Autumn Page 0,48

'but it's not that simple, is it? I can't just turn away and...'

'You've got to turn away,' he said, slamming his hand down on the table and raising his voice. 'Christ, how many times do I have to say it, you've got to shut yourself off from the past.'

'I'm trying. I know I can't help anyone else, but I don't think you've thought about this like I have.'

'What do you mean?' Michael asked, sitting up in his seat. There was an equal mix of concern and annoyance in his voice.

'I want to make sure we're safe, same as you do,' she explained. 'But have you stopped to wonder whether it's really over?'

'What?'

'Who says that's the end of it? Who says that the bodies getting up and moving around last week was the final act?'

Michael realised what she was saying and a sudden cold chill ran the length of his spine.

'So what are you thinking?'

'I don't know,' she admitted, slouching forward again. 'Look, Mike, I think you're right, we have to look after ourselves now. But I need to know that whatever it was that happened to the rest of them isn't going to happen to me. Just because we've escaped so far doesn't necessarily mean we're immune, does it?'

'And do you think that we should...?'

Michael's words were cut short by a sudden loud crash from outside which echoed through the otherwise quiet house. He jumped up from his seat and ran out to where Carl was working. He found the other man sitting on the grass with his head in his hands. Through the half open shed door he could see a tool box on the ground which had clearly been kicked or thrown in anger.

'Okay?' he asked.

Carl grunted something under his breath before getting up and disappearing into the shed again.

'Is he okay?' Emma shouted from the safety of the back door.

Michael turned round and walked back towards her.

'Think so,' he sighed. 'Think he's having a few problems, that's all.'

She nodded thoughtfully and went back inside. Michael followed her into the sitting room. She sat down next to a large patio window and stared out onto the garden. It was a bright, sunny afternoon and she could see the shed from where she was sitting. Carl's tired shadow was clearly visible inside.

Cautiously (as he wasn't sure if he was disturbing Emma) Michael sat down on the arm of the sofa behind her. He picked up an old newspaper from a nearby coffee table, flicked through a few pages and then threw it back down again.

'Assuming we are immune and we do survive all of this...' he began quietly.

'Yes...' Emma mumbled.

'Do you think we'll be able to make something out of what's left?'

She thought for a moment.

'Don't know. Do you?'

He got up and walked to the other side of the room and leant against the wall.

'We can be comfortable here, I'm sure of that much. Christ, we could turn this place into a bloody fortress if we wanted to. Everything we need is out there somewhere. It's just a question of getting off our backsides and finding it...'

'Daunting prospect, isn't it?' she interrupted.

'I know. It's not going to be easy but...'

'I think the most important thing is deciding whether we want to survive, not whether we can.' She turned around to face Michael. 'Look, I know we could have anything - bloody hell, we could live in Buckingham bloody Palace if we wanted to...'

'...once we'd cleared out the corpses...'

'Okay, but you get my point. We can have anything, but we've got to ask ourselves if there's anything that will make any of this easier to deal with? I don't want to bust a gut building something up if we're just going to end up prisoners here counting the days until we die of old age.'

Michael sighed. Her honesty was painful.

'I agree. So what do you want? Accepting that we've all lost everything that ever mattered to us, what do you think would be worth surviving for now?'

She shrugged her shoulders and turned to look out of the window again.

'Don't know yet,' she admitted. 'I'm not sure.'

Michael's mind began to race. He hadn't dared to think about the future because, until yesterday, there hadn't seemed to be much chance of any of them actually having one. Ever the loner, however, he realised that there was in fact very little he needed. Shelter, food and protection, that was just about it. There were many aspects of his pre-disaster life that