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  “Ireland won’t be safe,” Greta said. “It’s mainland, and Elysium has been overrun before. They have wind turbines, but when we lose those, when we’ve burned through all the oil that’s left in Svalbard, what then? The medical equipment will be worthless if we’ve no way to power it?” She looked around. “I’ve heard the Americans talking. I think they’re planning to leave. To go home.”

  “Yeah, Bill mentioned something about that, how the admiral always promised her people they could return home,” Chester said. “The two Marines guarding Locke gave me the impression the admiral intends to live up to her promise.”

  “No,” Greta said. “I mean, I think they’re leaving sooner, not later. And I think it’s more than just the people who arrived on their hospital ship. I doubt they’ll leave us to die, but they might leave us in Kenmare Bay. If it comes to a choice, Chester, if they give us a choice, we’ll go with them. We’ll go wherever I think Eamonn will be safest. You have to do the same for the children. Ireland isn’t an option, not really.”

  “But where then?”

  “Maybe America, maybe you should come with us. Maybe speak to the admiral and see what she says. I… I really don’t know anymore. Wherever we go next, we’re sailing into the unknown. I’m sorry, I don’t have any advice, or any ideas. I don’t think anyone does except, maybe, Locke. Take care of yourself, Chester. Stay safe. Stay in touch. I… I’d better get Eamonn ready. Give my love to Nilda and Jay, and everyone else.”

  “And mine to Eamonn,” he said. She went back inside, and he wondered if he would ever see her again.

  Chapter 12 - The Colonel

  Menai Bridge, Anglesey

  When Chester had left Anglesey with Nilda, Menai Bridge had been home to a handful of people. Now it was almost as busy as a town before the outbreak, but there was no way that it could be mistaken for such. There were more bicycles, and no cars except those stationary in driveways. There was more mud, too, at least in the road and on the pavement, but that was all that littered the ground. There were no discarded packets or straws, no chip-wrappers or drink cans, no fly-tipped bin bags or please-take furniture. No, it was clean, and so were the people, and there were a lot of them. More, in fact, than he’d seen in Holyhead. Rather, there were more people out and about. In jeans, jackets, and boots, they weren’t dressed much differently to a year before. In fact, since the clothes would have been looted from the winter-wardrobes of Menai Bridge, Bangor, and Caernarfon, they were dressed exactly as people here a year ago. However, there was no mistaking these people for those. The weapons gave it away. Everyone carried them. There were some rifles, and a few of the newly made crossbows, a smattering of sidearms and shotguns, swords and spears, but most had newly forged machetes hanging from their belts. A few faces were familiar, but Chester barely got a grimace in return as he nodded at those he thought he might know.

  To delay arriving, and so having to admit he’d already made his decision, he paused by an old bus shelter. Under the lee of its cracked awning, he watched the people. It was a pleasing sight, seeing so many bustle hither and thither. It was something to aim towards, to have as their goal at the end of what was going to be a long year’s nightmare. Except they were all bustling thither, all in the same direction. Towards the boats, he supposed, and that meant they were ready to depart. He’d already delayed the decision for long enough, it could be put off no longer.

  “We were waiting for you,” Heather Jones said. “Do you want to inspect the boats?”

  Chester looked through the window of what had been a restaurant, but which was now the hub for this town’s final swan-song. Outside, the boats were lined up almost stern-to-prow.

  “It’s not them,” Heather said. “Those are the boats we’re leaving behind. The hulls are cracked. They were never designed for sea-crossings. It’s a miracle they’ve lasted this long. We’ve tied them together, and will sink them tonight.”

  “Sink them, why?” Chester asked.

  “They’ll form a habitat for fish in these parts,” Heather said.

  “Even after the power plant melts down?”

  Heather shrugged. “We don’t know how much radiation will leak into the sea, nor on what timescale. No, this way is better. The wreck might do some good. Letting the boats drift out to sea, semi-submerged, they’ll only become a nuisance. I’m giving London four boats. All are two-masted sailing craft that can manage with a crew of two each. I’m sending three crew per ship, but when they get to London, your people will have to help on the return leg. You can easily get twenty-five aboard each, plus a bag per person. Half of you are children, aren’t they?”

  “In London, yes,” Chester said.

  “Then, counting Lorraine’s ship, there’s more than enough room,” Heather said. “It won’t be luxury, but it will be comfortable. Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “Only one bag each?” Chester asked.

  “You have many possessions?” Heather replied.

  “Not really,” Chester said. “I thought we were getting the boats to do with as we will.”

  “You can if you like,” Heather said. “But the crews won’t stay. They’ll return with Lorraine.”

  “Where would you take the boats,” a voice asked from the room’s shadows. Chester turned around. He’d not realised there was anyone else in the restaurant, but Leon, the French colonel of Special Forces, sat in an out-of-place leather recliner next to the kitchen doors.

  “I don’t know,” Chester said. “That’s rather the point. I want to keep our options open.”

  “Wise,” Leon said.

  Heather unstiffened. “We want to do the same,” she said. “But my people have friends here, they have family. I can’t ask them to give that up.”

  “No, of course not,” Chester said.

  “Can your people sail?” Leon asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Chester said. “But how hard can it be to learn?”

  “In winter?” Heather asked. “Without any guidance systems, lighthouses, or weather reports? I would advice against it.”

  “Point taken,” Chester said.

  “We’ve an hour before the tide,” Heather said. “Did you leave your bag outside?”

  “I left it in Birmingham,” Chester said.

  “Then we’re ready to go,” Heather said.

  It was time to make a decision, but his mind had been made up even before he’d spoken with Locke. “I’m not going with you,” he said.

  “Why not?” Leon asked.

  “If everyone’s coming back here, I’d just be baggage on the journey.”

  “Is that the only reason?” Leon asked.

  Chester frowned, uncertain how much to share. “How long will it take to get to London?”

  “It depends on the wind, the weather,” Heather said. “Perhaps five days. It could be as many as ten.”

  “And the same coming back? Then I’ve got a couple of weeks to decide whether we should go to Kenmare Bay or to Belfast.” He hesitated, but decided a little more of the truth would help conceal that part he was not willing to share. “And, if I’m honest, it’s about where we’ll go after that. I mean, everyone’s talking as if Belfast is temporary but no one has an idea about where the next destination is.”

  “C’est la guerre,” Leon said.

  “You think this is a war?” Chester asked.

  “Don’t mind him,” Heather said. “He’s in a bad mood because our day started with a council meeting.”

  “The… oh, right. You’re both on the council, aren’t you?”

  “It’s a show of democracy, not the act of it,” Leon said.

  “And so begins a debate about whether democracy is a good idea or a bad one,” Heather said. “And if you’d told me, a year ago, I might actually consider democracy a bad idea, I’d not have believed you. Personally, I wouldn’t call this war.” In the corner, Leon coughed. “Yes, fine,” Heather added, “you’re the expert on war, and I’ve never seen the elephant. I wo
uld say that this is a battle for survival.” She turned back to Chester. “You’re doing what we’ve all done, searching through maps and the satellite images for a new home. Maps can only tell you what the ground should look like, while a photograph shows you what a bird might see. Reality is always so much different.”

  “True,” Chester said, “but what’s the alternative?”

  “Wait and see, and hope,” Heather said. “Tell me about who we’re collecting. It’s children, isn’t it? There are so few of them here.”

  “Give it another six months,” Leon said.

  “There are a lot of pregnancies,” Heather said. “There was a lot of celebrating around the time that power was restored to Anglesey.”

  “Ah, right. In the Tower, Aisha’s pregnant, and she’s not the only one. I think there’ll be five babies born before summer, and a few more soon after. That’s the real time-pressure isn’t it? In a few months, we’ll need somewhere secure for those babies to grow up. What’s Ireland like?”

  “Not like Anglesey,” Heather said.

  “No, and I suppose it won’t be like the Tower, either,” Chester said. “They’ll miss that place, the children. There’re a lot of bad memories associated with it, but it’s the first place where things haven’t got steadily worse. They’ve seen so much. The evacuation, the enclave, then that mansion. We’ve done our best for them. I suppose we’ve all sort of adopted them. Or maybe we’ve adopted each other.”

  “I thought their parents were with you,” Leon said.

  “No, these were school kids,” Chester said. “They were at a boarding school, evacuated to the Kent coast, that’s where Styles found them. He kept them alive until we rescued them all. They like the Tower. Or, they like the history. The stories. And the crown jewels. They’ve become a toy. Simone, Janine—”

  “Simone? Simone Dubois?” Leon asked.

  “I… I don’t know her surname,” Chester said. “Why?”

  “How old is she?”

  “About eight,” Chester said.

  “This school. Where in Kent?” Leon asked.

  “Tunbridge Wells? Or was it Sevenoaks?”

  “Sevenoaks?” Leon said. “A building with a white wall next to the car park? A new science building, covered in solar panels?”

  “I never saw it,” Chester said. “Never asked. Why? Do you think you know her?”

  “Oui. Non,” Leon said. “Leur petite-fille de les Duponts— Their granddaughter, Simone, she was at school in England. In Kent. In Sevenoaks. I looked for her. The school had been evacuated.”

  “It might be a coincidence,” Chester said.

  “Two children the same age, with the same name, in the same county? Non.”

  “It would be something,” Chester said. “It would be something if it’s true.”

  “We’ll go to Holyhead, then,” Heather said. “We’ll take my ship.”

  “Non,” Leon said. “It is a long voyage to London. We will tell no one. Not even Giselle or Pierre, though I will bring them with me. Otherwise, the plan stays the same.”

  “You? You’re going?” Heather said. “But we… no, of course. I’ll go to Elysium, then.”

  Leon stood. “Thank you, Chester. Are you sure you will not come?”

  “This bit of good news aside,” Chester said. “I’ve got a few days to think of the future.”

  “Our future,” Leon said. “Our future.”

  He left. Heather unzipped her jacket, and collapsed into the chair that Leon had vacated. “It’s the most comfortable one we have,” she said. “The chair. I’m going to bring it with us. It sounds daft, I know.”

  “I’ve heard stranger things,” Chester said. He pulled out a chair from under a table, and sat down next to her.

  “I lived not far from here,” Heather said. “My flat got hit by a stray bomb. I assume that’s what happened. Whoever strafed the wind turbines missed by a mile, and I lost all that I owned. Now I’m losing my island. You’ve lost your city; you know what it’s like.”

  “I try to think of what I’ve gained,” Chester said. “It’s a family. A large one.”

  “Ah, yes. I suppose… Well, I’ll see Lorraine soon. Do you think that this Simone is the Duponts’ granddaughter?”

  “No idea,” Chester said. “What’s Leon’s story? I know that he was on a military flight back to France that was diverted to Dublin. In Ireland, he rescued Donnie and a few others and got them to the coast, and ultimately to here. I don’t know about the Duponts.”

  “They lived in a village near him,” Heather said. “Except I think it was a town, not a village. He likes to ham up his rustic childhood, but I think he’s doing it at our expense. He knew the Duponts before he joined the army. They had a daughter. She married, and had a daughter of her own. The children died, the granddaughter ended up at a boarding school in England. It was something to do with a bequest and the terms of a will. They didn’t have much money. Not enough to move to England to be close to her. I think there’s something else, an estrangement, but I don’t think it matters.”

  “No. No, I guess not. Well, this is one small piece of good news to have come out of it all. Another reunion.”

  “It is good.” She eased herself up. “Do you want to come with me to see them off?”

  “No,” Chester said. “I’m going back to Holyhead. I want to look at those satellite images.”

  “I’ll see you there, no doubt. You’re staying with the Wrights?”

  “For now.”

  “There’s a place here for you,” Heather said. “And when we leave, you should come with us.”

  “To Elysium?” Chester asked. “That’s what you said. Not Belfast.”

  “Ah.” Heather looked at the door, then at Chester. “Yes, initially. Elysium, not Belfast.”

  “Eamonn and Greta are going there,” Chester said. “But I do want to look at the satellite pictures. I need to know that I’ve done everything, that nothing has been overlooked. I’ll be seeing you.”

  Chester cycled back to Holyhead more slowly than he’d come. The rain was growing heavier, but it was his thoughts that slowed him down. He’d made the right choice in not going to London, but now there was another, far more important choice ahead of him. He would visit Belfast before he made up his mind, and hopefully speak to the admiral. However, he now wondered whether his decision had been made for him.

  If Simone was who Leon thought she was, then it was clear the colonel and the Duponts wouldn’t abandon the girl a second time. Equally, Simone wasn’t going to be separated from the other children. Nor was he, Nilda, or anyone else going to be separated from them. So, if Simone was the girl Leon thought she was, then the two communities were about to become one. That would make things interesting, but in the long-term, it might be for the best. A more pressing question was what it meant for Bill Wright and the people in Belfast, but that was a problem for Heather and Leon to manage.

  He turned his head up to the sky. Knowing that warmth was only a few miles of cycling away, he was able to enjoy the feel of the cold rain splashing on his face.

  No, he no longer needed to find a new home, since that was being found for him. What he needed to know, now, was whether the admiral was going across to America, and whether that meant Heather and her people were going there, too.

  He smiled. He liked the idea of visiting the United States.

  Chapter 13 - The Brother

  18th November, Holyhead, Anglesey, Day 250

  Chester stood by the kitchen-island, his eyes on the kettle, his ears on the council meeting Bill Wright was trying to keep in check. Most of the debate was a three-way argument between Heather Jones, Leo Fenwick, and Dr Knight. Mary O’Leary sat at the head of the table, Bill next to her, Kim on a chair behind.

  “Of course we should tell everyone,” Leo Fenwick said. “The story of these children in the Tower, of the Duponts, of Leon, it’s something positive and heaven knows, we’ve scant little of that.”

  “We sh
ouldn’t say anything until we’re certain what the story is,” Heather said.

  “Then get on that sat-phone and ask the child if her grandparents are called Dupont,” Fenwick said.

  “It wouldn’t be fair,” Heather said. The patience in her voice was beginning to ebb.

  “Mrs O’Leary,” Fenwick said. “I appeal to your better judgement.”

  “Appeal away, Leo, but I agree with Heather,” Mary said. “I agree with you, too,” she added. “This is wondrous news, and it’s the kind that might bring people together. Let’s not waste it now.”

  Bill had given Chester a run-through of the council and its membership the previous evening. What Bill hadn’t said, but which was obvious to Chester, was that there were two councils: the public one, selected during the chaotic election, and the shadow leadership group, ostensibly and officially employed as public servants. Dr Knight might have been elected to the cabinet to represent public health, but it was the admiral who was the doctor-in-charge. Mary ran things, but Bill organised them. Leo Fenwick might call for a broadcast to be made, but it was Kim who’d arranged for the antennas to be built, the transmitters and other equipment to be found.

  “Once Leon arrives in London,” Mary said, “perhaps this is something that could go out on the radio. And that’s your area, Leo. How are they progressing?”

  Fenwick picked up a page of notes that Chester had seen Kim write that morning. In fairness to the man, he only glanced at it briefly before speaking.

  “The antennas are ready,” Fenwick said. “All that’s needed is to ship them to Belfast, Elysium, and Svalbard.”

  Bill coughed.

  “Ah, yes,” Mary said. “Dr Knight, what was the final decision on Svalbard?”

  “The admiral and I have discussed it,” Dr Knight said. “The calorie cost in the Arctic is just too high. We can’t afford to resupply the people there.”

  “The reason I first brought it up is that we need more people in Svalbard, not less,” Fenwick said. “You are proposing to leave the fuel unguarded.”