Aftermath

beginning to panic. What to do? Should he pull up and wait for the gate to open and risk being surrounded, or maintain this speed and just hope for the best? Up ahead, his question was answered as the two halves of the gate began to slowly part. Driver gripped the steering wheel tight, kept his foot down hard on the accelerator, and flew through the narrow gap before skidding to a halt in the middle of a vast courtyard filled with vehicles, caravans, equipment and … people! Healthy people. Living people!
    He didn’t move for a while. He couldn’t. Exhausted, he switched off the engine and slumped forward over the steering wheel, his heart thumping so hard he thought it might be about to burst from his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as a handful of corpses which had slipped through the gate with him were rounded up and destroyed. Some of the people he saw were hurriedly putting on hazmat suits; others wore leathers like Jas, Ian Harte, Greg Hollis and the rest of them used to wear. Some concentrated on getting the gate shut; others dealt with the disposal and removal of the dead. He was transfixed by this unexpected display of organization and cooperation.
    A sudden knock on the door of the bus startled Driver. He sat up quickly and let a tall, clean, and remarkably well-presented man come on board.
    “You okay?” the man asked.
    “Think so,” Driver mumbled, not entirely sure.
    “My name’s Jackson,” he said, holding out his hand.
    “Anthony Kent,” he replied as they shook. “Tony. But most folks just call me Driver.”
    “Most folks? There’s more of you?”
    “There were. Probably still are.”
    “We’ll get you some food, get you cleaned up, then you can tell me more,” he said, gesturing for Driver to follow him off the bus. Driver did as he was told. He looked around him in disbelief.
    “What is this place?”
    “Home,” Jackson replied.

 
     
    8
     
    Several hours later, Bob Wilkins ushered Driver into another part of the castle. Once part of a small museum space used as an onsite classroom by visiting schools, its size and relative comfort had resulted in it being adopted for use as a communal lounge by the current occupants of the ancient building. Driver waited in the doorway, feeling unexpectedly nervous, and Bob gently pushed him through. There were four other people in the room already, and he felt like a definite outsider.
    “Come on in, love,” Sue Preston said to him as she carried in a tray of food and drinks from the adjoining café and kitchen. “No standing on ceremony here.”
    Driver did as she said and walked a little farther, stopping again when he caught sight of his reflection in a window. He had to look twice to be sure it really was him. He’d almost forgotten what he looked like. Since arriving at the castle earlier he’d managed to shave for the first time in weeks, and one of the others—a lady called Shirley—had hacked at his long hair with a pair of scissors. He still wore his bus driver’s uniform overcoat as he had almost every day since the beginning, partially because it was warm, but mainly because he didn’t have anything else.
    Jackson was sitting with another man in front of a paraffin heater which glowed a comforting orange. Even from here Driver could feel the heat it was producing. It was warmer than anything he’d felt in weeks. Jackson looked around, then beckoned him over, pulling up another chair. Driver sat down, still feeling unexpectedly uncomfortable.
    “This is Kieran,” Jackson said, introducing the man sitting on Driver’s right. “Kieran, this is Tony.”
    “I prefer Driver.”
    “How’re you doing?” Kieran asked as they shook hands.
    “Been better, been worse,” he replied, giving little away.
    “Smoke?” Jackson offered.
    “No thanks. Bad for you.”
    “Coffee?” Sue asked, leaning between them with a tray.
    “Now that I won’t say no to,” Driver said quickly, taking a mug and reveling in its warmth and its bitter taste. He sipped the drink and stared at the glowing heater, trying to work out how he’d managed to get from yesterday’s nightmare to here.
    “Something wrong?”
    Driver shook his head and glanced over at Jackson.
    “Just doesn’t feel right, that’s all.”
    “What doesn’t?”
    “Sitting in a place like this, with people like you, enjoying a drink in front of the fire like nothing’s happened.”
    “If therw he?s somewhere else you’d rather be…”
    “No,”