.

‘I would not do that. I swear it, Miss Lilly,’ Bobby says quickly. ‘I don’t like this. I don’t want to do any of it, but I’ve seen you kill, and I won’t cross you, and everyone saw you eat that live fish, so they did, and I won’t cross someone who does that.’

‘Did you tell George your plans for the bar?’

‘No. I said I wanted to expand, but he didn’t seem like he was listening all that much… And I got you something, Miss Lilly. Mary asked me earlier. They’re top notch, so they are,’ Bobby says, pulling two pairs of night vision goggles from a box.

‘What do you want for them?’ Lilly asks.

‘Nothing. They’re a gift.’

‘Bobby, I won’t take things without paying.’

‘Just give me your protection.’

‘I’m not a gangster.’

‘You’re the biggest fecking gangster there is,’ Bobby says honestly. ‘Apart from Mr Howie, but I don’t think he’d shake me down like you do.’

‘I’m not shaking you down!’ Lilly says as they both look at him. ‘Whatever. Yes, to the café thing, but no to the bar. And thank you for these,’ Lilly says as Mary takes them to hide under her smock.

‘Can I ask a question?’ Bobby asks as they turn to leave. ‘Is it true the seabed is covered in bodies?’

Lilly nods.

‘Don’t the fish eat them?’ Bobby asks, staring at her with something between horror and awe.

‘Yes,’ Lilly says.

‘I ate that fecking fish!’ Mary says, gagging at the realisation.

‘Fish eat other fish, and animals eat other animals, and we still eat them,’ Lilly says with a shrug, heading out into the rain.

They drift past the canteen. Seeing Kyle inside with Norman and Lenski, and the others, along with people from the fort and a few from the camp too. Lilly slows. Watching Kyle talking earnestly with Lenski and Norman, and the other section heads, and that Christine woman, the child psychologist. She marvels at how Kyle’s thrown himself into his life here. Lenski too, and Norman. The sight of them prompts a sudden sense of longing. That Lilly could have that too and forget all about shady politics and fake attacks, and Pamela, and George. She could just leave them to whatever is going on and go inside, and deal with the distribution of toilet rolls or whatever they’re all talking about.

‘No! I’ll bloody ask her, and I know what she’ll say,’ Norman says, pushing to his feet and striding for the door as Lilly curses and looks for an exit strategy, and fails dismally as Norman rushes out while tugging his waterproof on. ‘Lilly! I was about to look for you. We need you.’

‘I’ll head back to camp. Come find me,’ Mary says as Lilly nods and follows Norman inside.

‘Bit of a debate going on,’ Norman explains. ‘And we can’t find George either, and the radios aren’t working too well in this rain. Right. That new structure,’ he says, pointing at the next big building nearing completion. ‘And I know we’re desperate for proper living space, but I’ve been chasing them around all bloody day. And they stole John’s hammer.’

‘They nicked more than my hammer!’ John says.

‘Who did?’ Lilly asks.

‘Those bloody kids,’ Norman says. ‘They’re turning feral! Amna and Milly got it into their heads they could be builders and-.’

‘They had our hammers and our saws,’ John says.

‘They’re lucky they didn’t hurt themselves,’ Pardip says.

‘Is just kids,’ Lenski says.

‘Who are expressing their deep trauma,’ Christine says in that weird tone with too much sincerity that makes Lilly cringe inwardly.

‘What’s the debate then?’ Lilly asks.

‘The new structure!’ Norman says.

‘What about it?’ Lilly asks.

‘You haven’t asked her, ye daft twazzock,’ Kyle says.

‘See. I’m all flustered because of those bloody children,’ Norman says. ‘What I’m saying is it needs to be a schoolhouse.’

‘Hey! Whoa! I find that word oppressive,’ Christine says, instantly triggered. ‘That term makes reference to a colonial past that caused suffering to many marginalised groups.’

‘Oh, sod off,’ Norman says. ‘You are made of glass, Christine. Everything upsets you. That needs to be a schoolhouse, so we can trap those kids inside.’

‘We are not trapping them!’ Christine says.

‘We bloody are! We’re locking them inside. Dressed in Victorian outfits. Writing I will not be a twat on slates!’

‘And again? What’s the debate?’ Lilly asks.

‘Cos I say no,’ Lenski says. ‘We need houses. Kids can sit in a tent or run, and have fun.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Lilly says, seeing the two most influential people in the fort have disagreed on something. ‘Kyle?’

‘I can see both sides,’ Kyle says.

‘Get off the fence!’ Norman says. ‘You’re turning into Christine.’

‘Er, excuse me!’ Christine says.

‘Just put it to a vote,’ Lilly says.

‘We did!’ Norman says.

‘We’re split, Lilly,’ Aggie calls. ‘Even me and Sunnie can’t agree.’

‘And we agree on everything,’ Sunnie says.

‘Okay. School then,’ Lilly says.

‘Yes!’ Norman says as half the people cheer, and the others protest.

‘Okay. Wow. That’s actually very decisive,’ Christine says.

‘Our Lilly excels at snap decisions,’ a voice says from behind. Lilly rolls her eyes, not needing to turn to know it’s Doctor Lisa sitting at another table.

‘The children need structure,’ Lilly says.

‘Said the sixteen-year-old child,’ Lisa says.

‘And they need time to vent and express themselves. Find a way to do both,’ Lilly tells the others. ‘Anything else? I need to get on.’

‘Not staying?’ Lisa asks with a vicious sneer as Lilly turns to head out and pauses to stare down for a very long second. Her head partially covered by her hood, and a very great silence falls within the canteen as Lisa offers a petty smile, and Lilly says nothing at all but stares down like the wolf she is. Then she’s gone and striding off into the rain. ‘What? Did I offend your precious princess?’ Lisa asks into the quiet room.

‘Well,’ Norman says, turning away from her. ‘They do say a benign dictator is the best form of society.’

‘Oh, but things rarely stay benign,’ Lisa says. ‘And I do wonder why we aren’t holding an election. Surely, we should be voting for our leaders? George? Norman? Lenski? Why Lilly? What does she actually do?’

‘She keep us alive,’ Lenski says in her hard tone.

‘We have professional soldiers now,’ Lisa says. ‘But hey. Don’t speak out, Lisa. Any opposition is seen as dissent and will lead to execution.’

‘Will ye stop saying execution!’ Kyle says.

‘She executed Tommy! She threw a grenade into a room full of children. I saw their injuries when they got carried into the clinic! The few that were still alive anyway! This is all so cliquey and sycophantic, it makes me queasy.’

‘Go and see a doctor then,’ John quips, earning laughs as Lisa slowly gets up.

‘Obviously one cannot express an opinion under the Lilly dictatorship,’ she says and walks out, with Kyle clocking the looks on some of the others faces as Lisa’s next bout of rot starts to spread. He tuts darkly. Figuring this fort may never truly know peace while also wondering where the bloody hell George keeps disappearing off to.

5

Monday, 15th August

Day Thirty-Two

‘Have ye ever seen anything like it?’ Kyle asks from the door to the offices. Staring out at the rain coming down harder than ever. Three days since Gatwick. No new arrivals. No news from Howie. Just rain. Driving, lashing rain.

‘Belize,’ Jock says.

‘Mawsynram,’ Captain Janu says. ‘Northeast India. It was said to have the highest annual rainfall. I went there a few years ago.’

‘What was it like?’ Kyle asks.

‘It rained.’

Snorts and chuckles from the guards and builders loafing in the offices. Everyone in the fort and the camp sheltering in one way or another. In tents and sheds. In caravans and shipping containers.

Apart from Lilly diving with the seal to spear fish, but this time handing them to Mary in the boat to be taken into the fort for Sunnie and Aggie to make fresh fish stew.

She dives again. Learning to go deep and work along the mangled wrecks and rubble to find the best shoals. There are plenty of them too. The sudden loss of commercial fishing and the astonishing number of dead bodies providing food and nutrients means that already within a month, the fish stocks are growing fast.

She fires the gun. Spearing another one and strikes up to the surface as Mary leans over from the boat to take the spear. Tugging the fish off and quickly gutting it before re-loading the speargun for Lilly.

It’s a good task and keeps them busy while nothing else can really be done in such weather, and being out on the waters means they can talk freely.

‘Have you got any tea left?’ Lilly asks, treading water with a hand on the trailing rope attached to the boat.

‘Aye,’ Mary says, pouring a cup and handing it down for Lilly to sip. ‘I’m telling you, Blondie. We need to go in from the marine estate tonight. George can’t see us on his scope from that far away.’

Lilly sips the tea and listens as the seal crunches on a fish nearby. Closer now. The creature seemingly used to them. Mary even fed it a fish earlier.

They found a tunnel entrance last night. Everyone else was in the canteen or in their tents, or shelters, and the rain was coming down so hard it gave good cover, and so after seeing George disappear around the area of the old armoury in the western wall towards the far rear, where Lani blew herself up with a grenade, Lilly and Mary went to the wall, where George had been seen disappearing the previous night, and slipped inside the pitch dark rooms to tug the night vision goggles on. Awkward, heavy things on thick straps, and it took some fumbling for them to find the switches.

‘Holy shite,’ Mary whispered at the sudden change of the world around her turning shades of green. ‘You look like an alien, Blondie.’

‘Your hair,’ Lilly whispered in awe, seeing Mary in infrared and turning a circle to look at the dense mass of crap. Old desks and rotting chairs. Stacks of folded fabrics crawling with bugs. Cobwebs and spiders, and dust, and an awful stench of damp.

They delved deeper. Treading slowly and carefully. A thin path seemed to lead towards the back, but they couldn’t see any trapdoors or anything that looked like it could be moved easily to reveal one.

‘Nothing here,’ Mary whispered and gave a tiny yelp when she touched a wall for balance and felt soft fabric instead. ‘It’s a curtain.’

Lilly went closer and touched it too. Guessing the curtain was the same colour of the wall in normal light. They pulled it back to see a doorway leading to more rooms. Most of them filled with the same rotting furniture and old crap. Dusty. Stinky. Unpleasant.

‘I can smell her,’ Mary whispered, catching scent of something else. ‘I fecking can. I can smell her.’

Lilly could only smell damp, but she followed Mary to the furthest back room to a big painting of a dog on the floor, hiding a trapdoor. An old, wooden thing, but the hinges were greased, and it made no noise when they pulled it up. A set of rungs buried into the wall below. A glance to each other. Lilly went to go first. Mary stopped her and took the lead. Going down into a brick-built tunnel, slightly damp to the touch.

They moved slowly. Not daring to talk, and within a few minutes, they came to a junction with several tunnels leading off.

They took the immediate right and found another set of rungs that went up to a trapdoor within the old armoury. The top of which was covered in poured concrete like the rest of the floors, and with so many cracks and in the rooms, it blended perfectly.

They went back down and hurried back to the junction, and took the left tunnel. That went on for a very long time and fed into more side tunnels, with both realising there was a whole labyrinth underneath the fort.

Not just underneath the fort either because the tunnel they were in soon started to slope down as it went deeper, and such was the distance, they realised they were heading under the sea.

They walked for a long time and eventually reached a blockage where the tunnel had collapsed. No doubt from the explosions above during the many recent battles, but neither could tell exactly where they were, and they had nothing to sketch a map or mark their route.

They turned to go, but Lilly stopped and went back to the blockage, and stared at the walls and roof. ‘Scorch marks,’ she whispered. ‘This was brought down on purpose. I think we’re in the marine estate.’

‘That trapdoor that Pammie showed us?’ Mary asked as Lilly nodded. ‘So the stinky shite came down here and blew it up. She’s not as thick as we previously thought.’

They headed back and delved into one of the side tunnels that seemed to go away from the direction of the fort, but it was hard keeping track underground. Eventually, that too led to another set of rungs and a trapdoor above them.

They went up and again found the hinges moved with ease and silently too. Opening into a basement or cellar within one of the structures within the marine estate.

‘It’s a whole network,’ Mary whispered. They went back down, and Lilly soon found the C4 explosives set slightly further back and positioned to bring the roof down.

After that they went back to the long tunnel and back to the original junction, knowing that one of them led to wherever George was, and possibly Pamela too, but all of that took time, and it was getting late. They agreed to try again the next night, but with paper and pencils to mark their route and create a map.

‘Alright,’ Lilly says, handing the cup back while treading water in the sea. ‘We’ll go in from that end tonight. How many fish have we got so far?’

‘Six. That’s enough for Aggie to make a stew in the fort, but will ye get a few more for the camp.’

Lilly nods. Happy for something to do. Frustrated at the lack of anything else happening. Not in this rain.

She dives back down. Catching a few more, with enough for both sides, and they head back to drop the fish off at the camp, then over to the fort to carry them inside to the canteen. Mary covered by her smock. Lilly barefoot, in shorts, and a wetsuit jacket.

‘Did you leave any for the seal?’ Kyle calls from the office door, still loafing with the other men.

‘There’s loads,’ Lilly calls. ‘Dive with me and see,’ she adds, missing spending time with Kyle.

‘Aye. Maybe tomorrow,’ he says. ‘Come find me. What the bloody hell…’ he trails off, looking to the entrance as Lilly and Mary turn to see Bobby leading a squad of men in through the gates carrying a large, prefabricated mesh of wood and rolls of plastic, and other things.

‘Over here,’ Bobby says, dressed in waterproofs and looking tiny next to the men, but they do as told, and he guides them to a section of ground marked by brightly coloured twine. ‘In that square. It’s nice and flat there… That’s it, fellas. Get that plastic down first.’

A crowd forms in the offices and canteen as everyone watches Bobby’s squad lay a thick layer of plastic on the ground before positioning the mesh base over it. Wooden planks and joists all fastened together, with fencing spikes driven down at the corners and sides to make it secure. Next come the sheets of thick plywood, all cut and measured to size, that get laid on the mesh, with nails guns making quick work of fastening it down.

‘And the walls!’ Bobby calls as the squad rush off at double time and come back carrying lengths of timber that get slotted onto the base and drilled, and fastened with securing crossbeams, and plywood boarding going over it. Four walls up within an hour. The roof within another hour.

Rough work, and it won’t last forever, but it’s secure enough, and a functioning building within a few hours of starting, with Jaspal already inside, doing the wiring to a modern generator, brought in and set up in exchange for a big bottle of spiced rum. Lights go up. Seats get taken in. Tables. Furnishings, and a sign over the door.

The Pink Café

‘I think we should subcontract our building to Bobby,’ Norman says from the offices.

‘That’s a shit building!’ John says. ‘That won’t last a year!’

‘But it’s a bloody building,’ Norman points out. ‘And it’s dry inside. With lights and power.’

‘But… No, that’s…’ John stutters and stammers, with Pardip looking just as crestfallen.

‘It’s a new world, chaps,’ Norman says. ‘New ways of thinking and a can-do attitude. Looking good, Bobby!’ he shouts.

‘Thank you, Mister Norman!’ Bobby yells with a big grin. ‘If ye need any buildings going up, ye just let me know.’

‘The little shite is a genius,’ Mary says in the canteen, cradling a mug of coffee.

‘He is,’ Lilly says, heading out into the rain. Still barefoot, in shorts, and wetsuit vest. ‘Nice. Well done.’

‘Do ye like it, Miss Lilly?’ Bobby asks, glancing at her nervously. The only one that worries him. Her energy. Her aura. He can feel it.

‘It’s good,’ she says, hands on hips, in the lashing rain as she turns to face the offices. ‘Why aren’t we doing this?’ she calls.

‘I just said the same thing!’ Norman yells back.

‘Because the mens are measuring their peepees!’ Lenski shouts from the doorway to the stores. ‘Tell them to work with Bobby, Norman!’

‘You need to work with Bobby,’ Norman tells the room of construction workers, all of whom start sputtering and protesting at the shoddy work and that it has no solid base, and it won’t last for very long.

‘LILLY!’ a scream from the back. Subi’s voice yelling in fear. Lilly turns to run in an instant. Mary the same. Dropping her coffee and slamming out of the canteen. Norman bursting from the offices. Kyle and the soldiers, and the others all with him. ‘LILLY! LILLY! LILLY!’

Subi screams the name as she runs out from the walls. Her mind in panic, and she screams the name of the person she trusts the most.

Lilly sprints hard. Racing past tents and people coming out in alarm at the voice. Lenski running too. Everyone aiming for Subi coming to a stop on seeing Lilly and waving for her to come quickly. Turning to run back, with Lilly catching up and following her into the back room used as a playroom for the children to stay out of the rain. A boy on the floor. Five or six. His body convulsing. His face in agony. Froth coming from his mouth.

‘OUT!’ Lilly shouts. ‘GET THEM OUT!’ she yells at Mary bursting in behind her as Lilly runs to the boy and opens his eyes. Thinking him to be turning. No pistol. No rifle. Only her diving knife that’s already out and ready to slit the throat.

But the eyes aren’t red, and the child isn’t clutching his stomach. He’s not turning. It’s something else.

‘He needs a doctor,’ she says, sheathing her knife and lifting the child into her arms to run out past the others getting the children to one side. Gasps and shouts going up from the sight of the rigid boy frothing at the mouth in Lilly’s arms as she runs past. Shouts going up ahead. People on the radios. Trying to transmit in the awful feedback caused by the rain.

She gets halfway across as Ann and Lisa come out of the clinic and run towards her. Both drenched within seconds from the rain.

‘What did you do to him?’ Lisa demands.

‘Let me see,’ Ann says, reaching Lilly first. Checking vitals. Eyes. Ears. Pulse. Seeing the small lad in pure agony as blood pours from his mouth. ‘He’s bitten his own tongue off! We need him inside the clinic. Let me take him. Find out if he ate anything or swallowed, or drank, or put anything in his mouth.’

Lilly nods and runs back to see Christine already trying to make the situation about her. ‘Okay, children! I’m going to help you process this trauma in a healthy way. All of you look at me! Look at me!’

‘Subi!’ Lilly calls, seeing Mary with the children. ‘Did that boy put anything in his mouth?’

‘Er, excuse me, Lilly! We’re processing right now,’ Christine says.

‘I asked already,’ Mary says. ‘I saw a girl eat poison once. She was frothing like that. Subi? Did you see anything?’

‘No,’ Subi says, shaking her head.

‘Rajesh? Billy?’ Mary asks, lowering to a knee. ‘You’ll not be in any trouble now. Did ye see that wee lad put anything in his mouth? Anything at all?’

‘There’s nothing inside,’ Norman says, coming out of the playroom.

‘Is he allergic to nuts or anything?’ Lilly asks.

‘We were all eating nuts,’ Subi says. ‘But yesterday and the day before. Carl was always eating nuts.’

‘Carl? Is that his name?’ Mary asks. ‘What about his ma or pa? Is he here with someone?’

‘He’s an orphan,’ Subi says.

‘I heard what happened,’ George says, jogging over. ‘Is the child okay?’

‘They’re checking him now,’ Lilly says. ‘But we don’t know what caused it.’

‘There’s nothing inside that I can see,’ Norman says. ‘No food wrappers or anything he could have eaten.’

‘Aye, I checked too,’ Kyle says, coming out of the rooms with a thoughtful expression. ‘Almost like a nerve agent.’

‘How on earth would a child access a nerve agent?” George asks.

‘Aye. I know. I don’t mean it is. I mean the way he’s convulsing, and that frothing. Maybe he’s epileptic or something. We’ve no medical records for the children here.’

‘Yes. Well. Perhaps we’ll block these rooms off until we can establish more,’ George says. ‘And why aren’t these children in the schoolhouse doing lessons?’

‘It’s not ready,’ Norman says. ‘It needs furniture and decorating.’

‘I see. Well, perhaps we should sub-contract that to Bobby too,’ George adds, giving John and the builders a look before walking off.

They block the rooms off and get the children into the new schoolhouse as John and the others suddenly find motivation to work in the rain and find chairs and desks.

‘How is he?’ Lilly asks, walking into the clinic to see a cluster of staff rushing around the boy. Anika on chest compressions, and another holding an oxygen mask over the child’s mouth.

‘Okay, clear!’ Ann says as everyone lifts off, and she presses the paddles to the boy’s narrow chest. His body locking out from the electric charge then dropping down. Words spoken in medical terminology. But it’s obvious the child is dead.

‘Is he okay?’ Mary asks, rushing in behind Lilly. ‘Ach, no. No, no, no…’ she says with a grimace, coming to a stop. ‘That poor wee lad.’

‘That’s it,’ Ann says as everyone sags, shaking heads. ‘I’m pronouncing life extinct.’

‘Get out,’ Lisa says, turning to see Lilly watching.

‘What caused the death?’ Lilly asks.

‘I said get out! We just lost a child in here!’ Lisa snaps.

‘Are other children at risk?’ Lilly asks, ignoring Lisa’s wrath.

Ann shakes her head. A flap of her hands. A shrug. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Can you do tests?’ Lilly asks.

‘For what!?’ Lisa demands.

‘Lisa, enough!’ Ann finally snaps. ‘Dear god, you are obsessed with Lilly.’

‘We don’t know what it is,’ Andrew says. ‘We don’t have records. He could have had an underlying condition or ate something he’s allergic to, but something has caused massive nerve damage. His heart, his lungs. He’s bleeding from the rectum, so his internal organs have taken some damage. We don’t know,’

‘Do a postmortem autopsy,’ Mary says.

‘This isn’t a shitty crime book!’ Lisa snaps.

‘And we’re not pathologists,’ Andrew adds.

‘Do what you can,’ Lilly says.

‘Lilly,’ Ann calls, making them pause and look back. ‘Sometimes people do just die. Especially now.’

Lilly nods and steps out into the rain. Frowning at what could have caused it. Mary sighing next to her. Clearly troubled by the tragedy. ‘I’m heading back to the camp for a bit, Blondie. I want to make sure my people are okay.’

‘Alright. See you later?’

‘Aye. Come find me when it’s dark. We’ll do what we said.’

Late afternoon. The rain still coming down. Lilly drives the boat and remembers her thoughts from earlier and how she missed spending time with Kyle, but she didn’t mean like this. She kills the engine. Letting the boat coast along as the sound of the rain comes to the fore. Landing on the sea and on their smocks, and on the small body wrapped in a sheet.

‘And they don’t know what caused it?’ Kyle asks again as Lilly shakes her head.

‘They can’t do blood tests. They’re not pathologists, and a dozen more excuses.’

A tone in her voice that makes Kyle look at her for a long moment.

‘I think Ann would have liked to know,’ Lilly adds. ‘But Ann seems to be the only one of them actually doing anything. Anika’s good, and the other nurses, but the other three doctors…’ she trails off into silence. Staring at the body of Carl wrapped in a sheet. ‘Heathcliff doesn’t even speak.’

‘He’s drinking a lot,’ Kyle says and looks out over the sea. ‘Andrew is struggling with him and Lisa… Ach. Well. What’s the wee lad’s surname? Do we know that?’

‘No,’ Lilly says, seeing the look of pain on Kyle’s face while wondering again why she doesn’t feel the same grief as the others. She’s sad the boy died, and she wants to know why, but she just doesn’t have that same obvious pain inside that everyone so clearly has. She wonders how she’d feel if it was Subi or Rajesh, or Amna, or Molly. She knows she’d feel pain if it was her brother Billy.

‘Aye. Well,’ Kyle says and lifts the body up gently in his arms. ‘Dear Lord. Take this soul from my arms into yours and give him eternal peace. He should know his time here was cherished and that he had a mother that loved him with all her heart. Amen.’

‘Amen,’ Lilly says, thinking of her own mother, with still no feeling inside, and she watches the weighted body slip into the still waters, and she wonders, as is her way, how long it will be before she eats a fish that has eaten the body. ‘Ann said the most likely cause is he ingested something that caused a massive allergic reaction. She said he was bleeding internally from nearly all of his organs.’

‘Painful,’ Kyle whispers, shaking his head.

Lilly nods. Knowing the child would have been in pure agony when he died.

They sit for a moment longer. Not speaking. Not doing anything. Lilly stares at Kyle’s profile. At his craggy features and thick greying hair.

‘You and George seem to be better now,’ Kyle says at length.

‘I think so.’

‘You think so?’

Lilly shrugs.

‘Are ye still not sure about him? I worked with George for a long time. He’s a good man.’

‘I’ve learnt a lot from him.’

‘Aye. I’m sure. But you are still you, though, Lilly. Don’t forget that,’ he says, giving her a look.

‘Do you mean cold, detached, and emotionless? Am I autistic?’

He snorts a laugh, with the look changing to one of warmth and care. ‘Aye. I think ye probably are. Or maybe the trauma you went through rewired your brain, and you’ve got that infection in you changing things.’

‘So have you.’

‘Aye, but I think what it does to me is different to what it does to you and Howie. I can see you frowning when I mention his name. Do you regret moving against him now?’

‘Yes,’ she says with such honesty, it makes Kyle pull his head back an inch. ‘I didn’t see it fully because of my emotional connection and what I’d gone through with Nick leaving, and me feeling abandoned. I think my mind confused it with losing my parents. But yes. On reflection. It was the wrong thing to do… And I think it was only my connection to Howie that stopped George and Henry executing me at Hinchley Point.’

‘Aye. Maybe,’ Kyle says with a very great sadness.

‘Why did you stop working with them?’ Lilly asks.

‘Because of things like that,’ he says with his own blunt honesty. ‘I developed a conscience.’

‘What about Frank and Carmen?’

‘Carmen is on that path, and if this didn’t happen, she would have left within a year or two. Frank, though? Men like Frank construct rules and laws, and ethics in their own minds to justify what they do. They’ll say it’s okay to kill this man here to save that man over there. Or it’s okay to destroy this village or poison this water, or plant this bomb, or put missiles into schools because there’s always a validation somewhere. But really, I think they just enjoy what they do. I couldn’t do it anymore though. And then I went against them at Mogadishu. Do you know where that is? It’s the capital of Somalia, where all the pirates ran from to attack the big ships. Long story, but we got sent in to try and stop it. I was embedded as a missionary and realised that the pirates were taking the money they made and using it to feed the people and build schools and clinics. Those people had nothing. I fed that back, and they still green lit the mission to send a covert team in to execute the ringleaders. I disagreed and opposed it, but they ignored me, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do nothing. I knew what was coming. So, I got a militia together and organised a defence against a joint US and UK Special Forces strike force. They expected a walkover, but we gave them a bloody good fight until they had to exfil. Frank’s never forgiven me.’

‘Do you regret it?’ Lilly asks.

‘Not one bit of it. It was David and Goliath. All we have is our ethics, Lilly. I admire that about Howie. He won’t take the knee to something he doesn’t believe in. And I can see that in you, and as long as that moral compass points the right way, you’ll not be guided wrong.’

‘How do I know if it’s pointing the right way?’

‘Because ye feel it. Like ye did when ye went against Howie. Ye knew it was wrong, but it’s the lack of life experience that pushed you to keep going when you should have stopped. That and pride.’

Lilly listens intently, but of everyone, only Kyle has that way with her. She wants to tell him the attack was planned. She wants to tell him about Pamela. But she doesn’t. Not because she doesn’t trust him, but only because she doesn’t trust that she’s right, and she wants more evidence before she does anything or tells anyone else.

‘Right. Will ye take me home? Ye might like splashing about in the rain, but I’m an old man that wants his pipe and slippers.’

Lilly drives them back. Her mind already working ahead to going over to find Mary and start mapping the tunnels.

Pamela is down there.

Lilly can just sense that she is. It’s burning inside of her. An urge to find Pamela and find out what’s really happening.

Evening comes. The sky falls dark, and the rain only seems to come down harder, and while everyone else gathers in the canteen and in Bobby’s new café to play board games and listen to music, so Lilly slips out and heads over to the camp to find Mary geared up and ready. Every inch as committed to finding Pamela as Lilly.

‘She put my people at risk too,’ Mary told Lilly earlier. ‘Don’t be thinking this is me following you on another mission. This is a joint operation. I want that fecking bitch to give answers just as much as you, Blondie.’

They reach the marine estate and get into the jet ski and speedboat hire centre and down into the cellar to the hidden trapdoor they found last night.

Night-vision goggles on, and they once more drop down into the tunnels, but this time armed with a sketchpad and a pencil.

‘Every ten yards we make a tiny line, so we can measure the distance,’ Mary says.

‘How do you know that?’

‘Eggy told me that’s how they used to tunnel under banks and jewellery stores back in the day.’

‘Didn’t he ask why you wanted to know?’

‘Did he feck. He’s too busy feeling important. He’s even found a tin star with the word deputy on it like an old western movie sheriff. I said Eggy, it’s not that kind of deputy. He said I’ll be any type of deputy I want to be. Which is fair enough.’

They set off counting steps to mark the yards to make the line on the paper and start creating the map of the tunnels.

They find the collapsed section again, but they also find two more exit points at this end of the network.

One comes out at the far end of the marine estate in an outbuilding, but the other one comes up at the edge of Bobby’s parking area.

‘Will ye look at that,’ Mary says after they clamber out and realise where they are. ‘That’s how Bobby saw her but lost her. She scurried back down her rat hole.’

They too scurry back into their rat hole. Wearing black after learning the walls are stained and old, and damp, and filthy.

They press on until they eventually reach the junction again and map the route back to their start point yesterday, then back and off again to the trapdoor in the old armoury. Then back again to the junction. ‘Which one?’ Mary whispers. Seeing three more as yet unexplored tunnels.

Lilly motions one at random. They set off and pass more side tunnels. Shorter ones for the most part that lead to old, empty rooms with markings on the walls in stencil.

‘This might be an old cold war bunker network,’ Lilly whispers. ‘Kyle would know.’

‘Would he tell George though?’ Mary whispers as they stand in one of the old, large empty rooms.

‘He hinted today he doesn’t have much loyalty for them,’ Lilly says. ‘And he told me to be me.’

‘I think he’s telling you to trust him,’ Mary whispers.

‘Maybe. Come on. Let’s keep going.’

‘You sure? We’ve done a lot, Blondie. We don’t have to do it all in one night.’

‘Just one more tunnel?’

Mary nods, then can’t help the smile when Lilly presses in without warning to kiss her. ‘I like it when you’re spontaneous,’ she whispers.

‘Do you want to have sex?’

‘Maybe not that spontaneous. One more tunnel, then we can go home… And have sex.’

They head back to the junction, with Mary choosing the next tunnel, and once more, they set off. The walls damp, but the going easy enough through bends and turns. A few rooms to the sides. All of them empty.

Lilly sighs. Thinking she’s had enough. It’s a huge place, and Mary is right. Trying to do it in one night is too big a task. She slows and turns. Ready to whisper to go back as Mary presses in with a hand over Lilly’s mouth. I can smell her, Mary mouths.

Lilly inhales, scenting damp but nothing else.

Mary goes past her, treading carefully to the next bend and peeking around, then pulling back sharply with a motion to Lilly to come and see.

A door ahead. Lights inside the room around the frame. Soft music playing. A smell in the air of stale body odour that even Lilly can detect now. Her eyes harden. Her prey in sight.

She draws her pistol. Mary does the same. They reach the door, with Lilly gripping the handle and checking Mary is ready. A nod from Mary, and they burst in with instant pain in her eyes from the lights flaring the night-vision goggles.

‘Privet,’ Polina says as though expecting someone else as she sees them blinded by the light, but both are armed and aiming straight at her. ‘Lilly,’ she says, switching into Pamela. Needy. Whiny. A victim. ‘I just found this room!’

‘Don’t move!’ Lilly snaps, seeing a fat outline while squinting. ‘Do not fucking move!’

‘My bloody eyes,’ Mary curses.

‘Move, and I’ll shoot you,’ Lilly says, holding position and blinking rapidly as her vision adjusts, and she starts taking the room in. Showing shock as she glances to the sides, then back at Pamela.

‘I just got here,’ Pamela whines. ‘You shot me, Lilly… You said we were friends.’

‘Shut up,’ Lilly says, taking in the bed and the food, and the table, and chairs.

‘Holy shite,’ Mary says, doing the same as she looks around. ‘Are ye living down here?’ she asks, looking back to Pamela.

‘Noooooo. I just found it,’ Polina whines, instantly back into the role of Pamela. Twitchy eyes and projecting the aura and energy of someone with learning difficulties. ‘Don’t shoot me again! You really hurt me…’

Lilly glances to the gunshot wound on Pamela’s meaty arm. Seeing it’s scabbed over already. Another glance to the side at a display of glass vials on a shelf like unmarked perfume bottles. Each with a tiny sprayer mechanism. Food and drink stacked to the other side. A toilet and shower in the corner. Books stacked up. She blinks and looks back at them. Seeing the language is Russian.

‘Who the hell is that?’ Mary asks, clocking the old black and white photograph of a stunning woman with dark hair. Lilly stares at it. At the style of clothing worn and the backdrop of the onion domes in Moscow’s Red Square. Back to the books. Back to the picture. A familiarity about the face. The structure. Something.

Something, something.

The penny drops.

The realisation hits.

‘It’s her,’ Lilly starts to say, lifting her gun to keep her aim on Pamela as the stupid woman’s face changes in an instant. Becoming wholly different and filled with intelligence.

‘Suka!’ Polina spits and makes her move. Shifting her weight to telegraph her intent to go left, then darting right with a level of speed and dexterity that just isn’t right in someone so big. Lilly fires and misses. The gunshot deafening in the brick room then, the gun flies from her hand as Polina does a double handed smack to Lilly’s wrists to disarm her as her foot comes up and kicks out with nearly twenty-five stone of weight, sending Lilly slamming back into Mary.

The whole thing done in a second, with Polina pressing the attack and striding in to sweep Lilly’s legs out, then pivots to hook an arm around Mary to flip her over her hip to dump on the ground. A hard hit. Then another and another. Breaking Mary’s nose and splitting her lips. A grunt from behind as Lilly recovers and jumps on Polina’s back, and wraps her arms around her neck. Polina stands and thrusts back, driving Lilly into the wall, then slams her head back into Lilly’s face again and again. Lilly clings on. The rage inside detonating as Mary scrabbles up and comes in swinging.

Polina grunts. Taking a few blows before grabbing at Mary’s top, and pulling her in for a vicious headbutt, then a hooking kick to the ankles. Mary drops hard as Polina reaches back to grip Lilly’s hair to send her flying overhead onto the bed. Hitting her head hard. She rises fast to fight, but again, Polina moves faster than she should, long-skilled and well-versed at close-quarters combat. She swarms into Lilly. Pounding her face with hard punches like an MMA fighter. Breaking Lilly’s nose and busting her lips. Hitting her again and again, then sensing Mary rising, and she twists and sends Mary into the wall, and goes at her. Beating her down to the ground. Blood spraying out. Spattering Polina and the walls, and floors.

‘Shoot me, you little cunt,’ Polina says, lifting Lilly clean off the floor with one hand to the throat. Pinning her to the wall. ‘You have no idea who we are, you stupid child…’

Hard words. Hard eyes. No sign of the fat, stupid woman. Only a person of great skill and strength. She drops Lilly and grips her head to deliver a brutal knee strike to the side of her skull. Rattling Lilly’s brain, then she goes back to Mary, driving hard punches into her face and head.

‘Little children playing at soldiers…’ Polina says in Russian between the blows.

‘That’s enough,’ another voice. Male. Lilly hears it through the pain and shock. Her senses recovering fast from the infection inside of her body. She gets onto her hands and knees and reaches Mary, pretending to give aid but grabbing the gun next to Mary’s body.

She spins fast, lifting to aim and coming to a stop from the barrel of a pump-action shotgun held an inch from her head. ‘Drop it, Lilly. Come on. Don’t be silly.’

‘Fuck you,’ Lilly growls, staring up at the charming face of Captain George Shaw.

‘What did I tell you?’ George asks mildly. ‘I said always be polite… And then… When you need to, you switch!’ he snarls and moves fast, slamming the butt of the shotgun into her head as Polina snatches the pistol from Lilly’s hand.

She coughs blood and gasps for air. Mary the same. The two bleeding heavily as Polina grabs a fistful of hair on each of their heads and pulls them up. Making them grunt and yelp until they’re on their knees. Staring up at George holding the shotgun.

‘That young child Carl was killed by a nerve agent developed in Russia,’ George says. ‘It causes near instant, irreparable damage by liquidising internal organs, which bleed out through the rectum while making every nerve feel like it is on fire. That was done to show you what we are capable of and for coming into our tunnels. This is what is going to happen now. You two will heel to me. You will do what I say when I say it. You will not come into these tunnels or speak of them. If either of you step out of line. I will use that nerve agent on every child in this fort and in that camp. But I will keep Billy alive so I can peel the skin from his body and feed it to you. You are nothing in this game. You hold no power. And I know what you are thinking. That you’ll run to Howie or try and kill Polina and I. But we are not the only agents in this fort. This was planned a long time ago, and the only reason I don’t kill you both now is because it does not suit my plans. Do you understand?’

A nod from George. Polina slams them both down hard enough to jar their heads on the stone floor. They get kicked and heaved onto their backs, with George standing over them. Staring down.

‘This one is trouble. We should kill her now,’ Polina says in Russian, shoving her foot into Lilly.

‘Nyet. She’ll fall to heel like a good dog,’ George replies in fluent Russian and nods at the perfume bottles.

‘No,’ Mary croaks as Polina uncaps one and lowers down, ready to spray Mary.

‘And when you wake up,’ George says in his charming way. ‘Just know you will have no idea what we did to your bodies…’

Polina sprays the bottle. Mary shakes her head. Trying to avoid the fine mist, but the darkness comes fast with the smell of burnt popcorn.

‘And you, Princess Lilly. Sleep tight. And remember the last rule,’ George whispers as Lilly refuses to show fear and glares up in defiance.

‘Crush your enemy totally,’ Polina says as the bottle sprays, and the darkness comes on fast.

They come awake with gasps. Something beeping. The rain lashing down on them. A strong stench of alcohol. Mary cries out. Seeing she’s naked and covered in broken glass. The noise makes Lilly glance over. Her mind foggy like she’s drunk. She sees Mary is naked and cut, and bleeding. Her face mangled and swollen. She looks down. Seeing her own naked legs and body. They’re in a car. The windscreen smashed in. Warning lights are sounding. The airbags have deployed. Lilly blinks again. Looking ahead to the crumpled front of the car that has smashed into the container wall.

‘It’s Lilly and Mary!’ a shout from nearby. Other voices coming closer. Mary panicking. Not knowing where she is. Lilly tries to speak to tell her to calm down, but the words come out slurred, and her mind won’t work properly.

A door wrenches open with the sounds of twisted metal. Faces on both sides.

‘They’re bloody naked!’ someone says.

‘And drunk too,’ another voice as Lilly tries to move her feet that clunk against the empty bottles of vodka in the footwell.

‘It’s alright. We got you now…’

Hands on their bodies, pulling them out. Lilly doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like being touched. She tries to protest and squirm, but the words won’t come out.

‘They’re pissed as newts!’

‘Put them in the van. We’ll get them over to the clinic in the fort. Daft buggers! Drunk as hell and driving into the only bloody wall for miles.’

Motion. Noise. Lilly tries to speak and say they were beaten and drugged, but her body won’t do what she wants.

‘Just rest, Lilly,’ someone says.

The van stops. They get carried out and wrapped in more blankets, and put on stretchers.

‘Jesus, Mary,’ Eggy’s voice. ‘Ye daft cow. Look at the state of ye both. Why were they driving naked?’

‘They had dildos and butt plugs in the car,’ someone says to a chorus of tuts and groans.

Onto a boat. Over the water. The rain falling. Pain in Lilly’s face. Her eyes swollen. Her lips the same. George. Pamela. Russian. They killed that child. They will kill again. Sleeper agents. Tunnels.

Off the boat. In through the gates to the fort. Lilly’s fort. She killed for it. She won it. She took it. Is that how you take it, Blondie?

Voices. Norman. Lenski. Other people. ‘Drunk driving into the bloody wall!’ someone says. ‘Had some kind of sex party somewhere.’

Humiliation. Degradation.

Into the clinic. Ann peering down. Shining a light into Lilly’s eyes. ‘S’not right,’ Lilly blurts.

‘Shush. Just rest,’ Anika says. ‘You’ve had a nasty car accident.’

‘No!’ Lilly shouts, trying to get up.

‘I’ll give her sedative,’ Ann says. Something in her arm. Heat. The darkness comes again. She fights against it. Surging up. Hands pull her down. Voices tell her to stop. ‘It’s that bloody infection. She’ll need a double dose.’

Another shot. The darkness comes. She fights. She rages.

Another shot. Three now. The darkness comes again. This time it takes her.

She wakes slower this time, but within a second, her mind feels different to last time. Lucid. Rational. She lifts her head to see she’s on a bed in the clinic. Mary in the bed next to her. Already awake. Lilly blinks at her. Seeing tears on Mary’s cheeks.

‘We can’t say a thing,’ Mary whispers. Her eyes swollen and purple. Her lips split and hurt. Her nose broken. Bruises all over her face. ‘Not a thing, Lilly. They’ve won. They’ll kill us all.’

Lilly nods and reaches out. Mary does the same. Their hands touching and clinging to each other. Rage inside of Lilly. Seething, cold rage, but Mary is right. Even she can’t go against that level of power. The way Pamela took them out with such brutal ease. The way she beat them down. George with the shotgun. Telling them what will happen. Calling them dogs that will come to heel.

Just know you will have no idea what we did to your bodies.

The words come back.

Were they raped? Would they know? Panic inside at the thought of it. At the fact they woke up naked in a car that had been crashed into the wall. The panic surges up even more when Lilly remembers them talking about sex toys. Dildos. Butt plugs. Lilly and Mary naked and drunk.

Humiliation. Degradation.

Crush your enemy totally.

George could have killed them. But killing Lilly would make Kyle ask questions, and Kyle is skilled.

And killing Lilly would make Howie ask questions.

And even George wouldn’t risk that.

The panic spikes higher. Knowing in those few seconds’ worth of thinking that George has already brought them to heel.

‘You’re awake!’ Anika says, passing their beds. ‘Ann! They’re awake. How are you feeling? Any pain? We’ll give you some more meds in a sec.’

Ann comes over. Checking their eyes and ears. Shining lights. Tutting gently. Caring. Soft. It makes Mary cry again.

‘What on earth happened?’ Ann asks. ‘They said you were driving naked and drunk. What the hell were you thinking?’

Lilly looks away. The shame hitting her. She can’t say that didn’t happen. She can’t say a word about anything. Billy. Subi. Rajesh. The children in the fort and in the camp.

‘Mary, listen to me,’ Anika says, taking Mary’s hand. ‘Bernice was brought into the clinic this morning from the camp.’

Lilly looks over. Bernice is a child. One of Mary’s cousins. She’s young. Six or maybe seven. Sweet natured. Always smiling.

‘They found her at the edge of the camp. She’d found some poison or something…’

‘No,’ Mary croaks, breaking into sobs.

‘I’m sorry, Mary. We tried everything. But it was the same as Carl. We couldn’t save her.’

You are nothing in this game. You hold no power.

Mary sobs, her body heaving with grief and loss.

‘I’m going to give you another sedative,’ Ann says.

You two will heel to me.

A needle in Lilly’s arm. She looks up into Ann’s tired face. Seeing warmth and kindness.

Crush your enemy totally.

And the darkness comes again.

Wednesday, 17th August

Day Thirty-Four

Humiliation. Degradation.

Morning prayers in the office. The rain still coming down.

An awkward silence. Mary and Lilly at opposite ends of the table. Lilly next to George. Mary next to Eggy.

Their faces still hurt and bruised. The swelling reduced from a day and night of sleep in the clinic and from the infection inside of them.

They were discharged in the evening. George came to see them.

Smiling. Charming. Full of concern. Kyle was with him. Norman. Lenski.

They voiced worry and spoke softly.

‘Oh, dear,’ George said with a gentle tut. ‘What a pickle, eh? Still. Glad it’s only minor wounds. Soon have you back up and raring to go, eh?’

Mary and Lilly kept their eyes lowered like dogs brought to heel. The others mistook it for shame and embarrassment. After all, they were found stinking drunk and stark-naked in a car full of sex-toys after crashing into the wall.

‘Just rest,’ Norman told them. ‘We’ll speak more when you’re back on your feet.’

They went off, but George popped back. ‘Forgot to say Billy sends his love,’ he said as he stepped in close, and the energy hardened. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve been keeping a very close eye on him… And do make sure you are both at morning prayers. Right! See you!’

So now they sit in a room full of people. Workers. Builders. Soldiers. They sit and suffer the shame and humiliation.

‘I asked Eggy to come over,’ George says to them all. ‘He’s doing a marvellous job of deputising while Mary has been, er, well, shall we say incapacitated. And on that subject, and not wishing to cause any shame or embarrassment, but I will not tolerate any form of finger-pointing or name-calling against Lilly and Mary. What they have done for this fort and for the camp has been above and beyond. But they are young. And who here never did something foolish when we were young? Eh? I know I bloody well did! Getting drunk. Crashing cars. Perhaps not naked, with a car full of you-know-whats.’

Chuckles and snorts at George’s charm and the way he speaks.

‘Not that there is anything wrong with their sexuality!’ George states firmly. ‘Again. They are young, and they have both been under enormous pressure. So. No shame, and no blame. We move on. And we do have one development. Not that it’s a pleasant subject, but Eggy found some poison in the camp. An old box of the rat poison they used to use years ago that caused instant death to vermin. Deadly stuff. And it would appear from the manner in which poor Bernice passed, which is very similar to Carl, that they somehow managed to ingest it. We need to all be watchful to make sure no other children find any. Eh, Lilly? You make sure you tell Billy and Subi.’

‘Yes, George,’ Lilly says. Eyes down. Head lowered. Mary the same.

The meeting rattles on. They don’t speak. The others avoid looking at them.

When it ends Mary heads off back to the camp with Eggy, leaving Lilly feeling isolated and alone. Not sure on what to do, or how to be.

‘These mugs need a rinse, Lilly,’ George calls over, still with that ever-present tone of friendliness. As though he’s the kindly benign manager trying to steer the wayward protégé back on track.

She grabs a few of the used mugs and heads outside to the tap. Cleaning them out one by as Marion comes out carrying the rest. ‘Dear me. The state of your face,’ Marion says with a tut as she comes in close.

Lilly offers a tight smile with a searching glance to seek an ally. Marion has always been kind and decent. Surely she won’t allow George to kill children. ‘And don’t even think you can try and smile at me,’ Marion whispers. Her tone hard and direct prompting an internal jolt within Lilly. ‘You are nothing in this game, Lilly. You hold no power. Why George didn’t put a round through your vicious spiteful head is beyond me. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ve been married to the service long enough to know how it all works, and what George and Polina get up to. But none of it will make a difference when it starts. You mark my words. Bloody New World Order can’t come soon enough.’

Heat in her words. Hurt. Pride. But greed too. All of which makes Lilly force herself to become passive and show no reaction while feeling crushed that someone like Marion is a part of it all.

She finishes the cups and more humiliating chores in the office. Told to stack chairs and sweep the floor. Things she would daily anyway, but not under order from a smiling older man pretending to everyone that he’s only looking after her best interests.

She hates him on a molecular level with a sense of rage burning inside that surprises even her. An urge to kill him right now and tear his throat out with her teeth. Marion too. All of them and anyone else connected to this outbreak. A realisation hits that this is how Howie feels. This burning rage to kill the people that started it.

Except she can’t show that. So she keeps her head down and works through the chores.

‘Well done, Lilly!’ George says, calling over while talking to Norman and Lenski. The two of them giving Lilly constant concerned looks. Questions in their eyes. Worry too. But Lilly can’t show them any fear, or say a word.

‘May I go?’ she asks George.

‘Of course!’ George says as though she never needed to ask.

She heads towards the end wall, to the rooms she shares with the children. Her face impassive. Bruised. Swollen, but already healing. Motion on the right. Kyle stepping over to time his stride with hers with a hand gently taking her arm, guiding her into the stores.

‘Give us a moment, Colin,’ he says as Colin looks to protest but scurries out from Kyle’s hard glare. ‘Right. What’s going on?’

‘Nothing,’ Lilly says. Eyes lowered. Head down.

‘Lilly?’

‘I said nothing.’

A hand on her chin. Lifting her head. She tries to resist but gives up, and looks up into Kyle’s eyes. Sadness. Worry. Protection. Kyle is skilled. Two guns holstered. He’ll fight for her.

You are nothing in this game. You hold no power.

‘Talk to me,’ he whispers.

She shakes her head. ‘We fucked up.’

He tuts. Seeing the lie and not liking it.

‘We got drunk. We crashed the car.’

‘How much did you drink?’

She shrugs. ‘A whole bottle.’

‘Of what?’

‘I don’t know. Vodka.’

‘Ye full of shite. Ye don’t even know what you drank, and you’re infected, Lilly.’

‘So?’

‘It took three doses of sedative to get you calm. That thing inside of you doesn’t like drugs or booze. It burns it off. I’ve tried it. It takes me four times the amount to even feel the buzz now.’

Lilly blinks at him. Not trusting herself to speak.

What if he’s an agent? What if he’s one of them? That seems outlandish, but she remembers how convincing Pamela was. She could have annihilated Lilly and Mary at any point when they beat her to make her speak, but she took that beating and being shot and never once slipped character.

So how the hell would she know if Kyle was or was not one of them?

‘I’m sorry, Kyle. I let you down. Mary and I just got drunk and-.’

‘I don’t buy it!’

‘I don’t care! I’m sixteen. I’m young and stupid. We got drunk and, and, and… And we fucked with dildos…’ she breaks off, half sobbing. Biting it down. Humiliation. Degradation. Shame in her cheeks. Rage. Hatred.

Kyle can see it in her. Something she’s not saying.

But she won’t say. She won’t speak. That wall is high and thick, and he knows nothing he can say will make her change her mind, and in a rash act, in a second’s worth of pure frustration and worry, and love, he reaches out to pull her in. Expecting her to reject him. Expecting her to lash out. But she presses into his chest, and he feels the sobs heaving her body and holds her like her own father should have done. Protected. Safe. Wishing harm on anything that offers danger to her while feeling that awful sensation of hopelessness at whatever is going on. He kisses the top of her head and holds her for a moment longer. ‘Whatever it is. You find me. You talk to me.’

She nods. Still not trusting words.

Not trusting anyone.

Evening comes. A day spent doing nothing. Hiding from everyone else. Lilly tried to spend time with Billy, but they had lesson in the schoolhouse and then ran free in the rain.

She crossed the fort in the afternoon and felt the eyes watching her as she walked through, and the people in the canteen all turned to watch her go by.

‘Miss Lilly!’ Bobby called and rushed over in just a t-shirt in the pouring rain. ‘Are you okay? I came to see you in the hospital, but you were both sleeping. I stayed for as long as I could to watch over you. And I put a guard on with my lads, and I said don’t let anyone bad go near them.’

Tears in her eyes. The thought of it. The act of care. The small lad staring at her earnestly in the pouring rain.

‘I don’t believe it,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t believe it for one second.’

‘We got drunk, Bobby.’

‘Not you, Miss Lilly. Not Mary. Not like that. George came to see me. He said any deal I had with you was now with him.’

Lilly nodded. Not trusting anyone. ‘That’s right, Bobby. I’m stepping back, and it’s only right you honour things with George.’

Bobby didn’t like that. He had the same look in his eyes as Kyle. But he nodded.

‘See you, Bobby,’ she said and walked off.

‘Ye need that guard again, Lilly. I’ll stand for you.’

She blinked the tears back and crossed past the office, and saw George watching her from the doorway.

She found Mary in the camp. In her caravan. They sat together. They drank tea, but they didn’t speak.

‘I should go back,’ Lilly says when the sky starts to darken.

‘Why?’ Mary asks.

Lilly shrugs. Worried about what George will say or think if she stays away too long.

‘Has he said anything else?’ Mary asks.

‘No. Nothing.’

‘Okay. Come back here tonight though. Sleep with me here.’

‘I don’t know if I’m allowed,’ Lilly says. Brought to heel.

She heads back to the beach and over to the fort, glad of the darkness to hide in as she walks towards her rooms at the back.

‘Ah! There she is,’ George calls as he walks out of the offices with Norman and the others. ‘Just in time for dinner.’

‘I’m fine,’ Lilly says, motioning that she will go.

‘Nonsense! You need nutrition to heal,’ George says, looping his arm in hers.

‘I already ate.’

‘Young thing like you can handle two meals,’ he says with that charm of his. Dripping sincerity and decency. She has no choice and walks with them.

‘You okay then?’ Norman asks.

‘Fine,’ she says. Nodding to show she means it, but he can see it too. The difference in her. Like that fire she had inside has gone out. But as George said, she’s young, and she’s been through a great deal.

The canteen falls to silence when she walks in. Awkward and heavy. All eyes on her. Blinking at the injuries on her face brought about by dirty sex games and drunk driving. But those injuries are already healing. The swelling reducing. The infection inside repairing her body faster than it did before.

‘You poor sod, it’ll all come out in the wash,’ Aggie says, giving her a wink as she spoons the stew into a bowl.

Lilly sits and eats, and every now and then feels Kyle staring at her, but she doesn’t dare look back at him and instead keeps her eyes lowered and her head down.

She finishes and returns her bowl. ‘Early night for me,’ she tells the others. The section heads. The leaders. All wearing pink armbands. She heads off. A voice calls out. Filled with smug glee.

‘How the mighty have fallen,’ Lisa says as more than a few turn to look. ‘How are the injuries, Lilly? After you drunkenly crashed a car into the wall that’s meant to be protecting us. While naked. After being to some sordid orgy somewhere.’

Anger. Rage. Seething fury. Lilly turns towards her. Her blue eyes growing very cold.

‘Awww,’ Lisa says, pulling a mock sad face. ‘Never mind, or as they say in Russia… Zabey.’

This was planned a long time ago.

You are nothing in this game. You hold no power.

The rage ebbs away. The room seems to shrink. The walls close in. Lisa smiles with pure spite in her eyes.

Lilly walks out.

Humiliated.

Degraded.

Thursday, 18th August

Day Thirty-Five

Lilly wakes in her rooms. She didn’t go to Mary last night. She didn’t do anything other than come back and sleep.

‘What is it?’ Subi’s voice from the other room. ‘Let me see. Amna! Let me see it.’

‘Why?’ Amna says in the defiant tone of hers.

‘Because I’m eldest and in charge. Let me see it!’

‘But I found it!’ Amna says. ‘It’s my perfume.’

Perfume?

Lilly rushes from her bedroll into the other room to see Subi holding her hand out for Amna to pass a glass vial over. A sprayer at the top. One of the bottles from Pamela’s room. Amna lifts it and turns from Subi, and pushes the top.

‘NO!’ Lilly shouts and snatches it away, but the mist is in the air. She bumps Amna away and wafts her hand to dissipate the poison. ‘GET OUT!’

‘But it’s mine!’ Amna says, forever refusing to listen, and she jumps up to try and get it back, with her head passing through the mist that smells of sweet flowers. Lilly’s heart lurches. Knowing there is nothing she can do, but Amna shows no reaction. None of them do, and she scents that smell again. The scent of sweet flowers. It’s just perfume.

‘Where was it?’ she asks. ‘Amna! I am not playing. Where was it?’

Amna points to the side table. The one near the door. Pamela was in here. She left it as a message. Showing what they can do.

‘It was on my doorstep this morning,’ Mary says a short while later when Lilly heads over to the camp. A glass vial in Mary’s hand. A spray mechanism on the top. The same style and type that Lilly found in her rooms.

‘How did she get through the camp?’ Lilly asks. ‘Don’t you have guards?’

‘On the walls and on the road, but not in the camp,’ Mary whispers. ‘Why didn’t you come over last night?’

‘George told me to eat with them in the canteen. Lisa was there. She had a go at me again.’

‘Fecking bitch.’

‘She’s one of them.’

‘She’s what? Lisa? The doctor?’

‘She spoke Russian. She said a word that means never mind or something like that.’

‘Jesus,’ Mary says and sags down onto her sofa. ‘We can’t do a fecking thing. Even if we take George out and find Pamela, what’s to stop Lisa or whoever else spraying that shite everywhere? We don’t even know what they want.’

‘They obviously want the fort or the immune people. But George said it was planned, and Pamela must have been down there long before the outbreak.’

‘Don’t even try and work it out, Lilly. We can’t do a thing. Look at our faces. We woke up fecking naked, and I can’t stop thinking if they did anything to us. Would we even know? I mean. I didn’t have semen in my vagina. Did you?’

‘Jesus!’ Lilly mutters, looking away.

‘He fecking said it, Lilly. He said we won’t know what they will do to us. We could have been raped. They could have done anything! We can’t even run away. How would we get the kids out without them knowing? And where would we go? We don’t even know where Howie is, and he hates us as much as they do. Eggy wants to run a new vote cos most of my lot won’t talk to me again.’

‘I don’t think Howie hates us.’

‘Ach. Will ye. They played that music last time they saw us and were all laughing, and taking the piss. Everyone fecking hates us, so I’m telling ye. We do nothing. Nothing at all. What’s that shouting?’ Mary asks, pulling the net curtain back inside her caravan window. ‘The fuckers. They’re doing drill. That’s my bloody drill!’

Lilly looks past her. Seeing Kate running drill again, but this time with George.

‘Mary!’ someone from the camp calls as they walk over to bang on her door. ‘George said you and Lilly should do drill… Are ye inside, Mary? Are ye doing dirty sex games with Lilly again?’

‘No, we’re fecking not,’ Mary says, wrenching the door open as the lad giggles and rushes off.

‘Chaps! Come on. We’re waiting for you!’ George calls from the edge of the road while waving over.

They head out to join in.

Humiliated.

Degraded.

Brought to heel.

Drill ends. A hard drill. Brutal and nasty.

‘Ladies, don’t push yourselves after your accident,’ George said near the start. They heard the sniggers and laughs. Eyes lowered. Heads down.

‘Well done!’ George calls at the end, walking over to them. Charming and dapper in neat waterproofs. ‘Right. Well. I think you two should take a stint on guard duty on the beach to show some repentance after your escapades. What do you both think?’

They can’t say there’s no point putting guards on the beach because there are no new arrivals coming in. And they’ve got guards on the walls, so why would they need more on the beach which is inside the bay?

But they can’t say that.

‘Yes, George,’ Lilly says.

‘Yes, George,’ Mary says.

‘Wonderful!’ he says, and even alone, he doesn’t break character. ‘Spasiba! Which is thank you in Russian. Such a beautiful language. Don’t you think? Right. Well. You two stand guard then, and I’ll send a relief out later. But do make sure you are both seen by the camp and the fort. Walk up and down like sentries. Eh? That’ll show them how dedicated you are.’

‘Can we get waterproofs on please?’ Mary asks.

‘No. I don’t think so. See you!’

He walks off, full of himself and ever graceful as Lilly and Mary take their rifles and assume their position on the beach. Watching as George gets into boat with Sandy and starts heading to the fort. He looks back with a smile and motions walking with his fingers.

They start walking up and down the road next to the beach.

In the rain.

Without waterproofs.

For the rest of the morning, and for the whole of the afternoon.

Until they’re shivering, and their hair is plastered to their heads, and their thin sports tops become sodden and cling to their bodies, leaving them feeling exposed.

Humiliated.

Degraded.

But there’s nothing they can do, and no way out of it.

Because George has crushed his enemy totally.

6

‘We can get down,’ Carmen says on the balcony of the clinic constructed on the top of a hill surrounded by flood waters between Haselmere and Hindhead.

The others join her at the edge, taking care not to fall out through the missing glass safety panels smashed out of their fixtures by the floods. But they see she was right. The waters are receding, and they watch as the hilltop becomes more prominent, and the floods reduce in height, revealing roads and houses, and other buildings.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Paula murmurs at the majesty and power of mother nature slowly giving the land back, but only the tops of the hills. The valleys and low areas still remain submerged.

‘We can probably reach Hindhead,’ Roy says as the others turn to look at him, thankful of his knowledge of the area gained from years of living off-grid in his van. ‘We’re on the same high ridge of land.’

‘Well. We can’t go that way, that’s for sure,’ Clarence says, looking south towards the submerged town of Haselmere.

‘Oh, no!’ Tappy says with a sudden groan. ‘The new command van! Ah, shit. It was in the tunnel.’

‘I loved that van,’ Paula says with a sigh. ‘Nice seats. Big table.’

‘And it had a toilet,’ Marcy says wistfully. ‘We didn’t have to piss outside in a bush. Not that we actually had time to use it.’

‘We need to get another one,’ Paula says. ‘You feeling okay now, Dave?’ she asks for the seventh time in the last ten minutes. ‘Lungs okay? Can you feel water in them? Secondary drowning is a thing. How about you, Reggie? You took a lot of water in.’

‘Do I need to say it?’ Reginald asks with a glance at Howie.

‘Say what?’ Cookey asks with a glance to Charlie.

‘That the infection has kept us alive… Again,’ she says.

‘We thought Paco was dead,’ Blowers says. ‘No pulse. No heartbeat. Wasn’t breathing.’

‘It would appear we are hard to kill,’ Reginald says quietly as Howie thinks back to his dream and the same words spoken by the Old Lady. You are very hard to kill. He looks at Dave who just a few moments ago was lying dead with no pulse or heart beating, and sure as shit, the man wasn’t breathing. Even the machine couldn’t detect life within him.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet.

‘Did you see anything when you died?’ Howie asks Dave.

‘Yes, Mr Howie,’ Dave says as Howie’s focus sharpens instantly.

‘What did you see?’

Dave doesn’t reply. Nor does he show any outward reaction, but inside, he thinks about the images in his mind. A place. A woman. You’re not Dave. Blinky’s voice. But he can’t grasp the thoughts clearly enough to explain. ‘There was a woman,’ he says eventually.

‘The Old Lady?’ Howie asks as Dave looks at him and nods.

‘What does that mean?’ Paula asks, looking between them. ‘An old woman?’

‘She’s not old. She just calls herself the Old Lady. I think she was the voice we heard in the battle outside the fort on the seventh day.’

‘No, that was you,’ Clarence says.

‘The prayer?’ Nick asks. ‘That was your voice, boss.’

‘Yeah, that was you,’ Cookey says, looking at Howie.

‘I think it was her,’ Howie says, then frowns because it’s not clear in his mind either. ‘I don’t know. Yeah, probably it was me. What else would it be? I mean. It’s science, right? We share a hive mind, and I’m our control point, so whatever dreams and weird shit I create in my mind somehow gets transmitted to you guys, and then you add in your own dreams and memories, and the end product is a whole bunch of fuckedupness.’

‘Awesome word,’ Nick says.

‘It is a good word,’ Paula says quietly. ‘And we also need to talk about what happened,’ she adds with a look to Howie, seeing his eyes are still a little bit red. ‘You were turning.’

‘We’re already turned,’ Howie replies.

‘No, Howie. You were turning. You were doing a Lani. What was that? What causes that? Is it shock? Anger? Lani was both of those things, and she turned. Reggie?’

‘Well. I had a working theory that perhaps severing from the pack or our group, or our hive could cause that to happen. The effects of shock can have a very real and powerful physical impact on the body, which will result in the secretion of chemicals. I toyed with the idea that perhaps such shock or such chemicals being released enabled the infection within us to take over and, in a way, become the true state of being, as it calls itself. That we are infected is beyond question. It is inside of us. It controlled Marcy until she was able to withstand and take control over it. I don’t know. Without scientific research and data, of which we have none, we cannot say anything for certain, but I do wonder if the feeling of unity, in that we think we belong perhaps that secretes a chemical in our brains that allows us to control the infection.’

Silence as they all take it in, and the rain still comes down. Keeping them drenched.

‘Meredith would have gone for you,’ Paula says after another moment and with another glance to Howie. ‘I thought Clarence might have to grab you or something.’

Howie shrugs. Feeling wretched and confused, and simultaneously overjoyed that Dave is alive. But then they’re all the same.

‘Anyway. Let’s get out of here,’ Paula says, motioning the steps, and they set off down to the ground level and splash through the surface water as they navigate the grounds to head north along the ridgeline, with signs of the floods that swept through all around them.

‘Seen that?’ Tappy asks, nodding up at a corpse draped over a branch two metres in the air.

‘So, do tell me,’ Reginald asks a moment later. ‘What did this old lady say to you, Howie?’

‘Does it matter?’ Paula asks. ‘It’s just a dream.’

‘I’m interested,’ Reginald says.

‘Er, yeah. So, she said there are lots of worlds, all connected, and in the future, everyone lives in peace without suffering, and that she can see the timelines. I think she showed them to me. Like golden lines in the air… Our world had lots of golden lines, and they all just stopped when the outbreak hit. No, not all. I mean there were a few left. Like a million instead of, I don’t know, ten billion before, but even they just stopped when we saw the, er… Well. When we found the…’

‘What?’ Paula asks as they trudge on.

‘The puppy,’ Howie says quietly. ‘She said our world just stopped right there, or something like that.’

‘Because of the puppy?’ Marcy asks.

‘I think because the puppy broke us,’ Howie says, coming to a stop. ‘And we’re the only thing that can stop it. Or fix it.’

‘Fix it?’ Paula asks. ‘Do you mean the world?’

‘I think so, yeah,’ Howie says.

‘Finding the puppy took away your desire to fight on,’ Reginald says.

‘But we’re not responsible for the whole bloody world though,’ Paula says. ‘That’s you internalising the pressure you feel, Howie.’

‘Maybe. Yeah. I guess that’s… But then she said the Panacea is the thing, like in the future, that the worlds all use to gain peace and not have suffering, and that it comes from our world, and I think she said people can move between worlds. I mean, if our world has this Panacea, and we win, and everyone gets a dose or whatever, so they never get sick, and then all the worlds connect, and then they all get the Panacea too, from our world… Oh fuck, you know what? This sound like a shitty movie when coming out of my gob like this.’

‘Get Roy to write it into a story,’ Mo says with a grin to a few chuckles and smiles as Howie walks on, and the rest follow.

‘But then she said if we didn’t fight,’ Howie says and comes to a stop again as the rest bunch up and look at him, and see the real emotion in his features, but then Carmen always said Howie wears his emotions openly. ‘She said if we didn’t fight, she’d take what I love and shut this world off.’

‘Oooh,’ Tappy murmurs with a look of awe as she glances at Dave. ‘You think she took Dave away for a few minutes to show she was serious?’

‘You’re talking like it was real,’ Paula says. ‘Howie said it was just a messed-up dream.’

‘Yeah, but she took Dave,’ Tappy says. ‘She took what the boss loves.’

‘I’m with Paula,’ Carmen says. ‘It’s not real.’

‘It might be though,’ Blowers says. ‘If it was the other place.’

‘There is no other place,’ Carmen says.

‘Hang on. Howie loves me, and I didn’t die,’ Marcy says. ‘Why did she take Dave and not me?’

‘Does everything have to be about you?’ Roy asks.

‘No! I mean Howie genuinely loves me. I feel he does. I don’t mean why not me, I’m so important. But why Dave?’

‘Cos nothing else can kill him, that’s why,’ Mo says to a sudden silence.

‘She took the best of us then,’ Roy says.

‘Wow. Yeah. That’s exactly what she did,’ Tappy says. ‘Did the Old Lady say anything to you, Dave?’

‘You’re so into this,’ Paula says, shaking her head at Tappy. ‘Do you actually believe it?’

‘Yeah!’

‘Ah, man, yeah, I do too, actually,’ Cookey says.

‘Really?’ Charlie asks in amazement.

‘I think I saw Blinky,’ Dave says to another pulse of energy as they all snap their heads over to look at him.

‘What did she say?’ Charlie asks, forgetting her hesitancy.

Dave pauses. Not able to grasp it because it feels like it wasn’t him. Like the him now. But a different him. Like someone else’s memories. ‘She didn’t know me,’ he says quietly. ‘I wasn’t me. I was… different.’ He pauses again with a rare look of angst in his eyes. The same look he gets when people crowd around him or try, and touch him, or when he’s near deep water. A sudden vulnerability that makes them feel a strong surge of protectiveness towards him. But then he remembers something, and his gaze sharpens. ‘The Old Lady said we have to cull the numbers, and we have to get the Panacea out.’ He speaks the words like he’s making a report and even looks to Reginald as though imparting the intelligence to one of the mission leaders.

‘Whoa. They were visited by a prophet,’ Tappy whispers.

‘Was it heck!’ Paula says.

‘That was so prophetic,’ Tappy says.

‘It wasn’t! It was what Howie said about projecting his mind. He dreamt it, and then Dave saw the images in his mind. Howie’s been torn between carrying on doing what we’re doing, which is what Reggie wants us to do, or getting the Panacea out now. Reggie? This is science. Back me up,’ Paula says.

‘Your theory is sound, Paula, and I would have to agree with everything you said.’

‘See?’ Paula tells the others.

‘However,’ Reginald says, ‘I’ve always said that science can only account for 99% of this. There is another element that I cannot deduce or fathom. So, who knows?’

‘Seriously! An Old Lady prophet?’ Paula asks.

‘Seriously?’ Talking zombies?’ Reginald asks in mimicry of her voice. ‘Seriously? People die and then come back? Telepathic abilities? A hive mind connection? Lots of people all hearing the Lord’s prayer in their minds? My point is. This whole endeavour has taught me to retain a completely open mind.’

‘Um, and I just remembered something else,’ Howie says as the air of expectation increases. ‘Clarence was there too, and he was eating my pizza… And he had big boobs… Don’t roll your eyes at me, Reggie. You were there with boobs too, smacking your fly swatter on your leg. The other side are putting pineapple on their pizza, Mr Howie!’

‘Go on then, explain that,’ Paula says with a look at Tappy.

‘Yeah, that bit’s fucked up. Ah! But no! See. The boss clearly has a thing for Marcy’s boobs, and he clearly loves Clarence and Reggie, so he was projecting his love onto them, and that was his bit of the fucked-up dream in amongst the prophet lady woman person.’

‘Please, don’t sexualise my friendships with Clarence and Reggie,’ Howie says with a grossed out look.

‘You already did, boss,’ Tappy says.

‘I hope their boobs weren’t better than mine,’ Marcy says.

‘Soooo, what’s wrong with pineapple on pizza?’ Nick asks to a chorus of groans.

‘Come on,’ Paula says, squelching on with a tut at her drenched clothes chafing her thighs and armpits and the feel of water in her boots and socks. All of them the same. Their hair plastered down.

‘Here’s a question,’ Howie says after another few moments as he looks back to Reginald. ‘Why the hell did you jump in if you can’t swim? I don’t know if that was bravest thing I’ve ever seen or the daftest.’

‘Perhaps both,’ Reginald remarks. ‘I rather think it was a compulsion. We all had a lemming moment.’

‘Mads didn’t jump,’ Marcy says.

‘Maddox is smart though,’ Clarence says. ‘He would have realised one more jumping in wouldn’t make a difference to Dave, but one more staying back to protect the survivors would.’

‘I think Henry told him to hold back,’ Carmen says. ‘Not that he looked like he wanted to jump off a cliff.’

‘He’s definitely one of Henry’s then,’ Paula says.

‘Looks that way,’ Clarence says. ‘Do we get Carmen then?’

‘I’m not a thing to trade,’ Carmen says.

‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Clarence says.

‘But seriously though. Can we have Mads back?’ Blowers asks, getting a thump on the arm from Carmen.

‘I don’t know what I am,’ Carmen says, not knowing the words were going to come out until they did, which isn’t something she would ever normally do. But there’s a bond now. A thing between them all. And she did jump off the cliff, albeit to save Reginald. ‘I think,’ she announces and comes to a stop as the others do the same. ‘I think I’d like to be like Roy?’

‘What? Fucking annoying?’ Marcy quips.

‘No. Like. You know,’ Carmen says. ‘Part of, but not labelled. Is that what Roy is? Roy?’

‘I guess that’s what I am,’ Roy says.

‘What about Bash?’ Paula asks. ‘He was one of Henry’s, but he’s with us. Mo, ask Bash if he wants to stay with Henry.’

‘Does it matter?’ Howie asks.

‘I think it does,’ Paula says. ‘We’re working with Henry, but we’re not part of his unit.’

‘Bro, so you working in our team now or with Major Henry?’ Mo asks Bashir in their native language.

Bashir thinks for a moment. He felt the compulsion to jump too. He saw Dave went down and knew the importance of keeping their best warrior alive. But then it was Major Henry who gave him the opportunity to fight back, so the loyalties are split.

‘Hang on,’ Howie says, sensing his hesitancy. ‘I said from the start. You can all come and go, and stay, and leave, and do what you want. If you want to be with us, then cool; if you want to jump in with Henry later, then that’s cool too.’

‘Howie really doesn’t like labels,’ Paula says.

‘I hate labels.’

‘But sometimes we need labels,’ Paula says. ‘And some people find them useful.’

‘And you can’t be like whatever and do what we’re doing,’ Carmen says. ‘Structure is important, and not everyone has the same personality type as you, Mr Howie.’

‘Feels weird you calling me Mr Howie,’ Howie says.

‘Boss then. Whatever. But some people need rules and regs to function.’

‘Thank you!’ Paula says, motioning Carmen with an open hand. ‘FYI, totally voting for Carmen to be in our group. As long as she keeps agreeing with me.’

Mo relays what Howie said, speaking quietly as Bashir nods and listens, then steps over to hold a hand out to Howie.

‘Out of honour, I must first speak with Major Henry, but I respect your leadership and thank you for the invite. Perhaps though, we can get the hell off this fucking hill and into some dry clothes.’

Mo translates the words as the others snort laughs, and they trudge on through the pouring rain into the grounds of a large country house. The windows all smashed, and the doors ripped off from the power of the floods that tore through. Ornamental bushes torn out from their roots, and some of the contents of the house strewn across the lawns.

They pass in silence. Seeing the world around them change so very much day by day. Knowing the inside of that house will grow mould and rot away in quick time because of the water and the heat still in the air.

‘We’re going to need to plan better,’ Clarence says with a glance back at the house. ‘We can’t just run into houses to get food now or drink water from the taps. The water supply network will be contaminated. Also means no more grabbing cars to use. Even when this water recedes. Which also means each kitbag will need proper rations.’

‘Okay,’ Paula says, nodding up at him as Meredith barks at Frank and Maddox double-timing it towards them.

‘How the bleedin’ hell are you lot still alive?’ Frank asks, coming to a stop.

‘Yeah, funny that,’ Howie says with a look to Dave. ‘You lot okay?’

‘Henry’s back with the survivors,’ Frank says, motioning the way he just came from. ‘We’ll tab back and regroup.’

They get going, with Frank and Maddox on point, setting a brutal pace, with Maddox now very obviously part of Henry’s team and not Howie’s. It’s hard going over sodden ground ripe with tree roots and bushes and skirting debris picked up and dumped by the floods. Sheds everywhere. Wooden fences and long trails of horrible snagging metal wire. Bodies too. A lot of them. Some old and decomposed. Others very fresh with red eyes because the flood didn’t care who it killed.

They hit the last stretch of the ridgeline, with the ground rising sharply, and arrive at the top, breathing hard to see the one hundred and thirty survivors all huddled together, with Henry and the others all rushing over.

‘Y…Y… You’re okay!’ Johnny says with a relieved grin.

‘We were so worried!’ Tamara says over him as they hand the kitbags, rifles, and berets over.

‘What happened?’ Ali asks, all of them talking at once. ‘The way you all jumped off! Thapa tried to go after you! We had to hold him back.’

‘Ali tried to jump off too!’ Tamara says. ‘And she can’t even swim!’

‘I can swim! Sort of… I can doggy paddle.’

‘Marcy is a swim instructor. We will hold lessons,’ Dave says.

‘And she’s a driving instructor,’ Howie adds, pulling his beret on. ‘And she also teaches food hygiene certifications. Who knew? But more importantly. How do we get out of here?’

‘I think that way,’ Henry says, pointing off as he looks over the group. ‘Is everyone okay? Any injuries?’

‘I cut the end of my finger off,’ Marcy says, holding her gaffer tape wrapped hand up.

‘From today?’ Henry asks. ‘Any injuries from today?’

‘Well. Howie electrocuted himself in a puddle of water,’ Paula says. ‘While trying to save Dave. Who had drowned but then came back to life. And Blowers tried to zap himself, which then sparked a whole chitty chat about an old woman God lady, who spoke to Howie and Dave from a burning bush and told them not to put pineapple on pizza.’

‘No. Reginald said not to put pineapple on pizza. The Old Lady said we have to cull the numbers and get the Panacea out,’ Howie says.

‘And Clarence had boobs,’ Tappy adds as everyone looks at Clarence’s chest.

‘And we also need to discuss new kitbags, rations, and team re-structuring,’ Paula says. ‘But not right now. For now, I suggest we tab north and find a way out.’

‘I just said that,’ Henry says.

‘But I said it better. Right! Come on,’ Paula says, clapping her hands as they set off with the survivors. All of them terrified and withdrawn. Sunken cheeks and ashen faces. Wide eyes full of shock. They look ready to drop or curl up, and cry, but they also look up in awe at the sight of people around them. The people that carried them up the stairs and then jumped off a crumbling cliff, but now they’re back and still up, and moving with purpose.

‘Oh, thank god,’ Paula says with a gasp as they breach the treeline and get out onto Hindhead Road running over the top of the hill. The going now much easier until they spot the buildings ahead as the countryside gives way to urbanisation.

Wheelie bins scattered across the road. Picked up in the winds and storms. Their contents strewn everywhere and picked over by cats, rats, foxes, and birds.

A small roundabout ahead. Just a white dot painted on the road where three roads meet.

They take the road to the right, the old London Road, and pass mock Tudor buildings stained from years of filthy traffic fumes before the tunnels were built.

Shops at ground level. Long abandoned before the outbreak. Peeling paint and rotten frames.

A café on the left, painted the same Millennial grey as every other café in every other town and village. Every interior the same. Wooden and rustic, and every menu offering the same drinks and avocado based crap while the staff ignored the real customers in favour of posting online because the café owners all thought they were so edgy and out there without realising they were no different to football fans by developing their own defined subculture of tepid banality. It’s how every business ended up blurring into every other business. Even down to the language they used. The quasi-corporate speech littered with buzz words while trying too hard to be ultra-hip and cool.

‘Someone really needs a coffee,’ Marcy mutters as Howie frowns, thinking again that he was sure he wasn’t speaking out loud at the same second as Mo feels the sudden, urging nag in the back of his head. ‘They’s here!’ he says to an instant hardening of energy and focus, with Meredith growling. Showing teeth, and her hackles rising.

Howie spins back, checking behind. No sign of them. Blowers and the lads aiming up at windows and over to the doors. No motion. No movement. The rain pelting their faces. Drumming on the road. Instant tension.

‘Everyone, group together,’ Reginald says, his tone low but urgent. ‘Pick the children up in case we have to run.’

‘There,’ Clarence says, nodding ahead as Howie turns to see the Millennial café owner coming out of a garden gate further along the long, straight road. A worn and torn polo shirt of the same colour and bearing the same logo as the shit café. A hipster beard, and long hair still in a straggly manbun. Ubiquitous shaded tattoos on his arms, but his eyes are red, and his hands are clawed in the true state of being, and his mouth yawns open and closed as he walks out into the middle of the road and turns to face them. A bite wound visible on the side of his face.

Another infected coming into the road. A female with a nearly bald head. A woman that was undergoing treatment for a cancer she no longer has. The infection has cured her. Now she stands red-eyed, strong, fit, and absurdly healthy while staring at them, and the rain comes down.

Unrelenting.

Unforgiving.

A voice inside of Howie’s head.

You will fight.

Or I will take what you love.

He blinks slowly. Water pouring down over his face. The days spent in the garden centre in his mind. Time spent with the people he loves. Listening to stories. Playing games. Eating. Drinking. Doing nothing.

But everything ends.

Everything has an end.

His eyes blink slowly. Dark. Brooding. A memory of the puppy. A memory of Donna and Jim, and all the others. Fleeting images. The girl in the square. The little boy in the teddy bear pyjamas.

All of those things in his mind within that second, but as they burst to run, so he does too. Charging out while slinging his rifle and drawing his knife.

You will fight.

Or I will take what you love.

A snarl. A growl. A yell. All three of them the same. Each with the same infection inside of them.

The two infected and Howie come together as a low streak of black fur launches up to take the woman down and rag her across the road while Howie slams into the Millennial hipster. Taking him off his feet and down onto the hard road, with the knife driven into his throat. Tearing it open as the blood sprays into Howie’s face, and the roar goes up. The screeches of the infected pouring out from gates and windows, and doors.

A yell from behind. Clarence. Dave. Blowers and the others all coming forward.

‘Keep them moving,’ Howie yells back to Henry with an instant organic switch of leadership that makes Henry nod to show he understand the order, and he starts herding the survivors into a smaller, tighter group.

‘We need to punch through!’ Howie calls, on his feet. His blood pumping. The energy rising. His face stained with blood. The knife in his hand.

‘Move out!’ Henry shouts. ‘Tilda! Your team, keep them pressed together and moving.’

They run on, with the survivors crying out in panic, and Tilda and her team flinching at the shots fired from Dave, taking one through the head as it launches from a first-floor window and lands nearby with a crunch of bone.

Another two land on their feet near Howie. Two snarling beasts with their eyes on the survivors. Howie slams into them. Taking them both over a low wall. Another lunges for his back, only to get taken out by Dave with a quick slice to the neck; then he’s off and gliding, moving through them with grace.

Another one lands by Blowers as he slings his weapon and smashes it down with a brutal punch. Driving bones into the brain. Cookey at his side, booting another one through an open front door, and he follows it inside. Stabbing it through the eye.

Clarence boots one into a wall, then turns, and clotheslines another down with his outstretched arm. A snarl from the side. He twists fast to punch out and forgets he doesn’t have a hand, with the spike attached to his stump skewering into a skull through an eye-socket. ‘Oops,’ he says and tries to shake it off, and thumps another way with his good hand, and turns this way and that with a dead zombie dangling from his spike.

‘Use your foot!’ Paula shouts.

‘I know,’ he yells back as though not needing to be told how to remove a dangly zombie from a spike and duly boots it off, and yanks the spike free. An idea in mind. He grabs a zombie running past with his left hand and skewers the spike in and out through an ear, and casts the body aside to grab another and do it again. ‘I love this!’ he yells over to Tappy stamping on a zombie head.

‘Yeah?’ she asks with a big grin as Nick takes one down behind her, and Charlie goes by at her side, driving one into a wall to stab through the neck.

Bashir behind her, taking one down to kill. Shots fired by Marcy. Shooting another that lands too close to the survivors. Frank with his rifle braced. Single shots to heads with expert marksmanship. Bang, bang, bang. Each one a kill shot. Meredith ragging one apart and lunging after Howie into a house to kill more inside. Carmen with her rifle up and her back pressed into Reginald. Firing shots into heads.

Everything happening in an instant. No time to think. More of them coming from the other side of the road. Infected men, women, and children. Screeching and howling. Driven by an insatiable hunger inside to bite and scratch, and take more hosts.

‘One there!’ Reginald shouts, pointing to an infected surging out of a side alley towards them. ‘Somebody, shoot it, please! You there! Shoot that infected!’

Ali blinks. The closest to Reginald, and she realises he means her. Her rifle braced. Her safety off. She was on the bus that went into Gatwick. Her whole team were there, and they all shot infected, but they were inside the bus, and it didn’t feel real. It was more like a video game. But now it is real, with the snarls and screams, and everything moving so fast.

‘Aim. Breathe and fire,’ Reginald says, forcing calmness into his voice. ‘You’ve got this. It’s either him or us…’

The blink of an eye. The beat of a heart. Training kicks in. Aim. Breathe. Squeeze the trigger. The rifle thumps her shoulder. The infected drops.

‘Well done that woman!’ Reginald calls, urging her to keep running. ‘Come on, then! Keep up. We need to stay together. Someone, pick that child up! BEHIND US! ATTACK FROM THE REAR!’

Ali turns. Tamara too. Both of them fire and put rounds into bodies. Making them spin away and drop.

‘That’s it! Well done! Press on. Keep them together,’ Reginald shouts, swatting a backside with his swatter to make a plump man speed up. Grabbing a child dropping back and running forward into the group to pass it over to an adult. ‘We’ll soon get through, chaps! Never fear!’

Blood spraying and guts being ripped from bodies. Bones breaking. Shots firing. Knives stabbing and slicing. Howls and screeches. Grunts from Howie and his team going hands on with knives. Battering them down and all the while keeping an outer circle around the survivors while Henry keeps the inner circle intact, and Reginald runs up and down.

A sudden change to the skirmish. A louder roar coming as they reach the dense nucleus of the horde that pour faster from the windows and doors, and alleys, and gardens.

‘HOLD!’ Henry shouts. Seeing the way ahead is blocked. ‘Compress!’ he orders, walking backwards to push the survivors into a tighter huddle.

‘That’s it, chaps! Nice and tight. Don’t be shy,’ Reginald shouts, swatting backsides and arms, pushing people in closer to the group.

‘I’m out!’ Marcy yells, knocking her mag free as she tries to grab another from her bag. One incoming at speed.

A heavy male with a bald head and wild eyes. He speeds up. Snarling and furious. Marcy curses. Everyone around her already firing. Johnny at her side. Turning to put rounds in. His rifle clicks empty. Marcy curses. Slinging hers to draw her knife and go hands on close-quarters, but Johnny brushes past. The stocky lad moving fast to grab and flip the big male with ease. Slamming him down with a sickening crunch of bones and a knee to the throat.

‘Jesus!’ Marcy says at the speed of the lad.

‘BIBI!’ Johnny yells as Bibi Thapa tries to aim but sees he can’t get a clear shot and draws his knife to dive and slice the male’s throat open while Johnny pins him down. The artery cut. The hot blood spraying into their faces. Into their mouths.

‘Behind you!’ Marcy shouts, surging up as an infected woman lunges at their backs. She takes it down from the side. Feeling teeth on her arm and sticking the blade into the guts, and wrenching hard. A shout, and Ali lands on the infected woman. Wrapping her arms around the neck to wrench it away. Tamara rushes in. Clubbing with her rifle butt until Carmen gets in and slices throats open to pull the two young women out of the melee. Tilda taking shots. Johnny on his feet as another one tries to slam him down, but again, his skills show true, and he flips the body with ease. Taking it down for Bibi to stab it through the neck.

‘REAR!’ Frank shouts, clocking more coming in from behind as he, Henry, Tilda, and Carmen turn to put rounds into them.

A shout from Ali. A yell as she’s taken off her feet by a charging male and carried across the road. She stabs into the shoulders, but the infected doesn’t stop, and she fears the worst until Danny’s strong arm wraps around her waist and lifts her clear to boot the infected off to the side and into Mo, who takes it down with a blade to both Achilles heels.

Danny sets her down, with all three turning to see Tamara running backwards from four going at her. A yell as they charge across to take them down, with a terrified Corporal Rogers backing away and tripping over the kerb to lie frozen in fear.

‘Get up!’ Howie says, wrenching Corporal Rogers to his feet.

‘I’m bit! I’m bit!’ the lad shouts, seeing blood on his hands.

‘You grazed your hands. You’re fine,’ Howie says, pushing him back towards the survivors. ‘Stay with them. Henry, lead us out. My team at the rear.’

Chaos. Shouts. The survivors get yanked and pushed, and yelled to move and run along London Road, with Henry taking point. Howie at the back. Fending the attackers off with their bare hands. Only a few rounds left in each of their magazines.

They run past houses. Gasping for air. Adults struggling to carry the small children. Voices yelling at them to dig in and keep going.

‘AHEAD!’ Henry shouts, seeing a grand old pub on the right side. White walls. A tiled roof. Black framed windows. The ground floor boarded over. A door seen open, with a man running inside. ‘HOLD IT OPEN!’ Henry yells ahead, seeing the guy turn and look before he runs inside and slams the door.

Henry reaches it. Hammering on the thick wooden door. ‘OPEN UP! WE HAVE CHILDREN!’

‘Fuck off!’ a yell from inside. ‘We’ll fucking shoot you!’

A glance back at the numbers of infected coming at them from behind. ‘CLARENCE! DOOR!’

‘I WILL SHOOT YOU!’ the panicked voice shouts from inside as Clarence’s foot splinters the lock from the frame, and the door slams open, with Henry sweeping inside. Rifle up and aimed. A man with a shotgun yelling out as he brings the weapon to aim. Henry kills him outright. Two to the chest. One to the head. Two more armed men ditch their weapons and throw their hands in the air as the people inside scream in fear and cower on the floor.

‘GET THEM IN!’ Henry shouts to the survivors inside. Urging them through the doorway. Everyone screaming and crying out as the inside of the pub rapidly fills with the drenched people from the tunnels.

Corporal Rogers goes with them. His mind spinning from the panic of the attack and the thought that he’s not gripping his own fear. Shame already hitting him, and a desperate need to recover his wits and reputation. He shouts at the people to get inside. Shoving them too hard. Pushing them until they trip.

‘Calm down!’ Frank tells him, brushing past. Rogers turns to go, thinking to head out and fight.

‘Stay inside,’ Henry says, seeing the lad in a state of panic.

‘I can fight!’ Rogers says, but it’s too late, and Henry rushes out, with Rogers spotting Ali and Tam putting rounds into the infected at the flanks while Bibi and Johnny fight hand to hand alongside Howie and his team. Tilda with Paula and Marcy. Holding a last line of defence against the door.

Rogers backs up. Still full of panic and fear and now instantly worried about his own position within the team. He turns to spot a guy inside picking one of shotguns up off the floor near to the children cowering in fear. ‘No!’ Rogers shouts, aiming his rifle. ‘Disarm now!’

‘I’m just moving it!’

‘PUTITDOWN!’ Rogers shouts, seeing the man holding the gun.

‘There’s kids in here!’ the guy says, motioning the children as Rogers clocks the shotgun moving and fires a burst into his chest. Sending him back into the bar and crumpling to the floor with the gunshots ringing in his ears.

‘PUTITDOWN! PUTITDOWN!’ Rogers yells and fires again.

‘He’s dropped it!’ a woman screams.

‘He’s fucking dead!’ another shouts and lunges for the door. ‘HELP!’ she screams as Paula runs inside to see Rogers aiming his rifle at a dead guy on the floor. The lad tensed so rigidly his whole body is shaking. His pale cheeks flushed, and his face a mask of terror-driven rage and panic.

‘HE NEEDS TO DISARM!’ Roger screams.

‘He’s down,’ Paula says, putting her hand on the lad’s rifle to push the barrel down and feeling him locked up. ‘Easy… Just put the rifle down.’

‘I told him to disarm!’ Rogers shouts, his young voice cracking.

‘Give me that!’ Frank says, digging a knee into the back of Roger’s legs to make the lad drop as he snatches the rifle free and steps away.

‘He bloody shot him!’ the woman shouts. Seeing the spotty soldier now disarmed. ‘He was moving the gun! HE WAS MOVING IT!’

‘Alright, alright,’ Frank says, stepping into her path as she charges at Rogers.

‘No, she’s right!’ someone else says. ‘He didn’t do anything! He picked it up, and that lad shot him!’

‘I told him to disarm!’ Rogers shouts back. ‘I gave the official NATO warning in line with the rules of engagement.’

‘There’s no such thing, nips,’ Frank says, shaking his head. ‘Get outside and report to your C.O. Everyone else, just stay calm.’

‘He shot him!’ the woman screams.

‘It’s war. Bad things happen,’ Frank says, following the lad outside. The battle now over. Howie out ahead of the others, standing up from stabbing the last one through the neck. The ground covered in bodies. The rain still lashing down. The first skirmish since Gatwick.

Tilda stares on. Taking it all in. She served in the military, but in her day, women were not allowed on the front line. The constant drills served her well. But now seeing it with her own eyes. What they do. How they fight. The speed of it. The utter viciousness of it is very different.

‘I told him to disarm!’ Rogers shouts, rushing over in a state of panic as Tilda blinks at him. ‘I told him to disarm! He had the weapon, and he was lifting it.’

‘Who did?’ Tilda asks.

‘He shot a man in there for moving a shotgun,’ Paula calls from the doorway, holding the weapon in one hand.

‘A civilian?’ Tilda asks as Paula nods.

‘I followed the rules of engagement!’

‘Is he dead?” Tilda asks. ‘Matthew… What did you do?’

‘I warned him! The guidelines stipulate a clear warning should be given!’

‘They’re all saying the man only moved the gun away,’ Paula says.

‘I WARNED HIM!’

‘Enough, Matthew,’ Tilda says as the lad’s face flushes a deeper shade of red.

‘I told him to disarm!’

‘Matty, shut up,’ Bibi Thapa says.

‘No! I did my job! I want my rifle back!’

‘Just shut up, Matt,’ Ali says. ‘You’ve always got to be right!’

‘This isn’t fair!’

‘Stop it, Matthew!’ Tilda orders.

‘No, but-.’

‘The major gave you an order,’ Blowers snaps, glaring at the lad.

‘Yeah, but I’m just saying-.’

‘I don’t care what you were just saying. One more fucking word and see what happens,’ Blowers says, marching over as Rogers blanches, clearly triggered and unable to process what’s happening.

‘No! You need to listen to me,’ Matthew says, and Tilda and his team flinch from the hard punch given by Blowers that sends the corporal sprawling over the filthy, wet road.

‘You listen when your officer gives an order,’ Blowers shouts, standing over him as Tilda goes to move but stops on being motioned by Frank and Clarence. ‘We are at war. You will have discipline. Do you understand?’

‘Yeah, alright! Jesus, you hit me!’ Rogers yelps, wiping blood from his cut and already swollen lip as he looks to Tilda as though expecting her to step in, but she stays silent.

‘He’s got a sidearm,’ Blowers says, clocking the holstered pistol.

‘Disarm him, please, Sergeant,’ Henry says.

‘Hand it over,’ Blowers orders, bending over to grip the front of the lad’s shirt to yank him up to his feet with ease.

‘That’s not fair!’ Rogers tries to say but cuts off from Blowers gripping his jaw and using his other hand to draw the sidearm from the lad’s holster. A quick shove, and Roger’s staggers back, with Blowers turning away.

‘The rest of you did well,’ Blowers says, looking at the other members of the Number One Regiment. ‘But we’re not done yet. Stay focussed. Eyes up and out. Watch the doors and windows.’

‘I found some anti-bac,’ Paula says, bringing big, squeezy bottles outside that get passed around with copious amounts being rubbed over hands and arms, and even faces.

‘We need to go,’ Howie says, looking to Henry. ‘There could be more.’

‘Understood,’ Henry says, knowing Howie has the expertise in this arena. ‘Okay, listen in,’ he calls. ‘We need to double time across this ridge to find a way off the hill. How many more survivors were in that pub?’

‘There’s about a hundred and fifty in total now,’ Paula says.

‘I’ll take point with Dave,’ Howie says. ‘Tilda, let Blowers control your team.’

‘All yours, sergeant.’

Chaos again as Paula and Marcy get them back outside, with more than a few holding back, not wanting to leave the perceived safety of the pub.

‘You can do what you want, but we are getting these children out of here,’ Paula says, urging them on and out into the rain. Herding them together, with adults holding the now orphaned infants and toddlers.

‘Move out!’ Howie orders, leading them away and already cursing at the slow pace as he glances back to the town. Knowing there could be more infected sheltering from the rain in the buildings. ‘GET THEM FUCKING MOVING!’

A hard, brutal shout, but it has to be that way, and it sends a fresh surge of energy through his team, pushing them into motion.

‘Johnny, Thapa. Range out with us,’ Blowers orders, pointing at the two lads, then motioning where he wants them. Picking the best fighters to put out on the outer ring of steel. ‘Tam, Ali, you stay on the inside ring. Last line of defence. The outer ring fight. The inner ring protects and keeps them moving. Are we clear?’

Nods. Grim faces. Yes, sarge. Voices calling out.

Howie drops his bag to root inside, seeing only one spare magazine inside, and the mag loaded in his rifle only has a few shots left. A glance over to Carmen and Frank. A sudden idea, and he passes them over Frank.

‘What are you going to use?’ Frank asks.

‘I’ve got my knife.’

‘Don’t be daft, lad. You need your rifle,’ Frank says.

‘I can’t shoot like you can,’ Howie says with a second’s worth of pause as Frank realises he’s right, and that one of Howie’s biggest skills is his ability to absorb damage, whereas he and Carmen, and Henry are skilled shooters.

‘Alright, nips,’ he says, taking them to push into his tac-vest.

‘Take mine,’ Clarence says, pushing his mags at Carmen.

‘Have mine,’ Blowers says, handing his last mag over to Paula.

‘Marcy, take mine,’ Nick says.

‘I’ve got one,’ Cookey says, passing his to Henry.

The others do the same. Handing their magazines over to the inner circle and slinging their rifles.

‘With luck, we’ll get straight out with no issues,’ Henry says.

‘Every half hour,’ Howie mutters.

‘Fact,’ Paula says, sharing a look with Clarence.

‘Move out!’ Howie says, pushing forward with Dave and Meredith as they set off away from the old pub and along the London Road. He glances back, seeing a few sound minds working with Paula and the others to keep everyone together. Passing babies and children into the arms of the fittest and strongest. A rare thing, and it makes Howie blink in the rain. Seeing people taking responsibility for their own survival. It’s not just older people either. A pretty, young woman covered in tattoos with larger than natural lips urging the others to stay close and keep moving. ‘We’re gonna be alright. They’ll get us out of here.’

Her voice carries over. Rough and common in a way that Howie would hold judgement in a negative sense in the old world, but this isn’t the old world, and people don’t know what’s inside of them. Strong men cower and piss themselves while young women addicted to social media rise up and fight.

He pushes on. Feeling empty-handed without his axe. Only a knife in a scabbard. No rifle. No pistol. A fleeting thought that they really don’t have any choice now, and they’ll have to do the raid on that Krakov’s place.

An opening to the left leading into a car park. Signs everywhere. Welcoming people to the Devil’s Punchbowl Visitor Centre and Café. The old road that once led to London now blocked with concrete bollards and turned into a nature trail.

He rushes on as Meredith snaps her head over and starts barking. ‘IN THERE, BOSS!’ Mo shouts from behind, waving an arm to the visitor centre. A long, low, single story, modern building. The windows intact. Figures seen inside. Another cluster of infected sheltering from the weather. A few dozen at least.

‘Give us a fucking break,’ Howie says, glancing up at the sky as though telling the Old Lady; then he glances back to the visitor centre and thinks for a second that they’re not coming out, and he can get the survivors past.

But no.

Why would that happen?

Why would anything helpful ever fucking happen?

And he sees through the windows as they animate and start rushing for the door, and the sight sparks that fury inside. That vicious, seething, black fury. ‘Henry! Hold them!’ he yells and sets off sprinting with a detonation of pure, filthy rage. Running at the visitor centre. Dave at his side. Meredith streaking ahead. Blowers and his team, and Clarence, and Roy sprinting behind him. Feeling it inside. Seeing as the first infected gets through the door and screeches as the dog slams into it, driving it back, with Howie right behind her, steaming into the mass of bodies. Slamming through them. Deep into their ranks. Knife in hand. Stabbing throats and eyes, and heads. Gripping ankles to pull up to yank them off their feet. Teeth on his arms and shoulders, and body. Hands raking his skin. War. Fury. Anger. Rage. Blood spraying. Dave somewhere close. Slicing them down. Blowers getting through the door. Cookey. Nick. Roy. Bashir. Danny. Mo. Charlie and Tappy, and the bulk of Clarence coming in last and hitting the horde so hard it feels like the whole thing slides back a few inches.

‘No!’ Tilda shouts through the rain to hold Ali and Tam back as she spots Bibi and Johnny sprinting across to get through the door. The two lads steaming into the mass brawl. Johnny flipping bodies with ease, taking them down, with Bibi Thapa stabbing them through the neck. The two lads working well together. Blowers battering faces with brutally hard punches. Clarence roaring out. Spiking skulls with hard punches.

Screams and yells.

Howls and screeches.

Pure, filthy, close-quarters, eye-gouging, throat-biting, neck-snapping, bone-busting combat. A few seconds. A few minutes. Time is different. Time doesn’t count. Another carpet of bodies. Another place where the walls drip blood, and the entrails lie like meat in a butcher’s shop. Glistening with blood.

Another fight done.

Another fight over.

Howie stands in the middle. Heaving for air. Dripping with gore. All of them the same.

A grunt coming from the toilets. One left. They all turn as the door slams open, and she comes into view.

Six foot six, with a huge belly and thick arms, and massive legs. No neck. Just a head on shoulders as wide as Clarence’s. Red eyes. Hands clawing. The dog growls. The beast growls back at her. The dog charges, going low and leaping up to clamp her jaws on the head, ready to drop and rag, except she doesn’t drop and instead hangs limp and very surprised with her mouth clamped on the side of the head of the very large, infected woman.

‘Put our dog down!’ Howie yells and throws himself at the woman, and bounces off as she swings to the side and sends the dog flying after Howie as Blowers rushes over to deliver a brutal hook that would surely take any other person off their feet, but the infected snarls and lashes out again, swiping Blowers over the reception counter, and the yells sound out as the rest all charge at once.

All of them slamming into the giant, infected woman and getting knocked six ways to Sunday. Sent sprawling and flying, and tumbling. Dave tries to slice her throat, but there is no neck, and he just scores across her chest as Nick and Cookey slam into her side. Trying to take her down, but she stays on her feet. Turning circles and lashing out with her massive arms. Charlie jumps on. Danny tries booting her. Tappy grabs an arm and gets lifted off the ground like she’s stuck on a fairground ride.

Clarence roars and runs towards her while lowering into a rugby player’s stance. and slams his shoulders into her body with enough strength and force to drive her backwards, but still, she stays on her feet as they crash through an internal wall into the toilets and through the cubicle walls. The lads still on her back. Tappy still held in one hand. Dave still trying to stab. The dog trying to bite. Danny kicking with his strong legs. Blowers raining blows into the body. Bashir diving at a leg. Thinking to hobble her motion and bring her down. He clings on, but like Tappy, he gets lifted and dragged as the whole mass of them crash through a porcelain toilet, with water gushing out from the pipes. All of them shouting as they get carried and dragged across the bathroom into the sinks, and they too get smashed off with more jets of water spraying out.

Still, she stays upright with no show of slowing, and if anything, she seems to get angrier and stronger and charges through another internal plasterboard wall, with the dust and debris sticking to their sodden and drenched bodies.

‘Knives!’ Howie shouts, seeing they’ve ended up in the stainless-steel wonderland of the visitor centre’s kitchen, and he grabs a big chopping knife and sticks it in her chest, thinking to stab into the heart, but she grunts and twists, and knocks him flying, with the knife buried to the hilt in her body.

Danny grabs another and stabs. Roy does too. Dave grabs two, but she twists and turns, and walks into the counters and sides, sending them flying off and crying out. Charlie lands hard. Bruised and stunned until she snarls with competitive spite and grabs a heavy skillet pan, and comes in swinging. Clunking the infected on the back of the head. Nothing. No reaction. She hits again, with Cookey grabbing another pan, and Tappy gripping a rolling pin, and everyone grabbing something as they all run in and clunk, and hit, and bash, and bosh, with Johnny hitting her face with an egg slice.

‘A fucking egg slice?’ Nick yells.

‘F…F… Fuckoff!’ Johnny shouts and sees an opening, and goes for the flip, but it’s like trying to throw a rooted tree, and she simply turns and twats him away with a thick arm, and gets a face full of frying pan from Howie. Which still does nothing.

‘Stab her fucking eyes!’ Howie yells as they look for more knives, of which there are none, seeing as they’re now all stuck in her body.

‘Forks!’ Tappy says, running in to try and stab into an eye, but the woman lowers her head, and the fork bends on the thick skull as Dave pulls a small knife out of the woman’s body and gets it through her right eye.

Which only seems to make her angrier, and she roars and starts moving with purpose. Sending them flying, with heavy tables going over as the others outside, kneeling in the rain, cock their heads over and listen to the almighty battle taking place within the visitor centre.

‘I didn’t think there were that many inside,’ Carmen remarks.

‘Must be,’ Paula says as they hear another crash from the infected woman taking them through another wall into a pantry. Knocking them into shelves filled with tinned foods, which get gripped and used as hammers, but still, she dominates and wades back out into the kitchen as Dave finally gets hold of another knife and stabs her other eye.

Which again only seems to make her angrier.

‘Fuck,’ Howie gasps, and she spins towards him and grabs at his face with one huge hand. Squeezing tight and lifting him off the ground with ease. He kicks out and thrashes until her thumb gets inside his mouth, and he bites down hard. Chomping through flesh and gnashing at the bone. She slams him down onto a side and lets go as the counter topples, with a drawer falling free, spilling meat cleavers that clatter across the tiled floor. ‘Fuck, yes, mother fucker!’ Howie yells, standing up with blood dripping from his mouth and holding a big meat cleaver. She reaches for him again, with Clarence slamming into her arm and pushing it down onto one of the worktops, and shouting as Howie chops down, severing her fingers off at the knuckles. But she howls and detonates into a frenzy with enough explosive strength to lift Clarence off his feet and send him over the ovens and hobs.

‘Fuck you!’ Cookey yells and grabs another cleaver to stab down into her shoulder, severing her left ear in the process. But still it has no effect, and he gets sent flying, with the meat cleaver buried in her shoulder blade as Nick sees a chance and jumps on her back, and wraps his arms around her head.

‘I’ve got her!’ he yells until she runs backwards and slams him into a wall. ‘I don’t got her,’ he gasps and slides off as she turns, with Bashir still holding her leg, and Tappy still held in her good hand.

Clarence tries again. Driving into her hard enough to make her bend over the big commercial double sinks, with Howie grabbing the water hose used to clean dishes, and he shoves it in her mouth and turns it full on. She thrashes hard, with Charlie taking a turn on her back and biting into the woman’s remaining ear, tearing it off. The dog still taking chunks out of legs and her bottom, and anything else she can bite.

‘Let go, you fucking shit!’ Tappy gasps and tries heaving the fingers apart gripping her front as she gets knocked hard into the wall. ‘Get a cleaver!’

Bibi grabs one. The rest grab the arm. Everyone shouting at once. Howie still trying to drown her with the hose. Clarence trying to pin her in place. ‘Give it to me!’ Roy says, taking the cleaver and chopping down hard into the woman’s wrist. The bone so dense it doesn’t cut through the first time. He does it again and again. Chopping down into the arm until he finally severs the hand from the wrist, and Tappy drops away.

But again.

It only makes her angrier, and she explodes up and out, sending them all flying in different directions. They land hard. Over counters and worktops. On fryers and cookers. All of them blinking and wondering what to do as Howie lifts a finger, knowing there’s only one thing for it.

‘Run away!’ he yelps, which, given the circumstances, does seem the best option, and outside, the one hundred and fifty or so survivors and the rest of the team all blink in surprise as Tappy runs out of the visitor centre with a severed hand still gripping the front of her shirt, followed by everyone else, and not just through the door either, but a table goes through a window, with Cookey, Charlie, Nick, and Tappy all clambering outside while the rest run out of the door.

‘What the fuck?’ Paula asks, seeing her bloodied and battered team fleeing. ‘How many were in there?’ she calls.

‘One!’ Howie yells.

‘One?’ Paula asks as she appears. ‘Oh, shit…’

Oh, shit, indeed, she might say as the goliath woman smashes through a window with a knife stuck in each eye, and more knives buried in her body, and meat cleavers in her shoulders, and her ears cut and bitten away, and her fingers gone on one hand, and the whole of her hand gone from the other arm, and still, with the dog biting her arse. Tearing chunks of flesh away until the woman spins with Bashir still clinging to a leg and sends him flying off into the dog.

‘Just fucking shoot her!’ Howie yells.

‘Idiots,’ Frank mutters and fires a round into her head, and she finally drops onto her backside and keels over. ‘How hard was that?’ he calls as the woman snarls and sits back up, and lunges to her feet to run at the survivors.

Frank fires again.

Carmen fires.

Henry fires.

Paula, Marcy, Tilda, Tamara, and Ali all fire.

Over twenty rounds slam into her body within the space of a couple of seconds.

And still, she runs.

Blind. Deaf. One-handed and stuck with knives.

‘Dave! Grenade!’ Howie orders.

‘I haven’t got one, Mr Howie.’

‘Dave, for fuck’s sake!’ Howie yells as the others put another twenty rounds into the lumbering, snarling, infected woman until Dave figures that just this once, this one time only, he will use his emergency-only grenade.

And so, he pulls it free from God knows where.

‘You’re such a shit, Dave!’ Howie shouts.

And Dave runs while pulling the pin and jumps on her back, and shoves it in her mouth, then drops off, and lies down. ‘Cover,’ he says while feeling irritated that he had to use his last grenade when it wasn’t even a proper emergency.

Everyone else drops, with adults protecting children, and the woman lumbers another few steps until the grenade detonates and blows her head off from her shoulders. Seeing as she really did have no neck.

And everyone else gasps and slowly peers out from under their arms to blink in awe at the woman still on her feet. Standing upright with knives stuck in her body and only one hand, with no head.

‘Is she actually dead?’ Cookey asks.

‘She’s got no fucking head!’ Blowers says.

‘Yeah, but,’ Cookey says, giving her a nod, ‘someone should check.’

‘Nick!’ come the many shouts.

‘I’m not the dead, headless woman checking guy,’ Nick says as Meredith walks over and starts licking at some charred brains. ‘Dirty dog! Stop it.’

‘Right!’ Howie says, getting to his feet while dripping sweat and blood, and gore, and swaying slightly. ‘Let’s keep going.’

‘Seriously, though?’ Cookey asks. ‘An actual egg slice. Johnny Judo and his Judo Egg Slice,’ he adds, mimicking a movie trailer voice over. ‘Didn’t Tucker try and fight with an egg slice?’

‘He had a spatula,’ Blowers says.

‘Spatula!’ Cookey says. ‘Aw, I miss Tucker.’

‘I miss his food,’ Nick says, feeling hungry from watching the dog eat zombie brains.

‘Are you saying that because you’re watching the dog eat zombie brains?’ Tappy asks.

‘And again, not zombies,’ Reginald says.

‘That! Was a fucking zombie,’ Howie says, pointing at the headless woman still standing upright, and of whom they’re still not entirely sure that she’s actually dead. ‘But fair play though. Wish she was on our side.’

‘Fact,’ Blowers says. ‘Fair play Mrs whatever your name was.’

‘Yeah, good game,’ Charlie says, offering her a thumbs up as the rest all offer thanks to the headless body.

They set off once more and finally get off the road and onto the nature trail to follow the ridgeline of the hill as it skirts the steep side of the Devil’s Punchbowl, and less than one kilometre later, they come to yet another stop.

‘Well, that’s a bit shit then,’ Howie says.

‘That is, indeed, a bit shit,’ Paula says.

‘What’s a bit shit?’ Henry asks. ‘Ah. Yes. That is a bit shit. I would suggest, given what we can see, that we can’t go this way.’

‘What gave it away?’ Howie asks. ‘Is it because we can’t go this way?’

‘Apparently not,’ Henry says as they all look across the waters of the lake cutting them off from the next set of hills. ‘Right. Well. Two options. We either camp here, which really isn’t an option, or we go back through the town and try the other way, and head towards whatever town lies in that direction.’

They all look at Roy.

‘Liphook,’ he says.

‘Liphook it is then,’ Howie says, and so they about turn to go the other way.

‘Guys, stop whining,’ the tattooed woman with bee sting lips calls to the rising grumbles. ‘We’re going to be okay.’

‘The kids need to rest,’ another woman says.

‘We’ll carry them. Come on. Swap over and help each other… Do you know what might help them? If we sing a song.’

‘I’m not singing a bloody song!’ a guy snaps.

‘My great grandfather was in the navy in the war,’ the tattooed woman says. ‘And his ship went down, and they were all stuck in the sea, with sharks picking them off, and he said they were singing songs, and it really helped, so if you don’t want to do it, then don’t, but shut up and let me help the children.’

The guy blinks and nods with a sudden sense of shame, and spots the glares coming from everyone else.

‘What’s your name?’ Paula asks her.

‘Clarrie.’

‘Hi, Clarrie,’ Tappy says as the others join in, offering greeting in that polite and very surreal way they do as they trudge back along the way they came. The rain still pelting them. The heat leeching out of their bodies. Making more than a few of them start to shiver.

‘What shall we sing then?’ Cookey asks.

‘Er, I was thinking like Row Your Boat?’ Clarrie says. ‘That’s what my great grandad sung in the sea. And some shanty songs, but they were really rude.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Paula says. ‘Er, so? You starting us off then?’

‘Me? Oh, god. On the spot now,’ Clarrie says.

‘Want me to do it?’ Cookey asks, getting a smile and nod from her.

‘Please.’

‘No worries. Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream… Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream!’

He starts off low and soft. A pleasant sound as though singing to himself as he walks along, and when he starts again, Blowers joins in.

‘Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream… Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream.’

Nick joins in for the last line, and when they start again, so the other lads all give their voices. Joining in one at a time, but still soft and gentle. Not forced. Not overly jolly.

Clarrie can’t help but smile despite the awful circumstances, and she too joins in. Adding a nice higher tone to the mix of voices.

Clarence joins in the next time. Deep and full of bass. Then Henry and Carmen, even Frank. Tilda and her team. Clarrie squeezes the hand of the little girl walking at her side and nods gently, urging her to join in.

She looks stricken and lost, terrified even, and stares up with wide eyes, but she adds her voice to the next round. Small. Frightened. It brings a lump to Clarence’s throat. He checks himself over. Seeing the rain has washed all the blood away and moves in to pick her up. Swinging her up into his arm. She clings to him and stops singing from worry and fright, but he sings deep and soft, and she joins back in.

‘Come here,’ Paula says, picking a boy up to carry as they sing and walk along. Carmen does the same. Henry and Frank. Tilda. Ali, and Tam. They take children from the exhausted adults to carry, and they walk along, singing the song in low harmony. The children join in, ones and twos at first, until most of them are doing it, learning the easy chorus and repeating it over and over.

They pass the visitor centre in low song. Seeing the body of the headless woman still upright. They reach the pub and go back down the road, over the roundabout and onto the old Portsmouth Road, running on higher ground at the top of the hill, next to the new road leading into the tunnels.

It takes time, and the going is hard, and the tension mounts as they pass buildings and houses. Howie and his team ready to fend off and fight while Henry prepares to keep the group moving should they be attacked.

They keep going until they’re heading gently downhill and wading through the shallow edges of the lake stretching off to the right until it becomes too deep.

A high fence to the left at the top of a bank already broken down. Signs of movement, with the bank trampled down in a way that makes Frank take notice because he saw the same thing north of Hindhead. The track marks left by hundreds of pairs of feet.

They clamber up and out onto the A3 that ran to the tunnels. The lake behind them and off to the left, and right. This road the only route left open to them.

They keep going. The road gently rising towards another crest. Motion on the side at the verges. An infected with mangled legs trying to drag itself along. Meredith finishes it off.

Tension in the air.

Something isn’t right.

They stay quiet as they reach the crest of the low rise and come to another stop, with Henry taking his turn to shake his head at the sight as the words fall from his mouth, ‘Every half hour…’

7

A downhill gradient to a low point where the lake meets in the shallows of the valley.

It’s wide too. At least fifty metres. That alone makes life hard enough, but it’s not the thing that makes them stand and stare while the rain comes down.

It’s the bodies within the water.

Mostly humans and no doubt infected that tried to get through and drowned. But not just human. Others that got swept along with the floods and snagged here to form a rudimentary dam. The body of a stag with antlers. Foxes. Badgers. Sheep. Cows. Fence panels and other things.

An awful sight.

A most terrible sight to see. Gruesome and horrible, and so very still and silent.

But it’s not the only thing that holds them still, and they look up to the back of the thick lines of infected walking away in the same direction Howie and his team were going.

‘I saw the same thing north of here,’ Frank says. ‘They were all heading somewhere.’

‘I saw them,’ Maddox adds as they all look at him. ‘When I went to Booker’s place. Lines of them heading in one direction.’

‘This direction?’ Howie asks, nodding at the road, but Maddox shrugs. His sense of direction now gone. ‘Where does this road lead?’ Howie asks.

‘It’s leading west,’ Roy says. ‘Liphook is closest, then Petersfield; then after that, if you go south, it would be Horndean and Waterlooville, and Portsmouth, or if you keep going west, then it’s East and West Meon. Then Alresford…’ he trails off. ‘But,’ he adds a few seconds later. ‘There is a big car sales place on that road,’ he motions the road ahead. Past the water filled with bodies. ‘If we reach that, we can get vehicles and get back.’

‘How do we get past them?’ Paula asks, pointing at the horde.

‘No, there’s a side road,’ Roy says. ‘At the car sales. That’s how I remember it. I used to bring my van here because it leads to an old farm track that goes up over the hill.’

‘God, no,’ Marcy says with a grimace at the waters that they need to go through.

‘We can’t go back,’ Howie says, still staring at the horde. ‘Christ, it feels like we’ve been led here.’

‘By what?’ Paula asks as the others all look at him. ‘Oh god, not that again, Howie.’

‘What?’ Henry asks.

‘Howie thinks he was visited by a prophet,’ Paula says, rubbing her soaking wet face.

‘Don’t say it like that,’ Howie says.

‘What then?’ she asks, giving him a look.

Howie shrugs. Not sure of what he means himself. But he looks to the horde with that feeling inside that they were brought here. Or led, or whatever it was. But they’re here, and they can see that horde all walking in one direction with purpose. ‘That’s what they were doing at Gatwick. We kept seeing them. Remember? Solid lines all going one direction.’

‘They’re massing somewhere,’ Reginald says.

‘I thought we were getting the Panacea out,’ Paula says.

‘I don’t know, Paula!’ Howie snaps. ‘I’m just saying we can see them.’

‘And you just said we were giving up completely,’ Marcy says with a glare at Paula.

‘Dave had just died, Marcy! I didn’t know what I was saying. Fuck me. Okay. No. This isn’t time for us to go at each other. We need to get out of here. Some of those kids will get hypothermia if we don’t get them to shelter.’

A glance over to the survivors huddled together. Shivering with teeth chattering. Clothes soaked to the skin, leeching any heat from their bodies. No food and nothing to drink other than rain, and that’s after more than a month of surviving the outbreak.

‘Alright,’ Howie says, slipping his bag and rifle off. ‘Everyone, rest for a minute.’

‘Where are you going?’ Clarence asks.

‘Seeing how deep it is,’ Howie says, setting off down the road to the waters and wading straight in. Clarence going with him. Figuring he’s the tallest and the best one to check depth.

‘That’s what you call a leader,’ Tilda says to her team, intending her words to be low, but they carry to everyone else as they watch Howie and then Clarence wade into the waters.

It gets deep fast, with Howie pushing bodies away. Bloated carcasses. Open eyes. Wet fur. The rain still coming down. Chest deep and going deeper. A woman in front of him. Old. Big. He pushes her side to make her float away. A snarl, and she spins over, taking him off his feet and down into the waters. He grabs her head and heaves her down, holding her underwater as she snarls and thrashes, and her lungs fill, and the life fades away.

Back to the surface. A gasp of air, and he spots Clarence stabbing another. ‘Was it alive?’ Howie asks as the big man nods. ‘Fuck… We’ll have to do them all. We can’t risk it.’

‘Oh, god,’ Paula mouths from the road. A sigh, and she slips her bag and rifle off and starts towards the water while drawing her knife.

Charlie goes after her. Nick. Blowers. Cookey. All of them doing the same. Rifles and bags down. Knives drawn and into the waters. Grabbing bodies to stab through the neck before pushing them away and out to the sides. Howie glances back. Seeing Carmen, Bibi, and Johnny in with them. Knives in hands. Doing the work that has to be done.

A snarl. A splash of water. ‘Fuck you!’ Tappy says, stabbing one hard through the neck and pushing it underwater to drown.

Another nearby. Others the same. The infection making both sides hard to kill.

Howie moves to the stag. Tutting sadly at the sight of such a beautiful creature losing its life in such a way. It checks his anger. Making him lay hands in a more gentle way than with the corpses of the infected. Guiding it instead of forcing it. Clarence helps, and they keep going past the mass of infected bodies and push it deeper out as though it shouldn’t be tainted by such things.

Foxes get carried. Badgers. Rabbits. Things that were alive and that had life. Now just dead bodies with lifeless eyes.

Back and forth they go. Clearing the path and doing the work that must be done.

Only then do they clamber free. ‘We’ll go in relays with the children first,’ Howie says. ‘Boots and shoes off. Mine were dragging me down.’ He drops to a knee. Unlacing his boot as everyone else starts doing the same. The survivors seeing it and copying the actions. Some still crying at the constant terror of it all as the coldness seeps into their bodies.

‘Okay,’ Howie says. On his feet in his socks as he spots Dave looking stricken with panic and goes closer. ‘Dave. Look at me. It’s going to be okay.’

‘I can’t swim, Mr Howie.’

‘But I can. And I will get you across.’

‘I can’t swim, Mr Howie!’

‘I was a lifeguard a few years ago. Can I help?’ Clarrie asks.

‘Will you let Clarrie help, Dave?’ Howie asks as Dave nods quickly and takes her hand as she comes into his side.

‘I say, Dave. Would you mind if Carmen and I come with you?’ Reginald asks. ‘I can’t swim either.’

Dave nods. Too scared to speak, and he watches as Reginald and Carmen take their boots off and then looks down to his own feet now in socks.

‘That’s it. Now keep hold of Clarrie’s hand,’ Howie says. ‘We’re going to walk into the water.’

‘I can’t swim, Mr Howie!’ Dave says, remembering when the hill gave way. Remembering being in the water and his lungs filling.

‘We’ve got you,’ Marcy says, holding his other hand. ‘I’m right here… And Charlie and Cookey, and Nick, and Blowers. We’re all here, Dave. We’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. That’s it. We’re going deeper.’

Dave tenses as the water goes up past his knees. His breath coming in snatches. His heart pounding. He grips Marcy’s and Clarrie’s hand, clinging on, with terror surging up inside. Then it’s up over his thighs and hitting his waist, and still rising.

Reginald next to them. Going in with Carmen and Tappy, and Danny, and Mo around him. Clarence between the two. Ready to respond to either. Meredith there. All of them involved.

‘Okay, just a few more steps,’ Clarrie says. Dave, I want you to turn and face the road, and then lie back into me. I’m going to take your weight while we can still stand up to show you it’s safe. Can you do that?’

Dave doesn’t want to do that. Dave really doesn’t want to do it. But Marcy is next to him, and Howie is on the other side, and the others are all close, and he feels the woman come in close behind him, pressing her body into his. ‘Lower down, Dave,’ she says softly. He lowers, with the shaking getting worse, and he clamps his eyes closed as the water goes over his chest, and the others angle his body to lean back.

‘I’m going to lift your feet up, Dave,’ Howie says and gently takes Dave’s ankles, and starts to lift. A moment of tension. A moment of panic.

‘I promise I will not let you go,’ Clarrie whispers into his ear, looping an arm over his chest, with her hand gently cupping his jaw to keep him secure and safe.

Reginald and Carmen next to her. Reginald doing his best to stay calm as he lies back into Carmen’s body, and the lads all move in around them. Holding legs and arms to keep Reginald and Dave afloat and feeling safe.

The others watch from the bank in silence. Seeing the astonishing tenderness being displayed from people they just saw tearing human forms apart with their bare hands. All of them still in pink berets. Soft words. Calm voices.

‘That’s really good,’ Clarrie says, getting the nod as she pushes off and starts swimming backwards. The others wading until their feet leave the road, and they’re all swimming, clustered around Dave and Reginald. Holding them steady. Giving gentle words of encouragement.

‘You okay?’ Carmen asks, holding the man she adores.

‘I feel very safe in your arms,’ Reginald says, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

‘I will never let anything hurt you,’ Carmen whispers, feeling his hand squeeze her wrist, and she has to fight the urge to gently kiss the side of his head as they cross the lake.

‘You are so brave,’ Clarrie says as they start to feel the road beneath them and start wading until they can angle Dave’s feet down to take his own weight. ‘You did it!’

‘I’m so proud of you,’ Marcy says with a kiss to Dave’s cheek.

‘I’m so proud of you,’ Howie says and kisses the other cheek as even Dave smiles, more from relief than anything.

They leave Dave and Reginald at the far side and swim back across to start bringing the children and other adults who can’t swim over.

It takes time, and the rain falls, and the chill sets in, making them shiver and grow cold.

‘Will you help me, Danny?’ Ali asks. ‘I can only doggy paddle.’

Danny nods and helps her into the water while holding her hand and feeling weird and shy, and amazed, and awesome, and a hundred things all at once.

‘I’m more scared than I thought,’ she says with a gulp and clings to his arm. ‘Oh god, your arms are so hard.’

Cookey blinks over, with a hundred jokes all wanting to come out at once about using Danny’s giant penis as a canoe, but even he spots the shyness in the lad and bites it down.

‘Don’t say a word,’ Charlie warns him quietly.

‘I wasn’t going to!’ he says. ‘But er, will you help me over?’ he asks with a cheeky grin.

‘Ask Maddox,’ she says bluntly, walking off to help a woman and her baby.

‘Dude,’ Maddox says, walking past with another child. ‘Don’t involve me!’

‘Okay. Okay. Wow,’ Ali says to Danny as they go deeper. ‘Will you hold me?’

Danny nods but doesn’t quite know where to hold, because women have soft bits, and he thinks about Booker and all those problems. ‘Er, where should I hold?’ he asks politely.

‘Wherever you want,’ she says and moves closer into his side as they go deeper until her feet leave the road. ‘Oh, god. I’m panicking.’

‘It’s okay,’ Danny says, getting behind her to do what Clarrie did and let her use his body to float on with his arm around her, still taking care not to touch anything soft and squishy.

‘Oh, my god. Thank you,’ she says when they wade free on the other side as Mo and Tamara work together to take a young boy over. A good swimmer, but they stay close, keeping their hands on him to make sure he gets over safely.

Clarrie finds her feet on the far side and starts wading out with another child in her arms as she hears a gasp and a yelp behind and turns to see the spotty soldier splashing in panic as he tries to swim. ‘Take her,’ she says, pushing the child into someone’s arms and runs back, and dives into the water to swim with fast, powerful strokes to the lad in the grip of panic, getting to his side and turning him onto his back. ‘Stop fighting me! Let me take you,’ she says as he keeps thrashing.

‘Matthew! Calm down,’ Tilda shouts from the other side.

‘I can swim!’ Corporal Rogers gasps, trying to doggy paddle his way over, but the water went in his mouth and made him panic.

‘Just relax!’ Clarrie says, getting him onto his back, with her arm going up and over his body to support him.

‘I said I can do it!’ he says, trying use his arms and legs to help, but only fights against her efforts.

‘Stop it! Please, stop!’ she gasps, getting an elbow in her face, hitting her hard enough to make her nose bleed and split her lip. She keeps working. Remembering the lessons she went through and how people panic in the water, and she fights to keep his head free despite having seen him in the pub shoot the guy moving the shotgun. But Matthew keeps thrashing. His entitled mind unable to compute that he simply can’t do something, and his pride unwilling to take help, especially from a woman covered in tattoos with fake lips. He hits her again with another flailing arm and an elbow into her stomach. Making her gasp and cough, and sink beneath the waters with a touch of panic.

Hands on her shoulders, under her arms, and lifting her with ease. Pulling her upright and clear until she’s on her feet. ‘You okay? You good?’

She coughs and gasps, feeling a strong hand holding her steady, and blinks the water from her eyes. Seeing the hard-faced sergeant with the eye-patch in front of her. ‘I’m fine. I’m alright…’

‘You’re bleeding,’ Blowers says, cupping her chin to see the blood.

‘I think he caught me,’ she says, looking past him to see the spotty lad being pulled out of the waters by Nick and Maddox.

‘It’s just a split lip,’ Blowers says, wiping the blood away with his thumb.

‘Shouldn’t have made them so big,’ she tries to quip and coughs again, retching up the water she took in.

‘Roy!’ Blowers calls.

‘I’m coming… Okay. I’ve got her. Come with me,’ Roy says, leading her out to the road.

‘I’m alright,’ she says, gasping for air as she looks for Blowers and sees him lunging at the spotty soldier with a hard punch to the face, and even from a few metres away, she hears the crunch of bone and spots the blood spraying as the lad flies off his feet with a broken nose.

‘That woman is an asset,’ Blowers says, while towering over the lad. ‘You are not. You touch her again, and I’ll fucking end you.’

‘I said I could swim!’

‘He’s worse than me,’ Roy tells Clarrie. ‘I thought I couldn’t read a room.’

‘We need the weapons and bags,’ Henry calls with a tone suggesting they focus on the job at hand as Blowers turns to go back into waters with a nod at his team.

‘You heard the Major. Get the kit over.’

‘Let me help,’ Clarrie says, wading in behind them.

‘You took a hit. Just rest,’ Blowers says.

‘I’m okay. Honestly,’ she says, rushing to catch up to his side while feeling stunned at the fast turn of events. ‘Is it always like this?’

‘God, no,’ Blowers says. ‘It’s normally nuts.’

Rifles, boots, and bags come over next. Carried out of the water, and then more time is taken to put boots on and check weapons.

‘Okay, we’re good,’ Paula says when they’re finally ready to set off. Shivering from cold. Desperately hungry. Miserable to the core, but finally something comes right when they spot the car showroom that Roy mentioned ahead on the left. A big place with a large selection, and thankfully, more than a few vans in their commercial vehicle area.

Again, it takes time to get the children and survivors loaded into vans and to work out which of the team travel in which vehicle.

‘Matthew! You have got to stop trying to argue and prove your point. Look at the reactions you are getting. Does that not tell you anything?’ Tilda’s voice sails clear as she speaks to Matthew off to one side.

‘It was her fault!’

‘And that man you shot?’

‘No! I gave him a clear warning in line with the rules of engagement principles of NATO and the British Army Rules of Conduct as outlined within the standards and values as per section 35 and-.’

‘Stop talking at me! My god, you are infuriating.’

‘And I want to press charges against the unlawful assault by that sergeant and have him held to account by a court martial.’

‘Load up!’ Howie’s voice calls, with a hand banging the side of a van, and a moment later, they set off with Tappy once more in the lead, driving the only minibus crammed with survivors and the lads. Roy driving another van behind her. The others stretched out in a small convoy snaking through the floods and the never-ending rain.

Wet bodies in cold tin cans.

8

A few moments of silence in the lead minibus. Tappy driving. Blowers up front next to her. Hard-faced and as stoic as ever. The lads all standing in the main aisle to keep the seats free for the children and survivors.

‘Is that hot yet?’ Tappy asks with a shiver, nodding at Blowers holding his hand over an air-vent.

‘Not yet.’

‘I’m so cold,’ Ali says. Her teeth chattering, and her body trembling as she pushes into Danny’s side. ‘Do you mind?’

Danny doesn’t mind at all and tries to act cool and suave as he shrugs as though it’s nothing.

‘Sorry, do you want me to get off?’ she asks, thinking he was pulling away.

‘No!’ he yelps, then clears his throat because his voice came out way too high, and for a second, he panics that the others noticed, and he’ll get ribbed, but they’re all the same as Ali and too busy shivering.

‘Aren’t you cold?’ Mo asks with his teeth chattering hard as he looks to Tamara.

‘I’m chunky. It’s insulating me,’ she says and pulls him into her side to share warmth. ‘Ali’s got no fat either. You two need to eat more.’

‘Smooth, Mo,’ Nick says with a grin. ‘He wasn’t even shivering a second ago,’ he adds to a few laughs as Mo grins, while at that same second, Cookey, Charlie, and Maddox all become aware of Charlie shivering at an equal distance between the two of them, with a sudden awkward flare of energy that makes Danny blink.

‘Seriously. Leave me out of it,’ Maddox mutters, stepping away while flapping a hand at Charlie.

‘I didn’t say anything!’ she snaps, then shoots Cookey a hard look.

‘What did I do?’ he asks.

‘Just don’t even,’ she mutters and shivers again.

‘Well. I’m glad this isn’t awkward as fuck,’ Nick says pointedly. ‘Are you seeing Mads now or something?’

‘No!’ Charlie says at the same time as Maddox. Which only makes the denial sound overly forced and fake. ‘We’re not!’ Charlie adds. ‘Swear down.’

Silence.

‘Swear down?’ Nick asks as Tappy snorts a laugh.

‘Oh, piss off,’ Charlie says.

‘No but are you swearing down, though?’ Nick asks.

‘Nick!’

‘Yeah, but bro? Swear down, innit,’ Nick says.

‘That sounded sooooo fake, Charlie!’ Tappy calls.

‘Why would you even say that?’ Maddox asks. ‘Now everyone thinks we’re hiding something.’

‘Right. Enough. I’m not seeing or having sex with Maddox,’ Charlie says.

‘Why did you even say sex?’ Maddox groans while shaking his head.

‘Oh, my god! Are you two shagging?’ Tappy calls from the front.

‘Seriously? Why even say it?’ Maddox asks Charlie. ‘And no. We’re not,’ he tells everyone else. ‘Charlie’s into Cookey.’

‘I am so not!’

‘You so are!’ Maddox fires back at her. ‘Literally everyone can see you are really into him while he is being blind as fuck and slower than shit and not making a move.’

‘Eh? No but-.’ Cookey says.

‘Stop it! Seriously. We’re not discussing it in front of everyone. I mean it’s entirely up to you if you don’t find me attractive.’

‘I never said that!’

‘I said fine! Whatever. We’re not even discussing it.’

Silence again.

‘God, I’m in this now and need to know,’ Tappy says with a glance at Blowers before calling over her shoulder. ‘Why aren’t you making a move, Cookey?’

‘Ooh, what a good question,’ Charlie says, shooting Cookey another look. ‘Why aren’t you?’

‘You just said we’re not discussing it right now.’

‘Deflection!’ Tappy calls from the front.

‘Evasive,’ Ali says.

‘I’m not!’ Cookey says, turning from one to the other, then back to Charlie. ‘I mean, do you want to discuss it right now?’

‘Er, no, thank you. I do have some dignity left.’

‘Oh, god. I didn’t mean I want to discuss it. I just meant it seems like you do.’

‘Well, I don’t!’

‘Good!’

‘Definitely deflection,’ Tappy says with a nod to Blowers who, like Cookey, has no idea what she’s on about.

‘And evasion,’ Ali says as Cookey and Blowers, and Nick, and the other lads all look back at her nodding her head and likewise wonder what the hell that means.

‘Evasion?’ Nick mouths at Blowers

‘Dunno,’ he mouths back with a shrug.

‘And Charlie’s so pretty,’ Tamara says.

‘Aw, thank you,’ Charlie says.

‘And she’s like super smart,’ Ali says.

‘Well, you are very kind, thank you,’ Charlie says graciously while pointedly not looking at Cookey.

‘Soooo,’ Tappy calls into the silence that follows. ‘Why aren’t you making a move then, Cookey?’

‘Mate, sorry, yeah, but why aren’t you?’ Nick asks.

‘Actually, bro,’ Mo says.

‘What the fuck,’ Cookey says at everyone looking at him.

‘Yes. Why aren’t you?’ Charlie asks politely, giving him a fixed look as Danny stares at the weird AF auras and energies flowing through them all. ‘I mean. It’s not my fault you’ve got an issue with Maddox,’ Charlie adds.

‘What did she say?’ Tappy asks, loving the sensational gossip. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Seriously. Leave me out of it,’ Maddox says.

‘Why would you even say that?’ Cookey asks with an imploring look at Charlie.

‘Man. Honestly. Tappy, stop the bus. I’ll just get off and walk,’ Maddox calls.

‘I can’t believe you said that, Charlie!’ Cookey says.

‘You said it!’ Charlie says.

‘No, but. Yeah, but. I never said I had an issue with Mads.’

‘You did!’

‘I didn’t because I don’t!’

‘Honestly. Just let me off here,’ Maddox calls.

‘You did! You said go and get with Maddox!’

‘I didn’t bloody say that. I said you’d be better off with someone like Maddox… What?’ Cookey asks to every woman around him sucking air in at the same time. ‘What did I do now?’

‘Mate. Wow,’ Tamara says. ‘I mean. Just wow.’

‘Dude,’ Ali says.

‘I mean. Don’t even,’ Clarrie says from behind.

‘Speechless,’ Tappy calls.

‘What!?’ Cookey asks, looking to his mates for help, who all look equally blank.

‘Yeah, what’s wrong with that?’ Nick asks.

‘What did he do wrong?’ Blowers asks to a general and mostly female groan.

‘Seems perfectly fair to me. I mean Maddox is way better than Cookey,’ Nick adds to a few laughs. ‘I’m joking, you bellend,’ he adds on seeing Cookey’s face. ‘Don’t get all twatty. You were wide open for that one.’

‘Yeah. All jokes aside. Really bad thing to say to a woman,’ Maddox says.

‘Exactly!’ Charlie says, giving Cookey another glare.

‘Why?’ Cookey asks.

‘Yeah, why?’ Nick asks as he looks over to Blowers shaking his head.

‘Jesus. Really?’ Maddox says, looking at the other lads. ‘You don’t think it’s offensive to tell a woman who she should date or be attracted to?’

‘Thank you,’ Charlie says.

‘What he said!’ Ali says.

‘That’s really hot actually,’ Tappy says. ‘Nick, take notes.’

‘How? I’m dyslexic,’ Nick replies to more laughs.

‘And,’ Maddox says, nodding at Cookey as the bus trundles along, ‘if someone as beautiful and as intelligent as Charlie even hints they find you attractive, then don’t fuck it up.’

‘That’s exactly my point! I’m not intelligent,’ Cookey says.

‘So?’ Maddox asks.

‘I don’t know things like you do. All the languages and pies, and physics, and what the infection does. I’m constantly like duh, what does that mean?’

‘Mate, we’re all like that,’ Blowers says.

‘I really want a pie now,’ Nick says.

‘No, but I’m like the least smart one of us, and Charlie’s like the most smart,’ Cookey says as though that should make it clear. ‘And Maddox is hot. And buff. And like, all broody and smart.’

‘You said smart already,’ Nick says.

‘Cos I’m not smart!’

‘Dude, you’re funny,’ Maddox tells Cookey.

‘So?’

‘And if you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have a sense of humour.’

‘Fact, bro,’ Mo says with an earnest nod. ‘Some of the other gangs called him Smiler cos he’s always so miserable.’

‘I’m not miserable,’ Maddox says. ‘Not smiling all the time doesn’t make someone miserable.’

‘Miserable,’ Mo says again as Johnny and Thapa watch the others talking with the same level of openness that their small group normally has.

‘Whatever. Point is, you’re funny, Cookey,’ Maddox continues. ‘And you’ve got those blue eyes and that smile, and you’ve got really good energy, and it’s nice being around you.’

‘Okay, so now I’m even more confused,’ Nick says. ‘Is this a Cookey and Charlie thing or a Maddox and Cookey thing?’

‘No! But he is,’ Maddox says, flapping a hand towards Cookey. ‘Even Danny said it with the aura energy thing he can see.’

‘Yeah, what is that?’ Tamara asks as everyone turns to look at Danny.

‘Ooh! I’ve got a question!’ Tappy calls over her shoulder. ‘Danny? Could you see that lad’s energy thingy? The corporal Rogers guy?’

‘Matt?’ Ali asks.

‘Yeah, bad energy,’ Danny says. ‘He’s like Booker. I don’t like it.’

‘What’s that?’ Ali asks as the other young soldiers look puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Danny’s like a mystic guru man that can see auras,’ Tappy says.

‘Whoa. No way,’ Ali says.

‘Can you really?’ Tamara asks. ‘What like, so you can see them visibly?’

‘Aura?’ Bibi Thapa asks.

‘S… S…’ Johnny says, and the lads clock how Johnny’s mates don’t try and finish his sentences. ‘S’thenergyaroundus!’ Johnny blurts. ‘Is… Is…’ he breaks to swallow and rolls his eyes. ‘Isthatright?’ he asks with a natural look to Charlie in the same way the others always do.

‘Yes. Well. I think one would define an aura as being perhaps like the air or atmosphere emanating from a person. Mads? Is that about right?’

‘Dunno. I’m miserable apparently.’

‘But you are!’ Mo says.

‘And sensitive. Who knew,’ Nick says.

‘Chakra!’ Tappy calls. ‘Isn’t that something to do with it.’

‘I think that might be something else,’ Charlie says, ‘but yes, apparently Danny can see our auras or perhaps our energy. Which I am guessing was probably quite intense a moment ago.’

Danny nods because it was like really intense a moment ago, with very strange energies flowing between Cookey, Maddox, and Charlie.

‘Indeed. Well. The less said about that, the better,’ Charlie says. ‘I think you have a gift, Danny, and one that could put you at an advantage over others, so do be mindful to use it wisely.’

‘Yes, corporal,’ Danny says.

‘God, you really sounded like Paula then, Charlie!’ Tappy calls. ‘And Danny? Ignore what she said and tell us everything!’

‘Have I got an aura?’ Ali asks as Danny gives her a shy smile.

‘Yours is really nice.’

‘Is it? You can actually see it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where? I mean. Like, am I glowing or something?’

‘You can actually see it?’ Tamara asks.

‘How?’ Bibi asks as Danny frowns because it’s not quite that simple, and it’s not always there either. Right now, he can see them because he’s actively aware, and so the more he works to see it, the more he can see.

‘Hold on! Big bump!’ Tappy calls, snapping attention to the front as they all find points to grip, and in that instant, because of the sharpness of Tappy’s voice, Danny snatches his focus to the present threat, and in so doing, the visions vanish, and it’s all normal until the bus rattles on and becomes smooth once more.

‘Yeah, so like, you can actually see it?’ Tamara asks again, making Danny turn back, and only in that second does he realise he’s somehow changing gear in his head, or it’s like another cog is engaged that allows his perception to shift, and suddenly, the auras are back, and truth be told, even he isn’t sure if he can see it with his eyes or with his mind, but only that he can. From Tappy and Blowers at the front to Nick, Charlie, Maddox, Mo, Ali, Tam, and Cookey all have energy surrounding them. Colours as it were that are in constant motion. Flowing and moving, and subtly blending into different hues, and he glances over to see Johnny and Bibi have them too.

The sight makes him smile because they’re all facing him, and so it means their energies are directed and flowing towards him, and the air fills with hues and shades that all look organic and natural.

‘Mate, you can really see them?’ Cookey asks softly as Danny smiles at him and at how Cookey’s energy glows so yellow and open, and warm, but it swirls faster near Charlie’s energy and flows towards hers, but it also turns dark and red with greens and other colours that make Danny think Cookey’s energy is worried or confused.

It makes Danny realise that Charlie was right, and again shows just how intelligent she is, because she’d already determined how seeing such a thing does give Danny an advantage. Not that he knows how to use it or would ever dream of misusing it.

But it is beautiful, though. And mesmerising, and he slowly looks around them all, then looks down at Ali still at his side and the glow of energy surrounding her, and how it flows into Danny and turns red.

And such is the sight, it becomes a moment in time for Danny.

A moment that sears into his mind and will remain there forever more.

How she looks at him. The shape of her eyes. Somewhat oriental but not wholly. Dark hair and almost alabaster skin. High cheeks and full lips.

He becomes smitten right there. With someone he hardly knows. With a girl he just met, and if he could see his own energy, he would note how it joins and flows into Ali’s in perfect harmony and expands out like it’s fizzing and popping, and swirling faster.

‘If I ever meet anyone who looks at me like that…’ Clarrie says quietly, almost to herself with a sigh as Danny blinks, and the contact breaks, and both he and Ali feel their cheeks becoming flushed.

‘Finally,’ Blowers says, feeling hot air blasting from the vents that flows out into the bus, and slowly, the shivering stops, and the windows steam up, and the constant, steady motion soon lures the survivors and children to sleep.

They drive on, with Tappy’s instincts keeping them clear of the floods.

‘Jesus, fuck,’ Tappy says a moment later as they crest another hillside on an unmade track, and in the dwindling light and through the driving rain, she spots the thick line of infected on the next hill over.

‘Stop for a sec,’ Blowers says, staring hard before using the lever to open the door, and he drops out into the rain and jogs back as the other doors open, with Howie and Henry, and the elders coming out of their vehicles.

‘You see something?’ Clarence asks.

‘Not close. Next hill over,’ Blowers says, leading them to the front of the minibus where they stop in the pouring rain and stare over to the next hilltop rising out of the floods and a solid line of infected heading away from them.

Reginald stands behind them, looking from the infected back to the two leaders, then over to Paula to see her staring over to the next hill with the same level of interest. The same with Clarence. The same with Frank and Carmen. The same with all of them.

Which is good because Reginald needs them back in the game and fighting.

They’ve had a rest.

They’ve had a break.

Now it’s time to get back to work before it’s too late.

‘I’d suggest they want something,’ he says as though merely passing an observation. But some words are designed to have roots that spread out and grow.

Charlie clocks it. How Reginald says it. What he means, and what he’s doing, but she stays silent because like she said to Danny, having such a level of insight is a gift that shouldn’t be misused.

‘Anyway. Let’s get on,’ Paula says, and yet, none of them move. Even in that pouring rain after the day they’ve had, after Dave almost dying, after all of that, still they stand and stare, and the faintest of smiles touches Reginald’s lips.

‘What direction is that?’ Howie asks with a dip of his head to the infected in the distance.

‘West, I think,’ Henry says as both look to Roy.

‘West,’ Roy says with a nod.

‘What’s west of here?’ Howie asks.

‘The west,’ Henry says with a quip that sends low chuckles through them all, and even Howie grins at the play between them. The energy good. The energy high.

The energy right.

Right for the game.

Because the game isn’t over.

Not by a long way.

‘Lots of little villages and towns,’ Roy says. ‘Are we past Liphook yet, Tap?’

Tappy nods. ‘Not far, though.’

‘Er, so after Liphook,’ Roy says thoughtfully, ‘there’s Alton. But that’s a bit north. Bordon, but that’s a bit north too. Petersfield?’

‘That’s a bit south,’ Tappy says, holding her arm out in that direction. ‘West Meon. East Meon. Ropley.’

‘New Alresford,’ Roy continues.

‘They’re all small, aren’t they?’ Reginald enquires lightly. ‘What is the next place of any discernible size?’

‘Winchester,’ Tappy and Roy say at the same time.

‘Winchester, eh?’ Reginald says as though he’s heard something mildly interesting. ‘And I wonder what’s in Winchester.’

Charlie watches and listens as Reginald plants another seed, and he even turns to wink at her.

‘But come!’ Reginald calls. ‘We have survivors to keep safe. I am sure whatever evil is in Winchester can wait for a moment. Eh, chaps? Back for tea and medals all round, I should say. What do you think about that, young Johnny? Eh? Johnny Judo. That’s what we should call you.’

Johnny grins at the attention as the group turns to head back for the vehicles. The energy good. The energy high.

The energy right.

‘Can I change vehicles, please?’ Maddox asks.

‘No!’ Tappy says, looping her arm in his to keep him moving towards their minibus. ‘We’re going straight back to your bromance with Cookey.’

‘His what?’ Marcy asks with a laugh. ‘Actually. I’ll jump in with you. Howie! I’m going in with them to hear about Cookey and Maddox getting it on. Howie!’

‘Okay,’ Howie murmurs. Still where he was. Still staring across to the next hill. Henry still at his side. Paula. Clarence. Dave.

All of them staring at the horde on the next hill over.

All of them wondering what’s in Winchester.

Because the game isn’t over.

Not by a long way.

ALSO BY RR HAYWOOD

Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, Amazon & Audible bestselling author, RR Haywood. One of the most downloaded indie authors in the UK with nearly four million books sold and over 25 Kindle bestsellers.

DELIO. PHASE ONE

*WINNER OF “BEST NEW BOOK” DISCOVER SCI-FI 2023

#1 Amazon & Audible bestseller

A single bed in a small room.

The centre of Piccadilly Circus.

A street in New York city outside of a 7-Eleven.

A young woman taken from her country.

A drug dealer who paid his debt.

A suicidal, washed-up cop.

The rest of the world now frozen.

Unmoving.

Unblinking.

"Brilliant."

"A gripping story. Harrowing, and often hysterical."

"This book is very different to anything else out there - and brilliantly so."

"You'll fall so hard for these characters, you'll wish the world would freeze just so you could stay with them forever."

*

FICTION LAND

*Nominated for Best Audio Book at the British Book Awards 2023

*Narrated by Gethin Anthony

*The #1 Most Requested Audio Book in the UK 2023

*Now Optioned For A TV Series

*#1 Amazon bestseller

#1 Audible bestseller

“Imagine John Wick wakes up in a city full of characters from novels – that’s Fiction Land.”

Not many men get to start over.

John Croker did and left his old life behind – until crooks stole his delivery van. No van means no pay, which means his niece doesn’t get the life-saving operation she needs, and so in desperation, John uses the skills of his former life one last time… That is until he dies and wakes up in Fiction Land. A city occupied by characters from unfinished novels.

But the world around him doesn’t feel right, and when he starts asking questions, the authorities soon take extreme measures to stop him finding the truth about Fiction Land.

*

EXTRACTED SERIES

EXTRACTED

EXECUTED

EXTINCT

Blockbuster Time-Travel

#1 Amazon US

#1 Amazon UK

#1 Audible US & UK

Washington Post & Wall Street Journal Bestseller

In 2061, a young scientist invents a time machine to fix a tragedy in his past. But his good intentions turn catastrophic when an early test reveals something unexpected: the end of the world.

A desperate plan is formed. Recruit three heroes, ordinary humans capable of extraordinary things, and change the future.

Safa Patel is an elite police officer, on duty when Downing Street comes under terrorist attack. As armed men storm through the breach, she dispatches them all.

'Mad' Harry Madden is a legend of the Second World War. Not only did he complete an impossible mission—to plant charges on a heavily defended submarine base—but he also escaped with his life.

Ben Ryder is just an insurance investigator. But as a young man he witnessed a gang assaulting a woman and her child. He went to their rescue, and killed all five.

Can these three heroes, extracted from their timelines at the point of death, save the world?

*

THE CODE SERIES

The Worldship Humility

The Elfor Drop

The Elfor One

#1 Audible bestselling smash hit narrated by Colin Morgan

#1 Amazon bestselling Science-Fiction

“A rollicking, action packed space adventure…”

“Best read of the year!”

“An original and exceptionally entertaining book.”

“A beautifully written and humorous adventure.”

Sam, an airlock operative, is bored. Living in space should be full of adventure, except it isn’t, and he fills his time hacking 3-D movie posters.

Petty thief Yasmine Dufont grew up in the lawless lower levels of the ship, surrounded by violence and squalor, and now she wants out. She wants to escape to the luxury of the Ab-Spa, where they eat real food instead of rats and synth cubes.

Meanwhile, the sleek-hulled, unmanned Gagarin has come back from the ever-continuing search for a new home. Nearly all hope is lost that a new planet will ever be found, until the Gagarin returns with a code of information that suggests a habitable planet has been found. This news should be shared with the whole fleet, but a few rogue captains want to colonise it for themselves.

When Yasmine inadvertently steals the code, she and Sam become caught up in a dangerous game of murder, corruption, political wrangling and...porridge, with sex-addicted Detective Zhang Woo hot on their heels, his own life at risk if he fails to get the code back.

*

THE UNDEAD SERIES

THE UK’s #1 Horror Series

Available on Amazon & Audible

“The Best Series Ever…”

The Undead. The First Seven Days

The Undead. The Second Week.

The Undead Day Fifteen.

The Undead Day Sixteen.

The Undead Day Seventeen

The Undead Day Eighteen

The Undead Day Nineteen

The Undead Day Twenty

The Undead Day Twenty-One

The Undead Twenty-Two

The Undead Twenty-Three: The Fort

The Undead Twenty-Four: Equilibrium

The Undead Twenty-Five: The Heat

The Undead Twenty-Six: Rye

Blood on the Floor

An Undead novel

Blood at the Premiere

An Undead novel

The Camping Shop

An Undead novella

*

A Town Called Discovery

The #1 Amazon & Audible Time Travel Thriller

A man falls from the sky. He has no memory.

What lies ahead are a series of tests. Each more brutal than the last, and if he gets through them all, he might just reach A Town Called Discovery.

*

THE FOUR WORLDS OF BERTIE CAVENDISH

A rip-roaring multiverse time-travel crossover starring:

The Undead

Extracted.

A Town Called Discovery
and featuring

The Worldship Humility

*
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