Islands - The Epidemic: An Airborne Ebola Disaster Page 9

  Joseph would be driving. As a marine biologist, he had piloted minisubs a number of times throughout his career and had been practicing his skills over the past couple of days by taking the vehicle out for a cruise around the Domes.

  The engine started and water churned by the propeller began to bubble at the stern.

  William watched the windows, fighting the urge to again beg the group to stay as they slowly began to move away, but only Max and Judith could be seen at the small portholes waving as they drifted past.

  It was some time before the sub moved clear of the connecting tunnel, with William watching all the while, and travelled out into open sea.

  The gentle drone of the engine then changed pitch and increased in speed and intensity before quickly drifting off, until the harbour once again fell silent.

  William turned to leave the dock, the urge to escape the emptiness and seek out human companionship suddenly overwhelming. He joined the main walkway leading from the harbour back into the leisure complex and spotted Carl a short way ahead, hurrying towards him.

  “Professor Cramb!” The young man waved a hand to make sure he had been seen before he quickened pace and panted to a stop a few seconds later.

  “I picked up a transmission half an hour ago,” he paused to catch his breath. “It’s very faint, but it’s not like the others. I think it’s important you hear this.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Minisub Approaching Kinnaird Head, North East Coast of Scotland

  The journey to the surface passed without incident and virtually no conversation. Tensions grew the closer to their destination they drew and the more the occupants became silent as an air of fearful anticipation began to fill the compartment like a thick fog.

  Joseph, happily piloting the craft, had talked his wife through the controls, but even he went quiet after announcing he was beginning their ascent.

  Everyone shuffle into a seat near a window; every person was at a porthole as the vehicle neared the surface just off Kinnaird Head.

  Slowly the darkness of the water began to break, the sun’s rays now penetrating deep enough to light the upper levels, until fish, seaweed and rocks could finally be seen in the glistening currents. The beauty of the marine world captivated no one though, as all eyes pointed upwards.

  After a two-hour journey, the sub finally emerged, breaking the surface into the fresh Scottish air. The occupants pressed against the glass and waited for the windows to clear, the world beyond distorting for a few seconds more before the local fishing port eventually came into view.

  Susan looked along the stone harbour at the multi-coloured fishing boats moored against the dock, the cars parked along the road and the shops with their shutters open for business. “Everything looks normal,” she said, hopefully.

  Judith reeled her in. “Well it would. That’s the thing about biological bombs. From afar you don’t see the devastation,” she pointed out.

  Joseph moved the craft closer. Running parallel to the harbour wall he looked for somewhere to secure the sub. As he drew close to some steps leading up onto the dock, he reversed the engines and brought the craft to a halt.

  Max stood and moved to the hatch. He paused, his hand on the locking mechanism. “Is everyone ready to do this?” he asked, looking to each in turn. “When the seal is broken there’s no going back.”

  The general lack of enthusiasm which came with each confirmation reminded Max that no one really wanted to be here, it was just they felt they had to.

  He turned the handle ninety degrees to the right, then a low clunk, immediately followed by a hiss, confirmed the top hatch had released its watertight seal. He climbed onto the ladder and pushed the door open to take a look outside.

  The brightness of the morning sun reflecting off the water caused him pain briefly, but his eyes soon adjusted and it was not long before he was able to take a better look around.

  Susan stood and joined him at the foot of the steps. “What can you see?” she called; desperate to know, yet fearful the actuality might not conform to what she hoped.

  “Well, I can’t see any people, if that’s what you mean,” Max informed her. He moved up the ladder and stepped out onto the hull of the craft with Susan immediately behind.

  The morning bustle should have been well underway. Even though it was still early, the little fishing boats would ordinarily have already been out and returned with their catch, which would then be prepared on the dockside for the local shops. Instead, the harbour was empty and silent.

  The silence was not complete though, as soaring overhead were the birds that lived on the surrounding cliffs. They babbled and squabbled amongst themselves but, despite this, it was as if the earth was now mute. Background noises Max had never even noticed before were now suddenly missing. The sounds that came together to colour people’s lives. Aircraft flying, engines droning, people chattering – the gentle beating of nine billion hearts – he only realised they had been there, now they were gone.

  As he slowly stepped onto the dock, an intense feeling of despair gripped him when he drew the ultimate conclusion that their loss of communication was not due to equipment failure. ‘Has Man’s reign come to an end?’ he thought, grimly. ‘Is our time on Earth now over?’

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Domes, Two Miles off the North East Coast of Scotland.

  I picked up the signal late last night,” Carl stated, leading the way through the leisure complex. “I knew you were busy with the ‘returners’ early this morning, but I wasn’t sure what time you’d be finished.” They entered a tunnel. Carl’s voice sounded loud and booming as it resonated off the walls. “I went to your office and Niri said you should be nearly finished since they would be leaving soon.”

  They exited the tunnel and joined a corridor lined with doors. They moved passed the first three and stopped at the fourth.

  Carl opened it and the two men entered. He crossed the room to the radio sitting in the centre of the lounge table and switched it on.

  At first only static could be heard. Carl turned the dial to fine tune the system, until a voice, interjected with electronic noise, broke from the speaker.

  “It’s repeating in English, French, Spanish and what sounds like Russian,” Carl said, when William looked at him confused by the unintelligible message. “Wait, English is next.” He tweaked the dial again and the background noise diminished further.

  Sure enough, an English voice sprung clear from the system.

  “This is the HMS Protector. We are a Nuclear Class Submarine which has been on surveillance below water for six months. Would anyone please contact us?” The message then began again, this time in French.

  Carl looked at William. “What do you want to do?”

  “If they’ve been below water for six months and never surfaced in that time, they would have never been exposed to the virus.”

  “Do you think we can trust them?” Carl asked, concerned.

  “I don’t see why not. What’s the alternative? This is a secret project, so unless they stumble upon us by accident, they won’t find us. Eventually they’ll have to surface for supplies, potentially condemning them to death.” William thought a moment. “Okay,” he looked at Carl, “let’s see if we can get through.”

  William picked up the transmitter and depressed the button to establish a connection. “This is William Cramb contacting the crew of the HMS Protector, come in please.” He released the trigger, but the only response was the repeating message, which had reached the Spanish section of its loop. William tried again. “This is William Cramb contacting the crew of the HMS Protector, come in please.”

  “Do you think they could be dead?” Carl questioned, cautiously.

  William released the button and an urgent voice leapt from the transmitter. “This is Captain Andrew Pendell contacting William Cramb. What is your condition?”

  “My condition is excellent,” William replied. “What is yours?”

  “The sa
me. Where are you located?”

  “Before I give you that information, is anyone on your vessel ill?”

  “No. We haven’t surfaced for at least six months now, long before the first illnesses began. We’ve not been able to contact anyone for about a week and were beginning to think we might be alone. We’ll have to surface soon, though, because we’re running out of food.”

  “What’s your present location?”

  “We’re in the North Atlantic, just off Iceland.”

  “Excellent! You should be able to reach us late tomorrow,” William informed. “I’m calling from a secret project at the bottom of the North Sea. We have accommodation, farms and hospitals. How many are with you?”

  “Eighty-four,” Captain Pendell said. He sounded slightly stunned. “Could you repeat that about farms and hospitals?”

  “You’ll see when you get here,” William laughed. “Come to 57o43’29.52” North by 1o15’04.97” West and look for the plastic domes covering the islands beneath the sea.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kinnaird Head, North East Coast of Scotland

  “That’s the last of them,” Joseph said, passing the duffle bag up through the hatch to Max. He made his way up the ladder, secured the sub and then joined the others on the dock.

  Judith retrieved her coat, left casually draped across the wheeled suitcase, and slipped it on, buttoning it against the chill. The early December air was uncomfortably cold. She was surprised at how quickly she had acclimatised to the constant temperature and relative warmth of the Domes and now felt unaccustomedly sensitive to the biting air.

  Whilst the burden of supplies and equipment was shared between the group, Joseph stepped off to one side and contacted William to tell him of their arrival.

  “There’s an eerie silence that I’ve never experienced even in the dead of night, never mind at eight in the morning,” Joseph said into the radio. “The harbour seems to be deserted so we’re going to head into town and see if we can find anybody there. After that we’ll make our way South to Aberdeen and then on to Stirling to see if we can find Tanya Parker’s parents.”

  A route had been carefully planned, to efficiently take the group through various towns and cities so they could report back to the residents about as many loved ones as possible, which would end at the Disease Control Centre in Kent.

  William quickly apprised Joseph of the latest news. “We’ve been in touch with a Royal Navy submarine that’s been under water since before the crisis began. They’re presently making their way to the Domes and should arrive some time tomorrow evening. I’ll speak to the Captain once they’re settled and see if he can make any suggestions. They might have had access to confidential information, sent on secured channels that Carl couldn’t listen in on.”

  “Excellent! We’ll contact you regularly and make sure you’re kept up to date. Joseph out.”

  He returned to the group to find a suitcase and rucksack leaning against a wooden bench, which faced out to sea.

  “I take it these are mine?”

  “Yes,” Hannah replied.

  Joseph shouldered the bag, “Right, we’ll have a look around the town, see if we can see anyone and acquire,” he made quote gestures in the air with his fingers, “a vehicle as fast as we can.”

  The walk through the dock and up into the town centre did nothing to alleviate their fears. Everywhere they went the streets and roads were empty. Leaves, piled against cars parked at the kerbside, indicated they had not been moved for some time and bins overflowing with rubbish were out on the path, waiting for the weekly collection that never happened.

  “It is Wednesday, isn’t it?” Susan asked, checking her watch.

  Joseph nodded.

  “I suppose with a stretch of the imagination, it could be this quiet at 8.30 on a Sunday morning,” she continued, “but not midweek.”

  As they passed a school on the opposite side of the road, Hannah looked towards the gates when a ball, slowly trickling across the playground, caught her eye. Briefly, she thought a child must have pushed it, but when the icy wind, which had been tugging at their clothing since they had left the harbour, picked up once again, the ball changed direction and she realised it was just being blown about.

  “It’s not looking good,” Judith said as the group arrived on the high street.

  They had passed a number of shops along the way that all told the same story, with notes reading, ‘Closed Due to Staff Sickness’, stuck in the windows.

  “It looks like there’s been some looting,” Susan said, as they rounded a corner to find the path peppered with glass.

  Max pointed to blood which had coated some shards and pooled on the pavement. “This window was smashed outward. It’s likely there was a fight over supplies.” He looked at the sign above the frame. “Hmm... A chemist. Come on,” he nudged his head, “let’s see what’s left.”

  Judith tried the handle. “Wait, it’s open,” she said, when Max went to step through the shattered pane.

  As the door swung inward, the tinkle of a bell, positioned to alert the occupant of customers coming onto the premises, could be heard ringing in the street.

  The front of the shop had been ransacked. Cupboards had been forced open and glass cabinets, locked at the side, had been smashed to gain access to the contents. All of the shelves were cleared of their products and anything disregarded was strewn across the floor.

  Max shoved a pile of toothbrushes with his foot. “It seems they didn’t think they’d need to brush their teeth,” he laughed, making light of the situation. “Let’s see if there’s anything in the back.” He moved into the pharmacist’s office and heard crunching underfoot. Looking down he saw tablets scattered across the floor. Max stooped and retrieved an empty bottle. “It looks like some people thought antibiotics were the cure,” he snorted, tossing the container onto the counter. He moved around the bench and, crouching down, sat back on his heels and started opening drawers. “You never know – we might still be in luck.”

  Judith picked up two boxes as they were passed up onto the work surface. “Oh, good. This should keep us in gloves for a little while.” She leaned over to see what Max was rummaging through. “Any antiviral drugs?”

  “Not here.” Max moved to another drawer. “This one’s locked.” He stood and looked for something with which he could force it. He moved deeper into the office and found another room doubling as a staff kitchen. By the time he came back with a butter knife, Judith was conducting her own search.

  “I’ve found some masks,” she said, waving a plastic bag at him.

  “You wouldn’t usually have the need for masks in a chemist,” Max said, moving to the drawer.

  She pushed the bag into her pocket. “They obviously wanted to take every precaution.”

  A cracking noise was followed by a bang as the previously secured receptacle shot open.

  “Here they are,” Max informed. “There’s not many left.” He stood and passed a plastic container to Judith.

  “This should do us for a week. That’s time enough to pick up some more.”

  They returned to the front of the shop where Judith passed their pickings to Joseph. “Gloves, masks and drugs.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Will the antiviral drugs work?” Susan asked.

  “It’s unlikely,” Judith said, bluntly, “they are usually designed to target a specific virus; still anything is worth a try. Either way, we’ll know in the next few days.”

  The group moved back outside and made their way along the high street, where they continued on for another twenty metres or so before suddenly Max stopped. “It’s gone ten.” He pointed to his watch. “It’s obvious no-one is coming to open up. I think we should just try to get our hands on a vehicle and make our way to Aberdeen, to see if Susan’s mother is still alive.”

  “Okay,” Joseph sighed. “Let’s hope the virus is short-lived and we meet survivors as we travel south. Come on, there’s a small housi
ng estate over here.” He turned and beckoned the rest to follow.

  They left the shopping area, crossed a road and a hundred yards down the street the group entered a cul-de-sac where, parked outside the ten or so small town houses, there were a variety of vehicles.

  “Does anyone know how to jump-start an engine?” Susan enquired, as she peered into the driver’s side of the small, two-seater sports car parked outside the first house.

  “That’s hardly practical,” Judith scoffed as she walked past.

  Susan looked up, following the path of the scientist, “I know,” she beamed, “but I’ve always wanted to drive one of these things.”

  “We need something like this.” Judith marched over the road to stand beside a four-by-four parked on a driveway. “There’ll be room for all of us, along with our bags. If the weather turns to snow, we’ll not get stuck and we should be able to easily carry supplies, either on the roof or in a trailer.”

  The younger woman gave the sports car one more longing look before crossing over with the others to join Judith on the opposite side of the street. “So… Back to the question: does anyone know how to jump-start a car?” she asked as she examined the new choice of transportation.

  “Hopefully we won’t have to,” Max said as he moved to the front of the house.

  “What are you doing?” Hannah enquired.

  “You sometimes find people forget to lock their doors when they’re desperately ill.” He reached forward and took hold of the door handle but, before he could turn it, Judith stopped him.

  “You should knock first,” she insisted. “You shouldn’t presume everyone’s dead. There might be families or, at the very least, individuals still alive. In fact, remember, that’s why we’re here, because we hope loved ones might have survived. Even The Black Death didn’t kill everybody. One third of the population survived.” She looked at him pointedly. “There might be some terrified individual sitting on the other side of that door with a gun.”