Them or Us

understood. Jake, sitting on a desk and swinging his legs, lifts his hand and points a finger at me.
    “I bet he can show us a better place to find a boat,” he says, his voice initially quiet but steadily gaining in confidence. “He knows where to go,” he tells the others.
    “He’s already told us he’s not interested in helping,” Tracey says.
    Jake’s not listening. “Then make him do it.”
    “We can’t.”
    “You can show us, can’t you?” he says again, looking straight at me. “We were by the sea when you found us. You must know where the boats are.”
    Joseph looks back at me again. “Well?”
    “I know of a couple of places, but you’re not listening to me, are you? It’s going to be hard enough for any of you to get anywhere near Lowestoft. Then, if by some chance you do manage to find a boat, there’s the little question of getting it going. I don’t know anything about boats or engines—”
    “We do,” he interrupts. “You think we haven’t planned for something like this? Do you think we’ve just been sitting down here twiddling our thumbs and staring into space for weeks on end feeling sorry for ourselves? We knew this day would come eventually. As good as it was, this place was never going to last. Where’s Todd?”
    A man emerges from the gloom at the back of the group. A gangly, awkward-looking guy with an Einstein-like shock of gray-white hair, he acknowledges Joseph and nods at me.
    “Who’s this?”
    “My name’s Todd Weston,” he answers, stepping over and around people to get closer to the front. “I know my way around boats. You get me to it, I’ll sail it.”
    I lean back against the wall and look up at the ceiling. How the hell am I going to get through to these people?
    “Do you really think you’re just going to trot along to Lowestoft, pick yourselves up a boat, and sail it away into the sunset? Didn’t you hear me, the place isn’t full of tourists anymore, it’s a fucking war zone. Plus there’s so much smoke and shit in the air that you can’t see the fucking sunset anymore, never mind sail away into it.”
    “Where exactly is the fighting?” Joseph asks.
    “Want me to draw you a fucking map?”
    “Don’t be facetious. I just want to know if the fighting’s near the boatyards,” he says, his voice annoyingly calm, bordering on patronizing.
    “I don’t know for sure. It seemed to be concentrated in and around the compound in the center of town from what I saw of it, but—”
    “So theoretically we could get in and out again without anyone noticing?”
    “Hardly. What are you planning? Are you going to bus people in?”
    “Lose the sarcasm and change your attitude, Danny,” he snaps, his voice suddenly harder. “We’re talking about people’s lives here. Stop looking for excuses and try to find a way out. That’s what the old Danny McCoyne would have done.”
    “Yeah, and the new Danny McCoyne wouldn’t bother at all. Look at me, for Christ’s sake. I’m a dead man walking. I’m riddled with cancer, I’ve just had seven shades of shit kicked out of me, and—”
    “And you’re still going. You’re standing here helping, whether you realize it or not. You continually underestimate yourself. Don’t forget, Danny, you’re the man who managed to find the proverbial needle in the haystack. When the whole country was falling apart and going to hell around you, you were the one who managed to find his daughter and save her. I don’t know of any other father who could have done that. If it wasn’t for you, she’d have been—”
    “I didn’t save her,” I interrupt angrily, doing all I can not to think about Ellis.
    “What your daughter became and what happened to her wasn’t your fault. You did all you could, more than most. You fought your way into the heart of the biggest fucking battle of all, then managed to get yourself and your girl back out again before it was too late. I don’t know anyone else who’s done anything near comparable. Peter Sutton was in awe of you, you damn fool.”
    “Then he was the fool, not me.”
    “Can’t you see, you’re our only option, Danny. Without you we’re screwed.”
    “I’m screwed anyway.”
    “I know that, and I’m truly sorry, but what else are you going to do with the time you have left? You’re not the kind of man who’ll just crawl under a rock and wait there to die, are you? You’re better than that. Go out with a purpose. Give people something to remember