Free Flesh and Blood by Jackie French Page B

when the floater drew close.
    And then we saw it: dark smudges against the tan and yellow that slowly grew into the refrigeration plant and tents — not bubble tents, but solid, massive ones — and, to one side, the wide transport floaters that moved them all from site to site.
    It looked a good place to camp. There was a river, thin pools and a wide film of water between broad gravelly banks, as though the river was too tired to move faster to dig itself a proper place to flow. But trees grew on either side of the gravel — proper trees, with solid white trunks faintly patched with green and ochre and grey streaks of peeling bark and high leafy branches whose shadows dappled the grass.
    ‘Not a good sign,’ said Neil.
    ‘What is?’
    ‘No-one’s coming out to meet us. You would have thought someone would have seen the floater land.’
    ‘Maybe they’re all sick.’ Or dead, I thought. Then I corrected myself. ‘No, it doesn’t happen like that, does it? Everyone wouldn’t get sick at the same time. And some people would be naturally immune.’ As we might be, I thought. Please, please … though the chances of both of us being immune were unlikely. No, I didn’t want tothink of that. I had too recently almost lost Neil to face it again. Both of us, or neither … ‘Maybe they’re all indoors looking after the sick ones.’
    ‘Maybe,’ said Neil dubiously. ‘But look, if the Centaur was infected by the campers, and the campers caught the infection here, the first ones must have become ill more than a month ago.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘So why didn’t they call for help? A place like this would have Link facilities.’
    ‘Michael said the plague comes on suddenly.’ But not that suddenly, I thought. Not so suddenly that it strikes everyone at once.
    Why hadn’t someone called for help?
    Neil switched the floater onto manual. ‘We’ll land over there,’ he said, pointing to a patch of shade about fifty metres from the camp.
    ‘Why so far away?’
    ‘So if there’s any … trouble … you can get away fast,’ said Neil.
    ‘No way.’
    He looked surprised. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘This time I’m coming with you.’
    ‘But …’
    ‘Being pregnant’s no excuse for being a wimp. Anyway, what can threaten us? The worst we’ll see is,’ I swallowed, ‘bodies.’
    ‘I don’t think ——’ began Neil.
    I interrupted him. ‘Listen, oh male, who’s gone all masterly just because he’s going to be a father, I’m not asking permission. I’m coming, that’s all.’
    He still looked uncertain. I patted his hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘If I faint you can carry me back.’

chapter 26
    T he camp was quiet. No, that isn’t true. I could hear the wind, too high in the sky to do more than rustle the leaves down here. I could hear water trickling from pool to pool. But there were no human noises.
    ‘Hello! Is anyone here?’ My voice echoed — ’ere, ’ere, ’ere.
    ‘We’re here to help you!’ called Neil.
    ‘Are we?’ I said, then shrugged. I supposed we could at least take any survivors back to the isolation clinic at the utopia.
    No-one answered.
    ‘That looks like the main tent,’ said Neil. ‘Let’s try that one first.’
    It was more demountable than tent. Although the walls were obviously collapsible and the frame erected piece by piece, the roof shone silver with solar paint and there were windows all along the sides. I peered inside, but it was too dim to make out much.
    We made for the door. It too looked solid, lightweight NewWood. I turned the handle and the door opened.
    A gust of air hit us: stale, smelling of hot plastic. I peered into the gloom, then pulsed the light signal. Instantly the room lit up.
    It was evidently a common room — comfortable chairs that I suspected were inflatable, giant pull-down vid screen and a long table to one side.
    There were coffee mugs on the table. I peered into them. Most of them still held coffee, the milk congealed around the