Disintegration

41

“If there’s one thing we’ve got plenty of here,” Ginnie said, her arms fully loaded, “it’s white sheets.”

Hollis moved to let her through and watched as she disappeared outside to find Martin and Caron. Gordon followed close behind. Those two seemed to be attached at the hip, he thought as he pushed past him, desperate to catch up. Finally Lorna came through, her hair tied up in a long ponytail, struggling with yet more linen.

“Here, let me,” he said, holding the door open. She smiled briefly, but didn’t say anything. Hollis ducked into the kitchen to pick up another pile of sheets, then followed the rest of them out.

The early morning cloud had remained but had steadily lightened from dark gray to a brighter white as the sun tried to break through. It wasn’t much after eight but it felt much, much later. Funny how our body clocks seem to have synchronized themselves with the sun and the moon, he thought as he walked across the lawn toward the others. Previously he’d have got up when it was time to go to work and gone to bed when he’d finished watching TV or come in from the pub. Now the only thing which happened with any regularity was the steady progress of the sun across the sky, and they’d all matched their daily routines to the light. Up at dawn, ready to sleep by dusk.

Martin was flapping like an overprotective mother hen. Caron seemed to have a better grasp of the task at hand.

“No, Martin,” she protested, “we need to start over here and put the letters the other way up to how you’re suggesting. Down the lawn, not across it, see? H … E … L … P…”

As she spoke she pointed to where she thought each letter should go.

“She’s right,” Gordon agreed. “We can make the letters bigger if we do it that way.”

“Doesn’t really matter which way up they go, does it?” added Ginnie enthusiastically, pleased to have finally found something to occupy her time.

“Keep your voices down,” Hollis nervously warned. They were almost at the boundary fence, near to the gap he’d gone through with Martin earlier. They could hear snatches of music in the distance and he felt uncomfortably close to the dead. If only they knew just how many bodies he’d seen gathered on the golf course.

Lorna didn’t speak. Ignoring the others as they fussed and argued, she began laying down the first sheet and opening it out. Using sand, soil, stones, and whatever else he could find, Hollis followed her around and weighed down the edges of the material.

“Think this is going to do it?” he asked as she unfolded the second sheet.

“We’ve got nothing to lose by trying, have we?”

Following her lead, Gordon and Ginnie also started to work. Ginnie lay two sheets down to form the cross of the H, Gordon secured them. Hollis was fetching more linen when a football bounced up off the grass and hit him in the face, knocking him back. Sudden, searing pain coursed through his injured ear. He looked up angrily to see Sean approaching. Webb wasn’t far behind.

“Sorry,” Sean began, jogging toward him. Hollis barged past.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yelled at Webb, the blinding pain and anger making him temporarily forget the volume of his voice. “Are you fucking stupid?”

“No, are you?” Webb goaded. Hollis ran at him but the younger man was too fast and sidestepped his clumsy attack.

“Come here, you little bastard,” he seethed. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“No, you’re not. You can’t even catch me!”

“Leave it out,” Lorna pleaded, running after them both. “Come on, Hollis, this is pointless. He’s just a little idiot. Not worth wasting your time on.”

“You can fuck off too,” Webb spat.

Hollis sprinted forward again and slid in the dew-soaked grass, much to Webb’s amusement. He picked himself up and glared at him, breathing hard. Lorna held him back.

“Please,” she said, “just ignore him. He’s only doing it to wind you up. Come back and help us get this finished.”

“Fucking idiot,” Hollis shouted, forgetting himself again. “Why can’t you do something useful instead of screwing around all the time?”

“You call that useful?” Webb shouted back, pointing at the sheets on the grass. “How is that useful? How’s that going to help? Who’s gonna see it?”

“What’s going on?” Jas asked. He’d emerged from the hotel when he’d first heard the raised voices. “You lot got any idea how much noise you’re making?”

“It’s okay, Jas,” Lorna told him as she tried again to pull Hollis away. “There’s no problem. It’s nothing.”

“Come on, mate,” Sean said to Webb, passing the football to him. “Let’s go. No point standing here arguing about—”

He looked up at the sky. The others immediately did the same. One by one they heard the helicopter engine approaching. Webb was the first to spot it—a small, black, spidery silhouette crawling across the off-white sky several miles north of where they were standing.

“There it is,” he said, pointing up at the aircraft, “and that’s why what you’re doing is stupid. How are they supposed to see your letters on the ground when they’re not even flying overhead? They’re fucking miles away. They’ll never see it.”

He was right and Hollis knew it.

“So what do you suggest?” he asked, sounding uncharacteristically desperate. “What else are we supposed to do? What we’re doing is better than doing nothing at all.”

“You need a fucking fire or something,” Webb answered. “A great big fucking fire in the middle of nowhere. At least then they’ll—”

“Shut up!” Jas interrupted. “Listen!”

Another engine, loud enough for them all to hear.

“There!” Lorna said excitedly. “Look at that! It’s a bloody plane.”

“Christ,” Sean said under his breath as they stood and stared at the second, much larger aircraft. “There must be loads of them. It’s a bloody mass evacuation.”

“That’s not good,” Jas warned.

“Not good?” he protested. “How can it not be good?”

“Because you might be right—and if you are, then they’re probably clearing out, aren’t they? And if they’re doing that, then they ain’t going to be flying over here many more times.”