Baldwin stood with her boots sunk a few inches into the sodden sand, between hulls of boats which towered above her. So many were there, that it was impossible to see the sea or horizon. Some rested on their sides, their masts fractured and twisted, while others, the larger vessels were merely tilted slightly. With hands on hips, she started to catch her breath, looking at her and Tom’s handiwork, three boxes salvaged from the wreckage of her yacht.

  She looked along the walls of carbon fibre, wood and steel, wondering where he had gotten to. He had said he needed to look in on one of the larger vessels and had left her some moments before.

  She trekked forward and sat on the nearest box, flicking the two latches up on another to reveal what she had placed inside it the day before. The contents were mostly still dry. Radios, batteries, an assortment of weapons, including rifles and handguns, both with ammo, multiple pieces of body armour and a plethora of MREs. The other boxes were a duplicate, so it was possible to lose any of them and still have what the group needed. She reached in and pulled out a few of the meal options.

  “Mint and pea soup,” she said to herself then looked at the other brown plastic bag. “Or Vegetable and steak stew.” She did not particularly fancy either, but considering she had no idea how long the young man was going to be, she chose one, and also pulled out a ration heater wondering how using sea water would affect things.

  A patter of steps in the wet sand came from behind her.

  “I was going to have some stew. You want some as—”

  The body smashed into her, knocking her forward, her legs buckling from the limbs which enveloped her back. She stumbled across the soft surface with the creature snapping at her neck, then with all the strength she could muster, spun around, throwing the thing against a steel hull, which it met with a loud clang.

  It was a man, youthful in appearance with fiery red hair. Its clothes were smeared with grime and soaked through.

  It lunged at her again, its face showing no emotion, but this time she was ready and raised her boot in time to catch it in the midriff, launching it back towards the ship’s rusting belly. Turning on her heels she scampered across the spongy ground, tearing it up, knowing the thing was not far behind, pulling the closest weapon from the open box, turned and—

  A whoosh sound was quickly followed by a thwack, and a plank of wood with nails, planted itself into the side of the zombie’s skull, also knocking it off its feet onto the sand.

  Baldwin walked forward, her handgun pointed at the thing which was still struggling to regain its footing when Tom pulled the heavy piece of wood free, lifted it high, and brought it down once more, crushing the thing’s head.

  Its arms fell limp by its side and she lowered her weapon.

  Tom turned to her. “Sorry, I should have warned you. Some of these boats and ships are prisons for those that did not make the journey here. Sometimes we see them wandering the beach and we try to kill them… Did you see a lot of the dead on the mainland? We heard on the radio that there were thousands…”

  She nodded, not wanting to go into anymore detail. “Did you get what you wanted?”

  “Er… yeah.” He looked at the boxes. “You?”

  She turned around. “Yup. All looking good.”

  “That’s a lot of guns…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Donald’s kind of antsy about guns.”

  Baldwin moved to the box, picking up the rations, putting them back in and closed and locked the lid. “Good thing they are secure in these boxes then. Let’s get these back.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JOE

  Joe helped Liz up the final metal steps to the lantern room, Tia trailing behind, and all three then moved outside.

  “Wow,” said Tia, looking at the hundreds of vessels.

  Joe nodded, as Liz rested for a moment, taking in the scene. “I thought you would want to see it from up here,” he said.

  “That’s a lot of people,” said Liz.

  “There’s even more ships and boats that made it to the larger island. Donald says twenty-thousand people…”

  Liz’s eyebrows raised a little. “How are they going to feed that many?”

  Joe leaned on the top handrail. “That’s a problem for after we figure out how to stop the orange suits from wanting to attack this place again.”

  “Lauren thinks they will be willing to negotiate…”

  Tia stood on tiptoes, trying to see over the top of the mesh barrier, then placed a sneaker on the bottom rail.

  Joe frowned at her and she got down. “If we hand over Hope, then it’s game over for the rest of the country… for any that are still surviving out there, which could be thousands. In basements, bunkers, locked away. Making a go of it.”

  “But maybe the orange suits come up with a solution using Hope’s DNA. Maybe we can convince them to hold off on dropping the bombs?”

  Joe looked away from the horizon, back to his wife. “And maybe they do that anyway, then drop more on us, here?”

  She looked away. “We can’t keep her from them forever, Joe.”

  “I know…”

  Metal clanging made each of them turn towards the glass room, and Owen, coming up the stairs, then opening the door, his eyes widening at the scene below. He shifted his attention to Joe. “You have to come downstairs. The man from the big island wants to talk to you.”

  Joe nodded while Liz remained rooted to the spot, resting both of arms on the rail. She looked at Owen. “Why don’t you stay up here with us?” As Joe moved past the boy, she noticed Owen avoid meeting her husband’s gaze, but he moved out onto the walkway as Joe descended the stairs.

  Joe quickly made his way to the ground floor, where Lauren, Grace and Mathew were, along with Donald who vacated the seat near the radio set, Joe taking his place. He picked up the mike and hit the talk button.

  “This is Joe Halter. Over.”

  “Hello Joe,” said a middle-aged Scottish man. “This is Finley Baird, but call me Fin. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you. We had a bit of a situation to take care of, with the crashed plane. Which I’m told you were responsible for. Over.”

  Joe glanced at those around him, then back to the radio set. “Yes. Were there any survivors?”

  “Only the undead, which we took care of… I want to thank you and your friends for your actions. I understand some of you died trying to stop the plane. It’s obvious from the weapons they had, that they weren’t coming here to talk about the wildlife. Over.”

  Callum, slumped over in the passenger’s seat slid into Joe’s mind. He blinked the image away. “Yes. But we have no choice. Your camp or camps are the last hope, for us and many others. The orange suits—”

  “Orange suits?”

  “That’s what we call the foreign troops. They want to erase every living thing that’s infected. They plan to use nukes on the mainland… Over.” There was only static in reply. “Did you hear what—”

  “I heard you, Joe. I was not aware of that. We had been talking to them since people started arriving here, and we set up the camps. They even helped us with supplies during the first few days, but then a few days ago, the conversations stopped. We knew that couldn’t be good. You started out in—” There was the sound of other people talking in the background. “— London? Over.”

  “Yes, it’s been a difficult journey here. We lost a lot of people. Over.”

  “We had some others that came from London a few days ago. Flew in by helicopter. One of them is with me, right now. He says he knows you? I’ll put him on. Over.”

  Joe’s brow tightened as he searched for who it could be, but the voice that came through the speaker made his stomach feel as if it had been hollowed out. He looked up at Mathew.

  “Hello, Joe, my-old-son. How’s life been treating ya? You know who this is, don’t ya?”

  Confusion came to Lauren as she tried to understand the reaction of those around her.

  Joe clicked the talk button again. “Hello, Swanson. Over.”

  “I’ve been helping Fin keep this place going. Getting them supplies from the mainland, doing security with some of the lads, and all that business. It’s important work. I’m glad that we can be so useful. Anyway, I won’t hold you up any longer, Joe. I’ll look forward to seeing you and your friends, real soon.”

  “Who’s that?” said Lauren, noticing Mathew who seemed obviously shocked. He walked away, leaving the room by the stairwell.

  Fin’s voice again came from the speaker. “We can do with people with your expertise, Joe. We have a ferry which moves between the small and large island. Can you be ready to leave there in an hour?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  MATHEW

  “He’s going to kill me!” Mathew looked around the cramped space at the others, some of whom looked confused, others lost in their own thoughts. Only one met his gaze head on.

  “What happened, is on me,” said Joe. “I’ll make that clear to Swanson.”

  “He doesn’t care! I’m the one that killed his best mate! Some goon!”

  Liz shook her head. “You were protecting my husband. You saved his life.” She looked at the others then back to him. “We wouldn’t be here today, if you hadn’t had done that.”

  Joe rubbed his chin. “Finley doesn’t seem to know who he is.”

  “They’re gangsters,” said Liz. “We have to treat them like that.”

  Lauren looked at them. “Is it possible… that with how things are… he just drops it?”

  “He’s not going to do that,” replied Joe.

  The colonel shook her head, letting out a frustrated sigh.

  Mathew looked at Joe. “I’ll stay here. Maybe he’ll be okay with that and will leave the rest of you alone?”

  “You’re coming with us. The big island is where we can survive. It’s not right for you to stay here. And I’m sure Finley will need your skills.”

  Mathew snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure a fat nerd will be really useful on a remote Scottish island…”

  Joe smiled. “You’re not a nerd.”

  Mathew smirked. “Ha, ha.”

  Liz looked across the group. “We need to become useful to Finley. To those in the camps. More useful than this Swanson.”

  Joe nodded as did some of the others.

  There was the sound of heavy footsteps outside, with the warped image of Tom and Baldwin being visible through the thick glass windows, carrying a large crate, then dumping it down on a patch of mud outside.

  Joe smiled, patting Mathew on his back. “Salvation has arrived.”

  The front door opened, with a slightly weathered looking Baldwin standing in the entrance with an item that made Mathew rush forward.

  She smiled as she handed Ken’s laptop to him.

  “You found it!”

  “Yup, and it’s fairly dry. Throwing it in one of the crates worked.”

  He pulled open the case, inspecting the screen and keyboard. “Now I just need a charger.”

  Joe moved closer to him. “Maybe you can get one on the big island.”

  “You’ve been in touch with them?” said Baldwin.

  “Yup. A ferry will be at the small harbour, not far from here, soon. We might have a problem with a person on the island, though. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  She nodded and looked back to the crate. “Weapons, food, radios. It’s all as we left it.”

  “Good.” Joe looked back at those in the small room. “I want everyone armed and with a radio, so we can keep in communication at all times.”

  “What if they want to take the weapons away?” said Baldwin.

  “We agreed to that before. We won’t again.”

  “But they are running the camps, they are setting the rules…”

  He looked at Liz. “It’s like what my wife said. We have to make ourselves useful. And I think we will make a far better security force for Finley, than Swanson.”

  Mathew’s attention was back to the conversation. He frowned. “He’s not going to give up his position without a fight.”

  “And we’ll be ready for it.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  JOE

  The wooden, carbon fibre and steel hulls which surrounded the coast of the large island, screamed and groaned. A constant battle within the limited space that was almost loud enough to eclipse the regular chugging of the fishing boat’s engine, as it cruised through the almost clear waters, taking its fourteen passengers south to the harbour.

  Joe stood at the bow with Liz and Tia to his left and Hope to his right. Although she wasn’t quite tall enough to see the ocean, only the forest of masts, funnels and on the largest of vessels, the bridge

  He reckoned the estimate of twenty-thousand people that Donald had mentioned, was conservative. It looked as if all the boats in the country had converged on this place, which the orange suits were coming to destroy. To erase the last refuge available… Anger simmered within him, but it was subdued by the relief at finally arriving and the apprehension of what they might find. Not only having to solve the Swanson problem, but how Finley would react to learning about the girl by Joe’s side. He needed the camp’s leader to recognise her importance. That she was the key to the camp’s continued existence. If the thousands of people stood any chance of surviving on these small islands, they needed the child, and they needed to be left alone by the orange suits.

  The fishing boat slowed a little, the captain having throttled back the engine, and it quickly became apparent why. They drifted a little towards a large opening in the wall of boats and ships, one which must have been artificially created. A channel of water by which others could leave and gain access to the island.

  It also gave those on the fishing boat a clearer view of where they were about to live. The place they would be calling home.

  Their boat moved down the ocean avenue towards a sandy beach, where a group of around six people were waiting. Behind that, the sand became bushes and grass and then some impressive houses, which were spread long the beach. To the south, the buildings became more numerous, forming a small town, which seemed alive with activity.

  “We can’t go all the way in!” said the captain within the small bridge. A forty something man with unruly black hair. “But we got a skiff to take you ashore!”

  The aforementioned small rubber boat was already on its way, as the captain cut the engine completely and Tom used a pole to keep their distance from one of the abandoned yachts they were drifting towards.

  “Shit,” said Mathew, standing behind Joe.

  A middle-aged man of short but prominent stature, stood close to a taller, friendlier looking individual, as well as four others. Two women, two men.

  Tom caught the rope from the skiff, pulling it closer then turned around to the others. “Watch your step. It’s still a bit choppy.”

  Mathew took a step back. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Joe turned to him. “Pick up your rifle and your bag. Once they see you’re armed… that we all are, he won’t try anything. Get in the boat with us. Don’t let him see you scared.”

  Mathew nodded then slung his weapon over one shoulder, his bag on the other, then held onto the handrail and climbed down the ladder, stepping off into the skiff.

  It wasn’t long before, Joe, Liz, Tia, Hope, Mathew and Baldwin were walking up the wet sand to be greeted by a man in his fifties, with thick greying hair, who looked a little unsettled. He held out his hand to Joe, regardless. “Joe Halter?”

  Both men briefly shook hands.

  “Yes, Fin Baird?”

  “One and the same!”

  A seagull squawked above them, floating on the air currents, Joe noticing the first bird sound he had heard for a long time.

  Fin smiled. “Yes, we still have animal life here, fortunately. I heard the terrible stories about how it was affected elsewhere… Actually our livestock is integral to our well being… Um, you have weapons…”

  “We do. ”

  “We ask all newcomers to handover their weapons. Only our security are allowed them…”

  “Well, I’m a major in the UK armed forces and by that authority, I’m allowed to carry this rifle, and everyone with me are under my command, and can also.”

  “Right… um…”

  Swanson nodded towards Joe. “I vouch for him and his people. They should be allowed to keep their guns.”

  Fin turned to the rugged looking individual. “Are you sure?”

  Swanson smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Okay then.” Fin looked at the others with Joe, whom Joe introduced, then gestured to Liz’s injury. “Was that—”

  She nodded. “Due to the last week. Yes.”

  His face changed to one of concern. “I’m sorry.”

  “Luckily, I had two of them. Still one left.”

  He briefly smiled, turning to face the others a bit further up the sandbank, walking to them. He first pointed to the squat looking individual. “You already know Saul Swanson, head of security.” Without pause he turned to the next person, the oldest of the group, a grey-haired, slim woman. “This is Candace Zhang. Chief medical officer.” He then looked at the youngest in the group, a woman in her late twenties. “This is Heather Spender. She knows everything there is to know about gadgets and stuff I don’t. And basically figures out tech problems.” The young woman, with shoulder length, greasy dark-brown hair, frowned. “And finally, we have Jacob Trent, who is in charge of supplies across the island. All the food and anything else anybody needs.” The final member of the group, a man in his forties, remained emotionless, but nodded.

  “Is it normal for all of you to meet new arrivals?” said Joe.

  Fin smiled. “No, it’s not. But seeing what Donald told me of your involvement with the downed plane, I thought it wise that you meet my team as soon as possible.”

  “You had a good reason to do that, right?” said Heather, in a quick fire manner.

  “Heather…” said the former headmaster.

  “I mean, you killed over eighty people. And there will be repercussions for that.”

  Joe looked from her to Fin. “Repercussions?”