‘I know.’
‘So what if Lawrence does bring the helicopter back?’
Armitage asked.
‘When he brings the helicopter back,’ Cooper corrected him, ‘then we’ll have to move, won’t we? Until then all we can do is shut up, sit tight and wait.’
40
‘Just get down, shut your fucking mouth and keep out of sight,’ Phil Croft hissed at Jacob Flynn. Croft was crouching behind a desk. Flynn was standing in the middle of the room, in full view of every window. He was a volatile and selfish man who’d generally kept himself to himself for as long as he’d been at the airfield. He was different now, desperate and frightened. He’d been this way since the plane had left and they’d been forced back into the office. He’d somehow allowed himself to be left behind and it angered him. As far as he was concerned it was every man, woman and child for themselves now, and he was damn sure that he wasn’t going to end his time trapped in this fucking building with these stupid, frightened fucking people.
‘What good is keeping out of sight, you frigging idiot?’
Flynn yelled. ‘They already know we’re in here for God’s sake. The only chance we’ve got is to open the fucking door and fight our way out.’
‘Fight your way out to where?’ Croft asked. ‘There’s nowhere left to go.’
One of the survivors cowering in the darkness behind Croft let out a sudden, painful wail of fear. The doctor turned around but he couldn’t see them. From his position low on the ground, however, he could see into several of the nearby office rooms. Thick, angry crowds of rotting bodies stood pressed against every window, trying to push and force their way inside. Even if Flynn was right and they tried to make a run for it, he thought, the sheer weight and number of cadavers outside would stop them. Sensing that his time was running out, he dragged himself back onto his feet and walked over to the man still standing in the middle of the room.
‘Open any of the doors,’ he said quietly, his face just inches from Flynn’s so that no-one else could hear, ‘and this place will be full of them in seconds. You won’t survive and I won’t survive. Open the door and we’re all dead.’
Flynn seethed with anger and stared back into the doctor’s eyes. A good six inches taller than Croft, his presence was imposing and threatening. He grabbed hold of the other man by the scruff of the neck and pulled him closer.
‘I want to get out of here,’ he hissed. ‘You’ve got to help me get out of here.’
‘You can’t,’ Croft replied, struggling to keep his balance. ‘The only chance we’ve got is to sit tight and wait.’
‘Wait for what?’
He couldn’t answer. Flynn let him go and he fell back onto a nearby chair, the sudden movement causing searing pain to run the length of his injured leg from ankle to hip.
‘We should all get into one room,’ he said, his heart racing, trying to keep calm. ‘Let’s get everyone together and out of the way. That’ll limit what they can see of us.’
Flynn grunted agreement and looked around the dark building. He pushed open a door to his right.
‘In there,’ he said, gesturing into a small bathroom which contained a single cubicle and a basin. More importantly, the only window in the room was a narrow strip which was above head height. Although out of sight, the shadows and movement of the bodies outside could still occasionally be seen through the frosted glass.
A further nine survivors were cowering in the office building. Slowly and cautiously they emerged from their frantically chosen hiding places, crept towards the bathroom and slipped inside. Flynn stood at the back and shuffled further into the corner as more people joined him.
The space was desperately limited. Apart from the toilet in the cubicle there wasn’t room for any of them to sit or lie down. Phil Croft, the eleventh and final survivor, pushed his way inside and pulled the door shut behind him.
Someone was crying. He couldn’t see who it was. It might even have been more than one person. The bodies outside were reacting to the sounds of movement made by the survivors and the volume of their moans and cries threatened to attract even more of them.
‘Whoever that is, you’ve got to be quiet,’ he whispered.
He winced in pain and leant back against the door behind him. His leg was hurting again. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to stay standing like this. ‘Please just be quiet,’
he pleaded.
He could still hear muffled crying and sniffing. Whoever it was had tried to stifle their emotions but with only limited success. Other than their cries the room had become frighteningly quiet with no-one daring to speak.
Wedged tightly up against each other and hardly able to move, the eleven desperate people stood and waited.
41
An hour and twenty minutes later the helicopter arrived over Cormansey.
‘What the bloody hell’s he doing back here?’ Donna asked. She’d been walking down the road which ran through the middle of Danvers Lye with Michael and Karen Chase, trying to get used to her sudden freedom and enjoying the unexpected change of pace of life on the island.
‘No idea,’ Michael answered, immediately feeling nervous and uncertain. He stood still and watched the helicopter for a moment, its dark shape silhouetted against the evening sky.
‘Well, either he didn’t make it back to the airfield or they’ve started to bring the rest of them over here early,’
Chase suggested.
‘But why would they do that?’ Donna mumbled to herself, trying to make sense of the situation. Realisation dawned. ‘Christ, something’s happened, hasn’t it?
Something’s gone wrong.’
‘Come on,’ Michael said quickly, turning and running back to the jeep.
‘They might have just decided to make a move tonight rather than wait for morning,’ Chase continued optimistically as she ran after him and climbed into the back seat. She sensed Michael’s unease and shared it wholeheartedly. ‘Let’s face it,’ she muttered, ‘if you were Keele or Lawrence and you had the energy then you’d probably want to try and get the job over and done with too.’
‘So where’s Keele then?’ Michael asked as he started the engine and turned the vehicle round to drive towards the airstrip.
‘There,’ Donna replied, pointing up and to her left. She could see the lights on the plane’s wings and tail flashing intermittently in the darkening sky. Michael slammed his foot down.
‘Take it easy, will you?’ Chase complained from the back seat as the car lurched forward. Michael didn’t react.
Between them they would probably have been able to come up with twenty or thirty plausible reasons why the plane and helicopter had returned to the island so soon. Until he heard otherwise from one of the pilots or their passengers, however, Michael was going to presume the worst.
Driving at speed, the jeep arrived at the airstrip before the plane. The helicopter was just touching down as Michael pulled on the brakes.
‘What’s happened?’ he demanded as the survivors began to jump down from the back of the helicopter. He didn’t recognise the first woman who emerged. She looked around the airstrip, shell-shocked, disorientated and frightened. The noise of the engine and rotor blades made it difficult for her to hear what was happening. She knew that someone was shouting at her, but she couldn’t see who and she couldn’t see where they were. ‘What’s happened?’
Michael yelled again, grabbing hold of the woman’s shoulders and turning her round so that she faced him. He stared desperately into her pale and bewildered face.
‘Fence came down,’ she gasped. Her breathing was wheezy and asthmatic. Michael relaxed his grip, realising that he was frightening her. ‘Fence came down and they got in,’ she repeated. ‘Hundreds of them.’