He walked along Terminus Road, looking up at the sky as he headed west. The rain clouds were hastening eastwards and the sky ahead was getting brighter and clearer, which was good news. He turned left after the surgery and into the pedestrian underpass for the railway. In the middle of the tunnel, against the wall, was a corpse that had been picked at by birds or foxes: it had no face left but was wearing a distinctive coat with a patch that looked familiar. He realised it was a guy he’d known from the pub across the road. They hadn’t been friends as such, but he was shocked nonetheless as they had often talked together over a pint. He shook his head and carried on in a sombre mood, exiting the underpass and then across Wickham Avenue and down Brockley Road to West Parade, coming out at the Sovereign Light Café on the seafront. Heading west on the promenade, he looked at the beach as he went, noting patches of sea kale and sea beet that he would soon start harvesting. He reached South Cliff and began searching for his new home.
He stuck mainly to the houses on the southern side, as the houses opposite would all have north-facing gardens, which he didn’t want, though he did try some. It was the same as yesterday’s search, with death nearly everywhere he looked. In the houses that didn’t contain corpses, he guessed that they had either been taken into hospital, to die there, or had left to be with loved-ones. Maybe some were second homes or weekend retreats for rich people who had lived elsewhere during the week for their jobs.
He had the same problems as the day before in having to climb many fences, walls and gates to gain access to the rear of the properties. At one house that he broke into to take a closer look, an alarm bell went off, shattering the silence; it obviously had a battery-operated back-up system. He stepped back, looked up and saw the alarm box with its flashing light high up on the wall. He pulled out the shotgun, took aim and blew the alarm box off the wall, then removed the spent cartridge and loaded a fresh one; the house, unfortunately, proved unsuitable.
Half a mile away the woman heard the alarm followed by the shotgun report. Without the noises of modern urban life sound carried a long way in the silence that now surrounded the town. Earlier on, from her apartment, she’d also heard some distant reports that sounded like a shotgun, as the man had practised on the beach. She fingered the hammer that was attached to her belt by a loop, feeling inadequately armed; the thought of meeting a male survivor armed with a shotgun was worrying to her and she resolved to be extra-vigilant while walking around. She, too, was scouting for somewhere new to live and, like the man, had so far been unsuccessful. She carried on with her search, keeping to the rear gardens and avoiding the road as much as possible.
The man was standing outside another house looking at a long-wheelbase Land Rover pickup truck on the drive, with a metal roof over the load-bed. He thought it would be a useful vehicle to have, and much more practical than his hatchback. He could use it for moving all his stuff into the new property when he found it, and it had off-road capability, too, which could be handy. It even had a winch with metal cable on the front. He decided to return later and break into the house to find the keys, then “borrow” it for an indeterminate period of time!
By lunchtime he thought he had found the perfect property. There was a bungalow that looked promising, so he climbed over a high wall with a gate, on the building’s right side, and walked down to the back. The wall enclosed the whole garden and at the rear was a sturdy gate, which led to a flight of steps descending maybe twenty feet to the promenade and the beach. The wall would give good protection from the sea winds and, being a bungalow, roof and gutter maintenance would be easier, too. The mature garden contained several small fruit trees along the western side towards the rear; maybe apple, pear or cherry – he didn’t know which. There were herbaceous borders, a vegetable patch and a good-sized pond with a solar-powered water pump that was still working. He could see koi carp swimming lazily around; Lunch, he thought!
The property had a large conservatory across the back and the windows were all of conventional type, rather than double-glazed, making it easier for him to gain access through a rear window. He was becoming rather a dab-hand at breaking-and-entering and grinned, shaking his head!
Once inside, he got a little excited and his pulse quickened. The large kitchen, which opened into the conservatory and looked onto the garden, had a Rayburn solid-fuel cooker that burned coal or wood. There was an alcove beside it for storing fuel, containing smokeless coal and seasoned logs. He had a suspicion that it might also provide hot water and maybe even central heating. An inglenook fireplace alongside it contained a wood-burning stove. There was no way the kitchen would need both for heating, so he guessed that the log-burner had been there first as it looked older, and they’d fitted the Rayburn later but hadn’t wanted to get rid of the stove; good news for him.
There was no smell of death in the place and as he walked around the property he found it to be empty. There was another wood-burning stove in the lounge with a decorative fire-screen in front of it, for when the doors were open. On the chimney-breast were photos of a nice-looking middle-aged couple, taken in many countries around the world; there were no photos of children that might have been theirs, so he guessed they had been childless. Maybe they had been among the first victims and had died in hospital. In the hall was a traditional telephone table and chair, in which he found spare keys to the doors, windows and garage. The property had three bedrooms and a study, along with the kitchen, bathroom and a large lounge. He opened the front door and went outside; the driveway had parking for at least two or three cars and there was a double-garage to the left side, which could also be accessed from a door in the hallway. He thought it would suit his needs perfectly and felt relieved at finding it. He went into the garage through the hallway door and found a well-equipped workshop; there were work-benches with metal and wood-working vices, tools arranged neatly on racks on the walls, and a pair of small gas bottles with welding equipment. Perfect!
Five
The rain had passed and the sky was now clearer, with periods of sunshine between the clouds. He went out to the garden and ate his lunch on the patio; some homemade drop-scones, with tinned fish and curried lentils. While he ate, his head was filled with plans for his new home. He loved the fact that he would have direct access to the beach for washing, fishing and foraging. He would dig up the lawn and create more vegetable-growing areas. The pond would be filled continually by rain and was also aerated by the solar-powered pump, so he would have fresh water that he could filter or boil for drinking; there was also a rain-water butt collecting run-off from the roof that he could use.
He thought about digging a pit and building a shelter around it for a composting toilet, but then realised that he wouldn’t need to: being by the sea, he could fetch buckets of sea water for flushing the toilet. That was another problem with being in his flat – having to use collected rainwater for flushing the loo, and it wasn’t pleasant when there hadn’t been much rain for a while.
He was eager to start moving his possessions from his flat into this place, so he packed his things away and left by the front door. He walked back down the road to where the Land Rover was and climbed over the fence to look around the property. He managed to gain access through a rear window and the smell of decomposition hit him immediately. He held his breath and hurried through the house; in the hall, on hooks next to the telephone, he found two sets of keys to the Land Rover. He left by the front door, unlocked the vehicle and climbed into the cab. It took a while to start as it had been sitting for a few months and the battery was running down fast as he turned it over. He thought it wouldn’t make it, but then it fired into life; the fuel gauge showed nearly a full tank of diesel.