‘That figures. That old bastard’s having the time of his life.’
The room smelled of dampness, sweat and detergent, as if it had only now been pressed back into use after a long period of neglect. Jeb pulled back the bed sheet. He was wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts and Magnus saw the damaged leg bandaged tight to a splint.
‘How is it?’
‘How do you think?’ Jeb held on to his ribs and leaned down to touch the bandages. ‘Fucking sore. Christ knows what that bastard did to it while I was comatose.’
Magnus forced a grin. ‘Maybe you should check your arse for love bites.’
He had helped to hold Jeb down while Jacob had pressed the bones of the broken leg into place as best he could and strapped them to the makeshift splint. Jeb had ground his teeth, groaning and muttering like a corpse fighting against resurrection. The cleric-captain had been grim-faced and efficient and Magnus guessed that this was not the first time he had performed triage. He said, ‘You don’t remember any of it?’
Through the window Belle was walking across the garden to where Will was still digging. They looked strange together, the large ugly man and the slight blonde girl; like different species. Will kept his eyes trained on the ground until Belle touched his arm. Something about the way he moved his head told Magnus the man had heard her coming and was impatient at the interruption. Will listened to what she had to say and resumed his task. Belle lingered for a moment, as if expecting him to give a response, then walked away. When she was gone Will stopped digging and leaned on his spade, staring down at the earth. Something about the way he stood reminded Magnus of the way his mother had been after his father’s death; her silences, the half-finished tasks.
Jeb said, ‘I remember the crash, that fucker coming towards us with the machete and Jacob blowing his head off, then nothing much until I woke up with Old Father Time snoring on the chair beside me.’ He touched his bandaged leg. ‘Jacob reckons we should slap some plaster of Paris on it. He’s on the hunt for some now, but in the meantime…’ He shook his head. ‘I’m fucked.’
There was a cross on the wall above the bed, a skinny Jesus pinned like a fly on a dissecting board. Magnus gave it a glance and said, ‘I haven’t told anyone where we met.’
Jeb touched his bandages again, as if to check that his leg was still painful. He grimaced and looked at Magnus, his expression wary.
‘Why would you?’
‘There are girls here. Young girls.’
Magnus shifted the chair back from the bed, though he knew Jeb was in no condition to reach him from where he lay.
‘Christ.’ Jeb closed his eyes. ‘You seriously think I’m a danger to them?’
‘All I know is where we met.’
‘Where we met. You were there too, remember?’
There was a sound on the stair outside. Jeb’s eyes met Magnus’s and he stopped mid-sentence. The door opened and Belle put her head into the room. She had tied her hair into sleek gold plaits and looked like a pretty supermarket assistant dressed up to promote Edam cheese. She said, ‘Jacob has asked us all to assemble in the ballroom.’
Jeb pulled up the bed sheet, covering his leg, the borrowed boxer shorts. ‘Did he say if he’d found any plaster of Paris?’
Belle stepped into the room. ‘No, just that he wanted us all to assemble.’
Jeb looked away. ‘You’ll have to count me out.’
Magnus felt his face glowing. He wondered if Belle had overheard any of their conversation. Her foot kicked the back of his chair, though whether it was deliberate or because the room was small, Magnus could not tell.
She said, ‘How about you? You’ve got both of your legs.’
It was in his mind to say that he was leaving, but the man had saved his life and it might also be a chance to say goodbye to Raisha.
‘Sure, I’ll be there.’
The girl looked at Jeb. ‘How long will you be stuck like that?’
‘I don’t know. If Jacob gets some plaster on it I might be hobbling around soon.’
‘You’re going to be bloody bored stuck in here.’
Magnus said, ‘Don’t worry about Long John Silver. He’s used to being on his own.’
Belle ignored him. She pulled on one of her plaits and asked Jeb, ‘Do you want me to bring you some books? There are some lying around.’
‘Sure.’ Jeb glanced at the sheet again. ‘Thanks.’
‘Fuck, I miss the Internet,’ Belle said. ‘Do you think there’s any chance someone might get it going?’
‘Maybe.’ Magnus shrugged. ‘Who knows?’
He had seen photographs of giant warehouses in California where servers were housed. Other survivors might be battling to reconnect them with the rest of the world, or the computers may have exploded; a flash of light in a sun-bright desert.
‘I still have my mobile.’ Belle slipped an iPhone from the pocket of her jeans. ‘It lost its charge ages ago, but I don’t want to get rid of it. I’ve got photographs stored on it.’ She touched the phone to her lips and put it back in her pocket. ‘I dreamed that they were all alive and living inside my mobile, my family, friends from uni, people I’d known at school, my mum and dad’s neighbours. They all waved to me from the screen, as if they were in a YouTube video. I know it was just a dream, but it felt real.’ Her voice sounded wistful. ‘I heard my mum calling my name. I couldn’t throw it away after that.’
‘I have dreams about people I haven’t thought of in years,’ Jeb said. ‘I had one about the guy who used to run the newspaper shop round the corner when I was a kid. I never thought much about him one way or another. He was just an old geezer who was permanently knackered from getting up at 4 a.m. He probably died long before the sweats, but I dreamed about him folding copies of the Daily Mail into a sack, ready for morning delivery.’
Belle nodded as if she understood. ‘Father Wingate says we’ll get used to it, but no TV, no video games, no Facebook, no Twitter…’
Magnus said, ‘No cat videos.’
‘Sure, some of it was stupid.’ The girl kicked the leg of his chair again. ‘But it was civilisation and none of us knows how it worked.’
Jeb said, ‘Someone will.’
‘Who?’ Her voice was full of scorn. ‘You? Him? All the useful people are dead. My dad was an architect. He knew how to make multi-storey buildings that would keep standing in an earthquake. What did you do?’
Magnus felt his face growing warm again. ‘I was a comedian.’
‘A comedian.’ She shook her head. ‘And you?’ She looked at Jeb.
‘I worked with disadvantaged kids.’
The answer was unexpected and it stalled her.
‘I was studying art history.’ Belle gave a small laugh. ‘We don’t know how to keep the lights on, or fix someone’s broken leg properly. We survived the sweats, but there’s no guarantee we’ll see this year out.’
Jeb’s skin was grey with tiredness and pain, but he seemed to be growing in confidence. He met the girl’s eyes. ‘My leg will mend and we’ll see this year out.’
‘And the year after?’
‘And the year after.’
The certainty in his voice seemed to comfort her. Belle gave a sad smile. ‘But there’s nothing to look forward to any more.’
She was the kind of girl who had been used to new clothes and foreign holidays, to nightclubs and long lunches gossiping about the night before with other girls who looked and talked like her. She had friended, followed, liked, tweeted and smiled for selfies and a part of her had been lost in vanished cyberspace.
Jeb said, ‘What do they call you?’
‘Belle.’
Magnus had expected Jeb to compliment her on the prettiness of her name, but he merely nodded, as if acknowledging the rightness of it and said, ‘I’m Jeb. It looks like I’m going to be hanging around for a while.’ His smile was small and wry but it was a smile. ‘Will you bring me those books when you have time?’