When she went back down, Lorna found almost everyone crammed into the classroom together to escape the cold. Jackson was talking to Jas and several of the others. Over the last week he’d made a conscious effort to lay off the future planning and sermons, and concentrate on just getting them all through to a time when such subjects might be discussed freely again.
The arrival of the rescued group from the hotel had put an unforeseen strain on the castle group’s resources. Jackson, thinking ahead while also trying to appease Jas, had been planning a supply run for the last few days, and this morning’s snow had suddenly made such a run a much more viable proposition. “Remember how the snow used to slow us down,” he’d said to Lorna when they’d spoken earlier. “It’ll be a hundred times worse for the dead.” As long as there was snow on the ground, he’d argued, they had a bigger physical advantage than usual over what remained of the corpses outside. And without the benefit of long-range weather forecasts—any weather forecasts, for that matter—it made sense to take advantage of the conditions now while they lasted. Lorna couldn’t help thinking she’d heard this all before, back at the hoteclass="underline" one last massive trip out for supplies to see us through …
Driver didn’t look happy. He was uncharacteristically animated.
“What’s up with him?” Lorna asked Caron as she sat down next to her.
“He doesn’t want to go out,” she replied.
“But why me?” Driver said. Jackson looked to the heavens.
“The clue’s in your nicknam, mate. You’re the most experienced driver we’ve got. We need someone who knows what they’re doing behind the wheel. Do you have any other pointless questions?”
“There must be someone else. They can do it.”
“No,” Jackson said, remaining unfailingly calm, “you can. Listen, for all your faults—of which there are more than a few—there’s no one else can drive anything as big as a truck as well as you. And with the snow and everything else out there, I need your experience.”
“Thanks for the compliments and all that, but I’m not going,” he said defiantly.
“Yes, you are,” Jas said firmly.
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Driver,” Jackson said, interrupting to try and defuse some of the unnecessary tension Jas’s tone was clearly causing, “I know you better than you think. I know exactly what you do and what you don’t do around here. I know you spend most of your time asleep at the back of your bus when you tell us you’re out working on the vehicles. I’ve seen you wiping grease on your hands and trousers to make it look like you’ve been grafting for hours.”
“I’m not the only one,” he protested. “There are plenty of other folks around here who do the same. What about—”
“You’re right,” Jackson interrupted, “but my point is this: right now we need to play to all our strengths, and your strength is driving, so you’re going out with us.”
“Bollocks to that,” Driver said, remaining unimpressed.
“Can’t you just give the bloke a break?” Harte said from across the room. “I’ll drive the bloody truck if it’s that big a deal.”
“The decision’s made,” Jackson said calmly. “Let’s just get it done.”
“Did you not hear me?” Harte protested.
“He heard you okay,” Jas said. “Did you not hear him? We play to our strengths. Driver drives; Jackson, Kieran, you, me, Ainsworth, and Bayliss go out to loot.”
Harte slumped back into his seat, knowing there was no point arguing further. Near to him, Caron leaned across to speak to Lorna.
“Surprised you’re not going,” she whispered.
“Don’t even go there,” Lorna said, crossing her arms defensively.
“Why?”
“Because as far as Jas is concerned,” she explained, “playing to your strengths also means keeping us girls safely locked away in here to co and clean up for the blokes. It’s a bloody joke.”
“And what about Jackson? He seems a more broad-minded kind of chap.”
“You think? I spoke to him too, because bodies or no bodies, I’d actually love to get out of this fucking place for a while.”
“And?”
“And he was as bad as Jas. Worse in some ways.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“He said he doesn’t want girls like me, Zoe, and Melanie going out and taking risks when there’s plenty of men who can go.”
“I don’t understand,” Caron said, confused. Lorna sighed. Was she being deliberately difficult?
“He didn’t say as much,” she explained, “but he’s talking about babies. He was on one of his ‘planning for the future’ kicks again.”
“Dirty old bugger.”
“For Christ’s sake, Caron, get a grip. He’s not interested in any of us in that way, he’s just trying to protect the stock.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Well, that’s how it is. But I’ll tell you something: if he thinks I’m going to sit here, pick a mate from this bunch of losers, then pop out a kid or five on demand, then he’s got another think coming. Fuck that. I’ll be over the wall and out of here before any bloke can lay a bloody finger on me.”
18
The two-vehicle convoy crunched steadily through the ice and snow with an arrogant lack of speed. Kieran was up ahead, driving the digger with Jackson hanging on for the ride, while Driver followed behind, grudgingly steering the group’s largest truck through the carnage. It was a box truck with enough room for several tons of food—if they could find that much—and it had been used for furniture deliveries before Jackson had acquired it shortly after arriving at the castle. On its sides there had been pictures of a family relaxing in their homes on their newly delivered sofas. Someone—he didn’t know who—had painted over them with white emulsion a couple of weeks back, blocking out the past.
Jas and Ainsworth sat in the cab with Driver, Harte and Bayliss in the back with the roller shutter open, watching the world around them with wide, disbelieving eyes. For Ainsworth and Bayliss, this was their first trip outside the castle walls since they’d arrived there, and the difference between what they saw today and what they remembered was stark. In some ways they found it almost impossible to comprehend.
They were able to increase their speed slightly as they drove farther away from the castle. The hordes of bodies which had gravitated around their base over time, drawn there b the survivors’ disproportionately amplified noise, had resulted in the rest of the surrounding area being left reassuringly empty. The blanket of snow helped perpetuate the illusion. Their passage was clear, although they were forced to stop occasionally when the route of the road ahead became unclear. Then Jas would order Harte and Bayliss to jump out of the back of the truck and shovel away the ice and the frozen once-human detritus which now seemed to cover everything.
After consulting with Kieran—a local—Jackson had decided to aim for Chadwick, a medium-sized port town and the nearest place of any substance in the immediate vicinity. Harte sat on the back of the truck, legs dangling, holding onto a securing strap fixed to the wall, and watched the dead world pass him by. He couldn’t help comparing what he saw today with the scavenging trip he’d made into Bromwell with Jas, Hollis, and the others just before their incarceration at the besieged hotel had begun. That had been the last time he’d been anywhere even remotely urban, and, once he looked past the visible devastation, what he saw as they approached Chadwick today actually began to fill him with wholly unexpected optimism. He tried to explain as much to Bayliss, who barely said anything. Instead he just sat there, his face covered with a scarf, staring into space.