Autumn: Aftermath (38 page)

The others had left him behind. Kieran looked around, then started to run again, half the climb still to complete. His lungs felt as if they were full of smoke, and every step took a massive amount of effort. His thighs burned but he kept on moving, refusing to stop.

He eventually reached the roof and crossed the tarmac to stand with the others who were looking out over the burning town. Heavy palls of black smoke continued to rise up from the area along the sea front which was on fire. The dark, billowing clouds were blowing this way, almost blocking out the sun. From up here the world looked decidedly apocalyptic—like Judgment Day.
What am I thinking?
he asked himself wryly.
This can’t be Armageddon. The world ended months ago
.

“You lot took your time,” a voice said. Kieran spun around, his heart thumping, and found himself face-to-face with a familiar, scruffy-looking figure with a duffel bag over one shoulder and a newspaper tucked under his arm.

“Fuck me,” he gasped. “Hello, Driver.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Lorna demanded.

“What do you think I’m doing here? I heard there might still be people around who needed a lift.”

“But what about the others? Didn’t they get to the island?”

“I presume. I volunteered to stay back here.”

“You volunteered? Why?”

“Because I knew there’d be more of you to come. There’s times recently when you’ve been almost as slippery as me,” he said, pointing at Harte. “I thought if anyone could get away from that castle again, it’d be you.”

“But why here?”

“Harry said it’d be the safest bet. He said you’d probably end up back here looking for the helicopter, and he was right.”

“So where is it?”

“What, the helicopter?”

“Yes, the helicopter. What did you think I meant?”

“Oh, it’s still on the island as far as I’m aware.”

“So what are we going to do? Are you planning to bus us all over there?”

“Something like that. I’ve got another way out.”

Caron walked toward Driver, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions.

“I could kiss you…” she said.

“Maybe later,” he said, quietly pleased, as he led them back toward ground level.

60

The descent took less than half the time it had taken them to reach the top of the car park. Introductions and explanations were quickly completed on the w
ay back down. Once they’d reached ground level the mayhem out on the streets immediately refocused Michael.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We head for the boats,” Driver replied.

“No use going down there,” Kieran said, “Jas totaled the place.”

“I know, I watched him. Can’t abide vandalism like that. Now I know you lot have just torched half the town, but I’m guessing you did that for a reason. What he did was just plain stupid.”

“So where are we going?”

“I had a word with your mates Richard and Harry before they left,” Driver said to Michael. “There’s another option, providing we can get past this lot.”

He watched the nearest of the corpses with the same nervous distrust they’d seen Jas display.

“They won’t hurt you,” Caron said.

“And you expect me to believe that after everything webp:pagebre19;ve been through?”

“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t true,” Michael said.

“Fair point,” Driver agreed, knowing he’d no choice now anyway. “Right, this way.”

He led them down toward the marina, carefully skirting around the edge of the vast crowd of corpses which were still swarming out of the station, all of them moving in the direction of the fire. They paid no attention to the living, the fire now their only focus. The air was dry, the smoke increasingly dense.

Less than ten minutes’ walking and they entered the marina, quickly making their way past the ruined boatyard they’d seen yesterday on their return to the town. Michael thought he knew where they were going. Driver led them past the gap in the moorings where the
Summer Breeze
and the
Duchess
had been moored, then into the more exclusive area where he’d spent his first night here on the luxury cruiser.
Surely he can’t have got that started?
he thought as he ran toward it.

“Not that one,” Driver said, gesturing a little farther along the jetty. “That one.”

He pointed at a boat just a fraction of the size of the first. It was beautifully appointed, but barely looked big enough to take the seven of them.

“Lovely,” Harte said sarcastically. He turned to look at Michael. “Think we can get it going?”

“We can give it a go,” Michael replied, sounding less than confident. He didn’t see they had any alternative.

“Your friend Harry’s already sorted out the engine,” Driver told them. “He said you lot left him here on his own for a day. He said this boat was in pretty good working order but he didn’t bother doing anything with it because it wasn’t big enough. Didn’t think he’d need it so he didn’t say anything, but he had it ready as a backup.”

“Good man, Harry,” Michael said under his breath.

“This is all well and good,” Caron said, eyeing the small vessel up with some unease, “but we’ve still got the little problem of trying to sail.”

“And then we’ve got to find the island,” Kieran added. “Are there any maps or…?”

He let his words trail away and looked at Driver, who was standing opposite them all, looking back at the burning town they were so desperate to leave.

“Have any of you lot ever heard of a bloke called Tony Kent?” he asked. Six blank faces returned six blank expressions.

“Was he someone you used to know who sailed boats?” Howard suggested.

“Something like that,” he replied. He tried another question. “Do any of you know what I used to do?”

“You drove buses,” Harte said quickly.

“Correct. Before that?” No answer. “I’ll tell you,” he explained. “Before I drove buses I was a tour guide. Before that, I studied.”

“Well done, you,” Lorna mumbled.

“And before that,” he continued, “I did fifteen years service in the navy.”

“You never said.”

“You never asked.”

It took a few seconds for the importance of what he was telling them to sink in. Michael was the first to twig.

“So you think you can…?” he started to say, too afraid to finish his question.

“What? Get you to the island? I’m a little rusty, but I think we’ll be okay.”

Harte grinned. “Bloody hell. I always said you were a dark horse.”

“When?” Michael asked. “Now?”

“Well, I’ve no reason to be hanging around here. Don’t know about you lot.”

The fact that Caron, Kieran, Howard, and Michael were already rushing to board the boat immediately answered Driver’s question. Lorna and Harte remained where they were for a moment longer.

“So who is Tony Kent?” Lorna remembered to ask just before she stepped off dry land.

“Who do you think?” Driver replied, thumping his chest. “It’s me, you daft bugger.”

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. Taken aback by the sudden show of affection, he wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye and hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“So what are we supposed to call you now?” Harte asked, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. “Is it Tony now, or still Driver?”

“Tony would be nice once we get to this island,” he said. “I’ve done all the driving I’m going to, I think.”

“What about Sailor?” Harte laughed. Driver just glared.

Lorna and Harte got onto the boat. It looked like it was going to be as tight a squeeze as he’d predicted. Driver shoved his well-read newspaper into his bag, then left it on the side of the jetty.

61

This was a boat which had never been designed for making sea crossings. More at home pottering along rivers or drifting along the Norfolk Broads and si
milar gentle waterways, the overloaded little vessel was clearly struggling. The group’s euphia at having finally made it off the mainland disappeared quickly, replaced with an undeniable unease. They felt uncomfortably low in the water, and despite the relatively clear sky overhead, the vicious wind continued to whip up the waves and repeatedly knock them off course. The seven survivors crammed onto the boat were cold, wet, and afraid.

But it could have been worse.

They could have died last September along with everyone else, Lorna thought. They could have got sick like Ellie and Anita and ended their time alone, desperately frightened, wallowing in their own waste. They could have cracked under the pressure of everything that had happened like Webb and Martin Priest and, most recently, Jas, or died senselessly like Ainsworth, Hollis, or Jackson. They could have fallen apart in any one of a hundred thousand different ways but they hadn’t, not yet. They could have been trapped in the burning chaos of Chadwick, or buried under the castle, or they might still be trapped on the first floor of the besieged hotel, but they weren’t. Unlike most people she’d come across since the end of the world, the seven of them still had a chance, albeit a small one. No matter how positive she tried to make herself feel, however, the endless gray water which surrounded them now made their situation feel increasingly hopeless again.

Driver used a compass and a map to navigate, doing his best to hide the fact that he was struggling from the others. Although shielded from the worst of the sea spray which soaked everyone and everything else, the rolling waves were making it increasingly difficult to concentrate. And they’d just reached a psychologically important point, he realized as he looked up and around for inspiration. His last visual reference point had disappeared far behind them, the faintest trace of the smoke hanging over Chadwick still remained like a smudge on the horizon, but otherwise there was absolutely nothing. He turned back around to face the bow again, trying to avoid catching the eye of any of the others for fear of starting another uncomfortable, slightly panic-tinged conversation which, inevitably, wouldn’t do them any good. Instead, he just looked into the rolling waves; port, starboard, aft, bow … all he could see in every direction was water now.

*   *   *

Another hour, maybe slightly longer, and the silent nervousness in the boat had reached new levels. Conditions were deteriorating. The wind had picked up markedly, and although the sea wasn’t particularly wild, to the seven people in the inappropriately small boat being knocked around by the waves, it certainly felt that way.

Caron was beginning to panic. Lorna, despite feeling increasingly anxious herself, did what she could to calm her. Michael squeezed through the others to reach Driver. Harte did the same, his sudden movements far less subtle than Michael’s.

“How much longer?” he demanded as the boat swayed to one side, lurching sickeningly.

“How am I supposed to know?” Driver grumbled.

“You must have some idea.”

“Forgot my sat nav.”

“Don’t take the piss.”

“Don’t talk bollocks, then. You can get out and walk if you like.”

“Do we have any life jackets?” Caron wailed from close behind.

“Do we look like we have any life jackets?” Harte angrily protested. “Wouldn’t we be wearing them?”

“Would you all just shut up and let me concentrate,” Driver shouted. “All this noise is doing my bloody head in.”

“You mean you haven’t been concentrating so far?” Howard asked, semi-seriously. The pointless bickering continued, and Michael took the opportunity to try and find out how much of it was justified. He clung to the side of the boat as a wave crashed against the starboard side. Bigger than any of the waves they’d so far seen, it splashed over the deck, soaking everyone, filling the bottom of the boat with about an inch of water and cranking Caron’s nervousness up to another level.

“Do you have any idea?” he asked quietly. Driver looked at him.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” he said. “I’m not completely sure. I mean, I have a bearing and I’ve been sticking to it as best I can, but it’s difficult. This boat’s not ideal, you know, and the weather’s getting worse.”

“So what’s the prognosis?”

“Keep heading in this direction for about another hour if we can. Then start with the flares.”

“Flares?”

Driver looked down and kicked the door of a waterproof cupboard with the toe of his boot.

“That was the plan,” he explained. “Richard said sail as close as you can to where you think the island is, then set off a flare. Put one up every hour.”

“And then?”

“And then he’ll hopefully see us at some point, then come out and guide us in.”

Michael nodded thoughtfully. It sounded like a pretty piss-poor plan, but it was still slightly better than he’d expected. At worst they could keep setting off flares all night until someone on the island saw them. “So how many flares do you have down there?”

Driver looked at him before reluctantly answering. “Three.”

62

The rising panic of Driver’s passengers had been muted slightly by a number of factors. Caron’s continual wailing and complaining seemed to
have worn her out and she was now quieter, numb almost, leaning against the side of the boat, drenched like the rest of them, shivering with cold. The release of the first flare had also helped temporarily, but the increasingly ominous silence which followed did not. Firing the second flare had again eased the tensioplan, but ut there was still no sign of the helicopter.

“Show me again where you think we are,” Michael said, looking at the wet map over Driver’s shoulder, peeling it off the boat’s instrument panel and managing to tear it in the process.

“Careful! Anyway, what’s the point?” he said, rolling with the swell and holding onto the side of the boat for support. “It won’t make any difference.”

“Please.”

Driver reluctantly showed him. He drew a line with his finger between Chadwick and Cormansey. “That’s the bearing I’ve been following, but like I’ve already told you, I don’t have any way of accurately measuring how far we’ve traveled. We could be a couple of miles from the island, we might not even be halfway.”