Aftermath

was, he wasn’t even listening anymore.
    “It’s fine,” Harry said, trying to reassure him. “I did a lot of climbing. I’ve been up rock faces far worse than this in my time.”
    With that he began to get himself ready. He took various pieces of kit from the bag Harte had been carrying—carabiners, harnesses, and the like—and issued the same to both of the others.
    “What am I supposed to do with this?” Harte asked.
    “Nothing. Leave it to Michael. You remember what to do, don’t you Mike?”
    Michael nodded and hoped that he did. Harry had given him the briefest instruction before they’d started out, but after all they’d been through to get here, he thought he’d probably forgotten most of it.
    “I remember,” he said, sounding less than convincing.
    Harry laid out the climbing rope, unspooling it carefully along the ground, then attached one end to his belt. “I’ll get up and over,” he explained, “get the rope fastened to something on the other side, then you two follow when you hear my signal, okay?”
    “Okay,” Harte said. “What’s the signal?”
    “It’s the middle of the fucking night,” Harry said. “If you hear anying on t of the ordinary, take that as your cue to start climbing.”
    “Got it,” Michael said. “Get going.”
    Harry stood at the foot of the wall and looked up to find his first handholds. He reached up, dug his fingers into the narrow gaps between the huge, ancient stones, and lifted himself off the ground. Michael watched as he hauled himself up, impressed by his dexterity and speed. He’d climbed several meters in no time at all.
    “I’ll never be able to do that,” Harte complained.
    “You don’t have to. You’ll have the rope to help you, remember?”
    Harte looked up at Harry, way above both of them now, scrambling up the sheer face of the wall at lizard-like speed and without a damn care. It had all sounded deceptively simple when they were back in Chadwick making plans—get across the dead by foot, scale the wall and get into the castle, round up everyone who wants to leave, find a vehicle big enough for them all, then get the fuck out of the castle before anyone notices. But plans like this always sound okay until you’re there , he said to himself. Crossing the dead had been a nightmare in itself, and as for climbing the wall … he honestly didn’t know if he could make it. If Harry slipped and fell … it didn’t bear thinking about. There’d be no way he could survive and no way they could help him. He remembered Steve Morecombe who’d died as a result of an accident he should have made a full recovery from.
    Bloody hell, and this was the easy part of the plan. He was seriously doubting if they were going to make this.
    *   *   *
     
    Harry was more than two-thirds of the way up now. His arms ached—he hadn’t done anything like this for a while—but he was able to ignore the pain because he knew it wouldn’t last much longer. He felt for another handhold, and managed to find a narrow gap between two huge chunks of stone which had been carved and dropped into position hundreds of years ago. Now’s not the time to get distracted , he told himself as he thought about how many years these massive blocks had remained in place and all that had happened to the world around them in that time. Even if he made it through tonight and lasted another fifty years, his entire life would be little more than the blink of an eye in comparison to the centuries this place had been here.
    He eventually reached the top of the wall, peering over at first, then pulling his legs over, keeping low so that he wouldn’t be spotted from inside. He lay flat on his stomach and looked down into the castle grounds. There was the cesspit Harte had told him about—he could smell it from up here—and near to it lay an unmistakable shape wrapped in a tarpaulin. It was a body, no question about it. He glanced back in the other direction and gave Michael and Harte a quick thumbs-up to let them know he was okay and he hadn’t been seen. Bloody hell, all that talk of James Bond … he was actually starting to feel like a spy. But spying was yet another redundant profession now there were so few people left alive.
    Harry looked along the inside of the wall in bothons. Several trucks had been parked a short distance behind him. They’d make this immeasurably easier. As well as giving him something at a convenient height to lower himself onto, one of