Autumn

level and just about everything else he could think of checking. The importance of the van to them could not be overestimated - without it they would be stranded. Without it they would be trapped at Penn Farm, unable to fetch supplies (which they knew they would have to do at some point in the near future) and unable to get away should anything happen to compromise the safety of their home. And they had almost come to think of it as a home too. In a world full of dark disorientation, within the safe and sturdy walls of the farmhouse they had at last found a little stability.
    ‘Next time we’re out we should get another one of these,’ Michael said as he ran his hands along the buckled driver’s side wing of the van. He made it sound as if they could just run down to the shops when they next felt like it. His casual tone completely belied the reality of their situation.
    ‘Makes sense,’ Emma agreed. She was sitting on the stone steps leading up to the front door. She’d been sitting there for the last hour and a half, just watching as Michael had worked.
    ‘Perhaps we should try and get something a little less refined,’ he continued. ‘This thing has been fine, but if you think about it, we need something that’s going to get us out of any situation. If we’re somewhere and the roads are blocked, chances are we’ll need to find another way to get away. We could end up driving through fields or...’
    ‘I can’t see us leaving here much. Only to get food or...’
    ‘But you never know, do you? Bloody hell, anything could happen. The only thing we can be certain about anymore is that fact that we can’t be sure of anything.’
    Emma stood up and stretched.
    ‘Silly bugger,’ she smiled.
    ‘I know what you’re saying though,’ he continued as he gathered together his tools and began to pack them away. ‘If we stay here we could do pretty much anything. We could build a brick wall round the house if we wanted to. Really keep those bastards out.’
    Emma didn’t respond. She stood at the top of the steps and looked down across the yard and out towards the rapidly darkening countryside.
    ‘Light’s fading,’ she mumbled. ‘Better get inside soon.’
    ‘I don’t think it makes much difference anymore,’ Michael said quietly, climbing the steps to stand next to her. ‘Doesn’t matter how dark it is, those bloody things just don’t stop. It might even be safer out here at night. At least they can’t see us when its dark.’
    ‘They can still hear us. Might even be able to smell us.’
    ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said again, looking into her face. ‘They can’t get to us.’
    Emma nodded and turned to walk inside. Michael followed her through into the house.
    ‘Carl’s in, isn’t he?’ he asked as he pushed the door shut.
    Emma looked puzzled.
    ‘Of course he’s in. He hasn’t been out of his bloody bedroom for days. Where else do you think he’s going to be?’
    He shrugged his shoulders.
    ‘Don’t know. He might have gone out back. Just thought I’d check.’
    She shook her head and leant against the hall wall. The house was dark. The generator hadn’t yet been started.
    ‘Take it from me,’ she said, her voice tired and low, ‘he’s inside. I looked up at the window and saw him earlier. He was there again with those bloody binoculars, face pressed against the glass. Christ alone knows what he was looking at.’
    ‘Do you think he’s all right?’
    Emma sighed at Michael’s question. It was painfully obvious to her that Carl was far from all right. It was equally obvious that his temperament and stability appeared to be wavering more and more unsteadily each day.
    Michael sensed her frustration.
    ‘He’ll come through this,’ he said optimistically. ‘Give him time and he’ll get over everything that’s happened.’
    ‘Do you really think so?’ Emma asked.
    Michael thought for a moment.
    ‘Yes... why, don’t you?’
    She shrugged her shoulders and disappeared into the kitchen.
    ‘Don’t know. He’s really suffering, that much I’m sure about.’
    ‘We’ve all suffered.’
    ‘I know that. Bloody hell, we’ve had this conversation again and again. He lost more than we did. You and I lived on our own. He shared every second of every day with his partner and child.’
    ‘I know, but...’
    ‘But I’m not sure if you do. I’m not sure if I fully understand how much he’s hurting. I don’t think I ever will.’
    Michael was beginning to get annoyed