Surviving The Evacuation (Book 7): Home Read Free Page B

will his death have?”
    “He isn’t dead yet. So don’t write him off until you’re shovelling soil onto his grave.”
    “It’s all gone wrong,” Nilda said. “So wrong. All I wanted was to protect Jay. Sebastian and all those others who died in Penrith, they all died for nothing.”
    “And the same can be said for all those the government killed with that poison they said was a vaccine. And the millions who died in the nuclear bombs. And the billions more who died in the chaos afterwards. But saying it doesn’t change anything. All it does is imply there was a higher purpose to all of this, that there’s someone to blame. Well, you can blame God, or Quigley or whoever you like, but that doesn’t change where you are and what needs to be done next. Chester will live or die, but there’s still everyone else. They’re going to need someone to show them the way. Go and get some fresh air. I’ll sit with him for a bit.”
    “I shouldn’t leave him,” Nilda said.
    “No,” Fogerty said. “There’s really nothing you can do, not here, but you need to wash and change your clothes. The kids shouldn’t see you looking like that.”
    She looked down and saw her hands and clothes were covered in blood,
    “Yes. You’re right,” she said, and went outside.
     
     

Part 1:
    Losing Hope
     
    26 th September
     
    Nilda found herself standing in her small room. She didn’t remember walking there, speaking to anyone, or whether anyone had spoken to her. The bed looked inviting, but she knew this wasn’t the time to give in to that temptation. There was too much to do, there always was. With Hana’s death, it had all become… Nilda wasn’t sure, but knew that standing there probing her emotions wouldn’t prevent their bad situation from getting worse.
    “What needs to be done?” she asked herself, trying to turn her mind to the myriad tasks before them. She found no answer, just an echo of the question that repeated over and over.
    She stripped and checked the small cabinet. It was nearly empty. There was a pair of jeans a size too large and a T-shirt a size too small. She’d have to get some more from the store and something better suited to the increasingly chilly autumnal air. There, that was a task she could understand.
    “We need more clothes. Better clothes.” She let the idea fill her mind. There had been some in the Tower when they’d arrived, belonging to the warders and their families, but they were running low on those, and since the children’s arrival there was barely enough water to drink let alone wash. There was certainly none to spare on laundry.
    The T-shirt was emblazoned with an ‘I Love London’ logo. It had come from one of the unofficial souvenir shops just outside the Tower wall. Chester had given them to her just after they’d arrived.
    “Chester,” she murmured, and his name caught in her throat. She’d not known him long, but he’d seemed solid, dependable, like a force of nature. His life, his survival, had embodied the idea that even in their darkest hours, even if they had to flee the castle, they could survive. Now that he walked that narrow path with death on either side, the stark reality of their situation had been brought into focus. Not just their individual mortality, but the precarious fragility of the entire group’s existence. There was no retreat, no escape, and no hope.
    “No,” she said. “No. There’s always hope.”
    She pulled the T-shirt on and looked at the empty cupboard. So many had died. So many that it was easier to count those who’d survived, and their numbers were so few that that it seemed worse than a sin that anyone could want to kill more.
    “Why did you do it? Why did you kill Hana? Revenge?” The word came out, and as she heard it she realised it wasn’t an answer but a question. Was it their fault, then? Was it her fault? They’d accused Graham, sentenced him, sent him out beyond the wall’s safety on the assumption he was