the muscles in my arms screaming for me to stop I rowed further and further away. The light passed us by, just missing the end of our little boat by inches.
'It's gone,' I spat, gasping for breath as I collapsed down next to Clare. She looked up but her face was expressionless, drained of all emotion. I watched the alien craft continue on its way towards the shore.
A little victory was mine.
It wasn't much - it wasn't anything in the scheme of things - but I had managed to avoid the aliens and get off the mainland.
For the first time that day I felt almost alive again. It didn't matter how long we had left, we were still ourselves and we still had some control. It was getting hotter by the minute. I stood up and took off my jacket. A single alien shuttle swooped down over the water just a short distance ahead of us.
'Tom!' Clare screamed. 'Get down!'
I didn't move. A single little act of defiance which meant everything now that I had nothing. I stood there and stared at the ship which turned and began to fly right towards me. It ducked and bobbed and flew over me just a few feet above my head but still I didn't flinch. I wanted the alien bastards to know that I wasn't afraid. They didn't care about me and I didn't care about them. I wanted them to know that they'd never be able to control me or frighten me or reprogram me or twist or manipulate me.
I am Thomas Winter. I will always be Thomas Winter.
Batter me and beat me and wear me down for a hundred fucking years and I'll never give up. I'll never give in.
Chapter 37
The Devil's Peak had always seemed to be a short distance away when I had looked at them from the mainland but, out here on the water, the jagged rocks didn't seem to be getting any closer. The light continued to improve and the temperature continued to rise. By half-past one it felt less like a winter night and more like a gentle summer morning.
Clare was asleep. With no other distractions I divided my attention between getting to the rocky outcrop and keeping a close watch on the skies overhead. There was still an incredible amount of activity taking place above the countryside that we had left behind. I wondered how many people were left alive there. An hour or so ago I had stood and watched thousands upon thousands of innocent lives being ended in seconds. It seemed possible - no, it seemed probable - to think that the land we were running from might now be devoid of all human life.
As if to reinforce their complete and unarguable domination of the planet, as I watched the heavens above me I saw countless new ships arrive. Different in shape and size to those I had seen before but somehow still familiar, I guessed that each one would have a specific part to play in the alien's work to change, modify and mutate the land which I had once called home.
Clare began to stir. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.
'Okay?' I asked. She shrugged her shoulders.
'Suppose,' she grunted.
I stopped rowing and sat and watched her.
'Sure you're okay?'
She nodded, looked at me, and then looked away again.
'I'm fine...' she began.
'But...?'
She took a deep breath and sighed.
'What are we doing, Tom?'
'Making the most of what's left,' I quickly replied.
'But why? What good is it going to do?'
I didn't answer. We both knew that we were just delaying the inevitable. 'Where are we going to shelter on these rocks?'
'Joe Porter said that...' I started to say.
'I know what Joe Porter said,' she interrupted, 'you've already told me. But what are we going to do long term? What are we going to do for food? Where are we going to sleep? There's nothing there.'
'We've got supplies in the rucksacks, that should be enough for a few days at least.'
'Okay so we can eat for a day or two. What next? What if we're still alive and all the food's used up? Then what are we going to do?'
'We could fish,' I said, instinctively and foolishly.
'You going to make yourself a bloody rod and sit on top of the rocks fishing are you?'
'If I have to, yes.'
'Oh, come on...'
'What's the matter with you?'
'What are you going to make this rod from?'
'What?'
'There's no fucking wood on the rocks. What are you going to