‘You sure you’re okay?’ Fry mumbled as he came back indoors after dumping the body on the grass verge by the road. ‘You seem miles away this morning.’
Michael was still standing in the hallway, looking around at the interior of the house.
‘I’m fine,’ he replied quickly. Fry had picked up on the fact that Michael seemed distant and preoccupied but, until that moment when it had been pointed out to him, he’d been oblivious to it himself. He did feel different today though, there was no denying it. As well as continuing to worry constantly about Emma and the other survivors back on the mainland, he was also having to contend with a bewildering combination of a number of other unexpected emotions. He felt a strange and unpleasant sense of anti-climax - almost disappointment - and he couldn’t initially understand why. He wondered whether it was because he was gradually becoming aware of the limitations of the island. As safe and protected a place as it would no doubt eventually prove to be, he could also see it becoming a restricted and stifling environment. Their isolation and remote location would inevitably make it difficult for them to grow and expand their small community easily. It was already obvious that Cormansey was not going to be the haven that he and the others had naively dreamed it would be. Nothing was going to be easy here, that much was for sure. Michael wondered whether it was what had happened yesterday that was making today so difficult? Was it because he’d suddenly had to face up to aspects of the life he’d lost that was now causing him to feel so much confusion and doubt?
Their brief this morning had been simply to clear the bodies from the homes they visited. Looking around this particular small and unimposing property, however, it was obvious that there was going to be much more work to do to make each building inhabitable again. In the kitchen Michael found that the fridge and cupboards were filled with rotten food. Dust, mould and decay was everywhere.
Nothing was salvageable. There were numerous traces of insect and rodent infestations. Some of the taps and the pipe work running through the house were exhibiting signs of severe corrosion. An open window in one of the bedrooms, as well as letting in a supply of relatively fresh air, had also allowed several nesting birds and two month’s worth of rainwater into the room. Damp was spreading across the bedroom walls.
The implications of what he saw around him, although he chose not to share them with the others, were immense and humbling in their scale. What he saw today was a world slowly being reclaimed. No doubt the arrival of the survivors on Cormansey would prolong the life and usefulness of this building and others on the island but elsewhere, back on the mainland, the process of decay and deterioration would continue unchecked. The disappearance of man from the face of the planet was inevitably going to cause a massive change and imbalance to the ecosystem. Crops would no longer be grown or harvested. Vermin would be allowed to breed and consume.
The decay of millions of bodies would inevitably result in a huge increase in the numbers of insects, germs and disease.
The ramifications were endless.
When he’d arrived on the island he’d felt strong, determined and full of hope. Today, however, those feelings had started to fade. In comparison to the almost unimaginable scale of the changes the infection had bought to the entire planet, the minor achievements of this small group of survivors meant nothing.
Unquestionably disheartened, Michael dragged himself back out to the jeep with the other two men.
‘Where to next?’ he asked.
‘Road splits in a while,’ Fry replied. ‘We’ll keep going west. Harper said he was sticking to the east side.’
‘Okay.’
Michael sat back in the driver’s seat and readied himself for the next building. He stared into the wing mirror and watched the bodies of the child and its mother for a couple of long, thoughtful seconds before turning the key in the ignition and starting the engine. He accelerated away quickly.
‘Did that kid bother you?’ Talbot asked from the back seat. The way he had asked his question illustrated the level of his comparative immaturity. Nevertheless Michael was surprised that he had even noticed the change in his mood.
‘Everything’s bothering me today,’ he grunted, abruptly and honestly.
‘Decent weather,’ Fry said cheerfully, doing his best to lighten the increasingly dark and sombre mood. ‘Just imagine what this place is going to be like in the summer.
Plenty of coastline, good fishing waters…’
‘Got to get through the winter first,’ Talbot reminded him.
‘I know, but that doesn’t…’
‘What’s that?’ Michael interrupted. He leant forward and peered up into the sky.
‘What?’ asked Fry.
‘Up there. Look, Lawrence is back.’
He slowed the jeep and pointed up into the clear sky.
The helicopter could clearly be seen now, scurrying across the deep blue like a small black spider.
‘Bloody brilliant,’ Fry sighed with relief. ‘Some help at last. Wonder who he’s brought with him? Hope it’s someone who’s going to pull their weight. The last thing we need here is…’
‘The plane,’ Talbot announced.
All eyes switched from staring at the helicopter to scouring the sky, looking for the plane. Fry spotted it first and pointed it out to Michael. It seemed to be following the exact same course the helicopter had taken. Suddenly feeling more alive and invigorated than he had done at any part of the day so far, he put his foot down and accelerated again.
‘Where you going?’ Fry asked as they sped past the front of the next house and carried on down the narrow road.
‘Just want to see who’s here,’ Michael muttered, his pulse racing with sudden nervousness and anticipation.
By the time the jeep had reached the airstrip both the plane and the helicopter had already landed. The passengers were quickly being unloaded from the back of the plane. They staggered onto the tarmac strip and wandered towards Brigid and Spencer who approached on foot from the far end of the runway. The new arrivals looked around in awe at their surroundings like tourists arriving at some long awaited and much anticipated holiday destination. Gary Keele ran in the opposite direction and stopped when he reached a patch of long grass. He bent over double, put his hands on his knees and threw up into the clump of weeds at his feet. Landing the plane had proved to be even more nerve-wracking than taking-off.
Michael stopped the jeep, jumped out and started to look around hopefully. He could see several faces that he recognised immediately. He could see Donna, Clare and Karen Chase amongst others.
There was no sign of Emma.
37
With the first sizable tranche of people now having left, the observation tower had suddenly become something of a hollow and empty place. It wasn’t that anyone in particular had gone, Emma thought, it was just that where she had become used to always seeing people, she could now only see empty spaces. Several of those who had now left had done little more than sit in the same spot and wait since they’d first arrived at the airfield. It annoyed her that some of those who had done nothing to help the group had been among the first to get away. The whole day had felt disconcerting and strangely disorientating and her feelings were compounded by the fact that she didn’t know if the flight had made it to the island safely. For an hour or two after they’d left she’d half-expected to look up and see Keele bringing the plane limping home, still full of survivors. She didn’t have much faith in him, either as a pilot or a human being. But, come to that, she didn’t have much faith in anything anymore. If she was perfectly honest with herself, the truth of the matter was that she wanted the plane back so that she could leave. She wanted to get away from this place, and she wanted to get away now, not tomorrow. Whatever had happened they would know if the pilots had been successful in a few hours time.