Escape

Laura watched the children playing happily with the large, brightly coloured building bricks in the dim light; Poppy patiently helping her baby brother to build a tower as tall as she could, before he knocked it down with delight. She marvelled at how well Poppy had adapted to their new life and, for George, the only life he had ever known, but she worried about them constantly. They had been underground far longer than either Joe or she had anticipated and been prepared for, but they knew from the reports that reached them sporadically that they had to hold on for as long as they could. She had rationed the food and water for the last year, but the children were starting to show signs of malnutrition. Their skin was becoming translucent, anaemic-looking, they were increasingly lethargic, and they were so thin.  She knew in her heart that if they were to have any chance of survival, it wouldn’t be long before they had no option but to leave the safety of the bunker and face the horrors above ground. Hopefully, they had bought themselves enough time.

She had laughed at Joe when he’d suggested building a bunker in their back garden. I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous, she’d said. Very funny. The serious look on her ordinarily happy-go-lucky husband’s face, however, made her stop in her tracks.  There are things happening in other parts of the World, he’d said gravely, we need to be prepared. I need to make sure you and the children will be safe. She heard the concern in his voice and saw it on his face, and it unnerved her. What makes you say that? She’d asked. You’re scaring me. What do you know? Just things, he’d said, things I can’t talk about. Government business. If it’s as serious as you think, shouldn’t we warn Gareth and Sophe? She’d asked. Them and your parents, but no one else, he’d replied, taking her hands in his, staring deeply into her eyes, his eyes full of fear and regret, I’d lose my job. She knew then that this was serious and there was no arguing with him. 

Sophe had taken the piss out of her for being a “prepper” when Laura had given her a tour of their new construction a few months later, ridiculing her suggestion that she and Gareth should seriously think about doing the same, no matter how hard she tried to urge her to do so. She stopped short of telling her what Joe knew, his fears for the future; they needed his job and the lifestyle it afforded them. When the Government warnings to isolate came months later, she regretted that decision and had continued to do so every day since. She prayed that they were safe and that she would get to be annoyed with her younger sister again sometime.

Poppy hadn’t been so excited this time as they climbed down the steep ladder into the bunker, not like the numerous times before when they had pretended that they were going on an underground holiday, like moles in their underground burrow. She knew something was wrong. The piercing sound of the alarm and the police megaphone telling people to stay inside terrified her. Her little body trembled, and tears flowed down her cheeks. She had clung to Laura at the bottom of the ladder, sobbing, her face as pale as a ghost, as Joe closed and locked the door with a heavy bang, Laura covering her ears to block out the sound of people hammering on the reinforced door, pleading with them to be let in, offering whatever they had for the chance to join them. It took all of Laura’s willpower to resist their cries. She knew that she needed to put her family first if they were going to have any chance of survival. She led Poppy into the bedroom away from the ladder and hugged her tightly until she calmed. All the while, George slept peacefully in his baby sling strapped to her chest, contentedly snuffling, oblivious to the threat to his world.

Joe smiled as George knocked down yet another tower of bricks and looked at Laura, motioning for her to follow him into the bedroom away from the children.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” he whispered. “We need food and water.”

Laura nodded; she had known this had been coming from the endless lists Joe had been making.

“We’ll travel at night, keep away from cities and towns, stick to the more isolated places,” he continued. “It’ll be safer that way, but it will take longer. We’ll have to carry the children; hopefully, they’ll sleep, but we’ll cover more ground that way. I’ve heard about settlements on the islands in the North.”

Laura listened intently, her body tensing, her stomach knotting as the fear rose inside her. She had heard the reports of the millions dying, the virus mutations, the suicides, the killings and the predatory mutants. She didn’t want to leave the safety of their bubble, but she knew they had to. She stifled back a sob. Joe took her hand and squeezed it, before wrapping his arms around her and enveloping her in a reassuring hug. They stayed like this for a few minutes until Poppy interrupted the moment.

“George has pooped,” she said, holding her nose, “it smells yucky.”

They both laughed loudly, the tension in the air evaporating.

It was eerily quiet and so dark when they emerged from the safety of the bunker a few days later that it took them some time for their eyes to adjust. Joe took the lead with the faint torch, Poppy strapped to his back and a rucksack of supplies on his front. Laura followed with George in his baby sling against her chest and a rucksack of supplies on her back. Their old neighbourhood was deserted, a ghost town. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the empty streets as they made their way quickly out of town. From time to time, something scurried across their path, and the stench of something rotting filled their nostrils. The open fields were the most treacherous, as there was little cover, but as they entered the woods, Laura at least felt a little more at ease, although she knew she couldn’t let her guard down.

She stumbled. She’d fallen asleep momentarily as she walked. She was so tired, and her body ached from carrying George, the straps of the sling biting into her shoulders.  She felt George stir.

“We need to rest, Joe,” she implored. “I’m beat, and I can’t carry George any longer.”

Joe turned, his face grave with worry but resolved.

“No, we have to go on”, he replied.

“But we’ve been walking for hours,” she pleaded again.

“We can’t stop now,” he replied. “We need to put as much distance between them and us as we physically can. You know that. We can’t let them smell us.”

Laura knew he was right, but she knew that she had to rest soon, if just for a little while. George wriggled again. He was hungry, as they all were, and there was only so much she could do to keep him quiet for much longer.

“Another half an hour and that’s it,” she said firmly, “then I will have to feed George, or they won’t just smell us, they’ll hear us as well!”

Joe nodded reluctantly.

Tightening the straps on the baby sling once more, she moved on, trudging through the darkness like a sleepwalker, her feet dragging, twigs snapping underfoot. 

Joe stopped suddenly and turned quickly, motioning for Laura to be quiet, to not make a sound. Laura saw a faint orange glow ahead through the trees, and the unmistakable smell of freshly brewed coffee filled her senses. An image of her father came into her mind, his grey beard and sparkling blue eyes as clear as if he were beside her. She watched as he filled the kettle and warmed the cafetiere, before adding two heaped scoops of rich dark coffee and filling the pot with boiling water. Two heaped scoops are just right, he said, smiling, just enough but not so much that it will put hair on your chest. Now we wait four minutes exactly for it to brew, and we’re ready for a perfect start to the day.

The image faded, and Laura felt a tear slide down her face. At that moment, it hit her that she didn’t know if she would ever see her father again.