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eat but she was starving. She hadn't even thought about food since her aborted shopping trip yesterday morning.

A couple of the other survivors were looking their way. Michael didn't know whether it was the food that was attracting their attention or the fact that he and Emma were talking. Before she'd come across he'd said less than twenty words all morning. It seemed that the two of them communicating had acted like a release valve of sorts. As he watched more and more of the shell-like survivors began to show signs of life.

Half an hour later and the food had been eaten. There were now two or three conversations taking place around the hall. Small groups of survivors huddled together while others remained alone. Some people talked (and the relief on their faces was obvious) while others cried. The sound of sobbing could clearly be heard over the muted discussions.

Emma and Michael had stayed together. They had talked sporadically and had learnt a little about each other. Michael had learnt that Emma was a medical student and Emma learnt that Michael worked with computers. Michael, she discovered, lived alone. His parents had recently moved to Edinburgh with his two younger brothers. She had told him that she'd chosen to study in Northwich and that her family lived in a small village on the east coast. Neither of them could bring themselves to talk much about their families in any detail as neither knew if the people they loved were still alive.

'What did this?' Michael asked. He'd tried to ask the question a couple of times before but hadn't quite managed to force the words out. He knew that Emma couldn't answer, but it helped just to have asked.

She shrugged her shoulders.

'Don't know, some kind of virus perhaps?'

'But how could it have killed so many people? And so quickly?'

'Don't know,' she said again.

'Christ, I watched thirty kids die in just a couple of minutes, how on earth could anything...'

She was staring at him. He stopped talking.

'Sorry,' he mumbled.

'It's okay,' she sighed.

Another awkward, pregnant pause followed.

'You warm enough?' Michael eventually asked.

Emma nodded.

'I'm okay.'

'I'm freezing. I tell you there are holes in the walls of this place. I stood in one corner this morning and I could push the bloody walls apart! It wouldn't take much to bring this place down.'

'That's reassuring, thanks.'

Michael shut up quickly, regretting his clumsy words. The last thing anyone wanted to hear was how vulnerable they were in the hall. Shabby, ramshackle and draughty it might be, but today it was all they had. There were countless stronger and safer buildings outside, but no-one wanted to take a single step outside the front door for fear of what they might find there.

Michael watched as Stuart Jeffries and another man (whose name he thought was Carl) sat in deep conversation in the far corner of the room with a third figure who was hidden from view by Jeffries' back. Jeffries had been the first one to arrive at the hall, and he'd made a point of telling everyone who'd arrived subsequently that he'd been the one who had found their shelter as if they should be grateful. In a world where position and stature now counted for nothing, he seemed to be clinging on desperately to his self-perceived 'status'. Perhaps it made him feel important. Perhaps it made him feel like he had a reason to survive.

The conversation in the corner continued and Michael began to watch intently. He could sense that frustrations were beginning to boil to the surface by the increasing volume of the voices. Less than five minutes earlier they had been mumbling quietly and privately. Now every survivor could hear every word of what was being said.

'No way, I'm not going outside,' Jeffries snapped, his voice strained and tired. 'What's the point? What's outside?'

The man hidden in the shadows replied.

'So what else should we do then? How long can we stay here? It's cold and uncomfortable in here. We've got no food and no supplies and we've got to go out if we're going to survive. Besides, we need to know what's happening out there. For all we know we could be shut away in here with help just around the corner...'

'We're not going to get any help,' Jeffries argued.

'How do you know?' Carl asked. His voice was calm but there was obvious irritation and frustration in his tone. 'How the hell do you know there's no-one to help us? We won't know until we