For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak (25 page)

Despite my worries, I must have dropped off, exhausted from the day’s events and
glad to finally be out of the storm. Luckily, it had passed as I slept and the
sun was now breaking through the wispy white clouds which covered much of the
sky. I stood up, my limbs stiff from my awkward sleeping position. As I
stretched, I surveyed my surroundings: the bay was tranquil, with clear waters
and patches of golden white sand strung out along the shore. The small ferry
terminal lay to our east, and around it stood a cluster of low stone buildings
with white-washed walls and dark roofs. To the north, were buildings which
looked industrial, but it was unclear what they housed. As far as I could see,
it was deserted. I checked my watch; it was still early so maybe it wasn’t too
surprising.

Suddenly, there was a movement on the island. I grabbed the binoculars and
focused them on the shore. It took me a while to work out what had caught my
eye: it was an elderly woman shuffling along a street leading away from the
shore in what looked like a nightdress. It seemed unusual, but not necessarily
completely out of place in a small, tight-knit community.

‘Hey,
Ben, you want some breakfast?’

I
glanced down the companionway and saw Claire looking up at me. ‘Yeah, if you’re
making some. How’s Sophie?’

‘She’s
got a sore head and her throat’s a bit raw, but other than that she seems fine.
Pretty lucky really: it would have been an awful lot worse if Daz hadn’t found
her so quickly. I still don’t know how he did it.’

I
smiled faintly. ‘Yeah, brave little bugger, isn’t he?’

‘He
most certainly is!’ Claire shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t think it to look at
him, would you?

‘No. I
guess it’s that whole thing about not judging a book by its cover.’

Claire
shielded her eyes against the early morning sun. ‘Anything going on up there?’

I
turned my attention back to the shore. ‘I’m not sure, yet.’

I
lifted up the binoculars again and tried to find the elderly lady. It took me a
few moments: she’d shuffled round in a circle and was now heading towards us,
the front of her nightdress covered in what looked like dried blood, while her
face and hands were stained with something dark. There was little doubt in my
mind she had the disease. Yet she wasn’t behaving like any of the other infected
we’d encountered so far.

I
swept the binoculars along the shore, stopping momentarily whenever I found
someone. In all, there were about ten people visible, and while none of them
were acting normally, neither were they acting like I’d grown to expect the
infected to act. The few that moved, shuffled slowly and aimlessly, while most
stood still, staring off into the distance. I wondered whether there was
something different going on here; whether the virus had, somehow, mutated
again; or whether this was just what happened once people had had the disease
for a while. Maybe this thing wasn’t going to last that long after all, and this
was the first sign the disease was starting to burn itself out.

Claire
interrupted my thoughts with a shout of ‘Breakfast’s ready!’

Down
below, we ate a poor imitation of a kedgeree made from the last of the mackerel,
most of our remaining eggs and what little rice we had left. While Claire might
be a great doctor, it was clear her culinary skills left much to be desired.
Regardless, we were all ravenous and cleaned our plates in record time. Daz even
scraped what was left in the pan together to get enough for seconds.

‘So,’
Daz spoke between mouthfuls, ‘what’s it look like out there?’

‘The
weather’s better.’ I scooped the last of my kedgeree onto a fork. ‘But I think
the infection’s here.’

‘How
d’you know?’ Sophie was pale; her hair was tied back and there was a bandage
where the mizzen boom had caught her the night before. Given what she’d been
through, I was surprised she was back on her feet already.

‘There
are people out on the streets: not many of them,’ I hesitated briefly, ‘but
they’re acting very strangely. Not like any of the other infected we’ve seen so
far.’

‘What
d’you mean?’ Claire seemed intrigued.

‘They’re just standing around. They’re all covered in blood, but they don’t seem
crazed or angry. They just look, I don’t know ...’ I searched for the most
appropriate word. ‘Lost.’

‘Hmmm
... I wonder if it’s some new phase of the disease.’ Claire was thinking
medically. ‘I mean, we really don’t know too much about it. Maybe there’s an
initial violent phase and things change once that passes. After all, nobody
knows what rabies does to the brain in the long term. Until the virus mutated,
everyone who started showing symptoms ended up dead.’

I took
my plate over to the galley and wiped it clean before putting it back in its
place. ‘I wondered that, too. But what about those people on the fish farm last
night? If there’s a violent phase, they were clearly still in it.’

‘Maybe
they got infected more recently.’ Daz’s suggestion was certainly feasible and it
would fit with Claire’s theory.

‘If
that’s what’s going on, it changes everything. It means the worst of this could
be over in a few more days.’ I found the prospect strangely exhilarating. ‘So
how do we find out if you’re right?’

Claire
glanced round the cabin. ‘We could go ashore.’

Daz
looked at her disbelievingly. ‘You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’!’

‘No,
I’m serious.’ Claire stood up. ‘I don’t mean all of us and whoever did it would
need to be very careful, but it’s really the only way we can find out for
certain.’

Tom
handed the binoculars to Daz. ‘How’re we going to do this?’

The
five of us were standing on the bow of the boat, staring towards the shore.

‘If we
get the dinghy in the water, we can go ashore on the beach, there in front of
the road,’ I pointed to the spot I was meaning. ‘The nearest person I can see is
over there by that big building. If they try to attack, we’ll have plenty of
time to get back out onto the water.’

‘So
who goes?’ Claire glanced round.

‘Only
one person should risk it,’ I took a deep breath, ‘and I think it should be me.’

‘Ben,
you can’t.’ Tom was staring at me. ‘You’re the only one who knows how to sail
the boat. If we lose you, we’re screwed.’

‘Yeah,
but I’m also the only one who knows how to drive the dinghy.’ I turned back to
the shore and watched  the people lurking there for a moment. ‘Anyway, I’m
planning on making damn sure I get back in one piece.’

‘Here
goes.’ I started the little outboard on the dinghy. The beach I was aiming for
was about a quarter of a mile from where we’d anchored the night before. Trying
to make as little noise as possible, I puttered slowly towards my destination.
Halfway there, I stopped and scanned the shore with the binoculars: none of the
people I could see on the land seemed to have moved at all. I pushed on and soon
the dinghy was bumping against the sandy beach with a soft scrunch. Hesitantly,
I stepped ashore, pulling the dinghy just far enough from the water to stop it
drifting away.

Remembering what had happened when we’d been foraging for food south of Brodick,
I took the remaining paddle with me, just in case, and placing each foot
carefully on the sand, I crept forward, expecting to be attacked at any minute.
At the top of the beach, I paused. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears as
my heart raced. I glanced around. I could only see one of the locals: the one
near the big building. Now I was closer, I could tell it was a man. His back was
towards me so I couldn’t see his face, but he had a wiry frame and thinning
hair; still he hadn’t moved.

I
pulled myself up onto the grass and stood there, my eyes darting around, waiting
for something to happen, but everything remained still. Off in the distance an
oyster catcher called shrilly, while gulls circled lazily overhead. I looked
back at the boat, and could see the others gathered on the bow, nervously
watching my every move.

After
a minute of edging ever further from the water, I reached the road. I could see
two figures now, the man nearer me and the elderly woman further off, still
shuffling round in circles: neither appeared to know I was there. I wondered
what to do next. I decided to get a little closer and then call out, but not
wanting to be caught by surprise I kept my eyes glued to the man.

I’d
made it about five yards when my foot landed in a pothole, sending me sprawling
onto the tarmac. The paddle flew from my hand and clattered along the road.
Almost instantly, I heard a roar and looked up to see the man racing towards me.
Gone was the listlessness he’d had until that moment. Instead, his face was
contorted with rage. I scrambled to my feet and leaving the paddle where it had
come to rest, I turned and ran. When I reached the loose sand at the top of the
beach, I stumbled, almost ending up on my hands and knees, but somehow I kept
myself upright. I didn’t need to look behind me to know that the man was
gaining; I could hear his snarls getting louder and louder with every passing
second. My lungs burned from the exertion and I could feel my heart pounding in
my chest. I reached the harder sand near the water’s edge and could run faster.
I hoped he’d be slowed at the top of the beach, just as I’d been, but I knew I
couldn’t count on it.

I hit
the dinghy at full speed, pushing it backwards into the sea and away from the
shore. I carried on until the water was up to my knees and with one last push I
leapt in.  The momentum carried me further from the beach as I struggled towards
the engine. I glanced back and saw the man was at the water’s edge, growling and
gnashing his teeth. Not knowing if he’d be willing to pursue me into the water
itself, and if he did so, how far he would go, I started the engine, twisted the
throttle and pushed it hard to the right.

When
the dinghy was facing back towards the yacht, I straightened it up and looked
back to the shore: the man was still there, pacing back and forth, but by the
time I was back at the boat, he seemed to have lost track of me. He’d fallen
silent and no longer stalked along the shore. Instead, he’d returned to his
placid state, staring off into the distance. From what had just happened, it was
clear Claire had been wrong: the violent phase, as she had called it, had not
passed; instead, it seemed the infected were only active when they sensed prey
were near.

‘D’you
think it’s safe?’ Sophie craned her neck to try to get a better look.

‘I
think so. The one we hit’s over there,’ I pointed to our left, ’it doesn’t look
like there’s anyone on this one.’

As
soon as we’d realised there were no survivors in Port Ellen, we’d decided to
carry on northwards, but before we did, we’d returned to the fish farm, pulled
there by the lure of easy food. Now it was daylight, we could see there were six
groups of cages in all, separated from each other by 100 yards of open water.
The night before we’d struck the southern-most enclosure, but now we floated
near the cages at the northern end. There were no buildings here, meaning
nowhere for infected to hide, and we could see the rest of the low-lying
pontoons were clear. Inside the cages, salmon churned; each five to ten pounds
in weight. If we could work out how to preserve them, we could get enough food
here to last us for weeks. It would be monotonous, but it would at least be
filling and nutritious, and given what we’d found at Port Ellen, it seemed we
might need it.

I cast
my eyes around one last time, just to make sure it really was safe. ‘Let’s see
how many we can get.’

I
stepped hesitantly onto the pontoon: after my last encounter with the infected I
was nervous, even though I could see there was nothing to worry about. Daz and
Tom followed, leaving Sophie and Claire on the boat to keep a look out. The
three of us walked up to the edge of the cage and peered in. The water swirled
as the fish moved just below the surface. Every now and then, a dark body would
emerge before slipping from sight again.

Daz
was entranced. ‘How many fish d’you think are in there?’

‘Ten,
maybe twenty thousand.’ I did a quick mental calculation. ‘That means the fish
in this cage would be worth about a quarter of a million pounds … or at least,
they would’ve been.’

Daz
shook his head in disbelief. ‘That much money just for some fish?’

‘Fish
farming’s big business. Well, it was.’ I turned my attention back to the cage.
‘They’re pretty much worthless now. They’ll starve to death eventually ‘cos
there’s no one left to feed them.’

‘That’s just cruel.’ Daz peered into the water again. ‘Can we no’ let them go or
somethin’?’

‘They’re not wild fish; they’d die if we did. They’re pretty much doomed either
way.’ I looked away. ‘At least if we take some, they’ll die humanely.’

‘How’re we goin’ to get them out?’ Daz was still staring into the cage,
mesmerised by the ever-moving shadows lurking just below the surface.

I
glanced round and saw a large dip net leaning against one of the handrails, left
there by a worker who no doubt thought they’d soon be back to retrieve it.
They’d never returned, but now it would let us catch as many salmon as we could
handle.