"Thats a good question." He went back into the living room. "Heres the situation," he said. "Its going to take four or five hours to walk back to the boat. Since its unlikely wed make it before nightfall, we might as well stay here rather than searching for a place in a couple of hours time."

"I could run there," Finnegan said. "Id be back here in before dark."

"Right, but what would that achieve? I suppose Nilda could come back with you, but I dont like the idea of leaving Jay alone on that boat, and I doubt she would either. They could go back to the Tower and return with more people, but all they could do is help carry him. And what would we eat and drink whilst were waiting for them? You could bring back some diesel, of course, but what would we do with it? No, a run to the boat would be nothing but exercise."

"I think I can make it," Reece said. "The legs not that bad, and five miles isnt far."

"Maybe, but its not your decision. Its our lives as well, and the safest thing right now is waiting for dawn."

"And by dawn youll know whether its four hobbling or three walking," Reece said.

"Nah," Chester said. "Youre immune. Im almost certain of it. Over the last seven months you must have come into contact with the virus, albeit unwittingly. No, in fact, I am certain. I reckon everyone whos still alive is, not that I advocate testing the theory. Now, as long as theres daylight, lets not waste it. See if you can find a map so we can plan out our route for tomorrow. And look for an address book. Maybe theres a fruit farm along the way."

The address book was easily found, and it listed a number of properties nearby, but the names alone gave no indication of what they might find there. The more Chester thought on it, the more convinced he was that even had there been an entry for an orchard, theyd find it stripped clean. Whoever had come to this farm had so thoroughly removed everything of use that Chester couldnt imagine theyd have left any of the neighbouring properties untouched.

He pulled a stack of recipe books from the kitchen shelf and took them into the front room, dropping them next to a chair as he fell into it.

"In my experience, survivors can be split into four groups," he said. "You had people like Tuck who were in the enclaves and got out. There arent many of them. Then there are the ones who survived the evacuation. There are even fewer of those. Then there are those who stayed at home. Either they couldnt go, or they didnt want to. I take it you lot fall into that last camp?"

"Not really," Greta said. "I was on holiday. In London."

"Staying in one of the hotels?"

"I wish. If I had, I might have got food. No, I was subletting a flat. One of those internet deals, you know? I tried lining up at the supermarket, but they said that without a TV licence they wouldnt give me anything. They didnt tell me what a TV licence was, just that they couldnt trust that I hadnt already collected my food for the day. Whoevers bright idea that was..." she trailed off. "In order to survive, to eat, I had to..." she trailed off again. "Well, if that was your compa.s.sionate society, then I wanted no part in it. I stayed in London because I wanted to go back home, and it would be easier to do that without being surrounded by millions of people in an enclave. I thought the zombies would stop after a week. Or two. Or four. And instead..." She glanced down at Reeces leg and shrugged.

"And now youre one of the last people left alive on Earth," Finnegan said, his voice filled an unexpected sadness.

"And what about you," Chester asked Reece to fill the silence. "Why didnt you trust the government?"

"Did you ever meet our government? No, I was prepared. I knew something was going to happen, and it would all collapse. Not this, I mean, how could anyone expect this? But you remember what this country was like; how if there was even a hint the fuel duty was going to rise, all the petrol stations would be pumped dry. How a few months of rain caused flooding which ruined half the farms? Or those riots, you remember them? The country was shut down for three days."

"I remember," Chester said, "all those stories about farmers pulling together and helping one another out. I remember when there was rioting, and the streets were on fire at night, how the shops still opened the next morning."

"That was calculated self-interest," Reece said. "And I didnt have you down as a believer in the Dunkirk Spirit."

"Nah. Im not. Jay reckons Im a cynic, and Im not that either. Ive just seen enough to know that when youre cornered, when your backs to the wall, when youve no fight left, its better to charge at the darkness than simply hope youll live long enough to see the dawn."

"Well, that proves my point, doesnt it?" Reece asked, wincing at a needle of pain from his leg. "Looking back on all the things you told us that happened, and how and why they happened, if the country had hung together then maybe not so many would have died alone in the dark."

There was a long minutes uncomfortable silence as no one could think of an argument to refute him.

"You said you were prepared," Greta asked. "You mean you had food and things like that?"

"I had a three-month supply," Reece said.

"Is that all?" she asked.

"Hardly. I had three years worth in a cabin. Built it myself. Stocked it myself."

"So why arent you there?"

"The zombies. I stayed in London because like you, Greta, I reckoned it would be easier to travel once the evacuation was complete. I did try and leave a couple of times, but the furthest I got was five miles from my house, and that took an entire day. And then Mathias found me. And now..." he shrugged.

"Wheres this cabin?" Finnegan asked. "Because three years worth of supplies would-"

"Its twenty miles north of Lairg."

"In Scotland?"

Reece nodded. "It was an old croft really. Four stone walls and no roof. I bought the land as part of a syndicate years ago. It was meant to be an investment. It turned out to be a con. I bought the others out and kept the land. Built a roof, added a timber framed second building. Wasnt meant to, of course, it was against the planning regulations, but no one cared. I mean, why would they? There was no electricity, no mains water. But there was a stream nearby. It was great for fishing. I couldve lived there for a couple of years without having to go within a mile of another person." He sighed. "And now its gone. Yeah, whatever I was expecting, it wasnt ending up lying on a ragged sofa waiting to learn if I was going to turn into one of the living dead."

"I told you that youre going to be fine," Chester said as cheerfully as he could. "Where do you think that is?" he asked, searching for a different topic of conversation.

"Im sorry?" Greta asked.

"In that photo on the mantelpiece. Do you think thats Morocco?"

"Tunisia, maybe?" Finnegan guessed. "Its odd theres only one picture."

"The family would have taken the rest with them," Chester said. "Either when they went on the evacuation, or when they came back."

"How do you know they came back?" Greta asked.

"From the state of the rooms upstairs," Chester said. "Someone went through them, looking for specific things. Not just clothes, but keepsakes. Who else but the people who lived here? Judging by the kitchen, they stayed here for a night or two. If it was longer, theyd have made an attempt at washing up. Then, perhaps when they realised that no other family members would return here, they left. Not long after that someone else came along and took everything that was of any possible use. Food, soap, bleach." He picked up the televisions remote control from the coffee table. "The batteries."

"And the tractors?" Finnegan asked.

"Possibly. More likely, they were requisitioned," Chester said, picking up another book from the stack by his feet.

"Which means that we wont find anything at any other farms nearby, doesnt it?" Reece asked.

"Probably not," Chester said. "But the time when you could rely on finding canned food and half-empty packets is past. Though its always worth looking." He put down the second book and picked up a third.

"Didnt any survivors from Kent reach Anglesey?" Finnegan asked.

"Not that I can think of. I know I didnt come down this far. I dont think anyone did. London was in the way. Further west you had the M4. That was full of the undead and formed a pretty decent barrier. Some people from Kent had to have made it out during the first weeks, but after that? Well, the people I met were more concerned with where they were going to rather than where they were coming from." He put down the book and picked up a fourth.

"What are you looking for?" Greta asked.

"A recipe that involves hops," Chester said. "Theres got to be one."

As the sun disappeared behind the newer of the two barns, he closed the last book, having found none. There was little point lighting a fire, so as darkness fell, one by one, they went to sleep. Except Chester.

Flashes of the past came to him, of Cannock, of McInery, of his father, and of the life that hed had. He searched through them for a single memory on which he could hang the prospect of a future. All he found was an understanding of the misery and despair he had wrought on others. His future lay before him, a mirror of the life hed led, an echo where theft was sanctioned, violence required, and where there would be no respite except in death. Until hed met Nilda that hadnt bothered him. Now he felt there had to be something more, some purpose to it all, some point at which he could stop fighting and start to live. A recent memory, of those days on the lifeboat travelling down from Hull came to mind. He and Nilda were too busy trying to stay afloat to call that time happy, yet- The dry coughing rasp brought him to his feet. The room was dark, but he knew from where the sound came. He pulled out his knife.

"Reece?" he called, softly. There was a heavy thump as something fell a short distance to the floor.

"Reece?" he called again, louder. He could see the mans outline. He could hear the scrabble of fingernails on carpet. He heard the wheeze as the last breath in the mans dead lungs was expelled.

"Oh, Reece," he sighed with well-practiced regret. The only response he got was a violent thrashing of arms and legs as the zombie tried to stand.

Chester kicked its legs aside and stamped his foot down on the creatures back. He dropped to a crouch so his knee was at the back of its neck, and raised the knife.

"Im sorry, mate. I truly am."

He stabbed down. Once.

"Did he... was that... he turned?" Finnegan asked, scrambling to his feet.

"He did," Chester said. "It happens. But not to everyone," he added. "Look at me. At Jay. At Nilda. Not everyone turns. Its important that you remember that."

Wordlessly, they went into the kitchen to wait for dawn.

19th September "The suns coming up," Chester said, nodding towards the window. By the faint light of the new day, the farmhouse kitchen had lost its quaint charm. Now it appeared as a dingy shadow of its former self.

"Those shelves," Greta said, "theyll never be full again."

"Im sorry?" Chester murmured, standing, stretching.

"Its the same everywhere, isnt it? Its more than likely well be the last people to ever set foot in here. Think of all the houses, all across the world, and the time and love that went turning them into homes. It was all for nothing."

"Maybe," Chester said. "But I find it best not to think about that, certainly not first thing in the morning. Save those thoughts for next week or next month when youre safe behind thick walls and outside of a hot meal, with the knowledge that a new day will bring nothing more than gruelling toil."

"If that day ever comes," Finnegan said. "And what do we do now?"

"We go back to the boat," Chester said. "Then head back along the coast. Well go ash.o.r.e anywhere we can and gather what food we find, but this time well stick to the places where we can smell the sea even if we cant see it. Ill head to Anglesey as soon as we get back. Theres a grim job ahead. For me I mean," he added. "And Ive put it off for long enough. Get your gear."

"And Reece?" Greta asked.

"What about him?"

"We cant just leave him," she said.

"We cant afford the time to bury him," Chester said. "Theres no reason for us to return here, and like you said, little chance anyone else will. Give it a few years, and this house will collapse. Thats a better tomb than most of us get."

There were two zombies near the main gates.

"Ill deal with-" Chester began, but Finnegan and Greta pushed past him, the man moving to the left, the woman to the right, raising their axes as they stalked towards the undead. Almost simultaneously the blades came down, and the zombies fell. Greta remembered to twist her blade with the cut. Finnegan didnt, and he had to stamp on the twice-dead creatures face to retrieve it.

Chester said nothing as he opened the gate, but he made a point of closing it behind him. He looked back at the house. Hed spent many nights sitting up with people whod been bitten, and hed known many of those far longer than the few days hed known Reece, yet the mans death seemed somehow significant. It felt almost like the end of something. He shook away the thought.

"The sea is that way," he said, starting off at a brisk clip. Theyd barely gone two hundred yards before they saw a pair of zombies on the road ahead.

"Same as before. Ive got the left, Finnegan began. "Greta, you-"

"No," Chester interrupted. "Look behind 'em. Theres another three coming."

"We can deal with five," Finnegan said.

"Yeah, but they either followed us or heard us, and it doesnt matter which. Five there means more behind. If we stick to this road, well have to fight the whole way back."

"Thats fine by me," Greta said. "Well kill them all. Every last one of them."

"Save that rage for when you need it. Dont think of them as an enemy that can be defeated. Think of them as vermin too numerous to exterminate. You have to learn to live with them and hope you outlast 'em. Well go back, and try one of the roads to the east of that farmhouse."

But when they got back to the farm, they saw a small pack of the living dead approaching from the other direction. They were left with no other choice but to head south through one of the fields of hops, then down a track and to a lane, the hedgerows on either side already half collapsing to fill the narrow thoroughfare.

The sun was rising high when they finally smelled the sea air, and they found the footpath with the wooden cross Chester had carved into the planking the day before.

"Almost there," he said, trying to buoy his own spirits as much as those of the other two. The mace was growing heavy. Hed used it frequently during the long mornings trek.

They stopped six hundred yards from the raft. It was surrounded by the undead. The lifeboat was gone.

"Where are they?" Greta asked.

"Its probably the tides," Chester whispered. "Theyll be back."

"Do we fight?" Finnegan asked.

"Theres at least twenty of 'em. To do it safely, wed have to lure them towards us, get them to spread out. It would take us half an hour at least, probably longer. And then what? Im not sure it would be safe to take the raft. Its hard to tell, but I think the tide would pull us out to sea. How much water have you got left?"

"A mouthful," Greta said.

"A couple of inches," Finnegan said.

"Thats not enough," Chester said. "No, its too much of a risk. We stay on land and keep heading west, back to London."

"On foot?" Finnegan asked. "Its taken us nearly five hours to travel three miles."

"Well find bicycles. But we wont find them here."

Chester swallowed a mouthful of core and crunched down on a pip. The taste was bitter, familiar, and wonderful. Finnegan took out the map.

"Where do you reckon we are?" he asked.

"Somewhere east of the Downs?" Chester guessed.

"I meant this farm. If we came back, do you reckon we can carry all this fruit to the boat?"

"I think so," Greta said, pointing at the map. "Id say were ten miles from the coast, and no more than fifteen."

"If it wasnt for the zombies, Id say yes," Chester said. "Id say that if everyone in the Tower helped, and if we all used bikes, or since this is a fantasy why not say a tractor or three, then yeah, we could manage it. And there would be enough to keep us and the pigs happy until the end of winter. But in this reality weve got no tractor, and there are just too many undead."

He stood, stretched, and pulled another pear from the tree. He took a bite and looked left, right, forward, and back. The road was invisible. All he could see in any direction were trees, some still laden with fruit, the ground about them littered with more.

Theyd found a bicycle in the garden of a house two miles from where theyd left the raft. Taking it in turns for one to ride and scout ahead, theyd had advanced warning of the roads blocked by the undead, so had to backtrack less. The other two bikes were found an hour later, and the pear farm soon after that.

"Were not going to make it back to London tonight," Finnegan said, voicing what Chester had been thinking.