Islands - The Epidemic: An Airborne Ebola Disaster Page 3

  The shortage of food was now becoming a major issue and it would not get better any time soon, only worse. It was bad enough when coupons had been distributed to control the amount of meat and grain people could purchase, but when this was expanded to cover additional produce, due to other food sources becoming over-burdened, anger spilled out into the streets and was vented in official departments.

  Over the past two months, fights had broken out at coupon centres and a number of staff had been seriously injured. This prompted local councils to appoint police to guard the premises whilst vouchers were being allotted, but soon after this was increased to twenty-four hour security when offices were raided and coupons stolen for sale on the black market.

  Black market trade was becoming another major problem and only the rich now had enough to eat. The super-rich had left the country some time ago, moving on to holiday homes and to stay with relatives abroad wherever possible.

  Fights at council offices were just the start of the troubles. Police were stretched beyond their limit when supermarket shelves ran dry. Lorries bringing supplies were held up at gun point and raided on the road; even when stocks did get through, they rarely made it into the shop. Queues formed around the block whenever word got out that goods were coming and food was purchased as fast as it arrived through the doors. It was here that often the worst battles took place. Despite ongoing reassurances through the media that food stores were not in short supply, it did not take long for the populace to notice that the time between stocks arriving was increasing and the volume of provisions was gradually dwindling; it was then people began to realise they were fighting for their lives.

  Ducan still hoped that other options would be discussed, whatever they may be, but even he had to admit they were running out of choices. He lifted his head and began to address parliament.

  “We have finally amassed the list of grain produce from all regions.” He tried to speak clearly, but his voice was flat and lacked projection. “Our findings conclude that supplies will run out in the next three months. Without support we cannot make it through to the next harvest.” He kept his gaze dead ahead, avoiding eye contact with Yan throughout. “Without international assistance we can expect mass starvation thereafter.” He could feel his left cheek burning as Minister Brukov’s eyes bore into him from the front row of the auditorium. “No matter how much we ration the food, our shortfall is too great. We have less than a third of the grain needed to feed the population. Alternative sources from the mountains and countryside have been considered, but with very little wildlife remaining due to our expansion program, these options are still insufficient. A butcher in Colm was prosecuted for selling rats from his store. To survive we will have to open our minds and such unpalatable creatures may have to be considered for slaughter in the near future. Still, this would only stave off the inevitable and unless we get international assistance, unacceptable choices will have to be made.” He emphasised the possibility of help in the hope it might swing the vote towards a peaceful solution, even though he knew this was quite improbable since so far all aid had been refused.

  Most nations were in a similar position, with surplus reserves in short supply.

  Ducan gathered his notes and stepped down from the podium. As he turned to sit, his eyes swept over to Yan.

  To most, Yan would have appeared disinterested, but Ducan knew him better than he would have liked. He saw the flush to his skin, the slight curling of the mouth, the hardening of his eyes, his posture more erect, and the smugness flashed as Ducan’s gaze passed by. He had expected to be heckled by Yan, who was no doubt feeling vindicated after their last meeting, and was surprised by his restraint.

  The Prime Minister had moved to the stand and started his speech by the time Ducan was seated.

  “Our attempts to exchange oil and gold for food have been met with closed minds and equally closed doors,” Viktor Rumentev informed the ministers from all of the parties, who had come to hear what their future may hold, with a heavy heart. “We even offered our priceless collection of Litvinov paintings from the Gingoria museum to Polluna, whose government have admired from afar for many years, in exchange for enough grain to feed our people for six months and we were turned down. As you know, farming land is scarce, not just in our country but globally, and now every country guards their stocks fiercely because, unfortunately like us, they tread a precarious balance between having enough to eat and possible mass-starvation. A small amount of grain was donated, as we were indelicately told our money was worthless, but as Minister Ludcov stated, we still have nowhere near enough to take us through to our next harvest. Protests, due to the distribution of ration books, have been responsible for at least fifty deaths and further demonstrations are being organised – one in the capital tomorrow. Our choices are not running out, they have run out. I like it as much as the next man, but we will have to consider force as one of our options if we are to survive.” An uneasy murmur broke the Prime Minister’s flow. “Minister Brukov,” he called over the noise, “who presented a possible proposal at our meeting in September, will take the stand now and outline the final plan which involves minimum force against our neighbouring country, Bulvaga. By doing so we hope to gain maximum cooperation to the benefit of both nations.”

  Yan stood, deliberately passing Ducan on his way to the podium, despite the route taking him the long way round to the stage. He kept his head high and his attention forward all the way until he reached the Agricultural Minister, at which point he flicked his eyes sideways, an irresistible smirk pulling at his lips.

  Chapter Six

  Perth, Scotland

  Max Farnley finished packing, pushing the clothes down firmly into the bag before pulling the zipper across the case to close it shut. He turned to his brother, a mirror image of himself in every way to everyone but their mother. “Are you sure you’ll be all right? It’s not too late. I could still cancel.”

  Sean nodded. The break-up with his girlfriend of five years could not have come at a worse time. He was devastated, but was keeping it together as best he could for Max, who had threatened to abandon his plans to take up his post as a nurse in ‘The Sea Dome Project’ to support him through his loss. “We spoke this morning,” he lied, “and she agreed to meet me for lunch tomorrow.” He knew Max would be in a sub and on his way to the place he would call home for the next two years by midday and would be none the wiser whether he and Gina had even met.

  Max slung his bag across his shoulder and headed for the stairs. “Fingers crossed it all goes well. You must tell me what happens.”

  “Yes, will do.”

  This was not the first time this week Sean had lied to Max, after earlier claiming Gina had broken off their relationship because she felt they had drifted apart. To some extent this was true, as they had started spending more time away from each other due to her outside interests, but – when Sean later discovered this included a local soldier home on leave – he had moved out of their flat and in with his twin brother.

  “Do you want me to grab this one?” Sean pointed to the sports bag sitting on the landing.

  “Yes, please.”

  Max’s wardrobe and drawers were virtually empty, with only a few jumpers remaining. He had been told the Domes would be a pretty constant 22oC, although there would be a night cooling and reduction in light so the residents could continue to experience an evening routine.

  Max placed the bag down at the bottom of the stairs and crossed the room to the grey and white mongrel, a mixture of terrier and long-legged hound, who was sitting by the couch. As he drew near, the medium sized, wiry-haired dog stood up. Tail wagging, the three-year-old pooch moved to eagerly greet him.

  Max crouched down and submitted to a thorough licking as he affectionately ruffled the dog’s fur. “I’m going to miss you. Yes, I am.” He kissed the dog’s forehead and fondled the long cloth ears which hung down to its cheeks. He turned to his brother. “At least whilst you’re here, Seb doesn’t have
to move out of the house and into that little flat of yours. You can keep your home comforts,” he said to the dog. “Yes, you can; at least until Sean and Gina sort themselves out.”

  “Home comforts.” Sean snorted. “He’s not sleeping with me on the bed. He can forget that straight away.”

  Aberdeen, Scotland

  “I don’t know why you’re stocking us up,” Paula Jameson laughed. “Do you really think it’ll last two years?”

  Susan turned to face her mother and smiled. “I know.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just so nervous.” She returned to her task when the frozen meat she was holding began to sting and placed it in the top drawer of the freezer. She swung the door shut and paused, unable to face her mother without losing control. “I don’t know why I volunteered,” she said in a hushed voice.

  Paula placed her hand gently on her daughter’s back. “Because you wanted to be a part of something special – something incredible that will change the world.”

  Susan nodded, unable to speak, her tight shoulders, holding her emotions in check.

  “You’re just nervous, you said it yourself,” Paula said softly. “It’s a massive venture, but you need to remember why you wanted to do it in the first place. It’s a fantastic opportunity to study reactions and make suggestions for a better environment.”

  Susan turned to face her mother. “I’ll miss you and Dad so much. Two years is such a long time.”

  The two women embraced. “It’ll go fast enough and we’ll keep in touch,” Paula assured.

  Susan was worried about being homesick, but was mainly concerned about her parents’ age; a fact she was reluctant to admit to her mother. Although they were still in good health and very active, she was acutely aware of how quickly things could change.

  Her father, George’s, asthma had taken a turn for the worse since a bout of pneumonia last winter ended in a spell in hospital and, at eighty-two, she knew health knock-backs like that built up over time and wore the body down until, suddenly, old age overwhelmed.

  Paula, ten years younger than George and a late mother – she was forty-two when Susan, her only child, was born – was in perfect health and swam at least ten lengths a day in the local pool. But still, Susan was aware that any slight illness followed by a period of inactivity could age the body considerably and make a return to full health almost impossible. She knew that a passing bug or a single moment of carelessness, which led to a break, could change everything in a moment.

  Susan pulled away. “You’re right. Keep reminding me.”

  “That’s what mothers do.”

  Susan laughed. She took her mother’s arm and they walked from the garage.

  Outside, the early evening sun was low in the sky. Birds could be seen flying in formation like leaves in a storm as they gathered to roost and the buzz of insects could be heard gently droning through the background chatter of starlings squabbling for space.

  The clouds reflected the warmth of the day; tinged in salmon and cerise, they appeared to glow with the residual heat of the summer sun.

  Although all of the seasons had their qualities, Susan loved the summer most of all. She could hardly be described as a sun worshipper, but still felt that nothing could lift a mood or warm the body quite like natural sunlight.

  Her role in the Domes was to study how the artificial sub-sea environment would affect the residents and suggest improvements to ensure optimum health.

  She reached up and pulled the garage shut. She was tall, like her father, and always wondered how her mother, no more than five foot two, could even reach the door to close it. “I’m not due to take up my post until Tuesday, I’m just about packed, so how about you, me and Dad go away for the weekend and spend as much quality time together as we can before I leave?”

  Paula smiled and gave a sharp nod. “Sounds like a plan.” She headed for the house. “I’ll tell your dad to pack.”

  Leeds, United Kingdom

  Beverly Reading turned her face upwards and craned her head back, a mop of wild, strawberry ringlets tumbling down her shoulders, to speak to the woman she adored. “Is this the last time you’ll pick me up from nursery?”

  The woman she called Granma looked down, the adoration reciprocated. Hannah Bexster was about to correct the young child when suddenly she realised she was right. “Yes, I suppose in a way it is.” A wave of sadness at the imminent loss of irretrievable years tugged at her lips. “Next time I pick you up you’ll be in school,” she added, softly.

  Hannah knew the moment William Cramb contacted her husband about his proposal that Joseph would be involved.

  As a Marine Biologist, his initial concern was the effect building on the seabed would have on the local marine life. He was relieved to discover this was also William’s worry, who did not want to make the same mistakes made on land. Since then, they had worked closely together to devise heating, air filtration and waste disposal systems that would not compromise the environment.

  Joseph knew these sorts of opportunities only came around once in a lifetime and this would most certainly be his last chance, as the moment the project ended he would be retiring. He had offered to go into the Domes alone, but Hannah – four years younger than her husband and retired herself for the past three years from a career in nursing – could bear the thought of losing him for two years even less than being separated from Hilary and Beverly.

  Life had been hard for Hilary since she split from Beverly’s father soon after she was born. More recently though, she had struck up a relationship with a man with whom she had been friends for many years. Common interests found them spending more time together and their friendship moved on to the next level. Knowing their daughter would not be alone helped to make Hannah and Joseph’s decision easier and took some of the pressure off their choice to spend two years away from their family.

  They both spent a lot of time making sure Hilary and Beverly were taken care of, especially Joseph and, in a way, Hannah felt the time apart would be good for her husband, who was more reluctant than her to cut their daughter loose. It was time he handed over the baton of care to Paul, who now wanted to be the main man in Hilary and Beverly’s life.

  As they approached the car, Beverly spoke again. “Do you have to go away Granma?”

  Hannah stepped around and opened the passenger door then helped the child inside.

  Beverly shuffled into the car seat and waited to be buckled in.

  “Yes I do.”

  Hannah knew it would be hard leaving her beloved daughter and granddaughter for two years, but to be without her husband would be worse. “You know how much Grandad and Granma love each other.”

  Beverly tipped her head off to one side, pouting her lips, her young face suddenly years beyond her age. “Yes, I do,” she said.

  “Then you understand, I have to be with him.”

  She nodded, her curls bouncing in agreement.

  “We still have three days together,” Hannah pointed out with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, “so we’ll have to make the most of it. What do you want to do tomorrow?”

  As Beverly’s face lit up in delight, Hannah guessed what it would be.

  “The beach!” The child clapped her hands, her excitement unleashed. “Can we go to the beach?”

  The nearest beach was a two-hour drive away, so they did not get to go very often. Hannah kissed her granddaughter’s forehead. “Of course we can my darling. Anything you want.”

  Faslane Royal Navy Base, Scotland

  Judith Somerville leaned forward and picked up the medium sized, flat-bottomed container from the ground to the left of the pile of suitcases at her feet. “Can I take this one with me in the passenger sub?” she called over the noise in the port.

  The man stopped loading the remainder of her bags onto the trolley and looked at the size of the case they were discussing.

  She pulled it close to her chest and leaned forward to make sure he
could hear her clearly. “It’s got some delicate instruments inside and I’d be happier if I could keep an eye on it.”

  Judith had been shocked when her boss, Phillip Haven of Haven Pharmaceuticals, had approached her with the idea of going into the Domes. As Chief Virologist of the large drugs company, her life’s work had revolved around the development of inoculations for a number of deadly diseases which came under the umbrella ‘tropical’. She was not surprised she had not heard of the project when told it was top secret and, at first, was horrified at the thought of spending two years beneath the sea. She put her initial reaction down to grief as she had only just lost her mother, who had been in long-term care, the previous month.

  She had fallen when stepping from the shower and it was only the next morning, when she could not be woken, that the staff discovered the bump on her head. As she sat at her mother’s side, holding her hand in hospital, being told about how her mum had hidden her injuries from the staff, Judith was not surprised. She was regularly exasperated by the fact that her mother never wanted to make a fuss and only desired to slip quietly into the background; unlike herself, whose main target was to win the Nobel Prize for her work on vaccines.

  A few days later, after extensive mulling she returned to Phillip and told him she was in. Apart from her work, her mother had been the main focus in her life and Judith fervently believed that a complete change of scenery and the amazing opportunities linked to this project were the perfect distractions she needed whilst recovering from her loss.

  Phillip was delighted. He wanted to make sure they were at the forefront of new technology and was curious as to how the air in the Domes, which would be filtered from seawater, would affect the development of new drugs.

  The man shrugged. “It should be all right, as long as that’s all you’re carrying. There’s not a lot of room inside the sub so you’ll have to keep it on your knee.”