Surviving The Evacuation (Book 3): Family (17 page)

“You are alright, Donnie. It is over.” He spoke softly, enunciating each syllable in a cultured Parisian accent. With a face that had more creases than lines and erratic patches of grey in his hair, I’d safely guess he’s on the wrong side of forty. His body on the other hand had a wiry athleticism that mine had never even approached.

“Yeah. Right. Thanks Francois,” the young man, Donnie muttered in an Irish accent with that transatlantic lilt of a Dubliner.

“Good. Now put that sword down and go and help that man with Carmen.”

I watched, unmoving, seeing it all but not really taking it in.

“And how about you?” the old man asked. I’d not noticed him approach. “Are you alright?”

“I’m...” I raised a hand to wipe the sweat from my eyes but saw it was covered in blood and gore. I’d cut it somehow. I looked at the blood and saw the cautious concern in the old man’s eyes. “...immune.” I finished.

“Ah,” he relaxed. “Me too. And it was a shock finding out. Like being born again, ‘cept into a nightmare you can’t ever be sure isn’t Hell. George Tull.”

“Bill.” I’d half extended my hand in that old familiar gesture before I remembered.

“Later,” I said. “After I’ve had a wash.”

“Well we’ve water enough for that. And thank you, Bill. For your help. I’m grateful.”

“It doesn’t look like you needed our assistance.”

“Unexpected help was rare enough in the old world, out here it’s about the only thing of any worth. So, thank you. Introductions then. Carmen’s our wannabe acrobat, Donnie’s the chap who didn’t realise that even though the dead are walking, you still have to use sunscreen. Up at the window that’s Marcy, our doctor, and that’s Francois.”

“I... We...” I didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t like meeting Kim, nor like when we found the girls, nor even when we found Barrett and the others. This was something different. It was as if we’d walked into someone else’s story. I put it down to the shock of suddenly realising I was still alive. Then something the old man had said registered.

“You have a doctor?” I asked him, but he didn’t get a chance to answer because there was a shout.

“Mister Tull!” It was Donnie. The old man stiffly walked over to him.

Sholto had pulled the bodies away. The woman, Carmen, was now sitting with her back against the wall, my brothers hands clutched tightly around her thigh.

“We need some bandages. Something to clean the wound.”

“It’s nothing,” Carmen said, I could hear it now, the pleading disbelief. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Marcy!” the old man bellowed, “Marcy! Get out here.”

“I would if someone would help me,” A voice called back from inside.

“Donnie, go and help her,” George Tull snapped, and whatever had driven him over those hectic last few minutes seemed to drain away, making him suddenly seem little more than an old man wearing gore stained clothes.

A few moments later Donnie came back out of the house, helping a woman with a bandage around her ankle and a large blue bag hanging over her arm.

“Right, lower me down so I can see,” she said, after Donnie had helped her over the litter of bodies around the house. “Move your hands, please,” she said to my brother, the tone brusque and professional. “Right, I’ll have to clean it, bandage it. Carmen, look at me. Carmen? Have you been bitten before?”

“What? No. I mean...”

“Has she?” Marcy turned to look at the old man.

“No idea.”

“Anyone know?” she asked. Donnie shrugged, Francois just shook his head.

“Well, you haven’t turned,” the doctor said, turning back to Carmen. “So you’re probably fine. But we’re going to wait and see. That’s our procedure.” She glanced briefly up at Francois. The two exchanged a look that said they’d been through this before.

If I’d been looking for a sign as to whether we could trust these people, those words and that look were as close to one as I was going to get.

“I’m sorry...” I began, addressing Carmen, as the doctor began to clean and bandage the wound.

“You’re standing in my light,” the doctor said. I stepped sideways. I wished I could crouch down and address the injured woman at eye level, rather than towering over her like that.

“We had no choice,” I went on. “We’re low on food. But it’s more than that. We do need help. Medical help. There’s a baby, she’s sick.”

“There are more of you? Where?” the old man asked.

“A baby?” Carmen asked.

“What do you mean by ‘sick’?” Francois asked.

“He means is it contagious,” the doctor clarified.

“I’ve no idea. She’s not got a fever, and none of the rest of us got sick if that means anything. It might be smoke inhalation, but she was like that before the fire.”

“We were trapped in a tunnel,” Sholto interrupted, and I was grateful he did. I knew I wasn’t making much sense. “We set a fire to escape. We all got burnt, though Daisy was withdrawn before then.”

“Well, where is she?” the old man asked.

“Safe, about a mile away.”

“Safe? They’re not safe out here, not on their own. All of that shooting’s going to have carried for miles.”

I looked over at my brother.

“I’ll go and get them,” he said.

“Not unarmed you won’t,” the old man said, “Donnie, you give him your rifle. Francois, you go with him. Be quick now.”

My brother took the rifle, hesitated a moment, checked it was loaded, then fired a shot into the body of one of the undead. He nodded slowly to himself.

“Right, let’s go then,” he said, hurrying off towards the distant trees. The Frenchman followed.

“Not many children made it,” Marcy said. “There can’t be more than...”

“Twenty three,” the old man interrupted. “There are only a few hundred of us, but only twenty three children.”

“Where?”

“Ireland,” The old man said firmly before anyone else could reply. “We’ve secured a stretch of coastline, and a decent sized village. There’s an old school there. Every day, everyone sees it, the empty classrooms, and you can’t help but wonder about the future, and think on the past.”

“That’s all I can do,” the doctor said. “We just have to wait.”

“Not out here,” Carmen said. “Not if there’s children.”

“You and me, lass,” the old man said. “We’ll go into the barn and wait there, alright? Donnie, you want to give me a hand?”

Between them, they carried the woman into the barn, leaving me alone with the doctor. There was an awkward moments silence.

“Dr Marcille Knight,” she said, carefully lifting herself up.

“Bill. It’s good to meet you, doctor.”

“Marcy, please. Snap.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The legs. How did you get yours?” she asked.

“Oh, that. Before the outbreak. I fell off a staircase. You?”

“Jumping out of a window a couple of days ago. Oh hell,” she added, “I forgot Leon.”

“Who?” I asked, turning to look. A man, rifle held across his body, was running down the road at a pace that would have won him gold in any marathon. He didn’t stop until he reached the top of the drive. He took one long sweeping glance around, taking in me, the bodies of the undead, and then the distant figures of Sholto and Francois.

“Where are they going?” he asked, in a French accent far gruffer than Francois’. He didn’t even sound out of breath.

“There are more of us. A woman and two children,” I said. “They’re going to collect them.”

“Ah,” he said nodding. “The old man?”

“With Carmen in the barn,” Marcy said. “She was bitten. Donnie’s helping him.”

“Ah,” he said, this time with a trace of sorrow.

“One of the children, it’s a baby,” Marcy added.

“Oh?” He seemed to think about that for a moment, then he looked around at the bodies once more. “I will go back to Gwen.” The words came out slowly each enunciated with meticulous care, as if he was unsure they’d be understood, but then he turned and started running back the way he’d come without waiting to see if we had.

“He and Francois, they’re French Special Forces,” Marcy said. “Or were. I was in Mali. At a refugee camp. They dragged me onto their plane. The last one out.”

“And Francois is the captain and Leon’s the sergeant?”

“It’s the other way around. Except Leon’s a colonel. Or was, back when nationalities and ranks mattered.”

“And they got you out of Mali? How did you end up here?”

“Now that is a very long story, but if you asked Leon, he’d find a way of telling it in less than ten words.”

I nodded.

“Where’s he going though?” I asked. “Who’s Gwen?”

“Oh, right. Gwen and Leon were on truck duty. We drove here, it was a supply run, of sorts. Of course the undead, they follow, don’t they? They always do. We lured the zombies away from the trucks, and up here. We came up that road, you see,” she pointed along the coast, “the way you came. That’s why Mr Tull was worried. If there were more zombies following us than we thought then that’s where They will be coming from. Anyway, the plan was that tomorrow morning we’d signal. Gwen would sound the horn until the undead start heading away from the house and then we’d shoot Them.”

“So you really didn’t need our help at all.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said. “There were twenty of us a week ago.”

Before I could think of anything else to say, Donnie came out of the barn. He looked resigned more than upset.

“I don’t get this life, this world. It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. Immune or not immune...” he shook his head. “Hi. I’m Donnie.”

“Bill,” I said, and went through the ‘can’t shake hands now’ business all over again. Then we talked about nothing for a while, as we waited for Kim and the girls.

“Kim, Annette, Daisy,” I said, by way of introduction when they got closer, skipping over my brother as I was completely unsure how to introduce him. When they reached the house, he didn’t help me out. He just stood smiling behind everyone else. But no one asked who he was. They were all far too interested in Daisy.

“We’ll take her inside and I’ll have a look at her,” Marcy said.

“Will she be ok?” Kim asked.

“She’ll be fine. There’s a boat coming here tomorrow morning. You’re lucky you stumbled across us. That’ll take us home, and we’ve a hospital there. She’ll be fine. But I’m going to take a look at her now. If you want to bring her in here,” she added to Kim.

“I’ll come too,” Annette said.

“No, dear,” Macy said, firmly but kindly, “not until after you’ve cleaned up. We’ve no spare clothes here, I’m afraid.”

I looked down at myself, and then over at Kim, Sholto and Annette. I suppose it’s natural that we didn’t really notice. Our clothes were singed and covered in dirt, except in the places where they’re ripped or burnt through, exposing the grime covered skin underneath.

“I can wash after,” Annette said.

“No, I think the doctor’s right,” I said. “We could all do with a clean.”

“There,” Marcy said. “Listen to your father.”

“My father?” Annette giggled, Sholto grinned and even Kim rolled her eyes.

“We found each other on the road,” I explained.

“Sorry,” Marcy said, “I should have realised. It’s old habits, you know? Well, come on then. There’s an old shower room, you can wash in there. Back when this was a...” The doctor’s voice faded as, carrying Daisy, she led Annette into the house. Kim gave me a brief look, full of meaning that I completely failed to understand. Then she shrugged and followed the doctor into the house.

“We should move these away from the door,” I said, gesturing at the undead.

“And I should go and check on Leon,” Francoise added.

“He’s already been up here,” Donnie said.

“He has? Of course he has. And I bet he ran too. Of course he did. That man, he learned to run before he could walk.”

Donnie and Francois exchanged a smile at that private joke.

“Which direction was that?” Sholto asked.

“Over there.” I pointed.

“The east,” Sholto nodded. “And will he keep a watch for the undead?”

“Of course!” Francois sounded affronted at the question

“And we came up from the south, that leaves the north,” Sholto said. “I’ll go that way, and see how many zombies heard the shooting.”

“I will go with you,” Francois said. “What is that expression? ‘Two knives are better than one’.”

I was glad I didn’t have to go and traipse around the countryside, until I looked down and saw the undead still littering the courtyard. And now there was only Donnie to help move the bodies.

After three quarters of an hour, I decided we’d done as good a job as we were going to, and stopped. Donnie happily concurred, fetched a couple of buckets of water and an old bar of soap for me, then he went to check on Carmen and the old man

I was halfway through washing when Kim came outside.

“She’s not sure,” she said, quietly.

“About Daisy?”

“She doesn’t know what’s wrong. The food, the smoke, the water, it could be anything. It could be nothing. But she says they’ve a hospital. And power to run the equipment. She said a lot of other stuff, but I didn’t really...” She took a deep breath. “They have electricity, Bill. And a school.”

“Do you trust her?”

“She seems normal. Like a normal doctor doing normal things. You know, off-hand, brusquely professional and insultingly dismissive.”

“You don’t like her?”

“No, I’m not talking about likes and dislikes. I’m saying she’s not changed. Not like us. Not like me.”

“There’s something else, a ‘but’, isn’t there?”

“She’s secretive. There’s something she’s not saying.”

“I got that impression too. It’s the old man who’s in charge. And that’s odd in itself.”

“Old man?”

“George. And he is old, he went into the barn with Carmen, the woman who was bitten, to wait and see if she turns.”

“Oh, right.”

“We could still leave,” I said neutrally. “If you wanted.”

“No,” she said after a moment. “We’re all secretive, they’ve just met us. They don’t know who we are. They seem to want to protect the girls, and that’s got to be good enough.”

“Good,” I said, lifting the bucket and dumping its contents over my head. Now there was just the question of whether I’d be staying with them or going off to find the Doctor on my own.