27
Kelly Harcourt
I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been sitting here for almost a day now and I know that I can’t take anymore.
I’ve listened to everything the others have said and I’ve tried to understand and see their way of thinking but I can’t.
My perspective is different to theirs. My priorities are different to theirs. They keep trying to persuade me to stay strong and go with them but I know that there’s no point.
Doesn’t matter what they think they might be able to do for me and Kilgore, it’s never going to happen. They’re going to have enough trouble trying to look after themselves from here on in. When it comes to the crunch they’re not going to put themselves at risk for us and I don’t blame them. It would be stupid. It would be pointless. What’s going to happen to Kilgore and me is inevitable.
It’s the waiting that’s hurting me most.
I’ve had my share of hard times before now. I cried my way through the first half of basic training like a bloody baby. I’ve been stuck out on the battlefield looking down the barrel of the enemy’s gun. I could handle all of that.
Hard as it was at the time, I managed it and I got through.
When each one of those things happened, no matter how bad it got, I dealt with it.
The difference today is that everything’s out of my control. I can’t think or fight or negotiate my way out of this one. The end is a foregone conclusion and I’ve just been putting it off sitting here and waiting. I can’t close my eyes anymore without seeing everything that’s happened and remembering everything that I’ve lost. I haven’t slept properly for days because my head’s been filled with constant nightmares and dark thoughts, even before we came above ground. And it all seems to have come full circle now we’re sitting here at the airfield. I look at the people around me and I can see that their faces are full of more hope than ever. They can finally see a way out. The things that are stopping them from moving on now are obvious and clear, and by leaving this place they’ll be leaving those problems behind. But it doesn’t matter where I go. Location won’t change anything. It’s not the bodies that will kill me, it’s what’s in the air. It’s going to be the same whatever I do or wherever I go.
Things have changed since we got here. Arriving here felt like reaching the end of the road. I watched the helicopter leave this afternoon and that made me realise that things are moving on without me now and that I should finish this today.
I’m an outsider. Neither living or dead. I can’t continue to exist like this.
I’m standing a little way short of the perimeter fence now. The bodies are watching me but they’re not reacting as much as I’d expected them to. God, everything sounds and feels different out here. I’ve spent the last two months either hidden underground or travelling. Now I can hear my footsteps as I walk through the long, wet grass. I can hear birds again and I can see them shooting quickly across the sky. I can see the wind ripping through the tops of trees and I can feel it blowing against my suit.
It’s spitting with rain now. Little drops of water are splashing against my visor. If I don’t look at the bodies then everything seems green and fresh and clear and all I want to do is breathe the air again. Since we came above ground and left the base I haven’t been able to touch my own skin. I want to scratch my arms and bite my nails and rub my eyes and run my fingers through my hair. I want to feel the wind and the rain on my skin one last time.
Kelly Harcourt stood at the edge of the airfield.
Oblivious to the bodies standing just metres away from her, and equally ignorant to the watching eyes of the survivors in the observation tower behind, she ripped off her facemask.
And for a moment the sweet relief was overpowering.
Cool, fresh-tasting air flooded her lungs, making her feel stronger and more human than she had felt in weeks.
She could smell the grass and the decay and it tasted a thousand times better than she remembered. The seconds ticked by, and it seemed that the impossible had happened.
Was she immune? By some incredible chance, did she share the same physical traits which had allowed the people in the building behind her to survive? She didn’t dare believe it at first. What were the odds against her managing to survive like this? In a delirious instant her mind was filled with visions of finally making it to the island and actually having some kind of existence where before she’d only been able to think about…
It started.
It was happening.
She knew this was it.
From out of nowhere the pain gripped hold of her like a hand wrapped tight around her neck.
The inside of Kelly’s throat began to swell and then split and bleed. With her eyes bulging with pain and suffocation she fell back onto the grass and stared deep into the heavy grey sky overhead, seeing nothing.
Thirty seconds later it was over.
28
The fact that he found himself lying on a relatively warm and comfortable bed for the first time in weeks wasn’t helping Michael to sleep. Danny Talbot, in comparison, was snoring from the comfort of his narrow bunk on the other side of the small, square cottage bedroom. It was almost midnight. Michael’s head was pounding and he wished that he could find a way to switch off and disconnect for a while. It was impossible. If he wasn’t being distracted by the noise coming from the other survivors downstairs then he was thinking about the island and how he had finally managed to get there. When he stopped thinking about the island he found himself thinking about the changing behaviour of the bodies, and when he stopped thinking about that he started to think about Emma.
Once he’d started he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Funny how distance alters perspective, he thought.
Having spent virtually all his time with Emma over the last two months, he’d grown used to having her around and it felt strange, almost wrong, now that they were apart. He’d always had her there to talk to or to shout at or cry with until now. Whereas they had previously spent most of their time in the same building or the same vehicle together, now it could be argued that they weren’t even in the same country. The distance between them seemed immense, almost immeasurable. The sudden physical gulf made him feel strangely guilty and made him question whether leaving the mainland had been the right move. He should never have left her. He knew that she was more than capable of looking after herself (Christ, she’d looked after him enough recently) but that didn’t make it any easier. In many ways he felt responsible for her. More than that, he liked being with her and he was missing having her around.
He hadn’t yet dared say as much to her, but he knew that he loved her and he was reasonably confident that she loved him, as much as anyone could love anyone else in their cold and emotionally-starved world. His sudden solitude this evening (which he still felt despite the fact that he was surrounded by other people) had made him painfully aware of the depth and strength of the feelings he had for Emma but which, because of circumstance, he’d kept hidden and subdued. The constant pressure and danger on the mainland had made it impossible for either of them to fully appreciate how they really felt.
Lying on the bed in the dark was pointless. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Already fully dressed, he got up and crept back down the narrow staircase to where Brigid, Guest, Harper and Gayle Spencer were sitting in the kitchen.