“Oh, okay,” said Liz, who stood with the help of her cane and Tia. She looked across the others, each of their expressions not doing a good job of hiding their fear. “Maybe we can talk again soon.”

  Lauren met her question with a nod and a smile. Maggie was the first to leave, Liz awkwardly following, then felt Lauren place a hand on her back. “Mind how you go. Hopefully you’ll hear from Joe soon.”

  They were soon making their way back. Liz glanced at the woman by her side. “I’m sorry about my friends. It’s just it wasn’t easy getting here and now… this.”

  Maggie waved a hand. “Oh, don’t be silly. I completely understand.”

  It wasn’t long before Liz and Tia were back in their own tent. Liz sat on her bed, having enjoyed the freedom the brief excursion allowed, but her anxiety hadn’t lessened. She took her jacket off, going to place it on the bottom of the bed, when she noticed something sticking out of her right pocket. She pulled the small piece of paper from it, with the hastily scribbled blue ink across its surface.

  ‘B ready tonight.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JOE

  Joe’s slumber was interrupted by the sound of a car engine outside. As he tried to wipe from his mind a lingering dream, knocks came from the wall, but he knew the reason and ignored the Spaniard, instead moving to the window, looking outside to where the shadows were long and just caught sight of a group of men moving out of sight below.

  As the sound of doors being opened and closed was followed by creaking floorboards rising in volume, the bangs on the wall between his and Enzo’s room faded, until a key could be heard in his own door, which swung gently open.

  Swanson was standing in the doorway, two larger men behind him, with weapons slung over their shoulders. The middle-aged Londoner, smiled. “I’ve been sent to come and fetch ya. But before I do that, you and I need to have a little chat about what happens next. Why don’t you sit yourself down?”

  “I prefer to stand.”

  Swanson moved inside and sat on the only chair in the room. “Have it your way. So, you and me got to come to some kind of understanding.”

  “About…”

  “The fat fuck that killed a loyal man. A man who I grew up with. You know how difficult it is to find someone loyal in these times? It ain’t easy.”

  “That man tried to kill us.”

  Swanson smiled, although the expression was betrayed by his eyes which spoke of hatred. “Details, Joe, details. This Mathew has to pay for what he did. Or someone else does.” He leaned forward a little, resting an elbow on his knee. “Maybe your one legged wife? Or your kid?”

  Joe resisted making his reaction to the bait, obvious, but couldn’t stop his hands almost becoming fists.

  Swanson leaned back. “So, one morning you wake up and this Mathew isn’t there anymore. Maybe he wondered off in the middle of night, fell into a hole. Who knows. And because it’s literally the end of the world, no one gives a shit. One less mouth to feed. What I need from you, is when that happens, you’re not going to make a fuss. That you won’t go squealing to the teacher. We on the same page with that, Joe?”

  Joe nodded.

  “Good. So onto the next problem that you and your asshole friends have brought to this place. This zombie kid. The teacher and his mates are all in a tizzy over it. Some of them want to kill it. Some of them think it’s like a god given miracle or something. So they want to talk to you about it. If the conversation goes well, I’d dare say they will let you and your friends back into gen-pop. Let you mingle with the natives again.”

  Swanson stood, beginning to move back to the hallway.

  “What’s your position on the foreign troops?..”

  The older man stopped without turning around. “What do I care about those assholes?”

  “They want to take over the island. That won’t be good for you.”

  Swanson walked outside. “One problem at a time, Joe.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  GRACE

  Within the large medical tent, the din was beginning to settle in conjunction with the sun. The groans and whimpers from young and old in the few rows of beds, were fading as the patients began to grow tired. Luckily she and her fellow doctors did not need to deal with any serious issues as the lifeform took care of that, but she did notice a curious amount of people suffering from fatigue, which she couldn’t find any obvious reason for. Most of these were sent on their way with an extra ration card and instructions to rest more.

  She walked up to David Havenmore, the chief medical officer for camp four. “Do you mind if I take a thirty-minute break? I want to check on someone, then I’ll be back and I’ll help out with the night shift.”

  The tall, slim, fifty something man, of few words nodded and she took her stethoscope off and placed it a table, then moved outside into the early evening air which smelled of flowers, dirt and alcohol. The sky was pale blue and music and conversation could be heard from multiple directions, but she ignored all of that, not wanting her mind dragging up old memories and headed up the hill between the tents, to her own.

  Owen was sitting on one of the two camp beds, Mavis on the other. The boy continued reading a grubby car magazine, as the older woman opened her eyes with a smile.

  “Work done for the day, dear?”

  Grace sat on the end of the low bed, instinctively holding Mavis’s wrist, the older woman offering it just as naturally. “Only a short break,” said Grace. “I’m only the third doctor in the camp to join their team, so they need all hands on deck.”

  “I thought the… virus healed people?”

  “It heals wounds, and perhaps serious diseases but there’s been an influx of people suffering from exhaustion, fainting and so on. Still not quite sure why that is, but it’s probably due to the circumstances and people being overwhelmed. It’s also been hot today.” Grace let go of Mavis’ arm without comment. “How you feeling?”

  “Oh, I’m okay.”

  “Have you tried walking?”

  Mavis looked to her left. “Owen helped me stand a few times, but no, too weak to walk. Give me a few weeks though and I’ll be as right as rain. I’m sure!”

  Grace looked at the boy whose head was still behind the magazine. “You okay, Owen?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  Grace knew he wasn’t, but there didn’t seem to be any point to go any further with the psychoanalysis. The people in the camp were in still survival mode. Still traumatised from recent events. Reflection on their loss would have to wait. So instead she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out two chocolate bars, one of which she gave to Mavis, the other she tossed onto the lap of Owen who lifted his magazine, then grabbed it with a smile.

  “Where did you get this? I thought you needed like two ration cards to get this?” he said.

  Grace smiled. “Doctors get special privileges.”

  Mavis leaned forward a little. “Have you heard from Joe?”

  Owen frowned, lifting his magazine up again.

  Grace shook her head. “All I know is they haven’t decided what to do with him or the girl, yet.”

  Owen dropped the magazine back on his lap. “They should give her to the orange suits. Then they will leave us alone. I like it here.”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” said Mavis. “Remember what I told you about what happened at the castle. We are all infected.”

  The boy’s despair was apparent.

  Grace pointed to the chocolate bar. “If you help me again tomorrow, I can get more of those.”

  He nodded his head without returning her attention.

  “Anyway,” said Grace. “I just wanted to check in on both of you. I need to get back now.” She looked again at Owen who was enjoying his candy while looking at the magazine again. “Stay in the tent. Remember, there are all kinds of people in the camp and some of them will not be nice. Better to stay here.”

  Mavis pointed to the bag on the ground. “I’ve got a pack of cards in there and I’ve promised I’ll show him how to play Gin Rummy.”

  Grace nodded. “I’ll be back before sunup.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JOE

  Joe sat in the conference room, at the left end of a long table with five others sitting around it at the other end, Fin being at the head of it, opposite Joe. Swanson stood at the back of the room, his eyes not leaving Joe. The view out of the three double windows was serene. The sun was setting over the ocean, colouring the horizon, hulls, bridges and funnels in pinks and mauves.

  But Joe wasn’t looking at that.

  Fin took a sip of water. “You’ve left us in a difficult situation, Joe.”

  “That wasn’t my—”

  Fin lowered his hand. “We will be asking the questions. There will be a time for you to ask your own. If you have any, at the end of this… I had hoped things would be different.” He looked at the woman to his right. “Candace.”

  The elderly woman turned over a few pages on a notepad, then looked at Joe. “This child, who you call Hope. Tell us what you know about her?”

  Joe told them everything he knew from the moment he laid eyes on the child in London to what Groves told him. There were more than a few gasps from those around the table, but he was allowed to finish. “That’s all I know and why so many people risked their lives to bring Hope to this island…”

  “Maybe we should adjourn to—”

  Candace ignored Fin’s suggestion, looking back to Joe. “And you believe you have some kind of connection to this child?”

  Joe wasn’t sure of what his answer should be. He pondered for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  The youngest in the room, Heather, held up a collection of children’s scribbles. Joe instantly recognised who had made them. “So turns out these are not what they appear to be on first glance. I scanned them in, ran them through a few filters and I got these.” She held up a second group of images, these depicting almost photorealistic renderings of streets filled with the undead, and of trees and buildings.

  Heather looked at Joe. “You had no idea what these were did you?”

  Joe leaned forward, shaking his head. “I thought she just liked to sketch…”

  Fin looked at Heather. “So… what are you saying?”

  Candace beat the younger woman to the response. “The child is drawing what she’s seeing.”

  Fin looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “The child’s mind is somehow linked to others.”

  “To the undead?”

  “Yes.”

  “But… how is that even possible?”

  “We don’t know.” Candace looked at Joe. “Did this Groves know of this?”

  “If she did, she didn’t tell me.”

  “Well, it makes sense,” said the man who hadn’t spoken yet, Jacob Trent. A rough looking forty something. “She’s got the lifeform inside her. It’s like a network or something.”

  “Yes!” said Heather. “That’s what I was thinking. She’s like a node in an organic network. She probably has no idea why she see’s the things she sees in her mind. And she’s just a kid, so she draws it badly.”

  “So,” said Fin. “That means all of the undead are connected somehow?”

  “We have no idea,” said Candace. “They certainly appear to act with unified purpose, which might suggest a single consciousness, rather than many. But with the facilities we have here, there is only so much we can learn…”

  Fin nodded. “And that brings us to the elephant in the room so to speak. This child is obviously very important to the foreign troops, to humanity even. But if we give her to them, there’s every chance they just wipe us out.”

  “I don’t think we have any choice but to hand her over,” said the elderly doctor. “Like I said, we don’t have the equipment here to properly synthesise any antidote or serum from her blood. The best we can do is just keep her alive.”

  Joe looked across the room, Heather seemed to disagree, but it was Swanson that spoke up next.

  He stopped closer to the table, looking across those seated, apart from Joe. “You really want to just give up, and let those bastards gun down everyone in the camps?”

  Fin avoided looking at him. “Saul, they will come and take her anyway. No one is suggesting we let them just kill everyone, but what we do know is if we don’t hand her over, then that is exactly what will happen!”

  The room fell into silence, which was broken by a knock at the door of the room.

  “Yes, come in!” said Fin.

  A man in his twenties walked inside and handed Fin a small piece of paper, which he opened, looked at, then looked away from with a sigh. Finally, he looked at the others. “We have been contacted by the foreign troops. They know about the girl and they are giving us twenty-four hours to give her to them. They say if we do that, they will drop us supplies and leave us alone.”

  “It’s a lie!” said Swanson, then to his surprise, looked at Joe. “Ain’t it? You know! They tried killing all your group at that castle!”

  Fin remained looking at the table. “Saul…”

  The gangster shook his head, turned and left the room.

  Joe looked back at Fin. “I want to see my wife and child.”

  “They’re fine. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to go back to the house for now. Tomorrow we will reassess.”

  The two men behind Joe moved forward, hoisting him up from his shoulders. “What are you going to do with Hope?”

  Fin gestured towards the door. “That’s not your concern.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  LIZ

  Liz sat on the edge of her bed, tapping her finger on her cane in tune with the muffled musical beat which was drifting to her on the warm evening air. Her other hand held her daughter’s. They were ready, although for what, she wasn’t sure.

  She looked at the watch on her wrist, just visible within the glow from a small, single lantern and wondered exactly how much longer they would have to wait. All night? She was too drained for such a task.

  Her small backpack was around her shoulder with some essentials, in case they couldn’t come back. She presumed Lauren had a plan. She was good at those it seemed. But she was tired of continually trying to escape the undead. The island was the first time she had been able to stop and take a breath. She did not want to give that up. Still, she would see what the others wanted, before making up her mind of what was best for herself and her family.

  There was crunching of grass outside the rear of the tent, and then scratching came from the fabric.

  “You ready?” whispered Baldwin.

  Liz stood, then took a step closer to the shadows moving across the surface of the tent. “Yes,” she replied in kind.

  “Stand back.”

  A blade appeared through the fabric and silently slipped down to the ground, creating a second route by which to leave. Tia went first, then helping her mother, so did Liz. They stayed crouched, then followed Baldwin up the slope, moving behind other tents so not to be seen by those guarding them.

  “Hold up,” said Liz, a little out of breath, as the ground had become a little steep and uneven, her cane sinking into the tufts of grass.

  Baldwin moved back down the hill, taking Tia’s position in offering support and together she and Liz made their way above the crest the hill until they were out of sight of the camp, although the smells and the light from it still lit the night sky above. They approached Mathew, Lauren and Clara.

  “I need a minute,” said Liz, leaning on her cane.

  Baldwin pointed to a valley enclosed within trees lower down the hill. “There’s an abandoned barn down there, we can rest there.”

  Liz nodded and the group made their way down the slope, Lauren leading the way with a single torch, moving into the woods, then descending further until they came to a gate, and the large brick built construction with rusting metal roof.

  Baldwin and Mathew pulled the old side door open, then once the others had gone inside, closed it.

  Lauren swung the torch across the cobweb infested stained walls and stalls. “No undead.”

  Liz and Tia sat on some wooden crates, the others finding their own resting spots. “Has anyone heard anything about what’s happening with Joe?” said Liz.

  Everyone indicated they hadn’t.

  “I can’t believe we come all this way, just for this to happen.” She felt Tia squeeze her hand, and she smiled at her daughter.

  Mathew shook his head. “I knew it was a mistake for me to come here. I should’ve stayed on the other island.”

  “This is not on you,” said Clara, who was looking at Liz. “The child should have not been left alone.”

  Lauren turned to her. “This is not the time to start to blame—”

  “She’s right,” said Liz. “If I had been in the tent, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “I’m sorry…” said Tia.

  Liz brought her daughter closer, giving her a hug. “None of this is your fault. You weren’t to know how Hope would react. None of us did. We don’t know even what she is…”

  “Well, she’s in the hands of those that run things on this island,” continued Clara. “Nothing to do with us anymore.”

  “Then why they still guarding our tents?” said Baldwin.

  “It’s Swanson!” said Mathew. He looked down, sighing. “I should just hand myself over to him.”

  “That’s not an option,” said Lauren.

  “Then what are we going to do?” he said. “If we go back, they might come and grab me in the middle of the night, anyway!”

  “We can’t go back,” said Baldwin. “If we do, they can do what they want with us. I’m not living that way. It’s not why we fought to get here.”

  Silence fell across the large open space that smelled of dry dirt.

  “Could we go back to the—”

  “Don’t say the mainland,” said Clara, cutting Baldwin’s comment short.

  “We can’t,” said Lauren. “If they hand the girl back to the foreign troops, and they go ahead with their plans to nuke the rest of the country, then these islands might be the only safe place to be…”