And he had the dreadful sense of another mind existing alongside his own, believing that this all constituted a great cleansing.
When the Inquisitor finally left him and Jonah sat up, he raised the gun and lifted it towards his head, remembering his father’s face and the strength he had given his son. ‘I am being strong,’ he said, but something knocked the gun aside. He tried again, and it happened once more. There was nothing in the room with him. The muscles in his arm flexed, the skin was depressed as though squeezed by fingers, and for all the world he would have loved to believe it was Wendy insisting that he remain alive.
But he knew that was a lie.
10
It was three hours before Sean was able to use the phone. Jayne had watched him trying again and again, had seen the subdued fear behind his eyes, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask.
Outside the aircraft, fires raged in the airport terminal. The two of them kept away from the windows, afraid of being seen.
‘They’re aimless,’ Jayne had said, watching one man stagger crablike across the wide concrete runway. His head rested on his left shoulder, and one leg was turned so that the foot faced backwards.
‘Only when there’s no one to bite,’ Sean had replied.
Jayne tried not to think about what would happen if they were discovered. The door was securely closed, and the only other way up to the aircraft cabin was to climb the wheel structures. We’re an island, she thought, imagining them surrounded by a sea of quiet, patient zombies. Perhaps they would gather and wait, a hundred of them or a thousand, or ten thousand when everyone else had been infected. Their purpose would not be complete until everyone was like them, and they would stare up at the aircraft windows, looking for signs of movement there and at the plane’s doors, standing through darkness and light, rain and sun, until something happened.
‘We’re trapped here,’ she said.
Sean’s face lit up.
‘Reception!’ he said suddenly, walking away from Jayne as he tapped in a number, then standing with his back to her and the phone held against his ear. He dialled again, stood listening. And again.
‘Sean.’
‘Maybe she’s out,’ he said.
‘What time is it over there?’
Sean glanced at his watch. ‘Six hours ahead. Early morning.’
‘They’ll be in bed.’
‘She keeps her phone with her all the time. You know how girls are.’ He came back and sat beside her again, looking at the phone as if willing her to call back. But it remained silent.
‘Maybe her phone’s off.’ Jayne could think of nothing else to say. There could be a hundred reasons why his daughter was not answering, but only one that really mattered.
‘France?’ he said. ‘Could it really have reached France?’
‘I can’t see how.’
Sean stared at her for a long moment and neither of them spoke. Then he stood and went to a window again, careful not to get too close as he looked outside.
‘I’ve got to tell someone about you,’ he said.
‘What about that immunity register?’
Sean shook his head, held up his cellphone. ‘Online. I’m still a dinosaur, no smartphone for me. I can call and text people on this, that’s about it.’
‘How about . . . what’s it called? Centers for Disease Control. I read about it in that Stephen King book.’
‘Never read him,’ Sean said, turning around. ‘I’m more of a thriller guy.’
‘Well . . .’ Jayne said, no knowing what to say.
‘Wait a minute,’ Sean said. ‘There is someone I can call. Just hope I still have the damn number.’
‘Who is it?’
Sean sat beside her again and placed a hand on her leg. His palm was hot, his hand heavy, and Jayne closed her own hand around his.