World War Moo (39 page)

“They died saving the world,” Ruan said. “That's not a bad way to go out.”

“Shame we couldn't save ourselves,” Mick said.

“Don't be too sure about that,” said Scholzy, who was walking along the dock toward them. “What happened to you two up on the hill?”

Mick looked at Geldof and raised an eyebrow. “We had our own fight. Vicious beasts, they were. Geldof took care of them.”

“Well, consider that your last engagement. I've found a boat. A nice little high-speed commando inflatable with muffled engines.”

“Do you really think you can make it out? Everybody else who tried got blown to bits,” Geldof said.

“Everybody else isn't me. I'm like a ninja ghost. We can cling to the coast and head south. Once it's dark, we'll nip across the English Channel. We'll be having croissants, coffee, and Gauloises for breakfast in no time.”

“Presuming you make it past the ships, how are you going to land in France? They've got machine gun posts coming out the wazoo along the coast.”

“This is a naval base, isn't it? And what do you think they keep in naval bases?”

“Navels?” Scott said.

Geldof turned on him. “Now's not really the time for jokes, is it? Our friends are dead, and we're probably going to be clobbered by a very large bomb any minute.”

Scott sucked on the joint and looked shamefaced.

“I beg to differ,” Mick said. There were streaks on his face that looked suspiciously like tear tracks. “Now's exactly the time for jokes, otherwise we'll bloody top ourselves. What did you find, Scholzy?”

“Scuba gear. We'll dump the boat a mile offshore and then swim. Except we won't try for the coast. We'll go right up the Seine at Le Havre and come out of the water a good few miles upstream.”

“Sounds like it could work,” Mick said.

“If it could work, why didn't the British military do that to get the virus out instead of filling a big missile full of blood?” Geldof said.

“Because they were fucking idiots,” Scholzy said. “Anyway, we'd better get going. Geldof, Mick, Ruan, say your good-byes. And Mick, if you want to say cheerio to Fanny in your own special way, you've got five minutes. I'm pretty sure you can get the job done in half the time.”

“Do you think I went through all this just to toddle off and leave my mum again?” Geldof said. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“I'm afraid you are,” Scholzy said.

He grabbed Geldof and hauled him to his feet. When Geldof tried to shake himself free, he found the mercenary was just as strong as he looked. “What are you doing? I'm paying your wages.”

“No, you're not,” Scholzy said. “Your grandfather is. And he says no money unless I get you out of the country.”

“You told him I was here?”

“I did,” Fanny said.

Geldof goggled at his mum. “What?”

“I borrowed the satphone and rang him. I told him to tell Scholzy to take you out.”

“But you hate him!”

“Yes, I do. Unfortunately, he's the only man who could make you leave.”

“You said I could stay.”

“That was before we found out they're going to wipe this country clean of every living thing. You have to go.”

“But you don't know that they're going to attack for sure. Lesley's story…”

“Will change nothing. I should know, Geldof. I campaigned for enough causes to see how little difference the ordinary citizen's voice makes. I know you're going to hate me for this, but I'd rather you were alive and hating me than dead.”

Geldof looked at his mum. Whereas before he would have seen a willful woman intent only on getting her way, he now saw the pain of a mother doing what she thought was right for her son. But he was old enough to know what was right for him. Being carted off against his will to run a coffee empire wasn't it. Without further ado, he bit Scholzy's hand as hard as he could. When the mercenary released his grip, he ran for it. In the few seconds it took Scholzy to stop swearing and start pursuing, Geldof had opened up a decent gap. He aimed for the nearest hangar, hoping he could get inside and lock the door. He could tell from the gaining footsteps that he wasn't going to make it. Then he saw a dead soldier, blood pooling around his body. Unbidden, Ruan's words about trying to get the virus so she could be reunited with her parents came back to him. He knew what he needed to do. He veered toward the body and dipped his index finger into the blood. Scholzy was still running toward him, ready to drag him kicking and screaming to the boat. Beyond, he could see the look of horror on his mum's face. He held her gaze and raised his hand to his mouth.

*   *   *

Ruan watched, mouth hanging open, as Geldof shoved a finger in his mouth and sucked. Scholzy stopped. As Fanny ran toward her son, Geldof, his chin bloody, clenched his fists. Then his arms and legs began to twitch and he dropped his head. When he raised it again, his teeth were bared and his eyes were crinkled down to narrow slits.

“I'm going to disembowel you for your treachery, you nefarious oath breaker,” he shouted at Scholzy.

He got to his feet, and Ruan was treated to the sight of a muscled killer sprinting away from a slight boy. Geldof was clearly incapable of catching up with his intended target, but Fanny grappled him to the ground anyway.

“What have you done?” she said, her voice dripping with shock.

“Let me go,” Geldof screamed, his arms and legs thrashing. “I'm going to bite his pox-ridden nose off.”

Scholzy stopped and looked back. “I can't take him now. You know that.”

Fanny was too busy restraining her crazed son to reply. As he bucked, she whispered in his ear and stroked his head. Scott came running over to help and held down the boy's legs.

“Right, you two,” Scholzy said. “We're shipping out.”

Ruan looked at Geldof thrashing on the ground. On the face of it, what he'd done seemed like the act of an immature boy carried out in the heat of the moment, but she knew Geldof well enough to understand he'd been fully aware his actions would condemn him to remaining on this island to face the guns of the invading army. This was an act of sacrifice that spoke of a mind far beyond his years. She knew then that she couldn't leave. Her parents were out there somewhere, still alive. She'd spent all this time running away, trying to pretend this wasn't happening. If she left, she would still be running. Geldof had told her she didn't know what it was like to have the virus. She didn't and never would. Yet she'd seen enough ordinary people turn into raging beasts to know Fanny and her people were the exception, not the rule. She'd been so hurt by her parents turning on her that she assumed it displayed a lack of love on their part, when in fact they were as much victims as everybody else. And she was hardly in a position to criticize: in the camp, she'd made no attempt to save them, choosing instead to preserve her own skin. They might have a few days before the bombs dropped, they might only have a few hours, but no amount of visualizing would prevent her living the rest of her life tortured by guilt if she didn't make some effort to get them out of the city. Maybe they would never learn to deal with the virus, but if they survived long enough then perhaps a cure could be found. She had to give them that chance, no matter what they'd done.

“I'm staying, too,” she said.

“And me,” Mick said. “I kind of like it here, and they're going to need somebody to protect them when the shit hits the fan. Besides, I'm not swimming anywhere with this leg.”

“You're all idiots,” Scholzy said, his voice almost fond. “Mick, you mad Irish bastard: try not to get killed or infected.”

“Would anybody notice if I did? I'm already horny and violent.”

Scholzy turned and walked away. A few minutes later, an outboard motor started up and faded into the distance.

*   *   *

Above his screams and yells and his mum's frantic whispering, Geldof heard Scholzy go. His mum's face was close to his, and he saw her brow knot. He kept fighting as hard as he could, struggling and screaming out every expletive he could think of, medieval or not. Just as a distant engine started up, she put her nose down to his neck and took a deep sniff. Her eyes widened. “You don't have it.”

As quickly as he'd gone bonkers, Geldof quietened down and lay still. “You got me.” He held up his index finger, still stained with blood, and then put his ring finger in his mouth to illustrate what he'd done. “Oldest trick in the book.”

“You devious little shit,” Fanny said.

Geldof grinned. “You can talk, going to your dad behind my back. I guess we're even.”

Scott let go of Geldof's legs. “Like mother, like son,” he said, and began to laugh.

*   *   *

They rode back to the camp in silence, Geldof's gaze fixed to the skies for some sign of the warplanes that would surely be coming. He saw nothing but blue haze and wispy clouds. The bodies of their dead were in the back, wrapped up in sheets taken from the beds of the soldiers for burial. Fanny had wanted to collect the soldiers and burn them out of respect, but Mick persuaded her otherwise. They still had no idea how soon the attack on Britain would begin, and so they needed to flee the obvious target of the base immediately or risk becoming just as charred and dead as the bodies they would have set alight.

When they got home, Scott went running off to the houses to be reunited with Eva while the others got busy digging three graves. They held a brief secular service later that afternoon and marked the graves as best they could with names scratched into lumps of stone rescued from the rubble. It wasn't much of a memorial to three people who died saving countless lives, but it was the best they could do in the circumstances. Before they sat down to figure out exactly how they were going to survive a full-on invasion of Britain, Geldof went to the hangar and booted up the computer. He still had Terry's e-mail in his address book and felt somebody should let him know Lesley was gone. He stared at the blank screen, unsure how to break the news. He and Lesley had lived through the most intense experiences of his life, yet he barely knew her. In the end, he just kept it short.

Terry, I'm sorry to have to tell you that Lesley is dead. I know it might not help much, but she died saving the world. Literally. The virus was going to get out. Thanks to her, it won't. I'll spare you the details other than to say it was very quick and, according to my mum, she seemed at peace when it happened. I'm still sort of hoping that her story is going to save us as well, but that seems unlikely. Still, Lesley probably already saved billions of lives. I suppose a few million that slipped through the net won't make much odds in the grand scheme of things. Maybe you can get them to build a statue or name an award after her. That's the kind of thing they do for heroes, right?

Geldof

He felt he really should have signed off on a more poignant note and was about to start reworking the message, but Fanny came looking for him to join in with a group meeting. He hit send.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” he said before they left the hangar.

Fanny glowered at him for a moment and then punched him on the arm—a tad too hard to be jokey. “Scott was right. You're just as stubborn as me. So I suppose I have to forgive you. Now I just need to figure out how to keep you alive.”

She led him by the hand to the table, where everybody had gathered for what would likely be the last meeting in the commune.

“So, what do we do now?” Fanny said.

“We can't stay here,” Mick said. “We're probably out of range of the neutron bombs, but if it goes down like Lesley said it would we're too exposed for what comes next. I suggest we run like fuck to the arse-end of nowhere and hide.”

“Even the tallest tree must bend before the storm,” Nayapal said. “Which, before anybody asks, means that I agree we should do a runner.”

Nods rippled round the table.

“So, any ideas for a good place to hole up?” Fanny said.

“There is a bit of a history of hiding in caves when you're up against it,” Tom said. “Robert the Bruce did it. Bonny Prince Charlie did it.”

“I know a place,” Scott said. “Ten years back I spent two weeks living in a cave up past Ullapool.”

“What were you doing there?” Geldof said.

“Taking a lot of acid. Trying to find myself.”

“And did you?”

“No. Luckily some spelunkers did, or I'd still be down there in my underpants making cave paintings from steaming turds. It's called Allt nan Uamh Stream Cave. It's in the middle of nowhere, the entrance is hard to find, and we should be able to find game and grow crops. It would take them years to find us, if ever.”

“I've always wanted to be a caveman,” Mick said.

“You already are,” Geldof said.

“Don't talk to your new dad like that.”

Fanny slapped Mick on the back of the head. He grinned. “Time enough for rough stuff later.”

Fanny ignored him. “Sounds perfect. Let's get ready. Load up the truck and the quad bikes. Scott, you bring as much dope as you can pack up. We move tonight.”

“What about the prisoners?” Tom said.

“We let them out when we're leaving. They can take their chances.”

“I can't come,” Ruan said. “I need to go to Edinburgh and warn my mum and dad.”

“No way,” Fanny said. “The bombs could drop any minute, and they'd definitely hit a big city like that.”

“I don't care. I need to warn them.”

“You think they don't know already? Everybody will be shipping out, including them. It'll be chaos. You'll never find them. In fact, you'd never make it anywhere near them. You're still uninfected. You'd be torn to shreds.”

Ruan looked stricken as the truth hit home. She sat there in silence as the meeting broke up and everybody ran off to gather what they could. Geldof lingered, reluctant to leave Ruan alone with her pain. “Are you okay?”