The others
raised their cups and mugs, and clunk them together amongst a resounding chorus of “Cheers!”
Monday, 17
Tommy held the door open for Ellen, Marla, Billy, Harold and Peggy to walk through into the meeting room
, which was rectangular in shape and painted a pale green. Groups of sofas and wooden tables rested at the far end while rows of black plastic chairs were arranged in the centre, occupied by about eight people. Suspended from the ceiling on metal wires, a white screen was positioned in front of a projector perched on a desk.
“Hello, you must be the
new arrivals,” a female voice called out and some faces in the audience turned around. A woman stepped from behind the white screen and approached briskly.
Marla
thought she looked about forty-five. She was slim and sharply dressed in an immaculate dark blue suit, and her stiletto heels tapped along the wooden floor, bringing her to a height of five foot ten. Her reddish-brown hair was swept back in a meticulous French plait and she smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “My name is Miss Evender and I am the administrator. Was the past week relaxing for you?” she asked, shaking hands with each of them in turn.
“I haven’t slept so well in ages,” Peggy answered enthusiastically.
“I’ll second that,” added Harold, circling his arm around his wife’s waist.
Tommy and Marla nodded while Ellen smiled shyly.
“I heard you were outside on your own after the outbreak for quite some time,” Miss Evender continued. “Was it very difficult?”
“You could say that,” Marla replied.
“We have some very experienced counsellors here who can help you, if you wish. We also insist that everyone speak with the head therapist and I have made appointments for you all. It can be extremely helpful. So many people have gone through traumatic experiences.”
“Thanks.
I’d like to talk to someone about it,” said Ellen. Noticing her sister give her a look of surprise, she shrugged. “Well, it might, Marla. We went through hell.”
“Good, we will arrange that for you. So, Marla, you don’t feel you need to speak to anyone?”
Marla shook her head.
“No, I’m fine. This week it was good to have the silence, but I’m raring to go now, as they say.”
Miss Evender
looked at her with a quizzical expression and then at Tommy, who just raised his eyebrows. “Well, sit yourselves down wherever you like,” she said, “as I’m going to go through everything now.” She then took her place at the front of the gathering. “Let me start by welcoming you all to Haven. As I have just been saying, we understand that most of you will have experienced some difficulties, so we have made appointments for you to speak to our head therapist. Afterwards you may continue to see a counsellor if you feel the need. Likewise, if you have any special needs or require something, or have any questions regarding the way things work here, feel free to come and speak to me. You all know where my office is – right next to Commander Caballero’s – and you are welcome to make an appointment to see me at any time. My secretary is Anne Barnes,” she added, nodding to a red-haired woman in the front row who turned to wave at everyone.
Miss Evender
switched on the projector. “Let me begin. Haven is owned by the government. It was used by the army and for medical research, some of which was quite ground-breaking. Since the outbreak it has become a refugee centre. Here you will have everything you need. Levels four to six and eight to ten house the survivors. The soldiers live on level two. Quarantine, where you have all spent the past week, is on level three, and the laboratories are on level eleven, where the scientists have their living quarters. On level seven you will find a cinema, gyms and other entertainment. Level ten has an additional wing with a library, school and learning facilities. The children who have lost their parents live there too, with carers. The first level is home to Mr Caballero, the therapists and I, besides other administrative offices. As you can see, this is all marked on the diagram.
“
Haven is self-sufficient. There are set times for breakfast, lunch and dinner, as you have been told, and we try to keep a structure to the day. Most things are explained in the guidebooks you were given in quarantine. Anyone who would like to volunteer to join the guard can apply and we will try to make use of your skills – we don’t want people to get bored or feel their experience has no meaning now. We do not know how long we will all be living here, so we would like everyone to get along. With that in mind, we take a strong line against any form of violence or intimidation.
“
The downside of life at Haven is that you are confined to the building unless you are a member of the guard. It is simply too dangerous for you to go outside the grounds. If you choose to, you do so at your own risk. We understand this will be difficult. You are allowed to make use of the grounds inside the fence and there is a garden on the roof, but otherwise you are to remain inside. I know this may come as a shock, but we think it is a small price to pay for our safety.”
Marla
turned to Tommy in dismay, but he was focused on the speaker. So it was true; no one could go outside unless they were soldiers. Staying inside was going to be impossible and she found it difficult to believe everyone else obeyed this rule.
Miss Evender was in full swing, however, and continued without pause.
“Of course, if you feel claustrophobic, etcetera, please make an appointment to see one of the counsellors or Doctor Grice. Everyone will need to have a health check as we want everyone at Haven to be as healthy as possible. We encourage the use of the gym and the instructors can create individual exercise plans for you.
“The second thing I would like to talk
to you about is the virus. Our scientists, like many in the country, are working on a cure. We are in contact with the government. During the chaos of the last weeks I guess you may have wondered if we still have one – we do, but it was imperative that there was a media blackout and the internet closed down to avoid panic or the organisation of terrorist activity. In the beginning we did not know what this was and it was believed to be a terrorist attack. Currently, we are not sure what has caused this virus or how long it will last.”
A man put his hand up, but Miss Evender waved it down to Marla’s surprise. “
Please, sir, no questions until I finish speaking. At the present time, London has been quarantined and sealed off. No members of the public can enter or leave the capital. The virus has been reported in several countries in Europe, as you can see from this map. It has not been reported anywhere else. The US Government, in particular, is assisting us with aid.
“In case you were wondering, most of o
ur supplies are driven in, although there are facilities for helicopters: a landing pad on the roof of the building and one on the ground. We are in communication with other facilities across the country. We will be asking each of you to make a list of your relatives and we will endeavour to find out where they are. In certain cases we are able to reunite families, although this can take some time, as you can imagine the number of people in the same predicament. You might even find people you know here. We hope so. I have some handouts to give everyone at the end, which will cover everything about Haven – its facilities, workshops, courses and entertainment, meal times, etcetera. This is in addition to your guidebooks. So now, do you have any questions?” concluded Miss Evender perkily.
A woman put her hand up.
“Yes?”
“Do we have internet and can we use our mobiles again?”
the woman enquired.
“
I’m afraid not. The internet is limited. Only the head offices at each facility have access and the government, but if you wish to send a letter by email to someone at another facility this can be arranged.”
“Isn’t that a bit Big Brother
-ish?” asked a man. “What happened to our freedom?”
“I’
m sorry, but we are all in the same boat,” Miss Evender told him. “The government demanded access to be restricted due to the risk of ongoing terrorism. Of course, this will change in the future.”
There were murmurs between the man and his two neighbours. Marla thought they looked angry. She
put her hand up.
“Yes?”
asked Miss Evender.
“You
said you have no idea what caused the virus. Does that mean you’re sure it is in fact a virus?” Marla asked.
“Yes, we are certain of
it.”
“Is it man-made
or a product of the government?”
The administrator laughed. “It has nothing to do with the government, no mat
ter what the conspiracy theorists claim, and we’ve heard all those rumours. The current theory is that it is the result of a terrorist attack, the biggest the world has ever seen. The jury is out on what it is exactly. I understand you’ve had close contact with the undead, judging by the questionnaire you filled in during quarantine?”
Marla nodded.
“So that could be helpful to us. New things are being discovered every day.”
“Can it be stopped?” asked
a man at the front.
“That’s a question for the scientists, I’m afraid.”
“Do you know what caused the dreams… the nightmares?” Marla queried.
Miss Evender
coughed and stared at her for a second. “You’ve experienced them?”
“Yes,
and so has my sister.”
“I see. No, I’m sorry, but we have no idea. There are many questions
regarding those.”
“It sounds like the government
doesn’t know very much,” suggested an elderly man.
The administrator shuffled her papers and turned to the screen. “We are short on time, so does anyone else have any
serious
questions?”
“I’m a teacher. Can I help in any way?” asked Ellen.
Miss Evender smiled for the first time in a while. “Yes, indeed, you can. We can always use more teachers.”
Peggy raised her hand. “We arrived here with a
little boy and a girl. They have no parents and I helped Ellen to take care of them, and I wondered if I could still do so? I would be more than happy to.”
Ellen smiled at her and nodded.
The administrator thought for a second. “That would be up to the care workers here. They would have to assess the children and there are various procedures.”
Peggy bowed her head
and Harold took her hand in his. “It’s okay, love,” he soothed.
“Maybe I don’t deserve it,” she muttered.
“Don’t be silly. I’m here.”
Peggy
’s story
As Miss Evender continued to speak, Peggy struggled to keep her emotions in check, as she had done for weeks now, ever since… She took a deep breath. Becoming numb; it was something she had become practised at, for her husband’s sake. The last thing she wanted to do was upset him. She had to endure.
Peggy
studied her husband’s profile, taking in the shape of his nose, which some would describe as Roman and the dimples around his mouth where he used to laugh often, though not so much these days. Now he had become a more serious man, often lost from her in his thoughts, oblivious to her attentiveness or her need for his, although they had managed a communication breakthrough of sorts during the week in quarantine. It didn’t seem enough though.
He was a good man, she had no doubt of that, but she wished they could talk about the experiences they had shared, the good and the bad. That they had managed to get this far still surprised her and she counted every single day as a blessing; one sh
e was uncertain of deserving most days. The time spent on the canal had seemed like a kind of purgatory while she desperately awaited the end of things, inviting it almost, until Marla, Tommy and Ellen appeared; their saviours. But she’d had to keep their past a secret; pretend. Agreeing to leave the canal meant they could escape, and she chose to live, but the memories endured. Those she could never escape. They were burned into her soul forever.
The things you cannot do. The things you wish
you had done.
She breathed out, shifting her gaze away from
Harold. The time would come when they would need to speak of it, but then it would live again afresh.
But that is how they feel for me. They live, as
if they were but yesterday.
How much longer can I pretend these things never happened when I want to scream out the truth to every
new person I meet? Yet I promised Harold that I would keep this secret. I fear that to speak of it would break him.
Peggy recalled
the beginning of the end: the news reports of suspected bird flu in London. Only a handful of cases to begin with, which gradually ballooned into a mass sickness and people being murdered on the streets on an unprecedented scale. Riots followed. Then details of the largest terrorist attack the capital had ever seen in the form of a virus. A viral attack, which could be contained, the government said.
That was the first lie.
London was evacuated and sealed off. The media said the rest of the country was safe and the virus had been contained.
That was the second lie.
The sickness spread. The television reports became more frightening while the details became vaguer. Each area will be evacuated, they said, one by one. Everyone will be taken to a safe place. That was the one thing she hoped was not a lie.
Fear began to spread, as deadly as any virus. People
fought for food in the shops. Looting followed. Shopkeepers closed their businesses or left. Signs of the illness appeared, unbelievable signs. If Peggy had not seen these things with her own eyes she would not have believed. The dead began to walk. She saw them.
In the night they came. She recognised neighbours, the people she had passed in the street on a daily basis; those she had spoken to about the weather, the rising price of food or the latest events in their favourite soap operas. How it all seemed so futile, ridiculous. These people now walked by night, restless.
Monsters; there was no other word to describe them, no longer being what they once were.
Their faces only ha
lf recognisable, pulled and torn as they were into haunting masks with fixed expressions. Like ghosts they haunted the streets, passing the windows en masse. Every night there were more. Through the cracks in the wooden boards, Peggy and Harold peered out into the night and watched the dead. As horrific as they were, they attracted the living to regard them in terror and amazement. Peggy could not draw her eyes away. Insomnia became her friend.
The army
did not come as promised on the news and in the leaflets distributed. Policemen had knocked in the early morning, going from house to house explaining why the army could not come yet. There were too many other towns falling to the virus, too many people to evacuate. It was spreading across the country, not isolated, they now knew. The army would get to them eventually and take them to a refugee building, the police told Peggy and Harold, but their street had been moved further down the list. The police could not move them now; they lacked the resources and were dealing with situations they couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
Peggy knew this was not a lie because she heard the daily gunshots and bloodcurdling screams.
Not all of them stayed. To be honest she was amazed how many had.
If I had been a young policeman I would have left.
Safety meant staying at home, they said, locking the doors and windows – barricade yourselves inside, they warned. But glass can break, Peggy reasoned.
Few
er people chanced the streets. But then they grew desperate and chose to leave rather than wait for the army they feared would never come. The police stopped knocking and no one knew where the places of safety were.
***
If we had been younger we would have gone too, early on. I am sure of it.
The days jelled together and two weeks passed while we feared for our lives. During the day we watched our neighbours pac
k their vehicles and drive away; where to, we had no idea. Those who didn’t drive simply walked; men, women and children. Mothers carried babies. Some took their pets while others left them behind.
We were too frightened to leave, not knowing what lay out there beyond our street. What if there were more of these creatures? Our town of Whitley was small, so surely there were more in the bigger places? Then the phone lines went dead and we could no longer contact our relatives. We
began to pray for our lives.
The monsters appear
ed in the late afternoon before the sun set, chasing the living, trying to prevent them from leaving, and we saw things worse than we could imagine. They bit and tore people to shreds in front of our eyes, and we were powerless to stop it. No one had guns, except for the police, and they had deserted us. The bones and bloody mess would linger on the pavement, offering a soundless warning to anyone who dared to step outside.
At the turn of the third week our two daughters pleaded with us to leave. You see we were not alone. We had urged them to go on their own much earlier, but they had refused to abandon us. We had been too stubborn. I am not so old, I now realise. No one can know what they are capable of, what energy they have, until they look death in the face and until then he had not come looking for us.
Harold relented and we made preparations to go. By night we watched the gruesome theatre beyond our brick sanctuary, remaining silent, the lights turned off. We needed to sleep, but that luxury had crept away. Exhaustion hovered, but we thought we could fight it.
Our beautiful
daughters, Eleanor and Juliana, I bore late in life. My husband and I waited until we had really lived before having children. But I wish we had thought otherwise and I would have more memories, seen how their lives panned out. Eleanor was twenty-one and Juliana but eighteen. Both exhibited strength, intelligence and empathy. Were they too kind? No, no one can be too kind.
But I have not
mentioned Edward. Our youngest was fifteen. We cared for him at home as he was bedridden and he was the true reason we waited. He needed twenty-four hour care, unable to do anything on his own except breathe and look at us. I knew he smiled. I could see it in his eyes.
N
o one came for us.
The streets
filled with blood and the dead resurrected; for what reason I could not begin to speculate. As a Christian I fought my doubts, the voice in my head that sought answers, but I wanted to keep my faith. Whatever test this was, the dead would not prevail. Yet the monsters roamed outside our doors as if they knew where the last living members of the town lived. We guessed they could smell us because we kept sound to a minimum and they could not see us. Something as simple as smell was their weapon, besides their teeth and the hands they used as cruel claws, and it was our weakness. I watched them thinking I could understand, but there was nothing to understand.
Our daughters would not go without us, so we could not stay.
My husband and I had been prepared to remain with our son and face whatever came our way, but Eleanor and Juliana? We had to leave for them.
The day came. We packed our most treasured possessions in suitcases and bags, and the remaining food we had, besides bottles of tap water. Harold drove a Peugeot Horizon. It was a car we’d had for a while, reliable and strong, with enough room inside for us and our children. Edward’s wheelchair fitted between Eleanor and Juliana’s seats. They loved him as we did, never viewing him as an inconvenience. He was their brother and we all felt loved by him too. We packed our belongings into every space.
On the day we left the street was deserted. I saw curtains twitch. Neighbours were still alive and waiting, as we had been. They were probably surprised to see us go, with Edward in his wheelchair, so oblivious to how the world was falling apart around us.
Luckily, our garage gave our preparations the advantage of seclusion. I hate to think what might have happened otherwise, for when we drove out of it the monsters were waiting. I told my daughters not to look at them, but I could not stop them. Hypnotised we were as my husband drove away, heading for the main high street. The
dead things staggered into the road, some losing their footing as they stepped off the pavement. I glanced out the side mirror and trembled. Goodbye Ashmore Road, I said silently; our home for our son’s lifetime.
We took the main B road – Basingstoke – towards Reading. Harold reasoned such a big to
wn would have a refugee centre, with the police and the army in large numbers. It was a good plan. In reality we did not get that far. We drove in silence apart from Edward’s muffled conversations to us. He was the only one who was unafraid, I thought with relief. He could not know what was happening and that was a blessing.
I knew my daughters to be as terrified as I, but they did not complain, not once. Harold focused on the road. I glanced at him from time to time; his expression did not change. Determination was written there. Determination to save us all, his family, and I trusted him to save us.
That was the next lie, but it was one I told myself. You should never expect so much from one person.
The monsters grew in number. It was daylight, but they shuffled along the streets like a Halloween welcoming party, their frozen masks grimacing,
red liquid dripping from their mouths. I remember the blood; I saw too much of it. On the way up to Reading they increased. Hindsight is a strange creature. We should have changed direction, but where were we to go?
We drove blindly, unable to pick up any radio station. Now and then we saw other cars, but no one hooted or stopped. Everyone seemed hell bent on saving themselves. I did not blame them. Other vehicles passed us on the way to Reading. Some even cut us up in their haste. I saw no one walking t
he pavements save the monsters. What I did see were bodies. Half bodies, limbs, bones, red trails. I always looked away, not wanting to know what the masses of red really comprised.
The most hideous thing I saw was one of the dead crawling – just a head, shoulders, an arm and a backbone. It moved like an eel along the pavement. We had stopped at a red light until Eleanor pointed out that there were no rules anymore. Then the thing with a head disappeared, but it will always remain in my memory, along with my daughter reminding us. I think she had accepted the world we knew was gone long before we did.
Basingstoke became Southampton Street. I remember the names. Names become important. Little details become so much more than the whole. Tiny details remain when the big things are forgotten or we choose not to remember them. I feel as if I live my life in hindsight now. Forever wishing I could change things, rerun these events; the big things. Then my mind stops, but today I force myself to remember every single, tiny detail.
Road
block – we hit it; lines and lines of cars everywhere.
My stomach plummeted to my feet. Juliana began to cry a little and I turned around in my seat to hold her hand. Harold looked white. I realise
d he had no idea what to do. Imagining more cars would follow, I then recognised one parked in front, which had passed us earlier. The driver’s door hung open, but the passengers were nowhere to be seen. Noticing a hotel and a huge shopping centre ahead of us, I suggested them to Harold, but he feared they were too far. As it was, we would have to get out and walk, he said.
I began to panic. We had to do something before the monsters realised we had stopped. As if on cue one turned to stare from the sidewalk and he slipped off it. Eleanor urged her father to do something while I tried to soothe Juliana. Time escaped me.
Harold began to turn the car around. I saw fear in his eyes. As we were turning, a car raced out of nowhere and smashed into the front of us. The driver threw open his door and ran past us without a backward glance. Two cars followed behind, parked haphazardly, and their occupants did the same thing. Edward made a gurgling sound and I so wanted to scream, but we had to keep it together.