Hope: After It Happened Book 4 Page 6

  “Black. Strong. No sugar,” he said, almost desperate for praise.

  “Good lad,” said Dan, meaning more than just making him a drink.

  “No problem,” he said as he walked away trying to hide his evident pride, “Boss,” he added, sheepishly.

  TIME TO GO

  The night went by slowly. After four hours of fitful rest Dan took over from Leah and Mitch relieved Neil. Adam was kept out of the night shift as he alone of their fighters was inexperienced. Plus, he would do the heavy lifting during the day to make up for it.

  Simon was still walking around like a ghost at daybreak, having slept in the seat he occupied after coming inside. Dan spoke with him for a while, finding out what he wanted to do.

  Another strong coffee was placed in Dan’s hand as the group assembled to tuck into the box of breakfast bars and tins of fruit placed on the table which now smelt strongly of bleach after Ana had eradicated all traces of the tragic scene there only hours ago. Everyone looked tired, with the exception of Neil and Mitch who seemed not to require sleep like normal humans.

  “Right,” said Dan loudly, silencing the chatter and gaining everyone’s attention. “Last night was not pleasant,” he said, understating something which a couple of years ago would have left most people traumatised for life.

  “But there’s no way we can stay around here, nor can we consider trying to get at the diesel in the boatyard. There are too many of them and they have too many guns. We’re avoiding any fighting at all costs.”

  That seemed to relax everyone. Dan outlined that they still needed diesel, but that the game had changed. They had to leave the harbour as soon as they could and it was suggested that they move further down the coast away from danger.

  “We load everything onto the boat and Mitch will take most people out onto the water to shadow us West. The others will come with me and bring the vehicles. We use the hand pumps to collect every bit of fuel we can; we fill the cars, the reserve tank on the Land Rover and the jerry cans. We fill the boat with as much as we can and then we fill the Land Rover up again and Simon will take it home with Al’s body to be buried with his family.” He let that sink in before continuing.

  “Pack up; everyone on the boat except the following.” He listed names, deciding to include Henry to put his eagerness to please to good use.

  The air of happy excitement had totally evaporated after the elation of their arrival in the bay. Without ceremony the supplies were loaded on board and those chosen not to engage in the fuelling tasks shuffled down the jetty to climb up to the deck of Hope.

  Dan nodded to Mitch, who slowly piloted them out into the waters of the wide bay. Dan turned to his assembled team of ten and issued assignments.

  For the next two hours they mostly walked from vehicle to vehicle siphoning off every bit of diesel they could find. Jerry cans were filled and passed up to the roof of the Defender where the precious liquid was carefully decanted in to the large reserve tank originally fitted for Steve to take Emma to Scotland.

  As the sun neared its peak Dan called a halt for them to rest. He reckoned they had got close to a thousand litres by now by topping up the spare cans and tanks. Adam went ahead with Leah as both seemed eternally restless to scout for more. They returned after twenty minutes wearing broad smiles as they had located another source of jerry cans and a fuel station.

  Within an hour Neil had rigged a pump to extra hoses and they took turns in emptying the reservoir. With all of their containers full, they loaded up and continued on to the next point where they reached the water easily. It took all afternoon to reverse the journey of the fuel into the cans and carry it to be poured into the tank on the boat. After that Dan took one of the motorbikes strapped to the back where the jet ski would have sat at the stern of the boat and went with Simon to return to their diesel source. They pumped more in to fill the tanks in silence.

  Dan never knew if Simon regained the wide smile he wore when they first met. He took the fuel and his new vehicle containing the body of his friend, bid a quiet goodbye and drove north without another word.

  Dan quietly wished the man luck, hoping he would soon fare better than he had over the last few days.

  By the time he returned to the boat the sun was already sinking. Adam and Leah had cleared a nearby building, although one of far lower status than their home of yesterday, and the group settled down as the light faded for a night of waiting for the sun to rise.

  THE CALMING

  The period of disorder had faded after a couple of days. Apologies were made between quarrelling parties and the mood, although sombre, had at least returned to civility.

  Steve still remained motionless in medical. He was watched around the clock and the clear bag hanging from the side of his bed continued to fill with bloody urine as the fluids entering his system through the needle in his arm cycled through his battered body. Lizzie and Alice did the best they could, but there was no way of telling if he would ever wake up.

  As far as they knew, he was in a coma. A fact that they tried to keep from the others, bar the council. Lexi shared the story of the day Dan and Leah found them; of how he had given peace to an injured man who would never wake up. She tried hard to remember the man’s name, and even harder to put the similarities out of her head.

  Combined with the loss of some of their most valued people and the catastrophic wreckage of Steve’s return, people were quite simply depressed. The world still turned. People got up and went to work. Food was reared, grown, prepared and eaten. Just not with the same sense of purpose as it once had. The belief that they were the last generation of people to exist on the planet seemed to have finally sunk in, and that realisation brought with it an air of futility.

  They experienced their first suicide the following morning.

  One of the group originally rescued from Bronson’s prison was found when he was late reporting for work on the gardens. He had hanged himself in his room, leaving a note which spoke simply of the pointlessness of life. Another subdued burial ceremony took place, only this time half of the remaining group attended. Precious few words were spoken as the handfuls of dirt were dropped onto the shrouded body.

  Lexi and Paul had taken over Dan and Marie’s room, not wanting to let sentiment affect valuable real estate. They lay there that night, neither able to sleep until both realised that the other was still wide awake.

  “Can’t sleep?” she asked softly.

  “No,” he replied in a whisper. “Can I ask you a question?” he said after a pause.

  “Yes,” she said, and before he could ask it she answered:

  “We should have gone with them.”

  SET SAIL

  Morning brought with it a hive of activity. The ability of people to compartmentalise and move on from bad experiences never ceased to amaze Dan, even though he had been through more than enough himself and still survived. And that was before the world ended.

  Water was boiled, caffeine was infused into bodies and again Henry made sure to deliver hot coffee to Dan and Leah. The idolisation was becoming embarrassing, but nowhere near enough to turn down coffee.

  Mitch called for everyone’s attention from the higher deck and faced the assembled group. With satirical ceremony he invited everyone to board Hope and with a lavish gesture he produced a white captain’s hat and put it on with comedy extravagance. It got the expected laughs, and Dan noticed an annoyed look on Neil’s face. As the resident intentional clown he didn’t take kindly to being upstaged.

  Everyone and everything was aboard, supplies and bags were all squared away and people found places to sit. Most crowded onto the main deck to watch their own departure.

  In keeping with the high mood, the now co-captains of Mitch and Neil stood up on the upper steering deck and the boat’s horn sounded as they gathered speed out into the huge harbour.

  It became obvious to Dan just how foolish this was.

  None of them had the first idea about sailing, and if the boat h
adn’t had controls like a very large automatic car then he doubted they would have even been able to drive it.

  Or sail it, or whatever it was called.

  The thought dawned on him that during their planning phase not one person had suggested driving through the Channel Tunnel. He cast that aside as an irrelevance now.

  The excitement of their departure was dampened by the fact that it took them nearly twenty minutes to navigate their way around the island which sat silent in the mouth of the entrance to the harbour. Dan was struck again by the beauty of the world when it was viewed unspoiled by humans; the brooding sentry obstructing their path to stand guard over the exit to their small piece of home soil.

  Turning right out of the mouth of the watery haven, the engine was opened up to take advantage of the uninhibited stretch of calm water. As they ploughed on into heavier waves Dan saw some looking behind at the slowly diminishing English coastline. Excitement and fear, adventure and trepidation. All these emotions competed for attention in his consciousness, but the decision was made. Their path was, for now, set and they were under way heading south with the rising sun bathing them with warmth on their left sides.

  Jack came up from below deck with a fishing rod and weighted lure where he proceeded to nestle himself on the seat of a motorbike tied down tight and cast off into their wake. Dan wondered if he had any expectation of catching anything or merely wanted to offer some small entertainment. After about twenty minutes the excitement of their departure from the mainland had worn off entirely and people began to find comfortable places to spend the day.

  Dan climbed the metal ladder to find Mitch and Neil arguing good naturedly about their course. The plan was simple; head for France and turn left.

  At least he hoped it would be that simple.

  THE BLIND LEADING THE ENTHUSIASTIC

  Heading south into the relatively calm English Channel, the group talked excitedly for the first hour until nobody could clearly make out the land masses either in front of them or behind. The co-captains had agreed on a heading which led them slightly east of south and should take them to the closest part of France from where they had set off.

  If it went to plan, they should be seeing Cherbourg ahead of them inside of three or four hours. That declaration was made without either Mitch or Neil’s characteristic confidence, but Dan had looked at the maps too. It should work.

  He spent much of the early part of the journey helping Leah with their most difficult passenger. In stark contrast to Jack, who had fallen asleep within thirty minutes of departure and still hadn’t moved, one of their most valuable members was whimpering as he threw up violently with every unexpected motion.

  It was alien to Ash; he’d never had a problem with car sickness before but other than walking it was the only method of travel he had ever experienced. Worse than the sickness were the noises he made; genuine fear was expressed as he couldn’t understand why every time he tried to stand his legs didn’t feel like his own and betrayed him. He flopped around the foredeck, retching onto the white surfaces of the boat like a new-born deer after drinking shots.

  He only got worse as their boat hit the wide open shipping lanes where the water was deepest, until he finally passed out from the exhaustion.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” said Leah as she shuffled the big dog into a better position and wiped some foul-smelling bile from her hands on the leg of her black combats.

  “Thanks,” Dan replied, “just try to get him to drink something when he wakes up.”

  The efficient teenager nodded to him as he left, laying a hand on her shoulder to notionally help himself up, but really to express the emotion he felt for her whilst lacking the words. A shout from above made him turn to see Neil pointing ahead of them, as the haze to the south began to form features and morph into a distant landscape.

  They had reached France.

  They were probably some of the few people in the last almost two years to have done this; to have escaped their own isolated island and break out to another country.

  Dan was under no illusion that that were anywhere close to their destination yet; if they landed there then they faced a journey of hundreds of miles across country to where they were aiming for in Germany. The urge to get back on dry land was strong, but he had to avoid that pull and make good ground – or water – whilst they could.

  Climbing the ladder to the upper deck, he relieved Neil who was feeling the strain of being at the controls. Mitch, in contrast, never seemed to tire. Dan supposed it was the way he had lived his life as an infantryman; often he would grab five or ten minutes sleep here and there and wake refreshed, like he had rapid-charging lithium ion batteries when everyone else ran on solar power.

  The heavy sea walls of the ferry port came into view shortly afterwards, prompting Dan to swing the boat further east and cut out a large stretch of the curved coastline. A huge cross-Channel ferry lay dead in port, massive and hulking against the shoreline and destined to rot there until she finally sank to the shallow bottom.

  They cruised steadily, enjoying calmer seas for a time as they kept the sandy beaches and buildings of the French coast at a distance. Mitch opined that keeping out to this distance from the shore would save the need to avoid any outcrops of rocks, eager to display some knowledge of the subject to cover the many things he didn’t know. One of those was how to use the radar detection equipment designed for such dangers. Their mechanic, Phil, could have been some help only he was as bad as Ash and had spent most of the day hanging his head over the guardrail at the stern. He had the knack of making any device work easily, when he wasn’t being sick.

  Jack opened his eyes enough to thank him for attracting some fish for him to catch, before he nodded off again.

  Leah joined them on the deck, having anticipated Dan’s concerns by telling him that Marie was watching Ash after he had raised his eyebrows on seeing her; she always knew when he was going to ask a stupid question because of that little tell.

  She unfolded a map and tried to hold it flat against the pull of the wind. She bent over it with Dan and tried to estimate where they were. It wasn’t too difficult as they could see the outstretched landmark of Cherbourg behind them. Best guesses were that they had maybe another three hours cruising the French coastline.

  “Want a go, kid?” Mitch asked her with a broad smile, eager for a break himself.

  There was a time not too long ago when she would have said no, would have shied away from such a responsibility. More recently there was a time when she would have looked to Dan for permission. No longer, it seemed.

  “Hell yes!” she said, stepping up and receiving instructions on power and direction. All she had to do was hold it steady and not hit anything, and seeing as they were in calm, empty waters she doubted that was a problem.

  Dan stayed and watched her, making a show of consulting the map but really just enjoying seeing his protégé relish the freedom of being at the controls. After a while he gave up on his ruse and stepped back to smoke and openly gaze at her as she made deft minor corrections to their course. If he allowed himself only to think of this moment, and not the risks or the reasons for their journey, then he had to admit that he was actually enjoying himself.

  Until a yelp and whine from his seasick dog, answered by retching and coughing from Phil at the back of the boat brought him back to reality with nauseating efficiency.

  THE SEA LIVES IN EVERY ONE OF US

  “THAT’S WHAT I HEARD, ANYWAY,” shouted Neil almost absent-mindedly as he fought to stay upright at the controls. Dan would wager that right now, every one of their group felt no affinity for the sea whatsoever.

  He could tell that Neil’s attempt at small talk was masking a healthy dose of fear because he delivered the half remembered quote without any trace of an accent or impression. He must be feeling the stress, Dan thought.

  For the last three parts of an hour they had been buffeted, bombarded and battered in a sudden squall which showed little
sign of abating. Just as Mitch was lecturing Leah on the history of the wide beaches off to her right: Utah, Omaha, Gold, did the weather close in with such rapid savagery that their dreams of a calm summer crossing were metaphorically dashed upon the rocks. It had got much worse in a very short period of time.

  Most passengers were inside below decks, and all but a few were unwell. Very quickly the multi-million-pound yacht started to smell like a stairwell in an undesirable block of flats. Only Dan and Leah remained above decks with Neil and Mitch fighting to keep the controls steady.

  The stupidity of trying to cross the Channel hit Dan again, and he chose safety over progress without hesitation. It was about as sensible as driving a van on the motorway after having two lessons in a go-kart.

  “GET US INTO PORT SOMEWHERE,” he shouted over the sudden howling wind to his rain-soaked men.

  Mitch turned the boat with a gut-churning lurch as he timed it wrong and a wave hit their left side to move them unnaturally. Stupid and dangerous, thought Dan. Not one of them had enough knowledge or experience of seamanship to risk all their lives on this reckless course. They had to get to safety, and soon. The weather wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things, but trying to control such a large vessel with no experience was turning the situation from bad to worse.

  Trying to get the boat safely moored would pose yet more danger, but Dan could bear the risk of inactivity no longer. Wishing he had called a stop that afternoon after they passed what he guessed was the next main ferry port at Ouistreham, he cursed his mistakes again. Sacrificing safety for speed would not work.