Autumn: The Human Condition (32 page)

Another idea quashed.

`Seems to me that if we can get out of here in one piece then maybe that's what we should be looking to try and do. Maybe we're going to have to find ourselves somewhere else to hide,' Elizabeth said dejectedly. Bushell shook his head.

`I don't want to leave here,' he sighed, his voice soft and tired. `I can't see any point in running.'

`Of course there's a point,' sneered Doreen.

`Is there?'

`Yes...' she stammered, sounding far from certain, `of course there's a point...'

Bushell shrugged his shoulders.

`I'm not so sure there is.'

`So what are you saying?' snapped Wilcox. `Do we just sit here and starve? Fucking good plan, well done!'

`What are you running for?'

`Because I don't want to die,' Wilcox answered quickly.

`Good answer. Why don't you want to die?'

He struggled to answer. It was a simple enough question, or maybe it was a trick...

`No-one wants to die, do they?' he said quietly.

`But is it the end of your life you're worried about, or is it death itself that scares you?'

`What?'

`Are you worried that you're not going to achieve everything you've always wanted to achieve, or is it the pain of being torn apart by hundreds of bloody bodies that bothers you?'

Again Wilcox couldn't answer. Neither could any of the others.

`What point are you making, Barry?' Proctor wondered.

He shrugged his shoulders and sat back in his seat.

`Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud really. I'm not trying to wind you all up. I guess what I'm saying is that I can't see a way out here. If we run we'll find somewhere else to hide for a while, then something will happen and before you know it we'll be moving on again, and again, and again...'

`Not necessarily,' Elizabeth protested.

`No, but that's probably what will happen. We have to be ready to expect the unexpected. Christ, I thought I was doing okay here until someone drove a bloody bus into the building!'

`But running has got to be better than just giving up and waiting to die, hasn't it?'

Bushell shrugged his shoulders again.

`I'm not so sure. That's what I used to think, but I don't know anymore. Every morning when I wake up, it becomes clearer and clearer to me that my life is just about over. We're massively outnumbered and society is finished. Christ, we're sitting here talking about risking our necks just to get food. What kind of a life are any of us going to have if getting the basics like food and shelter are so difficult?'

Silence.

`Still don't understand you,' Doreen admitted. `What were you saying about death and dying?'

Bushell rubbed his tired eyes and explained.

`I don't want to keep struggling and fighting forever,' he said sadly, `and I don't think any of you do either. If I'm completely honest, I just want to relax and let things happen naturally. I don't think we were supposed to survive. So while I don't relish the idea of letting those things out there tear me limb from limb, I'm not too bothered if I die.'

`But that's...' Proctor was about to protest.

`It's not normal,' Bushell interrupted. `It's not what any of you were expecting me to say. We've been pre-programmed and conditioned by society all of our lives to keep fighting and keep struggling. All I'm saying is that there's no point anymore. Just sit back and relax and let nature take it's course.'

More silence.

`No,' Wilcox said suddenly.

`What?'

`I said no,' he repeated. `No way am I just going to sit here and wait to die. Absolutely no way... There must be more we can do.'

`I'm with you,' Paul Jones said, similarly unimpressed by Bushell's words. Proctor looked up in surprise at Jones' sudden allegiance to the other man. Strange how their apparent dislike and distrust of each other had immediately been put to one side now that their backs were against the wall.

`So what do we do?' asked Elizabeth .

That was the million dollar question that no-one could immediately answer. A heavy and ominous silence descended on the room as the six individuals quietly considered their limited options and the apparent hopelessness of their situation.

`Exactly how full of bodies is this place?' Jones asked.

`They're almost up to the twenty-fourth floor, I told you that a few minutes ago. Weren't you listening to...' Proctor answered before being interrupted.

`No, you told us how far up the staircase they've managed to get, you didn't tell us how full of bodies the building is.'

Proctor struggled to see the difference. He wasn't alone.

`So what are you saying?' Elizabeth wondered.

Jones shook his head. Christ, these people annoyed him. More to the point he was annoyed with himself. Why hadn't he thought of this before?'

`A couple of minutes ago we were talking about getting out of here, weren't we?' `Yes.'

`So how was Bushell talking about getting out?'

`Do you always answer questions with questions?' she snapped.

`Do you?' he replied infuriatingly before re-phrasing and asking his previous question again. `There's another way out of here, isn't there?'

`The fire escape,' Bushell eventually answered.

`Which is still clear, correct?'

`As far as we know,' he stammered. `Why, what's your point?'

`Is the fire escape anywhere near the main staircase?'

`Of course not,' Proctor answered quickly. `What would be the point of that? The fire escape needs to be on the other side of the building so that...'

`Exactly.'

`So what's your point?' Elizabeth sighed, confused and tired and unable to follow the rapidly changing direction of the conversation.

`What I'm saying,' Jones replied, `is that the fire escape gives us a way of moving around the building that's well away from the main staircase where we think the bodies are...'

`And there's a good chance the bodies are still only on the staircase,' Wilcox continued, taking over from the other man. `Which means that if we're careful we could still go onto the floors and into the rooms.'

`What's the layout of a typical floor?' Jones asked.

Bushell thought for a second before answering.

`Just one U-shaped corridor,' he shrugged. `Staircase in the middle, fire escape at either end I think.'

`And when you first set yourself up here, did you clear the place out?'

`I checked all the rooms for bodies and I took what I needed but...'

`Did you take everything?'

`No. Didn't need to.'

`So there's your answer,' Jones said smugly, rocking back on his chair and almost looking down his nose at the others. `We go back down as far as we need to and grab what we can.'

`Think that's going to work?'

`Might do, might not. Should prevent us from starving to death for a few days longer,' he sneered cynically. `Delay the inevitable for a while.'

`That's all you're going to do,' Bushell reminded him, `just delay what you know is going to happen anyway.' `He's right, isn't he?' asked Doreen. `It's not going to change the fact that those bloody things will be up here with us in the next couple of days, is it? It's not going to help us get away.'

`No,' he agreed, `it won't. But it might give us a little time and space.'

Eight thirty-five. Pitch black. Jones, Wilcox and Elizabeth crept cautiously down the fire escape staircase towards the lower floors of the hotel. Hunger, claustrophobia and fear had combined to deadly effect to kick the instinctively cowardly survivors into action. Their hastily considered and half-improvised plan seemed increasingly risky with every step of descent. Jones had suggested they head all the way down and work their way back up. They had only made their way down as far as the seventeenth floor when he stopped and turned round to face the others.

`What's the matter?' Elizabeth asked, immediately concerned.

`I want to have a look,' he replied.

`What for?'

`What do you think?'

`But you said...'

`I said nothing. We know they're on the stairs. We don't know where else they are, do we?'

She shook her head. Jones moved towards the door and gently pushed it open a fraction. He shone his torch out onto the landing.

`Anything?'

`Can't see any movement,' he replied, his voice little more than a whisper. `I'm going to have a look around.'

Without waiting for a response from either of the other two Jones slipped out through the door and onto the landing. He switched off his torch, concerned that the light might attract unwanted attention, and then cautiously moved further down the dark hallway to the first corner. The layout, as far as he could see in the gloom, was pretty much as Bushell had described. A long, wide corridor with a right-angled right turn which ran towards the central part of the building where, he presumed, the staircase and several thousand rotting bodies would be. He moved closer to the corner and peered around, holding his breath for fear of making any sound which might tip the balance and alert the dead to his presence. He couldn't see anything. It was too dark.

Jones felt his way along the wall and paused at the door to one of the hotel's many bedrooms. Did he go inside? It would be worth having a quick look around the room before he returned to the other two waiting on the fire escape staircase. He wanted to see the layout of a typical room so that he could get a feel for what they were dealing with. How quickly would they be able to thoroughly check a room for food? What were they likely to find? Would there be a mini-bar or similar? Christ, he needed a drink. Imagine if each room had its own supply of booze. Surely some of the more expensive rooms on the higher floors would have...

Jones reached down and tried the handle. Damn thing was locked. No surprise really. Bushell had a set of master keys which he'd taken from reception. Elizabeth had them with her. He shoved the door again, hoping it would open. It didn't matter. He'd go back to the... Wait. What was that? He sensed movement nearby. Jones felt something brush against his arm and he froze. He lifted his torch and turned it on. Ahead of him the whole corridor was filled with bodies.

`Fucking hell,' he mumbled as he tripped and staggered back away from the dead. Illuminated now and then by the unsteady light from his shaking torch, he saw that the corridor was packed full of corpses which had obviously spilled out from the staircase. They began to stumble towards him. He turned and ran back to the fire escape and hammered on the door. Elizabeth opened it slowly.

`Move!' he yelled, forcing himself through and slamming the door shut behind him.

`Bodies?' she asked over her shoulder as she instinctively began to climb back up.

`Fucking hundreds of them,' he grunted. He glanced around for Wilcox but he'd already gone and was way ahead of them both. Cowardly bastard. He made a mental note never to put himself in a position where needed to rely on Wilcox for anything.

The survivors pounded breathlessly up the stairs, suddenly not bothered about the volume of noise they made, just desperate to get back to the Presidential Suite. As he climbed Jones thought more about the progress of the bodies he'd just seen.

`Wait a minute,' he shouted, stopping Elizabeth in her tracks. Breathless, he shone his torch at a small sign on the back of the nearest fire door. Floor twenty-six. It was worth taking a chance to see if this floor was the same as the one ten floors below. Elizabeth walked back down five steps to stand next to him.

`What are you doing?'

`According to Proctor they haven't reached this floor yet,' he said. `We might as well see if we can find anything before we go back.'

She agreed. He was right on two counts. Firstly, if the bodies hadn't yet made it this far up the staircase, they wouldn't have made it up to this floor at all. Secondly, it looked likely that this was their last chance to get food before the dead reached the Presidential Suite.

`Come on,' she mumbled.

The two survivors crept through the fire door (leaving it propped open with a fire extinguisher) and moved slowly along the corridor to the first corner. Jones put his head around the corner and shone the torch down its length.

`Clear,' he said, the relief in his voice obvious. `Let's stick to this end of the corridor and stay away from the stairs.'

`Suits me,' Elizabeth replied.

The layout of floor twenty-seven was different to floor seventeen. This floor bore more of a resemblance to the luxurious twenty-eighth floor than any of the lower levels. There were several large suites on this floor and Jones was immediately hopeful they'd find some food and drink at least.

`Got a key for an executive suite?' he asked. Elizabeth worked her way through the huge bunch of keys she carried. The door was quickly opened and the two of them slipped inside.

`So what are we looking for?' Elizabeth asked. `Anything,' Jones replied, `and make sure you split what you find into two piles. Keep one for yourself and we'll share the rest with the others.'