Surviving The Evacuation (Book 10): The Last Candidate Read online

  As Sholto went to find a computer into which he could plug the hard drive, Kim and I went looking for Annette and Daisy. Both were in the icebreaker’s command centre, with the admiral, a radio-operator, and an older, male officer, John Whitley. He was helping Daisy colour in a picture, a wistful look on his face. As Daisy saw us enter, she jumped down from her seat and ran over to Kim. Whitley’s face dropped, as the moment in which he could imagine Daisy as his own daughter vanished.

  “Careful,” Kim said. “I’m not clean.”

  Daisy made a point of holding her nose. Then she laughed. It was a wonderful sound that did more to dispel my gloomy mood than all the lights on all the screens in the room.

  “How’s your day been?” I asked Annette.

  “Busy,” she said. Indicating the book in front of her. Where Daisy had been colouring, Annette had been learning.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Distances,” Annette said. “By sea. You know, because if you travelled in a perfectly straight line you’d sail straight into space. You have to do tangents, and remember the horizon. It’s tricky,” she added. “But… good.”

  I was impressed.

  “Did you get the hard drive?” Admiral Gunderson asked.

  “We did,” Kim said. “Sholto’s gone to plug it in. There’re more zombies about than we saw last week, but otherwise not much else to report.”

  She didn’t mention the bodies on Shore Road or in the church, and I decided not to, either. Not in front of the girls. Nor in front of Whitley, or anyone else who didn’t need to know.

  I found my gaze going to the large screen on the forward bulkhead. There were other, smaller screens on either side, and a few gaps where screens had been destroyed during the battle to reclaim the ship from the undead. Two of the smaller screens displayed slightly grainy images I couldn’t quite make out. The image in the large, central screen was clear enough. It was the top-down view from a satellite.

  “Are those the fuel tankers?” I asked.

  “Yep,” Annette said. “Each can contain up to twenty-two thousand litres of fuel.”

  “And that is?” the admiral prompted.

  Annette’s face crinkled as she tried to remember.

  “Rule of fingers, remember?” Whitley whispered. “Divide it by four.”

  “Oh, yeah. About five thousand and something,” Annette said. “Which is different from normal gallons. I don’t see why we can’t just use litres.”

  “Intransigent parochialism,” the admiral said.

  “What’s that?” Annette asked.

  “Politics,” I said. “Are all those tankers full?”

  “Sadly, no,” the admiral said. “They’ve marked four that are at least half full. They contain between… Annette?”

  “Oh, right. Ten thousand to fourteen thousand litres, and I’m not converting it,” she added.

  “They gave it a sniff-test, and think it’s aviation fuel,” the admiral said. “They’ll have to analyse it for impurities tonight. All being well, it’s more than enough.”

  “What about the runway?” Kim asked.

  “It’s a mess,” Annette said. “Mr Higson wasn’t happy. You should have heard what he called it! But he thinks it’ll be okay. He was happy with the plane, but he’s got to go back tomorrow to check out the… the wiring or something.”

  “Avionics,” the admiral said. “But yes, all is on schedule.”

  “Then we’ll leave you to your lessons, and go and clean up,” Kim said. Annette’s face fell as any hope of being saved from the rest of her mathematics vanished. Whitley’s face lit up, though, at a few more stolen minutes in his own personal fantasy.

  Kim and I had a cabin all to ourselves, next to the one that Daisy shared with Annette. Our room even had an en-suite cubicle. As Kim showered, endeavouring to use up the ship’s entire stock of hot water, I made do with the sink and a change of clothes. Leaving her filling the cabin with steam, I went to the medical bay. My first impression, on my first visit to Kallie after her first proper operation, was that it was better equipped than the hospital in Holyhead. That impression had been confirmed by the admiral, but it made sense. The ship had originally been a rescue and support vessel deployed in the Arctic. For sailors, explorers, and those foolhardy enough to venture above the sixty-sixth parallel, the ship represented the difference between certain death and possible salvation.

  Siobhan was standing by the closed door to Kallie’s room. Her eyes were half closed. They opened as I approached.

  “Kallie’s asleep,” Siobhan said.

  “She’s well?” I asked.

  “I think so. Getting better. She’ll be fine, in time.”

  “And how are you?” I asked.

  Siobhan looked up and down the narrow corridor. “Adjusting,” she said. “Colm’s managing it better than I am.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Over on the John Cabot with Dean, Lena, and the children. They’re sorting through the containers, helping catalogue what might be useful. Well, no, what they’re really doing is getting some fresh air. It wasn’t helping them being stuck in that small cabin with Kallie, and it wasn’t helping her either. Are you going ashore today?”

  “We’ve been,” I said.

  “Already? What time is it?”

  “About three,” I said.

  “I lost track,” she said. “Um…” She gave the corridor another look up and down. “The admiral spoke to me,” she said, her voice lower than before. “She asked if we wanted to go to Elysium.”

  “Who’s we?” I asked.

  “Me, Colm, the kids,” Siobhan said. “She meant did we want to stay in Ireland. To build our lives here rather than on Anglesey.”

  “Oh. Right.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. “When was this?”

  “Today. An hour ago. No, probably longer ago than that. It was after Colm and the others left.”

  “Right. Okay. Did she say anything else?”

  “Just that they’d cleared it of zombies. The solar panels work, and they’ll have the wind turbines online by the end of the week. By then, the walls will be repaired. I think she’s planning to move there herself.”

  “Right.” Again, I was at a loss. “What did you say?”

  “That wherever we go, we’d need to know it was properly safe,” Siobhan said. “That we’d spent the last seven months going from one apparently safe refuge to another only to flee each one in turn. You didn’t know about this, did you? I wondered, because you mentioned something about setting up refuges in Ireland. I thought this might be part of your plan, but it’s not, is it?”

  “No,” I said. “This is nothing to do with me. I better go and have a word with her.”

  The admiral was still in the command centre, as were Annette and Daisy.

  “We’re still waiting for them to finish the test,” Annette said. “One of the privates dropped a sample.” She grinned. “Mr Higson knows some really cool swearwords!”

  “I’m sure you’ll teach me them later, but I need to have a word with the admiral. About Elysium,” I said.

  “Let’s take a walk,” the admiral said.

  We went to her cabin. It was smaller than I was expecting. Neater, too, completely absent of any homely touch. I wondered whether her personal belongings were still on the Harper’s Ferry, or whether she was keeping them in store because she didn’t plan to be on this ship for long.

  “Well, talk away,” the admiral said, sitting down at the desk that took up most of the room in the chamber.

  “You’re claiming Elysium?” I asked, sitting in the solitary chair opposite her.

  “I wouldn’t use that word,” she said.

  “It’s a good spot,” I said. “You’ve got farmland inside the walls, an electricity supply, and a deep harbour at Kenmare Bay. I assume you plan to seal the peninsula? Yes it might be a good spot. Not as secure as an island, but there isn’t much choice, is there?”

  She just shrugged.

&n
bsp; “What about America? Aren’t you planning to return there?” I asked.

  “I am, but we don’t know what we’ll find,” she said. “We need a safe harbour. It’s possible that we’ll only need it for a few months.”

  “But you might need it forever. Anglesey won’t do?”

  She tapped her fingers on the desk. I thought she was going to evade the question. I was wrong.

  “Markus will win,” she said. “He has bribed and bought his way to being the front-runner in what is almost a one-horse race.”

  “Can you prove that?”

  “Prove it to whom?” she asked. “Yes, I’m certain that he’s paid people off, that he’s buying support with beer, and more with the promise of whisky tomorrow, but who is to say this invalidates his candidacy? To whom would you demand that he be removed from the race? Whose authority would he respect? The court in which we tried Rachel for Paul’s death does not have the weight of precedent behind it. Considering what happened to Donnie, Mary O’Leary would be seen as a rival acting out of bitter revenge. If an attempt is made to remove Markus from the race, he will cry foul and engineer a riot. No, Markus will win, and when he does, your society will crumble. It won’t happen overnight, but as his impossible promises remain unfulfilled, as conditions steadily worsen, people will leave. News of the undead dying will only hasten their departure. The entire world lies before us all. It will belong to whoever goes out and claims it, but it is a large planet. There is enough for each of us to have all that we wish.”

  “Kim and I were talking about that very same thing,” I said. “That’s why we need Anglesey. If we’re thinking about the future, the long future, then we need a place for knowledge and technology to be remembered and taught. A place that can become a bastion against the coming darkness.”

  “I agree,” she said. “But that won’t be Anglesey.”

  “I doubt it’ll be a fifty-acre farm on the southwestern tip of Ireland,” I said.

  “Probably not,” the admiral said. “It will be sufficient for now. I will reassess our plans after we’ve reconnoitred the American East Coast.”

  “How much time and effort will that waste?” I asked. “How much will be lost because of it? If you feel so strongly about it, why not take part in the election? Why not try to stop Markus?”

  “And take power by force? That’s what it would come down to. Yes, I could do it, but it wouldn’t be a riot, it would be a coup, and not a bloodless one. People would die. Good people.”

  “Your people.”

  “Yours, too,” she said, “and it wouldn’t stop the exodus, but only hasten it. No, this way is better. There is no need for bloodshed. There is no need for violence.”

  “I see.” I stood. “Well?”

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you going to invite us to come with you?” I asked.

  She smiled. “There’s no need,” she said. “I’ve known people like you all my life, the restless, questing sort who can never be still. No, I don’t need to offer you an invitation. You’ll come with us. You won’t be able to stop yourselves.”

  In that, she was probably correct.

  “How many people do you plan to take to Elysium?” I asked.

  “I think there are some details that are best not discussed,” she said.

  “It’s more than just this ship and your crew?” I asked. “Of course it is. It’s Svalbard as well, isn’t it? That’s the price you paid for this icebreaker. They gave it to you in exchange for you protecting their sovereignty, if you can call it that. Which means you’ve struck a deal for the oil?”

  “What use do you have for the oil on Anglesey?” she asked.

  It was a good point, one that I’d discussed with George and Mary. They were quite happy to let the admiral have Svalbard’s oil, and equally happy for the admiral to use it to seek out survivors across the world. Giving it to her was very different to her taking it, however, particularly when those survivors wouldn’t ultimately be brought to Anglesey.

  “So Markus gets into power,” I said. “Whatever he plans, he no longer has the oil from Svalbard. I can’t imagine he’ll be happy with that. What if he tries to take it?”

  “With whom? We’re rested and re-supplied, and we will have the oil.”

  “There’s the Vehement,” I said. “Mister Mills’s submarine still has its Trident missiles.”

  “Captain Mills won’t launch them,” she said.

  “Of course he won’t,” I said. “But what if Markus gets hold of the keys?”

  “He won’t,” the admiral said with absolute certainty.

  “You’ve spoken to Mister Mills?”

  “Like I said, I don’t think it’s wise to discuss the details,” she said.

  “Mills is meant to be standing in the election, running for one of the cabinet posts,” I said. “If Markus wins, and the first thing that Mister Mills does is up and leave with you, that’ll make the whole system collapse.”

  The admiral shrugged. “It might. It might not. My first priority has to be to the future of our species, my second to those who sail with me. In this case, I think both priorities are best served by removing myself from Anglesey along with any future threats.”

  “I… I see.” There was no point debating it with her, not then, not there. I left her cabin and went back to our room.

  “Should we be surprised?” Kim asked, after I’d told her. “Though I suppose my first question should be whether you think this cabin is bugged?”

  I hadn’t considered that. I looked around the suddenly small-seeming space.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, “and I don’t think it would matter if it was. It’s not like she can’t guess what we’d say.”

  “Then stop pacing and sit down,” Kim said patting the bunk next to her. “It’s hurting my neck having to keep craning up at you.”

  The bunk itself was little more than a metal tray affixed to the wall. The mattress, like most of the hard-to-clean soft furnishings in the ship, had been removed. The squares of foam padding that replaced it looked like they’d been cut out of car seats. I sat.

  “It’s weird,” Kim said. “Essentially the admiral is offering us what I almost want. My daydream could become a reality. We’d get to see the world. What I really want is to see something other than the same stretch of farmland. I was wondering whether my wanderlust is a desire to escape Britain and, in doing so, escape the past.”

  “Oh?” I asked, somewhat nonplussed.

  “Our lives are going to be hard, and they’ll be short. Because of the radiation, none of us know how short they’ll be. Add that to a distinct lack of happy memories associated with Britain, and wanting to get away is natural, right?”

  After a moment, I realised she was genuinely asking. “I suppose so,” I said. “You know who’d be the one to ask?”

  “Dr Umbert? I don’t think so. I think this is a case where the cause doesn’t matter so much as the effect. The admiral has persuaded Mister Mills to throw his lot in with her?”

  “From the sound of it,” I said.

  “How many others will go with her?”

  “Not Heather Jones,” I said. “She fought her way back to Anglesey, and fought the undead to liberate her home. No, she’ll stay on the island.”

  “Francois will go to Paris,” Kim said. “I don’t know whether he’ll take anyone else with him, or where he’ll go after that, but that’s what he was talking about on our trip to Svalbard. If Leon goes with him, so will the rest of their Special Forces, and the new recruits and hangers-on that they’ve acquired. That’ll include Dr Knight, and anyone she’s gathered under her wing. Sophia and Miguel might re-cross the Atlantic, they might not, but they won’t stay on Anglesey. George and Mary, they’re key. If they stay, others might do the same, but I think… yes, I think Mary will do what’s best for Donnie. From what Sholto said, it sounds like Markus tried to kill him to stop him being a candidate, so… well, they’ll leave, won’t they?”

&
nbsp; “Maybe. Possibly. Probably.”

  “The people who’ll leave, they’re the most capable,” Kim said. “They’re the people who’ve fought and struggled these last few months. I’m sure that they’ll survive. The question is whether, without them, the people left on Anglesey can?”

  “The more pressing question is whether we should go with them,” I said.

  “Is that really a question? We’ll go with the admiral. Or, we’ll follow George and Mary. It’s the children, Bill. Annette… I didn’t realise, but she seems happier on a ship than on shore. I wonder… maybe it’s for the same reason I prefer it, she knows the undead can’t get her. No, if they’re abandoning Anglesey, we’ll be on the first ship to sail far, far away. Hmm. So Mister Mills is leaving?”

  “I think so.”

  “I mean, his crew as well?” she asked. “The engineers from the Vehement keep the nuclear power station running. If they leave, presumably they’ll shut the power plant down first.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. So there’ll be no more electricity. Markus will like that less than losing access to the ship oil.”

  “That’s something to double-check,” Kim said. “It’s one thing abandoning Anglesey, it’s another leaving them to die.”

  “Your mind’s made up?” I asked.

  “If it all comes to pass as the admiral described,” Kim said. “If she, and George, Mary, Mister Mills, and everyone else are leaving, then yes, so are we. I’m deciding for all of us. Just imagine what Anglesey would be like? No electricity, no easy escape except by sailboat. I feel sorry for Heather Jones, Lorraine, and all the others who might stay but, I wonder…”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Well, I wonder if the admiral has a deeper plan. She’s rigged it so that Anglesey is effectively being left to Markus and Heather Jones. Forget the election, the result of that won’t matter in the slightest, but if Markus wants to hold onto power, he’ll have to launch some kind of military expedition to Elysium.”

  “I can’t see Heather Jones going along with that,” I said.

  “Exactly. Elysium isn’t far from Anglesey. Markus could reach it in a sailing ship, and if the power plant has been shut down, the oil supply cut off, presumably the ammunition taken as well as a good portion of the food stores, then he’d have to retaliate or hand power to Jones. After the admiral and her crew of professional, military sailors has sunk Markus’s expeditionary force of sailboats, the admiral will have to retaliate. Basically, I’m wondering if that’s what she’s setting up. She’s arranging it so that Heather Jones will seize power on Anglesey, supported by the American soldiers and sailors. She said she didn’t want to tell you all her plans? I bet this is part of it.”