Autumn The City Page 0,70
the corpses was inevitable. As they had earlier watched the behaviour of the creatures change from the shelter of their farmhouse hideout, so they had since seen that change continue unabated. Whereas originally these reanimated bodies had been empty shells, now emotion, control and direction was undeniably beginning to return.
It was almost as if their brains had been anaesthetised by the disease and the numbness was gradually fading. Originally hollow and unfeeling, the bodies now seemed to be gaining a purpose. First the ability to interpret and respond to basic stimuli had returned, then something resembling base emotion - the need to protect themselves and find an answer to their pain perhaps? More recently Michael had sensed a vicious inquizitiveness about the bodies which was quickly mutating into anger and hate.
It was cold. The wind, rain and low temperature reminded him that he wasn't safe. He ran to the motorhome. 'Well?' Emma asked as he let himself inside and closed, locked, barred and blacked-out the door behind him. 'More of them,' he answered, quietly and breathlessly. 'We're close, aren't we?' He nodded and wiped the rain from his face and hair. 'We must be.' A moment of silence followed. Michael took off his wet outdoor jacket and kicked off his muddy boots. Now that he was safely indoors Emma busied herself with what had become a nightly ritual - covering every window, vent and door with wooden boards and heavy black material.
They knew that even the smallest pinprick of escaping light might be enough to attract the bodies. Emma didn't mind the gloom. It helped her to forget the cramped and squalid conditions that they found themselves living in. 'Tomorrow morning we should try and get closer again,' Michael whispered as he sat down opposite Emma at the small table. 'It doesn't matter how long it takes, does it? We'll take things one step at a time. I'll walk a little further down the track then we'll drive the van down when we know what's there.' 'Are you sure this is the right thing to do?' 'Of course it is, why?' Michael was surprised by her comment. 'Because this is the army we're dealing with here,' she explained. 'Do you think we're going to be welcome? They might not have come across any survivors yet. And look at the state of us. They'll probably think that we're dead and that we've just...'
'Do you really believe that?' he interrupted. He sighed and shook his head and looked down at the table. 'I don't know,' she stammered, unsure. 'We're the odd ones out around here, aren't we? They're not going to be expecting...' 'They're not going to be expecting fucking corpses to turn up in a camper van, are they?' 'No, but...' 'But what? They'll see the van, they'll see us and we'll be okay.' 'What if they see you when you're walking?' He shrugged his shoulders. 'Sounds like you're just trying to find reasons not to do this.' 'Come on, that's not fair. I'm just worried that this won't work out.'
'It'll work out.' 'There are a hundred reasons why it might not. Christ, you told me they were wearing suits. They can't even walk out in the open. They can't breathe the air because it'll do to them what it did to the rest of the population.' 'Yes, and that's our get out, isn't it?' 'What do you mean?' 'If things don't work out the way we want, we'll walk.' 'You think they'll let us?' 'You think they'll have a choice?' 'I'm sorry,' Emma sighed, holding her head in her hands.
'I'm not trying to be negative. I just think we need to play this whole situation very carefully.' She knew that she was going to have trouble trying to contain Michael's eagerness and excitement. She knew where he was coming from, but his cavalier approach and lack of concern worried her. They both knew what the risks were. They had already lost just about everything they had. At the farmhouse they had fought to build themselves some kind of shelter and protection from the rest of the world, and despite their huge physical and mental advantage over the countless scores of plague victims they had lost it all in the blinking of an eye.
One mistake was all that it had taken. And although sitting in a cold motorhome in the middle of a field was far from ideal, at least they now had some