Aftermath

perfect it was, going on about how we were going to build this barrier to keep the bodies back, and how we’d do up the flats and make them inhabitable and—”
    “And that’s exactly what we did,” Lorna said.
    “Up to a point,” Jas continued. “I believed it, though. We all believed it. But it didn’t last. And when we got to that fucking hotel, it was the same again. Remember the first couple of days there? How we were swanning around playing football, checking out the gym equipment, talking about draining the swimming pool and all that?”
    “I know what you’re saying, Jas, but nothing that happened there was because we did anything to—”
    “What happened was avoidable,” he yelled, the sudden raw emotion in his voice taking everyone by surprise. He picked up the bottle again and knocked back more booze. Lorna wondered whether this was just the drink talking. Maybe a combination of alcohol and relief that they’d finally escaped the hotel.
    “This place is different,” she said, risking his ire. He glared at her, but when he didn’t immediately try shouting her down, she continued. “This place is different and the bodies are much weaker now. Give it a few more months and there won’t be anything left of them but bones.”
    “A few months? I don’t know if I can take a few more months of this. I don’t know if I can take another day.”
    Jas knocked back the dregs at the bottom of the bottle and hurled it over the battlements. It was a few seconds before he heard it smash.
    Lorna, Harte, and Hollis watched him with caution. Suddenly feeling the cold, Lorna wanted to go down. She stood up and helped Hollis to his feet. She was about to disappear down the spiral staircase when Jas turned and spoke to her again.
    “You’re right, Lorna,” he said. “This place is going to be different and we will be okay here. And I’ll tell you why—it’s because I’m not going to have it any other way. I’m not letting you, Jackson, or any other fucker back me into a corner again. I’m not givinganyone control over what’s left of my life now, understand?”

 
     
    Eighty-Seven Days Since Infection

 
     
    13
     
    Within the castle walls now was a community of twenty-one: fifteen men and six women. Jackson, maintaining his position of unelected leader by virtue of the fact that no one complained and no one else seemed to want the role, was keen to try and keep everyone occupied. Boredom was an enemy—it gave people the unwelcome opportunity to think about how much they’d lost and how little they’d still got. Whether it was to keep them occupied, distracted, out of trouble … the reasons were unimportant. Most people willingly took on the duties assigned to them, and completed them to the best of their abilities, despite the blatantly obvious fact that much of the work didn’t actually need to be done.
    Caron was an intelligent woman, and she knew when to keep her mouth shut. This was definitely one of those times. She was less than pleased with the duties she’d been allocated, but she carried them out without complaint. Since arriving at Cheetham Castle, she’d done more cleaning than she had in the previous ten years combined. At least it was relatively warm and dry indoors, she thought. Winter had barely begun, but it felt like it had been like this forever.
    Working in the museum was particularly sad. They were using parts of it as a storeroom now, and all the exhibits had been shoved into one end of the large, L-shaped space. For a while this morning she’d spent some time hidden around the corner, looking at them all. Valuable antiques now worth nothing. Beautifully restored and preserved artifacts now given less importance than food and water supplies, spare clothes and pretty much everything else. There were a number of wall-mounted displays which had been taken down and stacked against a wall. She flicked through them, avoiding doing any work for a little longer. There were paintings of the castle hundreds of years ago, newly built and full of people. Then there were pictures of the “second stage” buildings within the perimeter wall—a great hall, an armory, stables, living quarters, kitchens … all just ruins now. All those different eras and ages, the lords of the manor, the kings and the generals … all gone now. She couldn’t help but think she was living through the last chapter of this once-great place. If she had any artistic talent—and she was under