Free For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak by Colin M. Drysdale

self-confidence about her. She worked
at a local medical practice as a general practitioner, but before she’d settled
down with a family, she’d spent time working in casualty departments across two
continents, as well as numerous stints overseas with Médicins sans
Frontières. This gave her a level of experience rarely needed when listening
to middle-class mothers complain about their child’s latest food intolerance, or
giving well-heeled pensioners their annual flu vaccinations.
    Sophie
was fourteen, but tall for her age. Although she had the same dark hair as her
mother, it was longer, hanging down over her shoulders, with a slight wave to
it. Given all that had happened, she seemed to be holding up about as well as
could be expected. Mostly she was angry and confused, but the enormity of what
her mother had been forced to do and the realisation of what the disease would
have done to Jake was starting to sink in. It didn’t make it any less
devastating, but it at least made it more understandable.
    Claire
was holding it together, too, but much of this seemed to be her professional
persona, no doubt honed over years of working under stressful conditions. Daz
just looked lost. He was clearly well out of his comfort zone, and he didn’t
seem to know what to do next. Physically, Tom looked the worst out of all of us.
His shirt was torn where Claire had pulled it open, and it was soaked in blood
from the gunshot wound. Yet, somehow he’d maintained his naturally upbeat
attitude. It wasn’t that he could see a bright side to everything going on
around us, it was just that he was doing his best to try to stay positive
despite everything.
    In
contrast, I was close to losing it. I kept reliving the events we’d witnessed
and I was beginning to wonder whether we had any real chance of surviving for
anything longer than a few more hours. I worried about family and friends I was
leaving behind. Should I have done more to try to get them out of the city, too?
Could I have done anything even if I had? There was still no phone signal and no
way I could communicate with them. I just had to hope that they were lucky
enough to have found a way out, just like I had.
    I
stared down at where Jake’s body lay wrapped in sail cloth on the deck near the
bow; it seemed so small and delicate. Suddenly, I knew what to say.
    I took
a deep breath, trying to remember the words. I couldn’t recall them exactly, but
I began nonetheless: ‘Do not stand by my grave and weep, for I am not there.
    ‘I am
in winds that blow, I am the light glinting on snow.’
    I
glanced quickly at Claire and Sophie’s tear-stained faces, then across to where
Tom and Daz were standing with their head’s bowed and hands held behind their
backs. I carried on. ‘I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle November
rain.
    ‘I am
the song of birds circling in flight. I am soft star-shine and the moon shadow
cast at night.’
    I bent
down and picked up Jake’s tiny body. ‘Do not stand by my grave and cry,’
    Holding Jake across both arms, I crouched down and held him as close to the
water as I could reach. ‘For I am not there,’ I let his body slip into the
water, ‘I did not die.’
    I
watched as the white sailcloth sank from sight, then I stood up and walked over
to Claire, hugging first her and then Sophie. Daz and Tom followed suit. Moving
back to the cockpit, I turned the engine on again and pointed the boat down the
river. We were leaving Glasgow behind, and with a heavy heart, I realised it was
unlikely I’d ever return.
     
    As we
headed west, Tom and Daz took turns scanning the banks of the river with my
binoculars. Here and there small bands of people ran, some being chased, others
just fleeing. Occasionally, there was the sound of a racing engine and the
screech of tyres. Once, a convoy of camouflaged vehicles roared by, men in
uniforms clinging to machine guns mounted on the back. Behind