Chapter 17

The next time Mike woke it was broad daylight. He could hear June and Jill in the kitchen. He had a splitting headache. He was still sore under the armpit. He investigated with his other hand. It came away sticky with what seemed to be a mixture of blood and pus. There was a bit of a mess in his sleeping bag, and on the edge of Jill’s. He went into the bathroom and cleaned himself up. He couldn’t see properly in the mirror, it was too high. He went into the kitchen in his trousers, and got Jill to look.

‘It’s just a boil. Burst. I’ll put you a plaster on it.’

‘I’ve not had a boil since I was a kid! And I’ve got a whopper of a headache.’

‘Linda woke in the night. Her boils were troubling her. She’s got a whole crop more coming, by the look of it. She’s fast asleep now, though.’

‘When you’ve finished dressing that, Jill, don’t let me forget to give our bags a clean. It’s made a bit of a mess on them.’

June went round to Auntie Alice’s on her own. Mike’s head­ache wasn’t getting any better, and Jill didn’t want him to go.

‘None of us should be out more than we have to be.’

Linda and Melanie slept on. Mike and Jill had a cup of tea – electricity and water both still going – and then sat, Jill on Mike’s lap, in the big armchair. They kissed, and then Jill put her head on his shoulder and wept.

Mike didn’t know what to say.

After a few moments Jill started coughing, a phlegmy, bubbly cough deep down in her chest. Suddenly it became violent. Jill looked up at Mike with terror in her eyes, and then there was blood all over his chest. The coughing stopped, but the terrified staring didn’t. She tried to say something, but nothing came. She went rigid for a moment, then as limp as a rag doll. Her eyes closed.

‘Jill!’ My God, she’s dying! ‘Jill!’ She’s not breathing!

All he got for his pains was a mouthful of phlegm and blood. He couldn’t find a sign of a pulse. He kept on trying, desperate.

A sleepy looking Linda was patting him on the arm.

‘What’s the matter, Mike?’

Tears were streaming down his face.

‘Linda!’ Breathe. ‘Wake Mel!’ Breathe. ‘I’m going,’ Breathe. ‘To take,’ Breathe. ‘Jill,’ Breathe. ‘To the,’ Breathe. ‘Hospital.’

Linda went back into Melanie’s room. Mike heard her crying and shouting.

Then he was in the street, Jill in his arms. He was trying to run, and ventilate Jill at the same time. He knew there was no hope.

He made it to East Park Upper School.

The face looking down at him was familiar, somehow. His head throbbed. He felt as if his lungs were going to burst. Where am I? I was doing something frightfully important. Mustn’t give up! What was it?

‘Jill! Where’s Jill?’

‘Shh! Don’t jump up! Are you warm enough?

‘Where’s Jill?!’

‘Easy, easy. There’s nothing more you can do now. Are you ready for a cuppa?’

‘Where is she? How is she?’

‘You did everything you could. More. Quite...’

He tried to jump up, but found himself tangled in bedclothes.

‘Where is she?’

Ruth was sitting on the bed, beside him, holding him round the shoulders with her left arm, trying to rearrange his bedding with her right hand.

‘Calm down, Mike, and I’ll get you that tea. The kettle’s boiling, I can hear it. How far did you run? You practically killed yourself, you know. You must’ve known it was hopeless.’

Mike came back to earth with a bump. He went quite limp and cried like a baby. Ruth went off to get the tea.

She came back a few moments later with two mugs. Mike tried to take his, but he wasn’t steady enough, and she put it on a trolley by the next bed.

‘You’d better let it cool for a minute, anyway.’

She sipped at her own, sitting on the foot of his bed, eyeing him worriedly.

Mike looked at her. She looked exhausted, haggard. Her clothes were crumpled, dirty, bloodstained. An angel.

‘She’s dead, isn’t she? Don’t tell me, I know. Where’s the doctor?’

‘Hugh? He’s in that bed over there, directing operations during his periods of consciousness. He’s incredible. Not that there’s a lot of directing to do; I know the routine. It’s hopeless, anyway. It’s quite a pleasure to have someone like you, worth some effort. Physically, there’s not a lot wrong with you, I don’t think.’ There were tears in her eyes.

‘Geoff?’

‘I don’t know. He went into town yesterday afternoon to try to get some more glucose. I’ve not seen him since.’

Mike looked around the room. Many of the beds had intra-venous drips erected by them, on makeshift stands of various designs. Not a single patient showed any signs of life. There was a dreadful smell in the room.

It must be frightful, for me still to be able to smell it after all this time exposed to it.

‘Here, are you ready for that tea? Don’t let it go cold!’

It was very sweet. Jill! Jill! Jill! O God! Mike’s head throbbed. He forced himself to think about something else.

‘How’s Tony?’

‘I don’t know. What’s his full name?’

‘Tony Ramsden. I brought him in the day before yesterday, in the morning.’

Christ. Only two days ago. It feels like a lifetime. It is a lifetime. Only two days since Jill ‘recovered’, and she’s dead now. Oh Jill, Jill!

‘Oh, him! The lively one. Do you want to talk to him? I’ll find you some of Hugh’s clothes. I think you’d be okay to get up in a minute. I don’t know if Tony’s awake, but he’s all there when he is. He’ll be on an IV drip before long though, the way his bowels are. And if I can’t get some more glucose, it’ll be pure saline.

IV – ah, intravenous. Saline? Salt? I suppose so.

‘Clothes? What’s happened to mine?’

‘I hope you don’t mind. I slung your shirt away. It was foul. You were only half-dressed anyway. I thought you might be suffering from exposure when you first arrived.’

Tony was wide awake. Ruth disappeared to get him a cup of tea.

‘Hello, Mike! Has she started allowing visitors? How is everyone?’

‘Jill’s dead. She died in my arms this morning. I brought her in here, but it was hopeless. I...’ Mike broke into uncontrollable sobbing.

‘O God! I’m sorry, Mike.’

Tony got out of bed unsteadily, sat on the bed beside Mike, and put his arm around him.

Mike put his head on Tony’s chest and wept. Ruth found them like that a few moments later. She untucked the blankets from the other side of the bed and wrapped them around the two young men.

‘Cup of tea, Tony,’ she whispered.

‘Ta.’

After a few moments Mike pulled himself together.

‘June and Linda and Mel are okay, Tony. June’s fine, gone off to see Auntie Alice and David. Linda’s pretty miserable with her boils, and Mel’s got a bit of a cough, but they’re okay. Oh, and I’ve got a boil, too. Oh Christ, June doesn’t know about Jill. Jill was fine when June went this morning.’

‘Hey, Ruth, it’s not doing me any good being here, is it? I might just as well spend my last days out there with my friends, mightn’t I?’

‘Tony! Don’t talk like that!’

‘It’s true though, isn’t it, Ruth? What’s the prognosis? What can you do for me that they can’t do at home? How much longer can you go on, anyway? Once I get on an IV drip, what are my chances? One in a hundred of a two-day reprieve, like Jill?’

‘I haven’t a clue, Tony. No-one has. You’re right, I’m not going to last forever. I’ve had no solids for days.’

‘And no sleep either, I bet. How many patients have you got? Couple of hundred? And you’re on twenty-four hour duty as doctor, nurse and receptionist?’

‘Reception’s no bother. You’re the first person I’ve seen since Geoff went yesterday. And I don’t have anything like that number of patients. Most of them are dead.’

‘You mean there are dead bodies in the beds?’

‘What’s she supposed to do, Mike? On her own. She can’t lug them all off to the bins. She’s enough on her plate, coping with the living.’

‘Hell, at least I could do that for her!’

‘Don’t bother, Mike. No-one’s collected them since Monday. They might as well stay where they are as go to that stinking pile. Anyway, there are dozens of them.’

Now that I look, the sheets are pulled over the faces of at least three-quarters of the patients. My God, perhaps it is going to be a hundred percent mortality! Perhaps it is biological warfare! And the bloody authorities know, and aren’t saying! Exercise Alpha!

Don’t jump to conclusions, Mike. How many people have recovered? How many haven’t even been sick? Still, I’d like to talk to Tony about it if Ruth leaves us alone later on.

‘Was Geoff removing the bodies? Right up until yesterday afternoon? All these have died since then?’

‘No. I mean, yes he was, but he was well behind. It’s hard work. He was exhausted.’

I hope he didn’t crash his car yesterday. But what has happened to him? Chances are it’s no better than a car crash anyway.

‘I’d better go round and look at my patients. I’ve not been round for ages.’

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Probably not. I’ll come and get you if there is. I’ll probably only be fifteen or twenty minutes.’

Mike told Tony about his thoughts: a hundred percent mortality, biological warfare, Exercise Alpha.

‘I thought about that myself. Exercise Alpha makes it look awfully much as though someone knew it was coming and how bad it was likely to be, whether it’s biological warfare or whatever it is. I wish we’d been watching telly regularly since before it all started. I’d love to know whether many VIPs have stopped appearing on telly since Alpha Alert. And which ones.’

‘Your ordinary copper didn’t know what exactly was going on, obviously. Just got shunted underground, ignorant.’

‘He may have been told since, of course. Or fed some cock and bull story. Depends on what the truth is, whether they’d want him to know. It’s worth remembering they’re not underground, too. Just in a sealed fortress. And when you think about it, it seems likely that someone not only got wind of the whole thing in time to call Alpha Alert before it was too late, but had oodles of warning and set up Exercise Alpha especially.’

‘Granted, it’s possible. But it’s stretching the available evidence a bit far, isn’t it? Setting up Exercise Alpha doesn’t seem a particularly strange thing for the Ministry of Offence to do anyway. Then, when they get wind of the impending epidemic, they call Alpha Alert.’

‘Okay, fair enough. But it’s a bit odd that Exercise Alpha had only just been set up. It was the very first Alpha Alert. Not one drill. And I’ve never been very happy about the idea that the whole shelter thing is to boost MoD status with the public, and line the pockets of shelter builders. Public awareness of their uselessness in the face of nuclear weapons is too great, little as it is. I’m sure it does the MoD’s image, and the Government’s, more harm than good.’

‘I’m not so sure. I think you might be overestimating the awareness of the public. Anyway, they chose their course when public awareness about nuclear matters was even less than it is now. The loss of face to change tack would be enormous.’

‘The daft thing is, some of the shelter designs could well be very effective against the most likely biological agents. They scarcely ever mention that. I’ve never seen it in the popular press, only in scientific journals, and in shelter ads in the upper-crusty mags.

‘I read them sometimes, in the library,’ Tony added, almost apologetically.

‘What do you mean, the most likely biological agents?’

‘The sort that hit hard over a short period, don’t spread quickly, and don’t survive long in nature. They don’t backfire on the aggressor that way. Or something you can immunize against; but that’s dodgy. An intelligence leak may mean your intended victims turn out to be immunized. Immunizing whole populations quickly is a major undertaking and very hard to keep secret, and it commits you to a continued immunization programme for a while at least.’

They talked about biological warfare for quite a while. They decided that whatever the epidemic was, it pretty certainly wasn’t biological warfare.

‘It hasn’t hit hard, or fast, enough. There’s been plenty of time for a counter-strike.’

‘It’s hard to imagine a biological agent that could hit hard and fast enough. Even if death was almost instantaneous once the agent got to you, the spreading would be slow. You’d have to deliver it with an absolute blanket of little bombs.’

‘Which obviously hasn’t happened. Nor did I see a fleet of small planes spraying. Anyway, it didn’t hit hard or fast enough. It seems to me biological weapons are only any use to a major power trying to wipe out people incapable of hitting back – a very poor country, or tribespeople, or insurrectionists.’

‘Underdogs, you mean. Um. I think so. Ruth’s been gone a while, hasn’t she? Go and see if she’s okay, Mike.’

Mike found her in a crumpled heap on Hugh’s bed. Hugh was awake. He put his finger to his lips.

‘Shh. She’s okay, just asleep. She needs it. She’ll kill herself, going on the way she is. How are you? Are you up to a bit of work?’

‘Me? I’m fine. What do you want me to do?’

‘Shift the body out of the next bed, and remake it. There’s fresh linen in that chest over there. Then put Ruth in it. She’ll be well away by that time.’

‘Where shall I put the body?’

‘Just put it in the next bed with the body that’s already there. No point taking it any further. The best we can hope to do is to keep them off the floor so’s not to encourage the rats, and keep ’em covered to keep the flies off. Give yourself a good wash when you’ve covered them up. Staff toilet’s the door opposite. That’s it.’

Ruth didn’t weigh a lot. Mike took off her shoes, laid her on a fresh sheet and then covered her with another, and a couple of blankets.

‘She’d finished her round before she came to chat to me. I’ll get up in a couple of hours to do the next one.’

‘Are you fit enough to get up at all?’

‘Fitter than she is. We’re both exhausted, and washed out from the diarrhea. But I’ve not started to get dehydrated yet. Sugar and salt solution seems still to be getting through to me. I’ll last a few more days, as long as I don’t overdo it. You know about sugar and salt, do you? If you’re diarrhea’s really bad, dissolve a tablespoonful of sugar and a teaspoonful of salt in a litre of water. Drink it in sips not long gulps, but get through at least a litre a day. Glucose is better than sugar if you can get it.’

‘Ruth was saying about that. Geoff went to get some sugar or glucose yesterday afternoon and never came back. Should I go and get some? Where should I go?’

‘The hospital. They’ve organized a central distribution point there. All the major stockists in the area have been cleaned out. People with no food were turning up at the hospital. They’re running a soup kitchen there.’

But Hugh was out of date. There was no soup kitchen. There was chaos. People were hurrying away with bags and packets of food. There were scuffles going on here and there.

Mike was glad he had the bicycle. He didn’t try to get anything. After a moment of immobility, he recovered from his surprise and fled. He had the impression that he’d left only just quickly enough to retain the bicycle.

He hadn’t particularly noticed the car, on the other side of the road, as he’d coasted down. Passing it, going slowly up the hill, he glanced in through the driver’s window. A body was slumped sideways in the driver’s seat, one arm through the steering wheel, and the head in the passenger footwell. It registered in Mike’s mind that the clothes were familiar looking.

It’s Geoff.

It was. Mike opened the door, and reeled with nausea as the smell hit him. Diarrhea. Mike picked up the hand from the wheel and felt for a pulse. Nothing. A horrible coldness.

He’s dead, quite dead. Quite certainly, quite dead. God, is there going to be no end to this? Jill! O God!

After a couple of minutes Mike forced himself to compose his thoughts, at an uncomfortable realization.

I’m not very far from the mob at the hospital. It’s not really very safe here.

Then:

Pointing this way, Geoff had presumably already been to the hospital. Hopefully the stuff’s in the boot.

The boot was locked. Mike cursed himself for a fool and went back to get the keys out of the ignition.

He filled the panniers, and relocked the boot. He locked the car as well before setting off back to the school.

‘Now I really wish you could drive, Mike. How many pannier loads do you think there are in the boot?’

‘Only three or four. But I feel really vulnerable on the bike, especially going back and forth and stopping at the same place again and again.’

I wish June could drive. With a car, we could fetch big cylinders from Wood Lane.

‘Can Ruth drive?’

Why do I suddenly have the feeling I’d trust her with our thoughts of going looting? To the extent of asking her to help?

‘I don’t know.’

He thinks I’m only thinking of getting the supplies up for here. God, I’m getting confused! Of course he only thinks that.

Christ! How circumstances alter cases! Never mind trusting Ruth. How long have we known Melanie? We’ve been discussing looting with her!

Talk about double standards! What was my reaction to the mob down at the hospital?

The difference is that we weren’t going to hurt anybody.

Really? What would happen if anyone accosted us? Anyway, most of the people at the hospital weren’t being violent. There’s still a difference between stealing from a functioning hospital and stealing from a defunct building site.

But what would happen if any one...

‘Hey, Mike! Are you okay?’

‘Mmm. A million miles away, that’s all. Even if Ruth can drive, is she fit to?’

‘After a rest, I expect she would be. How far away is the car? I’m not so sure about her being fit for the walk.’

‘If she perches on the pannier carrier, I could take her down on the bike.’

‘We’ll see when she wakes up.’

What about June and Melanie, and Linda? I ought to go and tell them what’s going on.

But I ought to help Hugh and Ruth. They really need help. Tony’s here too.

Jill didn’t want me to come here today at all. ‘Stay with me, Mike.’ O Jill, my love! Who should I stay with now? Does it matter? Does anything matter? Hugh and Ruth need help. What for? To keep a few vegetables alive a bit longer? To wear themselves out and kill themselves a bit quicker?

Is there any chance that they might save Tony? Or if they took it easy, might they have a chance of surviving themselves?

Is anyone going to survive?

Not Jill!

Snap out of it, Mike! As far as I know, there’s nothing wrong with me, or June, or Auntie Alice, or Linda, or Melanie – apart from ordinary, transient, things – and David has been out four days and seems okay. Ought to go and remind Tony of that – silly sod talking as though he’s only got four days left! Remarkably cheerful about it, though. Doesn’t he take it seriously? He can’t actually be confident of surviving anyway. Can he? Not unless he’s losing his marbles.

‘You look as though you could do with lying down for a bit yourself. It’ll be a while before Ruth’s ready to do anything.’

‘No. I want a word with Tony. Then I’d better go home and tell my friends what’s going on. I’ll be back in a few hours, and we’ll see about fetching the car up.’

‘Hello, Mike? That is you, isn’t it? How is she?’

‘Hello, Mel. Yes, it’s me. Just let me get a kettle on.’

‘Linda, you go and make us all some tea, there’s a love. Mike, let Linda make the tea. You come in here.’

Mike sat down on the foot of Mel’s bed, and burst into tears. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. Mel shushed him.

Linda came in with three teas. She gave Mel hers, and then sat by Mike, silently, with big round eyes. After a couple of moments she put the two teas on the floor, and put her arms round him, her head on his chest, and hugged him. Mike looked down and smiled at her through his tears. He put his arm round her and squeezed. She looked up. She was crying too, but they laughed at themselves and squeezed each other again.

Mike looked over at Mel and started to speak, but Mel interrupted him.

‘It’s all right, Mike. Don’t say anything. I know already. I can tell. I’m sorry.’

There were tears in her eyes too.

June wasn’t back for lunch. Mike made a meal for the three of them. In the middle of the afternoon he cycled back to the school.

Ruth was just pulling a sheet up over someone’s head.

‘Hugh and Tony are both asleep at the moment, but they’re okay. This old lady walked in just after I woke up. How she managed it I’ll never know. I’m surprised she was conscious at all. She couldn’t put two words together. I put her straight on a drip, but she’s lasted less than an hour.’

‘Christ, this is depressing.’

She sat on the end of the bed. She looked up at Mike with an exhausted, forlorn expression. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Don’t crack up, Ruth. You’re the shining light, the angel that never says die.

He sat down beside her and put his arm round her.

‘Thanks, Mike. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.’

While you live, maybe. How much longer will that be?

‘Shall I get you a cup of tea?’

‘No, not at the moment. Just hold onto me a bit longer, then we’ll go and get Geoff’s carload of stuff. We’ll have a cuppa when we get back.’

Balancing the bike with Ruth on the back was much harder than it had been with Linda, but Mike managed.

I’d get used to it if I had to do it much. I’m glad it’s all downhill, though.

Mike felt uneasy when they stopped by the car. I think it’s mainly the way I felt the last time I was here. Logically I ought to be equally afraid anywhere, I think. He didn’t follow the thoughts through to any logical conclusions.

They dumped Geoff’s body into the gutter. It felt dreadful, but there was nothing else they could do. Mike thought about rifling his pockets. It seemed the logical thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it with Ruth there. I wonder if I could anyway?

Ruth solved the problem for him. She just slipped Geoff’s wallet into a pocket without looking inside it.

‘I don’t actually have a driving licence. I don’t think it matters in the circumstances. I only had a few lessons, years ago, but I expect I’ll manage somehow.’

She wiped the worst of the mess off the seat with Geoff’s jacket, and then threw it over his body.

Her progress up the road was slow and erratic, with much revving and clutch slipping over the gear changes – steering control going a bit wild the while. I don’t suppose I could do even so well myself. It’s all very well understanding what’s going on – it’s another co-ordinating it all in practice.

Mike arrived at the school not long after her. He tried to make her sit down while he unloaded the boot. She had the tea ready by the time he’d finished. Tony and Hugh were both still asleep. None of her other patients were conscious.

‘There’s only fourteen left altogether. Including Tony. I’m pretty sure they’re all terminal anyway. I barely know why we bother. Still, what else is there to do?

I wonder how many were discharged earlier on – just what proportion of admissions have survived? He couldn’t bring himself to ask. How many of those discharged have died since? Jill, Jill!

Ruth saw the tears welling up in his eyes, and the anguished look appearing in his face. She leant over the table and put her hands over his.

Mike couldn’t bring himself to suggest that she help him to steal a stove and a bottle of gas. She’s worn out just from that short drive. But he knew his real worry was broaching the subject of looting. Yet she didn’t think twice about taking Geoff’s wallet.

It wasn’t until he was cycling back to Mel’s flat that another possibility occurred to him. With a car, we could probably move Mel to Auntie Alice’s. Hers is a gas stove.

How long will the gas keep going?

June still wasn’t back. Mike cooked for the three of them again.

‘I hope there’s nothing wrong over at Auntie Alice’s. Perhaps I’d better pop over if June isn’t back soon.’

Auntie Alice was surprised to see him, then worried when she heard why he’d come. ‘No, all’s well here apart from David’s boils. But June left, oh, a couple of hours ago. I wonder where she’s got to?’

David’s got boils too? Are they really something to do with the epidemic, not just coincidence? But where is June?

‘Was she okay when she left here? Did she say anything about going anywhere on the way home?’

Perhaps she’s gone on a hospital round, now the phone’s dead. But she’d have told us, surely?

‘She was fine. She said she was going straight home.’

‘Have you any idea which way she’d go?’

A horrible thought had entered Mike’s head.

‘Not really. But she said she wasn’t going to go past the hospital on the way back. There was half a riot going on there this morning, apparently, when she came past.’

Thank goodness for that, anyway. But where is she? And which way would she go instead?

‘Yes, I know about the riot. I saw it too. I didn’t come that way this evening, either. But there’s a few other ways she might have gone.’

Mike cycled slowly back to Mel’s a different way, with his eyes peeled. No, she hadn’t arrived home in the meantime. Then he went back and forth along the various alternative routes without seeing anything.

Just as he was starting up Alma Road, someone called out, ‘Hey, young fellow! Are you looking for someone?’

Mike looked all around, and couldn’t see anyone. He was a little afraid to get off the bike, but it was the voice of an elderly lady. As he stopped, she called again.

‘I’m up here.’

Mike located her. She was at an upstairs window.

‘Yes. A tall girl, on a bike. She should have been home about three hours ago.’

‘She your girl friend? Yes, I saw her. Come inside. I’ll get a kettle on.’

She disappeared from the window before Mike could say that June was just a friend.

Anyway, what’s happened to June? The old girl’s not saying straight off, thinks I need a cup of tea. God, I hope June’s okay.

‘Here, bring your bike into the hallway. That’s it. Just sit yourself down in the lounge a minute. I won’t be a minute making the tea.’

She ushered him into the lounge and disappeared into the kitchen without letting him get a word in edgeways.

There was a gas fire blazing, and the room was warm. It was a homely, old fashioned room, cluttered with dark, polished wooden furniture, ornaments and pictures. It reminded him of the digs Pete had had when he first came to Burnfield.

What’s happened to June?

The old lady came in, with two teas.

‘What’s happened to June?’

‘Here, drink your tea. A tall girl, you said? Riding a bike? Jeans and a blue sweater?’

‘Yes, that’s her. Where is she?’

‘I think she’s down the side of my house, probably. Take it easy, young man. Put your tea down, that’s it. No, don’t jump up. Let me tell you, and then take your time before you do anything.’

‘Is she hurt? Can’t I do anything?’

‘No. You can’t do anything. She’s as dead as a doornail. The little bastards! I’d hang, draw and quarter the lot of them!’

She was suddenly animated, in sharp contrast with her previous perfect composure.

O my God!

‘What happened?’

‘I went to the window when I heard her screaming. I didn’t dare go out, there were four of them. They all raped her right there, on the pavement right in front of my garden. Then they sliced her belly open. She was still screaming then. They were laughing. Then something seemed to put the wind up them. One of them pelted off on her bike and another shoved an iron rod in through her eye, and drove it in with a brick. She stopped yelling then. They carted her off down the side of my house, and disappeared over the back gardens.’

Mike buried his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe it. This morning Jill. This evening, June. The epidemic isn’t enough for them, they have to murder her.

I suppose I’d better go to the police. For all the good that’ll do. Christ, how am I going to tell Auntie Alice? I haven’t even told her about Jill yet!

And this old dear watches it all, cool as a cucumber. Like a telly film. ‘I’d hang, draw and quarter the lot of them!’, and then sit back and watch the next gory episode. Ugh! He suddenly hated the old lady.

He jumped up and stormed out. She couldn’t stop him. Extracting his bicycle slowed him down, and she came out into the hallway.

‘Do take care, young man. Don’t try to catch them. They left hours ago. I’m sorry.’

What else could she do, or say to him? Poor old thing must’ve been scared out of her wits.

‘I’m going to go down to the police.’

He couldn’t bring himself to look down the side of the house.

Not a lot of point anyway.

There was no-one on the desk at the police station. Mike waited for a couple of minutes. They seemed an age to him. Nobody came, and he started to yell.

‘Is anybody here? There’s been a murder!’

The deathly silence returned.

He tried yelling again. No response.

He saw a telephone on a desk, behind the counter. An idea occurred to him. It took him only ten seconds to work up the courage. He clambered over the counter, and picked up the phone. He was rewarded with the dialling tone. Nine, nine, nine.

No response. Ringing, ringing.

A pity I don’t know Mel’s number. Her phone might still be working for incoming calls. On second thoughts, I’d be better telling her in person anyway.

He put the phone down. He was conscious again of the eerie silence. He was at a loss what to do. He sat down on the desk and put his head in his hands. Images of Jill passed through his mind. He remembered the day the four of them had met at the baths, after Pete and June had split up. How Pete had felt awkward and gone off after only ten minutes.

Jill and June are both dead now. What are the chances of ever seeing Pete again, for that matter? He thought of Cathie. Dead nearly a week now. It seems an eternity ago. Pete doesn’t know.

There’s no-one here, is there?

He went through the double doors at the back of the foyer and found himself in a corridor. There’s no-one here. I’m not going to get caught. If I do meet anyone, I can explain that I’ve come in search of a policeman, there was no-one on the desk. What does it matter anyway? What does anything matter any more?

The end of the corridor seemed to be approaching terribly slowly, so he began to run. The sound of his feet reverberated along the corridor eerily. He was suddenly conscious of being very, very alone. He reached the double doors at the other end of the corridor. Beyond them was a staircase. He bounded up it two steps at a time. Suddenly one wall was glass. It was pitch dark outside, except for the distant line of street lights on Station Road, at the top of the embankment. From two floors further up, he could see their reflections in the canal.

What am I doing? Why? He became aware of a terrible sense of unreality. He reached the top of the stairs. The doors were locked. He peered through the wired glass. He could dimly see another corridor, like the one on the ground floor. There were no lights on.

Suddenly he wanted to see Melanie. He ran down the stairs. Through the doors at the bottom.

Something was wrong. He was lost. This wasn’t the corridor that led to the foyer. This corridor was different. Menacing, oppressive. Cold.

Get a grip on yourself Mike. Calm down. Think straight.

It really is cold here. It really isn’t the same corridor. The floor and walls are bare concrete, that’s why it feels oppressive. I’ve come done one flight too many, and I’m in the basement, in the cells.

God, what a stench!

He walked along the corridor. He peered in through the little barred opening in a heavy steel door. There was no light in the cell. He moved his head back and forth to let some of the light from the corridor in, but could see very little.

Then he realized that this corridor was not silent. There was a sussuration and a steady thrumming noise as of a big ventilation system. And a low, human-sounding moaning.

He located the moaning. It was coming from one of the cells. He couldn’t see into this cell any better than he could see into the first, and the voice just moaned without reacting to Mike’s words. He tried the door, but it was locked, of course. He felt terrible leaving the poor soul.

The corridor was much shorter than the one above it.

I wonder if that’s just a trick of my state of mind. The other one seemed endless.

The doors at the end were broken. The lock had been prised out of the frame. Mike pulled, and the door swung open, the lock gripping thin air. Only inches behind it was a heavy steel door. The paint had been chipped off in several places, as if someone had been trying to force the lock, or the hinges.

In six-inch-high letters of sprayed paint, were the words:

YOU JAMMY BASTARDS!

Mike’s bike was still where he had left it, leaning on the glass windows outside the foyer. The desolate world outside seemed positively homely after the police station. He was completely drained. He cycled slowly back to Mel’s flat.

‘Hello, Mike? Any joy?’

O God, what can I say? Joy?

‘Hang on a moment, I’ll put the kettle on, and I’ve got to go to the loo.’

‘Hey! Are you okay?’

‘Not really – but I’m healthy enough, if that’s what you mean.’

‘God, Mike, you look awful! What’s happened?’

‘Here, drink some tea. I feel awful. Jesus, it’s good to see you.’

‘It’s only a couple of hours since you were here. You have your tea too. Take your time.’ She put her hand on his knee and squeezed.

Mike looked at her and smiled. Tears came into his eyes. He took a few sips at his tea, and then started to speak, but he didn’t know where to begin, and got confused.

‘Finish your tea first. Then start at the beginning, from where you left here last time.’

He told her about his search, and the old lady, and the old lady’s story. Melanie just lay there and stared.

‘I went down to the police station. It was deserted. I went right inside, in search of someone, anyone. I got lost, and ended up in the cells. Found the entrance to the shelter. Someone had tried to break in. And someone had sprayed ‘You Jammy Bastards’ on the door.

Mike couldn’t sleep. He kept seeing Jill’s terrified face staring up at him; the old lady getting excited and saying she’d ‘hang, draw and quarter the lot of them’; a cold, desolate, ill-lit grey concrete corridor, with steel doors with tiny barred windows.

It all merged impercetibly into dreadful nightmares. Old ladies chased him up endless staircases, with the starry sky all around him. Then he was chasing the old lady. He cornered her in a grey concrete corridor, and as he drove an iron spike into her eye she became June. She was laughing horribly. Then she was Jill, looking at him with terror in her eyes, and he was trying to resuscitate her, but the old lady was chasing him on a bike, and he couldn’t get his breath.

Linda was shaking him. The light was on.

‘Mike! Wake up! Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?’

The scream died in his throat.

‘Linda! Thank God you’re okay!’

He still had a terrifying sensation of being chased, but his head began to clear.

‘Oh, goodness. I’m sorry Linda. I’ve been screaming, haven’t I? I hope I’ve not woken Mel. I’m sorry I woke you. I’ve been having such dreadful nightmares.’

‘I don’t think Mel woke up. I’m cold. Where’s June?’

She’s only been sleeping with June a couple of nights. The cold is mainly psychological, I’m sure. She knows something’s wrong with June. O God! I can’t tell the kid the whole story!

‘She’s dead...’

‘But she wasn’t sick at all! Do people just die just like that, without any warning? You won’t die suddenly, will you, Mike? Is there going to be anyone left at all?’

‘Chin up, love. Come into my sleeping bag and get warm.’

She snuggled in beside him and was soon fast asleep. Mike found her presence comforting, too. Only later did it strike him how strange it was to have her there. To all intents and purposes we’re family. I’ve known her four days!

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