`So exactly how much food have we got?' Doreen asked.
`A days worth,' Bushell replied, `maybe two at the very most. After that there's nothing.'
`We must have something...?'
`No,' he said again, shaking his head, `we won't have anything.'
`But...?'
`But what?' snapped Wilcox. Christ, how did they get through to this bloody woman? `Listen, we've got nothing, okay? We're down to our last few meals. We haven't got an extra little stash of food tucked away for emergencies. After this we'll have absolutely nothing. Fuck all. Zip.'
Doreen slumped back in her seat and stared into space.
`So what are we going to do?' she eventually asked. More sighs from around the table.
`That's what we're trying to decide, you stupid cow!' Wilcox groaned. `Bloody hell, are you on the same planet as the rest of us?'
`Wish I wasn't,' she grunted.
`So we've got two problems,' Proctor summarised, trying his best to control the direction of the conversation. `We need to try and get out and get supplies but...'
`But this building is full of bodies,' continued Bushell, `thanks to the hole you lot made in the front door.' He glanced across at Wilcox as he spoke. Uncomfortable, Wilcox looked down and did his best to avoid eye contact with anyone.
`So what do we do?' Doreen asked again.
`Is there any way of getting out of here and back up again?' Elizabeth wondered.
`Not that I know of,' Bushell answered quickly. `Getting down's no problem, we can use the fire escape.' He nodded towards an inconspicuous looking door in the far corner of the room. `The problem is what to do once you're down there,' he continued. `Open the fire escape door on the ground floor and you'll probably find yourself face to face with a few thousand bodies. And if you manage to get outside, Christ knows how you're going to get back in again afterwards. It'd be impossible if you were carrying supplies...'
`There must be a way?'
`Get a sheet, hold it like a parachute, climb up to the roof and jump off,' Wilcox suggested to Doreen, less than seriously.
`Do you think that will work?' she asked, her response meeting with groans of disbelief from several of the others.
`Only if you try it, Doreen,' he smirked.
`How would I get up again?'
Wilcox didn't bother to answer.
`We should go down there,' he instead suggested. `We should go down there and torch the place on our way out. Set light to the building and watch the whole fucking place go up in flames.'
`What good's that going to do?' wondered Bushell.
`It would distract them. Christ, the heat and light this place burning would generate would be more than enough of a distraction for us to be able to get away. They're not going to be interested in a handful of people sneaking out the back door if that's going on, are they?'
Wilcox's plan was met with a muted silence from the others. They each thought long and hard about it, but none of them were sure. It wasn't the wanton destruction that put them off, rather it was the thought of running again...
`What about the cradle?' Proctor said suddenly. `We've talked about it before, haven't we? Barry said there's a window-cleaner's cradle half way up the side of the building. We could use that to get us down, couldn't we? We could use it to get back up as well...'
`What about power,' Jones grunted from the end of the table. The others turned to face him. `How do you think you winch it up and down? Think the window-cleaners used to pull themselves up thirty floors by hand? No power, no cradle.'
Another idea quashed.
`Seems to me that if we can get out of here in one piece then maybe that's what we should be looking to try and do. Maybe we're going to have to find ourselves somewhere else to hide,' Elizabeth said dejectedly. Bushell shook his head.
`I don't want to leave here,' he sighed, his voice soft and tired. `I can't see any point in running.'
`Of course there's a point,' sneered Doreen.
`Is there?'
`Yes...' she stammered, sounding far from certain, `of course there's a point...'
Bushell shrugged his shoulders.
`I'm not so sure there is.'
`So what are you saying?' snapped Wilcox. `Do we just sit here and starve? Fucking good plan, well done!'
`What are you running for?'
`Because I don't want to die,' Wilcox answered quickly.
`Good answer. Why don't you want to die?'
He struggled to answer. It was a simple enough question, or maybe it was a trick...
`No-one wants to die, do they?' he said quietly.
`But is it the end of your life you're worried about, or is it death itself that scares you?'
`What?'
`Are you worried that you're not going to achieve everything you've always wanted to achieve, or is it the pain of being torn apart by hundreds of bloody bodies that bothers you?'
Again Wilcox couldn't answer. Neither could any of the others.
`What point are you making, Barry?' Proctor wondered.
He shrugged his shoulders and sat back in his seat.
`Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud really. I'm not trying to wind you all up. I guess what I'm saying is that I can't see a way out here. If we run we'll find somewhere else to hide for a while, then something will happen and before you know it we'll be moving on again, and again, and again...'
`Not necessarily,' Elizabeth protested.
`No, but that's probably what will happen. We have to be ready to expect the unexpected. Christ, I thought I was doing okay here until someone drove a bloody bus into the building!'
`But running has got to be better than just giving up and waiting to die, hasn't it?'
Bushell shrugged his shoulders again.
`I'm not so sure. That's what I used to think, but I don't know anymore. Every morning when I wake up, it becomes clearer and clearer to me that my life is just about over. We're massively outnumbered and society is finished. Christ, we're sitting here talking about risking our necks just to get food. What kind of a life are any of us going to have if getting the basics like food and shelter are so difficult?'
Silence.
`Still don't understand you,' Doreen admitted. `What were you saying about death and dying?'
Bushell rubbed his tired eyes and explained.
`I don't want to keep struggling and fighting forever,' he said sadly, `and I don't think any of you do either. If I'm completely honest, I just want to relax and let things happen naturally. I don't think we were supposed to survive. So while I don't relish the idea of letting those things out there tear me limb from limb, I'm not too bothered if I die.'
`But that's...' Proctor was about to protest.
`It's not normal,' Bushell interrupted. `It's not what any of you were expecting me to say. We've been pre-programmed and conditioned by society all of our lives to keep fighting and keep struggling. All I'm saying is that there's no point anymore. Just sit back and relax and let nature take it's course.'
More silence.
`No,' Wilcox said suddenly.
`What?'
`I said no,' he repeated. `No way am I just going to sit here and wait to die. Absolutely no way... There must be more we can do.'
`I'm with you,' Paul Jones said, similarly unimpressed by Bushell's words. Proctor looked up in surprise at Jones' sudden allegiance to the other man. Strange how their apparent dislike and distrust of each other had immediately been put to one side now that their backs were against the wall.