Purification

of the bodies have been keeping their distance from our people, almost hiding from them. There’s nowhere for them to go here. They’re stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with hundreds more of the bloody things behind them, pushing them closer.
    I don’t know what this means.
    Are the bodies finally about to give up and drop, or is this the beginning of something worse?
    We’ve drawn lots to decide who goes first.
    The plane and the helicopter will leave here early tomorrow morning.
    The sooner we get away from this place the better.

33
    In the frustratingly low light of early evening Jackie Soames was trying unsuccessfully to coordinate the emptying of the observation tower and the movement of anything useful down into the office building below.
    ‘So what’s the plan?’ Emma asked, returning to the observation tower from outside. She’d watched Keele move the plane from the hangar to the runway earlier and, despite the damp conditions and low temperature, had stayed out there, enjoying the relative freedom and the fresh air. The activity over the last few hours seemed to suggest that things were finally about to start happening and she had assumed that there would be work to be done inside. She could see a few people moving around the room with an apparent purpose, but she could also see many, many more sitting still and staring into space as they always did. Much as she understood their continuing pain and could sympathise with them to an extent, she questioned how long their malaise would last? No matter how bleak or desperate things seemed, they all had to try and face up to what was left of reality sooner or later, didn’t they?
    ‘There is no plan,’ Jackie replied dejectedly. ‘I just thought it would be sensible to get as much stuff out of here as we could before morning.’
    ‘So what exactly do we need to take? Do you know what’s already on the island?’
    ‘Not
    sure.’
    ‘Didn’t someone say there used to be about five hundred people living there?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then there’s going to be plenty of clothing and beds and houses and the like, isn’t there?’
    ‘Suppose
    so.’

‘So all we really need to take with us from here is any food we’ve got and any specialist stuff that we know we won’t find over there. I don’t think there’s going to be very much.’
    Jackie
    nodded.
    ‘I know,’ she admitted. She looked at Emma and managed half a smile. ‘You’re right. I suppose I’m just trying to keep myself occupied, that’s all. I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand all this bloody waiting around.
    It’s really starting to get to me. I just want to get on, get things done and get out of here now.’
    Emma
    agreed.
    ‘We’ve all done more than enough waiting around,’ she sighed.
    Realising that it was pointless trying to motivate herself or anyone else at the end of the dying day, Jackie sat down heavily. Emma pulled up a chair and sat down next to her.
    She thought the large, red-faced woman looked unusually troubled. Perhaps it was just tiredness.
    ‘What’s on your mind?’ she asked.
    Jackie shrugged her shoulders and lit a cigarette. She only had a couple left in the box she carried with her. The one she’d just put in her mouth had already been half-smoked.
    ‘This just about sums it up,’ she said as she blew out a match.
    ‘What
    does?’
    ‘These bloody cigarettes.’
    ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘I ran a pub,’ Jackie explained, taking a deep, tired breath. ‘I used to smoke like a bloody chimney. I used to like having a good time first then worrying about it afterwards. Now I’m down to my last box of cigarettes and I’m hoping there’s going to be some on this bloody island when I get there because the last thing I want to do now is give up. I can think of at least another four or five smokers in here and my guess is that none of them want to give up either. Bloody hell, I want to smoke more than ever now.’
    ‘What point are you making?’
    Jackie didn’t give Emma a direct answer. She knew she wasn’t making much sense but she didn’t care.
    ‘And drinking,’ she continued. ‘I never used to get a hangover because I’d never stop drinking. I used to drink every day but there’s hardly a drop of alcohol left here now. Christ, I’ve practically been going through cold turkey for the last couple of weeks and I’ve bloody well had enough of it.’
    ‘I still don’t understand.’
    Jackie laughed sadly to herself,