The Girl With All the Gifts(79)

“And we are definitely going to do that?” Justineau demands.

“Unless you can think of a good reason not to. This thing is built like a tank. It’s everything the Humvee was, and a whole lot more. If we can ride it all the way to Beacon, it could save us a world of heartache.”

Justineau can’t help noticing that Dr Caldwell’s face is wearing a sly, smug little smirk. That makes her push against the idea, even though it’s obvious good sense. “We won’t exactly be inconspicuous.”

“No,” Parks agrees. “We won’t. People will hear us coming a mile off. And it’ll be up to them to get the f*ck out of our way, because once we start, we won’t be stopping. Hungries, junkers, roadblocks: we just put our foot down and keep rolling. We won’t even need to stick to the streets. We could drive right through a house and come out the other side. Only thing that will stop big fat Rosie is rivers, and they’ve got maps in the equipment locker that show which bridges can take her weight. I think we’d be remiss if we didn’t at least try. Worst that can happen is one of those bridges will be down, and we have to drive a bit out of our way. Or she slips a tread or blows a gasket or something, and then we’re no worse off than when we started. In the meantime, we get a respite from forced marching, which was taking its toll on all of us and the Doc most of all.”

“Thank you for your solicitude,” Caldwell says.

“I don’t know what that is, but you’re very welcome.”

“Two things,” Justineau says.

“Sorry?”

“You said two things went wrong. The generator was one. What was the other?”

“Yeah,” Parks says. “I was coming to that. They ran out of food. The cupboards are completely bare. As in, not one damn crumb. So my disaster scenario goes like this. They lose the generator, and they can’t fix it. They sit here for a few days or weeks, waiting to be rescued. But the Breakdown’s still raging, and nobody comes. Finally one of them says, ‘Screw this,’ and they pack their bags and hit the road. One of them stays back, presumably on guard duty. The rest walk off into the sunset. Maybe they make it somewhere, maybe they don’t. Most likely they don’t, because the stay-behind kills himself and nobody comes back for the salvage. Which is our good fortune.”

He looks from face to face. “Except that we run the risk of going the same way,” he concludes. “I don’t know how long it will take to fix that generator, if we can fix it at all. But until we can do it, or until we give up, we’re staying right here. So we need food, just like the original crew did. We used up the last of the tins we took from that house in Stevenage, and we didn’t pass any place coming down here that hadn’t been looted, torched or flattened. Still got a fair amount of water, but we have to drink it sparingly because there’s no place to stock up between here and the Thames. So we need to forage, and we need a quick score. Ideally, a supermarket that no grab-bagger teams or junkers ever found, or a house where the homeowners stocked up big-time for the apocalypse and then got taken out early.”

Justineau winces at that cold-hearted calculation. “We’d be looking in the same places the original crew looked,” she points out. Parks turns to stare at her, and she shrugs. “I mean, it’s safe to assume they took a good look around before they abandoned this super-fortress and went out on the open road. If there was food that was lying there waiting to be found, they would have found it.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Parks says. “So the supply problem might be a serious one. Serious whether we move on or not, of course, but certainly more of a problem if we stay put here, for a day or two days or whatever, while I mess with that generator. So it’s a big decision, maybe life-or-death, and it affects all of us equally. I’d be happy to make the call, but as you were keen to remind me a couple of days back, Miss Justineau, you’re not under my command. No more is the Doc. So I’m happy, just this once, to put it to a vote.

“Should we stay or should we go? Show of hands for trying to fix the generator and ride home in style?”

Caldwell’s hand is up in a moment, Gallagher’s slightly slower. Justineau is in a minority of one.

“Okay with that?” Parks asks her.

“I don’t have much choice, do I?” Justineau says. But the truth is she was already on the fence. Her wariness about Rosie has a lot more to do with Melanie’s visible tension and the events of the last day at the base than with any rational objection. She can certainly see the attraction of making the rest of the journey in the safety and comfort of a humongous tank. No more ambushes. No more exposure. No more starting at every sound or movement, and looking over your shoulder every couple of seconds to see what’s coming up behind you.

On the other hand, Caldwell is still wearing her cat-that’s-anticipating-the-cream expression. Justineau’s mind and stomach rebel against the thought of being stuck in an enclosed space with the doctor for any longer than she has to. “I’d like to be on scavenger duty,” she tells Parks. “I mean, assuming you don’t need me to help with the generator. I’ll go with Gallagher and look for food.”

“I had you both down for that,” Parks agrees. “Can’t start on the generator until I know what I’m doing, so right now I’m mainly reading through the manuals so I can identify all the bits and pieces I need. Still got three hours of daylight left, so if you’re up for it, I think the two of you should go ahead and use it. Keep in touch via the walkie-talkies. If you run into any trouble, I’ll get to you as quick as I can. Dr Caldwell, I’m letting you off that duty because your hands are still in a bad way and you probably won’t be able to carry very much. Plus, we’ve only got the two packs.”