The End of the World Running Club (48 page)

 
We heard a noise above us, some footsteps and the scrape of rope. Bryce looked up.

“Thank fuck, I think we’re stopping,” he said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the captain.”

Bryce helped me out of the bunk and I limped after him through the cabin. The boat was short and filled with the warmth of family. Coloured and frayed cushions lined the wooden benches in the galley. Next to the stove was a teapot covered by a woollen tea cosy in the shape of a cat’s head, and next to this a photograph of an old woman. One the wall above, a child’s drawings were pinned across each other on a board; birds with triangular beaks and pink eyelashes; dogs with straight legs and human teeth; people with limbs that only served to support gigantic, circular hands and feet, faces drawn smile-first; everything primary, every stroke started before the last one had been completed. Alice had started to draw the previous spring; endless lines and scribbles, nothing recognisable yet. I felt a sudden need to see her progress and draw pictures like these. It was a strange and directionless feeling: joy, sadness, hope and envy all at once.
 

I followed Bryce up the thick ladder to the deck of the boat, relying more on my arms than my legs to lift me. We met the sun, low in the sky but still a shock. It was morning, I guessed. I shielded my eyes and looked up at the bright blue sky, a few wayward white clouds scudding away like lost dogs. I could smell saltwater and stone. I blinked and allowed shapes to form from the glare. We were on a small sailing boat moored in what looked like a makeshift harbour in a small cove. About a dozen more boats - yachts, barges, fishing junks and dinghies - were anchored and tied up against posts on a wooden platform built into the rocks. Bryce staggered over to the stern and leaned against the railing, looking blearily down into the black water.

A man stood at the helm wearing a thick, navy sweater and drinking from a tin mug. His hair was jet black but his beard was dashed with white. I put him somewhere in his forties.
 
A younger woman sat on the bench beside him with her feet beneath her legs. Her hair was a wild stack of dull bronze and rich gold tied back with a purple bandana. A girl of about five sat cuddled beneath her right arm, an older one leaning into her left. All three were huddled together in a sprawl of cardigans, shawls and blankets.

The man put down his mug and looked across the deck at me.
 
He stepped forward so that he stood between me and the girls on the bench and began to inspect the space around my eyes. He offered me his left hand.

“James Grey,” he said, still scanning my face.

I gave him my hand and he turned it over gently, pulling up my sleeve and looking at my wrists. A bald spot was staking a claim to his crown.

“Any pain in your ears?” he said as he pressed his thumb up and down the soft flesh. He spoke fast with the curves and angles of a broad South Western accent; every vowel stretched apart like a rubber band, every ‘r’ curving in on itself.

“No,” I said.

“Diarrhoea?”

“What?”

“Vomiting? Neck pain? Does it hurt when you urinate?”

“No, I mean, no more than usual, I…”

“Nose bleeds?”

“No.”

“Trouble catching your breath?”

“No.”

He looked suspiciously up at my eyes again. Finally he blinked and nodded. He gave my hand a single shake, then replaced the sleeve and let it drop.

He stepped back so that he was looking at me, not just the bits of me he had previously been interested in, and placed his fists on his hips. “James Grey,” he said again. He aimed a thumb back over his shoulder at the bench. “Wife Martha, two girls Jenny and Clare.” The woman raised a hand and smiled. I nodded back.

“Where am I?” I said.

“Just north of Croyde,” he replied, stepping over to the helm and busying himself with a rope. “Brizzle Channel.” I felt a warm hand grip my shoulder and turned to see Harvey behind me.

“G’day, Ed,” he said. He looked me over. “How are you doing, son?”

“Fine,” I said.

Harvey squinted a little, careful with his words. “Did Bryce fill you in?”
 

I nodded. “Some of it. I know we didn’t make it and I know Richard got past the gate, but I still don’t know how I got here.”

“Do you remember seeing us? Before you passed out?”

“I remember seeing Bryce, then nothing.”

“We’d just said goodbye to Richard when we found you. We were about to join the queue ourselves, although I don’t think we would have got in. People were already starting to give up and drift away. There was a bit of a party going on by the time you showed up, lots of kids, drinking and all that, arguments, fights, it was getting rough. People’d had enough I expect.”

He gripped my shoulder again.

“Then you stumbled out of nowhere, Ed,” he said. “Just fell out of the mist right in front of us. How did you know where we were?”

“I didn’t,” I said. “I had no idea where I was.”

“You looked like death, mate, hell of a mess with your fingers and everything. How’s your ankle? Martha got you fixed up.” He smiled and nodded at Martha. She smiled back as she walked past us and climbed the ladder down below deck. “She’s a nurse.”

“How did we get here?”

“James and Martha found us. You were on the ground, unconscious. We were trying to wake you up, shouting for help from one of the medical tents, but nobody came. Too busy I guess, but then Martha came across, asked what had happened. They were on their way back to their boat and offered to help. We came too.”

“You left the queue?”

“Like I say, there wasn’t much hope for us. We didn’t feel like hanging around in a field with all that fighting, figured we’d come along and make sure you were alright.”

“Thanks,” I said. I shook my head. “How the hell did Richard get through?”

“He had a good reason. Plus, well…” Harvey shrugged.
 
“You know what he’s like. He’s probably never queued in his life.”

Martha returned onto the deck and handed me a bowl. I stared at the oily, thick liquid inside it, and smelled fish on the steam rising from its surface. A familiar panic began to churn inside me, the string being pulled taught from my chest.

“Your ankle’s sprained,” she said. Her voice was detached. “It needs rest. Your fingers will fix themselves. Not much I could do about your eye, I’m afraid. It’ll heal, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to see properly out of it again. Like I said to your friends, you’re welcome to stay with us until you’re well enough to move on. We don’t have a lot of space, but we make do.”

“I’m sorry, Ed,” said Harvey. “We tried.”

I looked up from the broth. Two faces looked back at me with expressions full of care and pity, neither of which I needed.

“How far can you get us around the coast?” I said, turning to the helm.

James dropped the end of a rope he was arranging and straightened up. He looked over his shoulder.

“Beg pardon?” he said.

“How far can you get us around the coast?” I repeated. “How close can you get us to Falmouth?”

He turned and took a step towards me. “Not sure I follow,” he said.

“Bryce told me that everything directly south of Bristol was a swamp now,” I said.

“That’s right,” said James. “Everything from Plymouth to Southampton, as far north as Glastonbury. Can’t be walked on, can’t be driven on, can’t be floated on.”

“But there’s still a thin strip of land that runs south-west from here to Falmouth, where the boats are leaving from,” I said.

“Right,” said James slowly.

“If you can take us south, around the Cornish coast, we might be able to make it across that strip to Falmouth.”

“How?” he said.

“On foot,” I said.

He stared at me, then he buckled his legs and laughed up at the sky. When he had finished, he shook his head. The smile crept from his face.

“You’re serious?” he said.
 

“That’s how we made it from Edinburgh to here,” I said.

James looked me up and down. “So I understand,” he said. “Not working out so well for you though, is it?”

He took a step forward, folded his arms.

“That coast,” he said. “It’s not the same as it used to be. It’s all changed. There’s water where there didn’t used to be water, rock where there never was before. I wouldn’t travel past Padstow. Everything after that, well, it’s just too dangerous.”

“If you can get us to Padstow, how far is it from Falmouth?”

“Thirty, forty miles.” James looked at me with his face squinted, as if I was an idiot.

“I could make that,” I said.

He laughed. “I very much doubt it. It’s not just the coast that’s changed, it’s the land too. The roads are a mess…”

“If they can transport all those people down from the gate, then I can get down too. Is it possible? Can you get me to Padstow before tomorrow?”

“The land is covered with sink-holes and marshes. Whole villages have fallen into the ground, the virus…”

“Can you get me there?”

James sighed, scratched his head and looked up at the sky.

“Wind’s good, picking up,” he said. “So yes, I’d say it’s possible. But then what? Even if you make it to Falmouth, do you think you’ll just be able to jump on board one of those boats without a pass?”

“Ed,” said Harvey. “You can’t be serious mate. There’s no way you can walk on that ankle.”

“I don’t think Ed’s talking about walking,” said Bryce from the stern, still looking over the side. “Are you, Ed?”

I kept my eye on James.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” I said. “But my family are down there. I have to try to get to them.”

I glanced at Martha and then at the girls, still huddled together on the bench. They looked back at me curiously, as if I was some strange form of entertainment that would hopefully disappear soon.

“You understand?” I said.

“Jesus, Ed,” said Harvey. “You
are
serious.”

James looked back at me with his head cocked and mouth open, frowning in disbelief. Martha turned to her husband.

“Maggie,” she said.

James turned his incredulous look toward his wife and cocked his head the other way. Eventually he rolled his eyes and shook his head. He walked to the stern.

“Maggie!” he shouted.

A plump woman with grey, straggled hair appeared from the hatch of the neighbouring boat.

“Yiss?”

“Can you look after Martha and the girls for a day?”

The woman craned her neck to look past James.

“Pleasure,” she said. She smiled and waved.

James turned back at us. His face was wild and quizzical, still trying to fathom it out. The boat rocked gently on an incoming wave, bumping the fenders against the bow.

“Right then,” he said at last, tossing his hands up and picking up the rope at his feet. “Padstow it is.”

“Girls,” said Martha. “Come with me. We’re staying with Aunt Maggie. Daddy will be back tomorrow.”

Bryce walked across to where Harvey and I were standing by the hatch. “Listen, thanks for getting me this far,” I said. “And I’m sorry we didn’t make it. If I hadn’t fallen, maybe we would have been at the gate sooner. Maybe we’d be on a boat by now. I just need...I need…”

“I know Ed,” broke in Harvey. “I know.”

“Where will you go?” I said. “Perhaps you could find somewhere safe around here.”

James kissed his wife and helped her and his daughters onto the other boat. He emptied his cup over the side and began to loosen the moorings. “Best be going,” he shouted across to us again

Harvey turned to me and heaved a happy sigh.

“Nah,” he said. “I don’t think so, mate. Reckon we’re coming with you. Right Bryce?”

Bryce grumbled nauseously. “If you want me, I’ll be below deck,” he said.

N
EVER
THE
E
ND

We waved goodbye to Martha and her daughters and I stood next to James as he navigated out of the cove. The wind was strong and southerly and before long we were scudding along under the power of three bulging sails. I had never been on a yacht before; the only boat I had ever travelled on was a cross-channel ferry and a canoe that had capsized and nearly drowned me once on scout camp. I wondered what to do with the exhilaration of moving freely through water with the fresh, salt spray blowing around me.
 
I was blind in one eye, my fingers were broken and every step I made ended in pain. Yet here I was, soon to face another thirty miles on foot. Once again I felt I was in the grip of a decision that hadn’t entirely been mine. Something was pushing me, forcing me on, and I doubt it cared for eyes or ankles. I wondered whether hope and exhilaration were the right things to feel at this point.

Bryce was still below deck and Harvey had taken a seat at the bow. I stood next to James at the helm, steadying myself on a post and watching as he gripped and span the wheel against every hurl and nose dive the boat made as it ploughed through the sea.

“We should make Padstow before nightfall with this wind,” he said. “I’ll get you as close as I can. You might even have an hour or two of light to move in before it’s dark.”

“Thank you for this,” I said above the wind. “I’m sure you think we’re crazy.”

“Family’s important,” he said. “I’d be doing the same thing in your boots.” He turned his eye from the horizon, looking at me sideways. “Can’t say for sure I would have made it as far as you have, mind.”

“At the gate, were you trying to get on the boats?” I said.

He glanced at the compass and made a quarter turn.

“Nope,” he said. “We’re alright where we are. Our boat’s strong.” He slapped the wheel. “And there’s plenty of fish. There are quite a few folk like us living on the channel now. We look after each other, there’s a school, a little community. I don’t see the need to head off to a different country.”

“What about medicine? The virus?” I said.

He shrugged. “Take your chances, don’t you. There’s danger wherever you go.”