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  “There are no intact airports south of Tromso or north of Addis Ababa,” Locke said. “That’s what you wrote in your journal, Mr Wright. I read it,” she added. “I was curious about the competition.”

  “Where can we land, Locke,” Bill asked.

  “I was going to ask you that,” she said. “Tromso is in the north, Addis is in the south. You didn’t mention east or west.”

  “If I knew—” he began, and stopped. “You must have had a plan if Kempton had to escape by plane. You had so many other plans, so where are the runways?”

  “I have no idea,” Locke said. “We had a ship. That was our plan. We had bunkers to survive the immediate disaster, a ship to survive the next year, and underground storehouses to enable us to rebuild. Do we have parachutes?”

  There wasn’t time to argue with her. “If anyone thinks of something, feel free to share it,” Bill said. He went back to the cockpit.

  “Anything?” Higson asked.

  “No. It’ll have to be a field,” Bill said. “And the first likely-looking one we spot from up here. The major roads were covered in fencing for the evacuation, so they’re out, too. What about the sea?” Bill asked. “Or the English Channel. Can you land on water?”

  “Depends on how rough it is,” Higson said. “I might be able to land, but we’d have to get out pretty quick, and we don’t have any life rafts.”

  “Leon’s off the south coast. He could collect us.”

  “He’d have to find us first,” Higson said. “The sea’s a big place. I’d say you should keep your eyes peeled for a flat bit of grass.”

  “Right. And I better call Angle— I mean, I’ll call Belfast.”

  He took out the sat-phone.

  Sholto answered almost immediately. “Are you in the air?” he asked.

  “Something’s wrong with the plane,” Bill said. “We can’t turn.”

  “Why not?” Sholto asked.

  “Don’t know. And we can’t really check until we land,” Bill said. “And we can’t do that in Belfast. Right now, we’re heading towards London, then the coast between Folkestone and Hastings. Depending where we land, we’ll either head towards the Thames, or towards the coast, whichever is closer. Tell the people in London, and then tell Leon. We might need their help.”

  Part 5

  The Battle for Dundalk

  21st - 23rd November

  Ireland

  Chapter 20 - I Spy

  21st November, The Irish Sea, Day 253

  Kim tapped her fingers against the rail. The sky over the Irish Sea was dark, the wind was strong, and the ship was slow. Kim’s gaze was fixed on the horizon, though it hadn’t changed since they’d left Anglesey.

  “I spy with—” Vasco Fonseca began.

  “Please don’t say something beginning with S,” Kim said. “It was bad enough when Daisy was here. I mean, it has to be S, that’s all there is. It’s either sea, ship, or sky. Daisy might like going round and round, repeating the same words, but there has to be a better way for us to pass the time.”

  “I was going to say C,” Fonseca said.

  “Clouds?” Mary asked. “Computer? Or console?”

  “No,” Fonseca said. “Céu. That’s Portuguese for sky.”

  “Well, we needed a new game, and I always regretted not learning another language,” Kim said. “Ceu?”

  “No, Céu,” Fonseca said.

  “Céu?” Kim said.

  “That’s it,” Fonseca said.

  Kim sighed. It was boredom that had led Annette to take Daisy in search of Mirabelle. The woman had a tablet on which was stored every episode of a Japanese cartoon that Kim didn’t begin to follow. Since there were no subtitles, she wasn’t sure Annette did, either, but Daisy had taken a liking to it. While the girls were bored, she was agitated. It was the waiting, knowing the hard task that awaited them in Belfast meant she couldn’t relax and enjoy this last few hours of calm.

  “How long before we make our turn?” she asked.

  “Another forty minutes,” Vasco said. He looked at the control panel. “Forty-seven.”

  “Right.”

  The nametape on the man’s uniform read Smith, but the sailor who’d once owned it had died in Cape Verde. That had been Vasco Fonseca’s home, and where he’d joined the admiral’s troops. Kim hadn’t asked why he’d not taken Smith’s name off the jacket. She could guess the answer. It would be because it was kept as a reminder of a sacrifice, and of all those others who’d died.

  The door opened. It was the soldier, Bran.

  “All’s quiet on deck,” he said. “Calm below decks, too.”

  “And it’s the same here,” Mary said. She smiled, happily. “I never thought I’d enjoy boredom so much.”

  “There’s no fighting? No arguing?” Kim asked.

  “None,” Bran said. “Everyone’s simply waiting to disembark. Well, partly waiting, partly queuing for the toilets. There aren’t enough.”

  “It’s a big, wide sea,” Vasco said.

  “They had electric lights this morning,” Bran said. “It might be too soon to ask them to forgo porcelain. Well, stainless steel. I’ll continue my rounds.” He left, and Kim turned her eyes back to the empty sea.

  There were fourteen hundred and twenty-nine souls on their ship. Most were passengers, as the Canadian grain carrier needed few crew. Even Vasco was surplus to requirements. The course had been plotted into the computer, and the ship was now piloting itself. Vasco’s only job was to watch the screen and make sure it matched the times, speed, and heading written on the sheet of paper stuck to the console’s side. The speed didn’t. Rather, it didn’t match what they should theoretically be making. Quite why they were so slow was a task for Commander Crawley and his group of mixed-nationality engineers, but it was unlikely they’d find the answer before they reached Belfast.

  Kim replayed that thought. Could anyone be said to have a nationality anymore? That was a good topic for the radio station, and that was going to be her first task when they got to Belfast. The parts for the antenna were packed in crates now strapped to the deck. She would build the antenna on the ship itself, powering it from the ship’s battery. The broadcast would help foster a sense of togetherness. There was no easy way of getting people involved in the decision making process, but they could at least be kept informed of it. At the same time, it would be a signal that though they’d left Anglesey and the power station behind, they weren’t abandoning all technology.

  “I’m surprised people are so calm,” Kim said.

  “I’m not,” Mary said. “Why should people riot? We all knew this day was coming. Everyone has had the time to make their peace with it, or to set out on their own. The day just came sooner than we’d hoped. Still, perhaps its better now than in the darkest depths of winter.”

  Because Kim had been expecting trouble, she’d made sure that Markus and his few remaining followers weren’t on the same ship as her and the girls. Leo Fenwick had volunteered to watch the man, though Kim had asked Bran to allocate a few of his more trusted personnel to add their eyes to the task. The only downside was that meant hers had been the last ship to leave Anglesey. Factoring in the engine trouble, they were unlikely to reach Belfast before dark. They’d have to anchor offshore over night, leaving their final approach until the morning. Trouble might come then. But maybe it wouldn’t.

  “Bill will be taking off in a moment,” Mary said. “Do you want to go out onto the deck to watch for the plane?”

  “No. No, I don’t think so,” Kim said.

  “There’s an incoming call, ma’am,” Vasco Fonseca said.

  “Ah, it’ll be Thaddeus,” Mary said. “He’ll be calling to say Bill’s left Anglesey. You take it, dear.”

  Vasco handed Kim the phone.

  “Kim? It’s Sholto. I’ve spoken to Bill. There’s a problem with the plane. It can’t turn.”

  “What do you mean it can’t turn?” she asked.

  “Just what I say, they can’t turn
the plane,” Sholto said. “It was on the runway, pointing southeast, and that’s the direction they’re flying. Right now, they’re approaching London.”

  “London? So… so are they going to land there?” she asked weakly.

  “They’re flying low, looking for a field, or stretch of road,” Sholto said. “I’ve called Nilda in London, and Leon who’s at sea. One way or another, a search party is already on its way.”

  “A search party? Of course. Right. Yes. I… I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do here?”

  “Nothing, but I wanted to let you know.”

  “Right. Thank you. Well… call back if there’s any news.” She ended the call.

  “What is it, dear?” Mary asked.

  “The plane can’t turn,” Kim said. “They don’t know why. They’re heading southeast and they’ll have to… to crash-land wherever they see a field.”

  She looked ahead, towards the horizon. There was no sign of the other two ships.

  “Bill will be fine,” Mary said. “They all will. Didn’t Mr Higson say that plane was designed for rough landings?”

  “But then it’ll be days of walking, in an undead countryside, and I doubt Bill packed for that.”

  “He managed well enough in England before,” Mary said. “In Ireland, too. He’s with Chester now, not to mention the Marines, and Locke. By all accounts, she survived in Birmingham well enough. No, they’ll be fine.”

  If they survived the crash, Kim thought. She didn’t say it aloud. Instead she said “Not a word to anyone else. Annette doesn’t need to know. Not yet.”

  Was Locke responsible? There was no reason to think it was sabotage except that she couldn’t recall ever having read of something like that happening before the outbreak. She pushed the thought away. Paranoia wasn’t going to help. Her eyes went to the phone. Would they have landed yet? She forced her gaze back to the horizon.

  “It’s the next crisis,” Mary said. “And it’s come a little sooner than we’d like, but it is an external crisis. It will take minds away from Belfast. We can work with that over the next week. We can make it work for us. That is the secret to keeping calm in a classroom, and there’s little difference between a school and our little band.”

  “Make it work, right,” Kim said distractedly.

  “We’re about to begin our turn, ma’am,” Fonseca said.

  “Do you need to get Commander Crawley?” Mary asked.

  “I don’t need to do a thing,” the sailor said, gesturing at the console. “It’s all in the computer. I’m just a glorified lookout. Hmm.”

  “What?”

  Vasco tapped at the glass, frowned, turned to the sheet of paper. With one finger following the copperplate writing, the other slowly pecked at the dusty keyboard below the screen.

  “What is it?” Mary asked.

  “I’m… I’m not sure,” Fonseca said. “I think it’s the console. Except… it can’t just be the console. We’re not turning, are we?”

  “The ship won’t turn?” Kim asked. Her blood turned to ice.

  “The screen’s frozen,” Fonseca said. “I need to get the commander.”

  There were a tense few minutes while they waited for Commander Crawley. Kim stared at the horizon, her thoughts on the obvious conclusion.

  When Crawley arrived, he took one look at the console, and shrugged.

  “I’m an engineer for a submarine, not a coder.”

  “Get Mirabelle,” Kim said. “Her, Dee-Dee, and Ken. If this is a software issue, they’ll know how to fix it.”

  Crawley looked at her dubiously.

  “Do it,” Mary said. “And find a way to turn the ship.”

  Kim looked at the people gathered on deck. There were only a few hundred, standing among the crates containing the parts for the radio antenna. The rest were still below, huddled in the vast space that had once been full of grain. As soon as she spoke, word of what had happened would be relayed down to them.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Kim whispered to Annette. She already regretted having her bring Daisy onto the deck. It had been a snap decision, an idea that the sight of the girls might calm the mob where the sight of armed sailors would only agitate them. It wasn’t a mob, though, not yet.

  “Please,” Kim called out, her voice distorted by the megaphone. “Please. Thank you. There is something wrong with the ship’s navigational software. It’s corrupted. The ship can’t turn.”

  There was a babble of in-drawn breath, a hiss of surprise, a muttering of disbelief that quietened down before Kim had to ask for silence.

  “That’s the bad news,” she continued. “The good news is that we can stop the ship. The commander is still looking into the failure. Hopefully we can fix it. If we can’t, we’ll stop and drop anchor when we get to shallower waters, somewhere close to Dundalk.”

  “What about the other two ships?” a woman called out.

  “They’re fine,” Kim said. “And approaching Belfast.”

  “I bet it was someone on one of them,” the woman said.

  “Maybe. Possibly,” Kim said. She hesitated, but everyone would learn the truth sooner or later. Better it wasn’t hidden from them. No, if they were going to blame someone, then better it was someone far away. She looked at Annette, and lowered the megaphone. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, then raised the megaphone again. “Yes. Yes, this probably was sabotage. Please, please!” she added as the babble rose to a roar “There’s something else. Please. Thank you. It’s the plane. Essentially, it couldn’t turn, either. It’s going to… By now it’s crash-landed somewhere near London. That’s two almost identical mechanical failures in the same day, and less than twenty-four hours after we discovered something wrong with the water-treatment plant. It was that discovery which precipitated our swift departure. Yes, this was sabotage, clearly done by someone not on this ship, but there’s nothing we can do about it. The reckoning will come. For now, we need to prepare for a long night aboard.”

  There wasn’t a cheer, but she would have been surprised if there was. There wasn’t a roar of disapproval, either. There was anger, but it didn’t seem directed at her.

  “Bill’s crashed?” Annette asked.

  “Da?” Daisy asked.

  “He’s fine,” Kim said. And she hoped he was. In the confusion of the past hour, she’d not thought to ask Sholto. “He’s fine. And we will be, too. Take Daisy to the control room. I’ll be up in a moment.”

  She followed the girls through the door. Bran, Donnie, and Rahinder were waiting just inside the door. All were armed.

  “Keep an eye on Commander Crawley,” she said. “I don’t think that the saboteur is on the ship, but keep an eye, just in case.”

  Chapter 21 - Ballast

  The Irish Sea

  “Leon’s going to collect Bill?” Kim asked.

  “That’s right,” Sholto said. “They’re all okay. Bill’s going to be fine.”

  “That’s something,” Kim said.

  “The New World is just leaving the Shannon Estuary,” Sholto said. “It should be with you in between thirty-six and forty-eight hours. Probably closer to the former. The Amundsen will leave Svalbard at first light. Sophia Augusto is nearing the Isle of Man. She can be there in a few hours.”

  “No,” Kim said. “She needs to get Chief Watts and his people. We’ll need them more than…” She hesitated, conscious that Annette was listening. “We’ll need the engineers if we want to get another power station back online. Sophia goes to collect him as planned.”

  “Okay,” Sholto said. “Are you sure you don’t want Heather Jones to turn her people around?”

  “No, I—” Kim stopped, and looked over at Mary. By rights, she should be making the decision, but democracy was always Bill’s plan, not hers. Hers was keeping the girls safe, and her gut told her that having hundreds of small sailing boats heading up the coast wouldn’t help. “No, it’s too dangerous. We’d risk losing some boats, and besides, they wouldn’t get here
before The New World.”

  “Probably not,” Sholto said. “The helicopter is on stand-by, so we can fly in supplies or air-lift out the sick.”

  “Okay. Fine. Good.” Kim looked around the control room again. “Then everything’s being done that can be done. Good.” She tried to imbue the words with confidence, more for Annette and Daisy’s sake than her own. “Tell Bill we love him, and we’ll see him soon.”

  “Will do,” Sholto said.

  She ended the call.

  “Thirty-six hours,” Mary said. “I think we can manage a night aboard the ship.”

  Again, Kim glanced at Annette. She didn’t want to send the girl away. Equally, she wanted to talk openly and honestly. Perhaps everyone deserved the truth, even the children. She gave Annette a wan smile. “It will be longer than that,” she said. “Dusk is only a couple of hours away. Even if The New World travels through the night, we won’t be able to off-load until daylight, and I don’t have a clue how we’ll manage it. We’ve no boats or life-rafts, and it’s not as if we can bring the ships close and jump from one to the other.”

  “One problem at a time,” Mary said. “And that’s a problem we can leave to the professional sea-farers.”

  Kim didn’t like that, though Mary was right. It was the feeling of utter helplessness, a feeling she’d not felt since the tunnel in Wales, when the horde had been trampling overhead.

  The cabin door opened. Vasco Fonseca came in.

  “What?” Kim asked, guessing by his expression there was something wrong.

  The sailor looked to Mary, then to the two children.

  “There’s no point in secrets,” Mary said.

  “The gauge on the aft ballast tank is broken,” Vasco said. “It’s a sea-water tank, and we know there’s some water in there, but it can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Do you mean someone smashed it?” Annette asked.

  “No. They disconnected it,” Vasco said. “There’s no way that was an accident.”

  “And what does this mean?” Mary asked.