I stumbled into the tunnel dead with exhaustion. The shivers had abated with the warmth generated by running but I had never pushed myself so hard before. The day seemed to have gone on forever, the argument with David, leaving, the run to Halton, Tring, then the cycle ride, that panicked sprint across the fields, falling into the cold water and the slow crawl up the bank then the last ten minutes of running and tripping. I sank to the ground and sat, unable to move even one pace further.
Soon I began to shiver, I was sitting in the shade in the cold march temperatures, soaking wet. I was going to be seriously ill. I opened my backpack and emptied the contents out around me. I hadn’t brought much; I’d left the camping gear behind, as it was too heavy, although I had my lifesaver bottle and my torch and some other bits and pieces. I had some flapjack and a packet of butter and my dry bag. I opened it up and was glad to feel that the blanket and seeds inside were still dry.
I packed up all my stuff except the flapjack and blanket and stood up, I had to keep going; if I sat around cold, I would get hypothermia. Already I was starting to feel a dangerous lassitude. I rubbed my hair with the blanket and then wrapped it around my head like a headscarf, tucking the ends in around my neck. I began walking into the dark, eating the flapjack, I felt sick, but I knew I needed the energy.
The light began to fade and from my pocket, I pulled the torch. I turned it on, but nothing happened. I gave it a shake, but it was soaking wet. It needed drying off. I stumbled along on the gravel, dragging the back of the torch across the wall so I walked straight and didn’t trip over the rails or sleepers. The time stretched on, and in the dark, I heard scurrying and scratching.
I was utterly exhausted but I couldn’t stop. I began counting my steps like I was marching; one… two… three… four… it was an old trick which I used on long treks. The numbers gave me rhythm, kept my feet plodding on, way past tiredness. One… two… three… four…, five… six… seven… eight… each number just a single huffed syllable. Mindlessly matching my steps to the rhythm of the words.
Eventually there was light ahead, I didn’t know how long I had been walking for, maybe about ten minutes, I kept plodding along and eventually the tunnel became a deep cutting, which gradually became shallower and shallower, I knew I should make a decision, stop somewhere, get some dry clothes, but I was too tired, I just kept walking. I passed under a road, ahead was a station and glancing to the right I saw a gate, I stared at it unseeingly for at least five paces then veered off the gravel and walked towards it. I stopped, stymied. It was padlocked shut.
It was a blue metal gate, sturdy and tall. I didn’t think about it, just climbed up onto the long bolts which secured it in place and reached up to hold the top. I pulled myself up, stepping onto the locking bar in the middle, then I sat on the top, swung my feet over and lowered myself gingerly to the ground. I landed in a heap, my legs collapsing under me, but I was out.
I was in a back street, sitting on the tarmacked road, staring up at the sign on the building beside me… holiday inn. My eyes closed and a picture of my favourite beach formed. I jerked awake, and struggled to my feet, swaying. It took a long time to get started again, but once I was walking, I kept going. I had no idea where I was, but I followed the road round, walking in the middle of the street, surrounded by large glass buildings. I kept walking ignoring all side streets until I came to a massive junction and realised I was in the centre of Watford. In front of me was the shopping centre. I crossed the road and walked through an area of broken glass, I was in Debenhams.
By this time I wasn’t thinking at all. I walked around in a daze looking for women’s wear. I found a load of clothes, size 12, some still hanging on hangers, others scattered across the floor. I collected the warmest things I could find; vests and light fleeces and eventually ended up in homeware; I stripped off, used the fluffiest, softest towel I could find to get dry and then changed.
I was absolutely shattered, and although the store was trashed like most other shops, there was still a lot of stuff around. Homeware had a display bed, with a duvet. I couldn’t resist. I climbed in, just for a second, snuggling under to get warm. I tried to think what to do. I hadn’t seen anyone on my walk through Watford, although to be truthful I hadn’t been looking. Debenhams felt cold and empty. The shopping centre was silent, just the cooing of doves, trapped inside and flapping around.
I sat, cocooned in the duvet and closed my eyes trying to visualize where I needed to go… if I cut through the centre I could walk down by Tesco… under the bridge and up through the park… that would put me on the road back home, from there I would be an hour away…. I yawned, snuggled down flat and fell asleep.
Chapter 17: Regroup
I opened my eyes… what had I done? I couldn’t believe it. In a place I didn’t know… lying in plain sight. I jumped up out of the bed, grabbed my backpack, and quickly made my way out. I had been incredibly lucky that the place was empty.
When I reached the open air, I stopped in surprise, the sun was shining down out of a blue sky, the clouds had disappeared, and the world was bright and airy. It was mid-afternoon and as I followed the road home, I felt my spirits lighten; maybe some of the others had escaped, and would be at Carpenders Park when I arrived. As I walked up through the overgrown park, full of rubbish and south along the road back through Oxhey, I thought of what it had been like pre-outbreak, and I was reminded of Frank and our optimism as we had set out for the camp.
Unlike my last journey however, this time I twice saw people in the distance. And instead of hiding as usual, I waved, in case any of the students had made it this far. Surprisingly people waved back, but neither time was it anyone I knew. I took the tunnel under the railway line into Carpenders Park, looking around eagerly, had anyone made it here? But there was no sign of anyone; the weeds were growing up through the cracks and drifts of dead leaves piled up against the sides. It was just as it had been when Frank and I left.
I walked wearily up the long slope into the station itself. The barriers were open and as I walked through, I could see through the glass windows that there was something propped against the rail outside. My hopes rising, I walked out onto the platform. In front of me was a brand new bike. ‘Hello?’ I shouted as I looked up and down the platform hoping desperately to see that someone, apart from me, had made it to safety. I heard a slight noise to my right and ran around the side of the building only to pull up suddenly; rising from a bench with a look of hope on his face, was Alex.
He jumped up and I rushed forward arms outstretched, ‘Alex!’ I said, then I checked, teachers didn’t hug students, it was ingrained deep in me, but what the hell, I was so happy to see him I gave him a big hug anyway. ‘Are you ok?’ I asked, ‘how did you get away?’
‘I outran them’ he said, ‘just kept going along the path. After a minute I saw a bridge so I went up the slope into a town, it was easy to lose them after that. What about you?’
‘I crossed over the canal at the lock, and made it to the railway line. How did you find your way here?’ I asked.
‘I ended up in Watford, eventually I found a railway station, I heard you yell something park and when I checked the board, Carpenders park just a few stops down the line.’