48

“Helicopter,” Sean said simply, pointing out of Jas’s bedroom window, then turning and heading for the door.

Jas looked up. He was right. There, crawling across a dull sky peppered with gray and white clouds, was the helicopter again. He was sure it was the same one they’d seen previously. He scanned the skies behind it, desperately looking for the plane which had followed every time they’d seen it yesterday, hoping he’d see it again and disprove his evacuation theory. He stared up into the sky for what felt like forever but it wasn’t there. His heart sank. He was certain that meant they were running out of time.

“Aren’t you coming down?” Harte asked. Sean had already disappeared. Jas shook his head and remained sitting on the end of his bed, cradling a drink in his hands.

“No point,” he replied sadly. “I can stay up here and watch them fly away, no need to waste energy running downstairs to do it. Anyway,” he said, taking another swig of his drink, “they’ll be back later.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“And?”

Jas wearily got up and walked over to the window just in time to see the helicopter bank left before completely disappearing from view. “And the fact that the plane hasn’t come back this time tells me I’m probably right. First time it flew over yesterday it went from east to west, then it came back, then it did the same again. I said from the start I thought these people were packing up and moving out. Maybe two plane loads was enough to get them all away, and the fact they made so many trips so quickly yesterday kind of proves the point. I think the helicopter’s back to mop up anyone or anything they left behind.”

“So what are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is I think this might be the last time they’ll pass by. Another couple of flights at most, but I think this is it. They’ll fly back when they’ve done what they need to do and we won’t see them again.”

“You might be wrong.”

“I hope I am.”

Harte paused for a moment to consider the other man’s logic. His explanation seemed feasible. “So do you think it was the military or the government?”

“No idea. Probably neither. I doubt there’s anything like that left anywhere. No, I just think it’s a bunch of lucky fuckers who’ve struck gold. They’ve got someone who can fly so now they’re off to find somewhere where there are no bodies, no germs, and no arseholes like Webb and Martin.”

“I get the idea.”

Jas finished his can of beer and leaned against the window. Martin, Ginnie, and the others were outside now, standing around their pathetic message on the lawn, trying not to feel completely fucking useless. He turned his attention to the ever-growing crowd of bodies in the field over the road. Even now, even after they’d all done as they’d agreed and kept quiet since Sean and Webb had returned yesterday evening, still more of them were continuing to drag themselves back from the golf course. There had to be almost a thousand there now, maybe double that number, and they showed no signs of reducing. Who was to say the whole damn lot weren’t about to turn tail and start moving away from the music in some kind of bizarre slow-motion stampede? A few hundred breaking away weren’t a massive concern, but a few thousand … now that was a different matter.

“We need to do something,” he announced, the tone of his voice suddenly more positive and definite. “Sitting here and doing nothing isn’t an option anymore—we’ve tried that and it hasn’t worked. We’ve got to get that helicopter to see us next time because it might be our last chance.”

“Let’s be realistic about this for a second. Even if they do spot us, are they going to risk landing here?”

“Who knows? There’s enough space, but you’re right. Maybe we need to think about getting away altogether? We’re no better off here than we were at the flats. Exactly the same bloody problems, in fact—there are crowds of bodies getting closer and one of us is sick.”

“But we’ve isolated Driver.”

“Good. That lazy bastard did nothing for me while he was fit and well, I’ll be damned if he’s going to kill me with his bloody germs now he’s sick.”

“We don’t know if he’s got the same thing yet. It might not be—”

Jas sighed. “Come on, don’t be soft. Of course it’s the same thing.”

Harte leaned back against the wall so he didn’t have to look out at the dead. “So now we’ve got all the usual questions to answer. How do we do it? How do we get away and where would we go?”

“If it comes to it we could just drive out of here the same way we came in,” Jas suggested. “And what about that exhibition center everyone was banging on about before we got here? Sounded like a pretty good place to aim for to me.”

“Still don’t know how you reckon you’ll get the helicopter to see us.”

“Fire!” he answered simply.

“What? You thinking of setting fire to the hotel?”

“No, you idiot, there’s no point doing that. I think we need to get out there and cause a bit of carnage in the fields. We need to start a few fires, maybe an explosion or two. Think about it. It’ll take the pressure off this place again, because those dumb dead fuckers will head for the fire, not the hotel. And if the helicopter pilot does come back, when he sees three or four decent-sized fires in close proximity to each other but out in the middle of nowhere, he’ll have to realize that there are people down here. If he looks hard enough, that’ll be when he spots their message on the lawn.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then we get in the bus and the van and we take advantage of the fact that the bodies are distracted to get the fuck out of here.”

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