Purification

survivors readied themselves to leave. Their brief and unexpected respite at the warehouse had given them precious time to regroup and reorganise themselves and the arrival of Lawrence and Chase in the early hours had given some direction to their frantic and previously directionless escape from the bunker.
    Now without the motorhome many of the group had been crammed into the back of the personnel carrier, which had proved to be slightly less cramped and more comfortable than the back of the prison truck. Cooper took the wheel of the military vehicle with Peter Guest at his side while Steve Armitage took up his now familiar seat at the controls of the second truck. Armitage had begun to fiercely guard his position. Apart from the fact that very few other people could have driven the truck, the responsibility, power and control which he attached to the role made him feel worthwhile and alive. Strange, he thought, that what had previously always felt like such an ordinary and menial task should now give him such purpose.
    Fewer survivors travelled in the back of the prison truck than on earlier journeys. The spare space was taken up by the supplies and equipment which the group had stripped from the warehouse. Just a handful of people travelled in the final vehicle in the convoy - the bright red and uncomfortably conspicuous post van. Donna sat in the driver’s seat with Jack Baxter on the passenger side and Clare sat between them. Behind them were the two remaining soldiers, surrounded by yet more supplies.
    Donna watched them in her mirror. Harcourt seemed genuinely afraid and didn’t appear to be a threat. Her male colleague, however, was far more unpredictable and less trustworthy. His name (she had recently discovered) was Kilgore. A short, wiry-framed and nervous man, he was too jittery and agitated for her liking.
    Fifteen minutes earlier Lawrence and Chase had left in the helicopter, taking with them two of the younger survivors. The remaining group of people had crowded round and watched in awe as the powerful machine had lifted up into the clear blue early morning sky. Having spent weeks underground and cowering away in the silent shadows, to witness the aircraft rise with such majesty, strength and sheer bloody noise and arrogance had been a humbling and strangely emotional experience. As the helicopter disappeared into the distance the sounds made by the rabid bodies smashing themselves furiously against the metal fence had suddenly seemed louder than ever. The closeness and anger of corpses reminded the survivors of the relentless danger which faced each one of them.
    Before leaving Cooper and Guest had gathered the other drivers around them to talk about the proposed route in detail one last time. It was crucial that they all knew the route and the potential problems they might face along the way. Using road atlases he had found in the warehouse, Guest had highlighted the directions they needed to take and had quickly handwritten a set of rough notes to be carried in each vehicle. He was desperately keen to share with the others the information which Richard Lawrence had earlier shared with him.
    ‘You see,’ he explained, talking with unprecedented energy and interest, ‘they’ve obviously not had to spend much time on the ground and so this was the most direct route they were able to come up with. Now I’ve not personally spent a lot of time in this part of the country so I’m not completely sure where we’re…’
    ‘Do me a favour,’ Armitage sighed, ‘just shut up and let me have my bloody map, will you?’
    Undeterred,
    Guest
    continued.
    ‘Lawrence told me that they’ve not seen any particularly large gatherings of bodies between here and Bigginford.’
    ‘What’s large supposed to mean?’ asked Cooper.
    ‘Twenty-five of them? Two thousand? Half a million?’
    ‘Don’t know,’ he quickly admitted, keen to continue with his explanation. ‘Anyway it looks like we’ll be able to stick to the motorways for a good part of the journey.
    They’re probably not going to be clear, but from what they’ve seen from the air they think we should be able to work our way through.’
    ‘What about cities?’ Jack Baxter anxiously wondered.
    ‘We’re going to stay away from the cities as best we can, aren’t we?’
    ‘We’d like to,’ Cooper answered quickly, deliberately denying Guest the opportunity to respond, ‘but we’ve got to try and balance out safety and risk. To get to