Flu (19 page)

    They watched in horror as Norman reached forward to unlock the door and pull it open. His large, bear-like arm reached through the crack in the doorway, dragging the panicked figure of a man into the hallway. Once through, Norman forced the door closed again, locking it up tight.

    "Bad idea," Lark whispered, melodramatically.

    He looked young, even with the facial hair and dirt coating his skin like tar. His face was blackened, the dirt and grime of a dying city hardening around his mouth like soot. He obviously hadn't washed or changed his clothes for weeks. A large overcoat wrapped around him, soiled and re-soiled as if it, too, could speak candidly about the adventures they had no doubt shared together, the hell they had gone through. His eyes were full of fear, his scrawny, malnourished body cowering in his seat rather than sitting.

    The others surrounded him at the kitchen table, the newcomer perched at the end, as if attending some bizarre interview. Norman took the lead, the cowering man seeming to look to him as the one he knew best, the one who had plucked him from the very pit of hell itself. And that was going to make Norman a man to fear or respect or thank, or all of the above.

    "What's your name, son?" he asked, fixing him with a sharp, no-nonsense stare. It was obvious how intimidating the bigger man's presence could be in this type of situation.

    "P-Paddy," the newcomer answered, stuttering and looking around at the others quickly.

    "And how did you know we were here, Paddy?" the big cop continued.

    Paddy was shaking. He was trying to find the words, but they didn't seem to be coming.

    "We're not going to hurt you, Paddy; we just want to know what happened to you," George offered, trying to offset the other cop's more direct approach at questioning. He seemed almost embarrassed by the good-cop, bad-cop routine. It was very obvious, very stereotypical. But it appeared to be working; the shell- shocked survivor at the table seemed to be comforted by his words. Still he cowered, though, shivering in the coolness of the night.

    George asked McFall to make a cup of tea. Paddy stared at the ski-masked survivor as he rose from the table.

    "You needn't worry about him, son," Norman laughed, "He's not as scary as he looks. Quite the fucking opposite!"

    But McFall said nothing, quietly draining the same tea bag he had used many times already into a half- filled cup of hot water from the camping cooker. He sat the cup down beside Paddy, who literally jumped as it tapped the table.

    "Jesus," McFall said. "Steady on, lad. It's just a cup of tea, like."

    "Leave him alone," Geri said. "He's obviously been through a lot."

    "It's o-okay," Paddy said in a quiet whisper. "I know I'm getting on like some bloody weirdo. But it's pretty bad outside. Does things to a man, being out there for too long."

    "Where were you, exactly?" Norman pried, further, trying to get the conversation back on track.

    Paddy lifted the tea cup to his lips with trembling hands, gulping the contents down greedily. Once drained, he sat the cup down, looking to McFall as if an orphan asking for more.

    "None left, mate," McFall said.

    Geri glared at him, kicking his shins.

    "Ah! What was that for? There
isn't
any left!" he protested, childishly.

    "Just start from the beginning," Norman said to Paddy, assertively, clearly tiring of the nonsense bouncing between each of the other survivors.

    "Alright," said Paddy calmly. He seemed to have got his gusto back rather quickly, almost as if the tea McFall had poured for him had been magical. "I'll tell you what it's like out there," he said. "But it's not going to be easy listening…"

    "I was a school teacher before all of this happened," Paddy said, allowing himself a sardonic chuckle at that. "Even though I can hardly remember a thing about those days. How long ago it was, how good I was. I can't even remember much about the school I worked in or the kids I used to teach." He looked up from the empty teacup he was fumbling like a security blanket. "Everything changes when you've been there…" he said.

    "Been
where
?" asked Geri, reaching her hand forward, placing it on the young survivor's shoulder.

    He looked up at her, tears gathering at the sides of his eyes. "At the camp," he said, softly, as if it were a secret. "The Rescue Camp."

    A silence descended upon the table. It was a reverent silence, but also a fearful silence. Pretty much everyone gathered had heard about the camps, some even knowing people who had sought help at one. But none of them, until now, had known of someone to return from one alive. This was history in the making. A new breed of history. The whole room was immediately hanging on Paddy's every word. The air was thick with anticipation.

    "Which camp were you at?" George asked, his voice breaking a little when he spoke.

    "Craigavon," Paddy said. "Near the lakes. About three hundred survivors were trucked in there, at the end. They had built it to cope with the evacuations of the bigger housing estates. I was one of the first to arrive. At the time I got there, there weren't very many people around. The camp was just opening, and although it wasn't anywhere near as good as they were making it out to be on the posters and on the broadcast channel, it wasn't
all
bad. They had plenty of food and water for everyone. Warm bedding and shelter. And it was safe, too. There were armed guards, everywhere, wearing those yellow suits."

    George and Norman exchanged a glance. It was a knowing glance, and Geri wondered what connection there could be between them and the camps.

    "They patrolled the area, keeping everyone in and… the dead out. I remember waking up to the sound of shooting more than once in those early days."

    "Was there any medicine being given out?" Geri asked, "you know, like they promised on the posters?"

    "I didn't see any medicine," Paddy said. "There were doctors, of course. At the start, it was hard to tell them apart from the guards, though. They all were wearing the same yellow suits, you see. And none of them spoke very much to you. Some of the doctors took folks away, during the early days. Especially the old and disabled. We never saw them again, but no one seemed to complain.

    "Eventually, we didn't see the doctors much, either. Only the guards, and even their presence became less intense. They just told you where to go to get food and water, where to dump your waste or get washed up, and pretty much left you to your own devices after that. Some people asked for the medicine, but the guards just told them it hadn't arrived yet."

    "How long were you there for?" George asked.

    "A few weeks. A couple of months. One day bled into the next, so it was hard to tell. There was nothing for people to do, so most just slept the day away, waking up for the food drops. At one point, they brought us books and toys for the children to play with. But then more busloads arrived, and it was difficult to find any space to read or play anymore."

    Geri felt like asking Paddy about the people she knew, her family and friends, even, to see if he had met them or knew what had become of them. But she thought it would be selfish to ask those questions, and she knew that, by the look of him, his tale was about to take a rather nasty turn for the worse.

    "So, was that when things began to get worse?" George asked. "When the others arrived?"

    Paddy fixed his eyes on George as he spoke. He suddenly began to weep. Silently and rhythmically. His head bowed, and his shoulders shook, like some kind of wind-up toy. It was all rushing back to him, Geri thought. Events that had stuck in his mind more vividly than his previous life, or job. She considered, for a moment, the power of 'experience'. How one event in your life could overwrite everything that had gone before it and would happen after it. For a moment, the brilliance of that scared her.

    "Things got a
lot
worse when the others came," Paddy said, almost in a whisper. McFall offered him a tissue, and he took it, blowing his nose quietly before continuing. "They were bringing too many people in. 1 could hear the guards complaining about it to the doctors. Some of them even tried to turn the trucks away, but when it looked like a riot might start, they were left with no option but to open the gates and let them in. The dead were everywhere, then. We could smell them all around us, circling us like hungry dogs. They had completely surrounded the camp, meaning it was very difficult for the trucks to get in and out. Eventually, they just stayed there, parking in the perimeter fencing surrounding the main camp. Before long, there were too many trucks, meaning the guards couldn't open and close the perimeter entrance to allow any more to get in. And that's when things got
really
messy. You've got to remember, there was absolutely no space left, then. People were rammed in like sardines in a tin. We were sleeping standing up. The sewage system had broken down, and…"

    Paddy broke down and started crying openly.

    "Hey," Geri said, reaching her hand to sweep some hair from his forehead. "It's okay…" He looked up at her, smiling weakly through the dirt on his face. She could see that his teeth were almost yellow, and for a moment it turned her stomach. She felt immediately ashamed. The poor guy had been through hell and back, and here she was obsessing over his personal hygiene.

    "The smell of the place," he continued swallowing hard. "It was almost unbearable. The guards were leaving us more and more to our own devices. They dropped food off once a day, but it wasn't enough. People started going hungry, then fighting over what was being thrown at us. At first, the guards intervened, even shooting a man dead who was fighting with some little boy over lumps of bread, but… pretty soon they stopped caring. And that's when it got even worse."

    Geri wanted him to stop. She had heard enough to convince her that pretty much all hope was shot of civilisation, as she knew it, returning to normal. This was the very edge of the cliff, as far she could see. And there was no way back. Humanity had changed forever. But Paddy continued, McFall fetching him a little more tea even though he had claimed, earlier, that there was none left. From the smell emitting from the cup, Geri could have sworn he'd added a nip of vodka to it, as well.

    "Eventually, the guards and doctors started fighting amongst themselves," he said, "Some even left through the gates in one of the trucks. Those that stayed were more interested in protecting ourselves than helping them… so the food stopped arriving just as regularly. And-"

    "You said 'them'…" Norman interrupted, suddenly.

    "W-what?" Paddy asked, seeming confused and nervous all at once. Geri felt him pull away from her.

    "Just there," Norman said. "When you were talking, you used the term 'ourselves', referring to the guards, and 'them' referring to the survivors…"

    "Oh, for God's sake," Geri protested, angrily. "Let the man speak, will you? This isn't a fucking interrogation!" She felt like they could lose Paddy at any time, and in so doing would lose their glimpse into a world none of them knew. He was right. His story
wasn't
easy listening. Not to her, anyway. But it still needed to be told.

    "Just saying," Norman muttered, clearly a little surprised and miffed by her impertinence.

    "Please," Geri said to Paddy, "just continue. Ignore him. Ignore them all."

    Paddy looked to Norman for permission to continue. The big cop nodded, raising his hand in the air, dismissively.

    "Well, where was I?" Paddy asked.

    "You were talking about living conditions in the camp," offered Geri.

    "Right," Paddy said, rubbing his head as if to shake the memories out.

    "Well, we were becoming more like animals by the day. The fighting got worse. The weak, the old, the ill simply wasting away, with few people actually caring for them, anymore. Things went sharply downhill. Some people were starting to develop symptoms, sneezing, coughing… the guards moved in right away, shooting them in cold blood and then… then… d-dumping their bodies over the perimeter fence." He reached for his cup with a shaking hand and downed the contents in one go. "T-t-they stopped sending any more food to us. People were killing each other just for scraps. Things got worse, all sense of decency breaking down in the camp. The guards moved in one day, not even wearing the protective gear anymore. They had been drinking… They took the younger girls from the camp, dragging them away from their parents to do God knows what. But no one cared. Everyone was too weak, too sick to care…"

    "So, how did you get out?" Norman asked.

    "A few of us went for the guards the next time they came in. They were drinking a lot by then and were getting careless. We managed to get past them, some of us making it to the perimeter fence trucks. We found one still with the keys in the ignition; we slammed it through the doors, breaking them down and…" he paused before finishing, "The dead were pouring through the broken gates as we left. But we just kept going, we just kept -"

    "Hey," Geri said. "It's okay. There was nothing else you could do."

    Paddy just put his head in his shivering hands, continuing to weep quietly. Geri wrapped her arms around his small body, as if he were a child. A silence fell on the table, everyone digesting in their own way the words they'd just heard.

    "What happened to the others?" Norman said, no emotion in his voice or face. He seemed strangely unaffected, and Geri wondered why. Surely he couldn't be that cold inside? Surely even he had a heart that could melt at such a harrowing tale? She suddenly felt very angry with him. He couldn't be a good man, she thought, if he didn't feel
something
after hearing a story like that.

    "We got split up," Paddy said, almost defensively. Geri could see Norman raising an eyebrow as he spoke.

    "What do you mean?" he asked, still prying.