41

Lou wiped her sleeve over her eyes, trying not to sob aloud. “That’s awful. Not even being allowed to bury your own child.”

Evan pressed a tissue into her hand. “I had no idea. I guess back then the subject was as taboo as it is now.”

Lou wiped her eyes. “It shouldn’t be, but I guess just like we wouldn’t know what to say, the parents wouldn’t either.” She stared back at the book, shivering. She glanced over her shoulder at the door. It was ajar and she could see Zach in the hallway. Snuggling against Evan again, she turned back to the book. “Me, again.”

August 10

There is sickness in the village. David tells me its influenza, and we should boil water before drinking it and avoid contact with other people as much as possible. I cannot do that. I need to be out doing normal things. Otherwise, my mind goes back to Elizabeth, and I grieve all over again. I’ve cried enough. David needs a strong woman at his side, especially now.

While he is at work, I run errands and take food to those who are sick. As his wife, they are my people, too, even though I am still one of them.

But it is strange. The symptoms, though not unlike influenza, do not make sense to me, but then I am not a doctor like David. It begins with a headache, fever, nausea, and weakness of the limbs. It then turns into what appears to be pneumonia. My brother died of that when he was twelve, so I know that well.

But then chest pains and a cough begin. The sick cough up blood. I have seen it myself and looking through David’s textbooks, that does not happen with influenza.

August 12

Mabel is right. I fear plague has come to Abernay. Finlay is similarly affected. Soldiers surrounded the villages late last night, erecting barricades. The cottage hospital is full. If more cases develop, as I suspect they will, I will either need a larger building or have to confine them to their homes. I will be remaining with the sick in order to prevent me giving this to Mabel. It is only those who protested in London and their families who are sick.

Though that may well change in the coming days. It seems too much of a coincidence, and I will be running tests to determine what manner of plague this is.

I am leaving out of the journal kept in the main house certain details of the plague and will do so for as long as I can. I do not wish to start a panic.

August 13

I have barely seen David. He came home long enough to pack a bag saying it would be best if he stayed away to keep me free of the disease. He wouldn’t even kiss me before he left. The first time ever he has refused me his touch, and I cannot help but think it is a bad omen.

August 15

I have to go to the barrier each day to collect food. Armed soldiers shoot anyone who attempts to leave. I saw young Daniel Masters shot. All he did was kick his ball over the barricade and try to get it back. What kind of sickness is this, that the outside world fears a small boy running after a ball?

August 18

I continue to help where I can. Mrs Jones is sick, as is her husband. I am caring for their six children. The baby is poorly.

There is still no news about this sickness on the wireless. No outside help apart from the soldiers who deliver the food and guard what is now our border. Jimmy and Peter Thornton from Finlay tried crossing the barricade this morning. They were shot and killed.

August 21

David is sick. I am helping nurse him and the others now. Some of the servants from the manor are also sick. It is spreading. We lost another ten people today. Nurse Mount thinks the death toll will rise swiftly. It is a horrid way to die. She says so far none of the infected have lived.

I cannot lose David as well as Elizabeth. I pray every day that he will recover.

September 1

No time to write the past few days. David was near death several times, but praise God, he is now recovered, although very weak.

I am tired, but so far untouched by the sickness.

September 10

My parents are both dead. The lack of entries here show how little time there is to write, never mind grieve.

Each night we burn the bodies of the dead and place the ashes in a lead-lined casket. So far over a hundred of our friends, acquaintances, and families are gone.

It can’t be a natural occurrence. I am carrying out what tests I can to discover the cause.

September 15

It is, indeed, not a natural occurrence. From what I have discovered it is deliberate. The first case was Johann Wilkes, a migrant worker at my father’s farm. He attended the clinic in Finlay the day before we went to London. His wife said he received a routine vaccination, which caused his arm to swell and the injection point to rupture within a few hours. He became sick a week later.

Whether or not my father was involved I do not know. And as he is amongst the dead, I cannot ask him. All I know for sure is that we are being slaughtered like cattle for our land and our homes.

The dead vastly outnumber the living. They have begun constructing a concrete vault under the dam in which to inter the burned ashes of the dead. They are afraid even the ashes could spread the sickness.

Evan glanced up. “I don’t remember seeing a vault under the dam on any of the blueprints I have.” He pulled over the tablet computer and pulled them up. “Nothing here. Why alter the blueprints?”

Lou shrugged. “It does explain that tunnel you found that also wasn’t on the blueprints. Maybe after this, they covered it all up completely. Buried the dead and the original plans and drew up new ones.” She tapped her fingers on the arm of the couch. “Maybe that’s what’s hidden in the caves?”

He nodded. “It’s possible, yes. And I want to get to the bottom of the cave part of this mystery. But first, let’s finish reading and find out what happens next.”

Lou chuckled. “This isn’t a Saturday morning movie cliff-hanger.”

He grinned. “It’s better. I’m beginning to see the appeal of archaeology. Uncovering the past can be quite exciting.”

September 21

It’s over. The remaining bodies have been burned and interred. The vault under the dam is sealed. CS and Chapman have drawn up new plans of the dam. Ones that don’t show the vault and tunnel leading to it. This is one secret they want hidden forever.

Mabel was one of eighteen people in the villages who didn’t get sick at all. Only one other, aside from myself, recovered and survived. Twenty out of two hundred in Abernay still live. No one in Finlay survived.

The twenty of us have decided to stay. We will not move. The dam has cost us too much. The authorities want to cleanse the village, so we are all living in the manor house for now.

Father’s papers prove CS and Chapman are behind the forced land sales and the deliberate infection of the village. I have placed them, along with the original blueprints of the dam, into a locked box and will take it to the caves in the morning. It is essential they do not fall into the hands of either CS or Chapman.

As of this point, I am cutting all family ties with CS. He may have been my mother’s cousin, but he has proved himself unworthy of the name.

September 22

Today, David and I hiked into the caves and hid his father’s papers. The key we are leaving in an envelope in the safe, with a note for it to be handed down through our children until either the box is found or this journal is discovered.

David blames himself for not being able to save anyone. But what chance does anyone have against what he termed biological warfare? No one can fight that.

He wants to seal this record as well. I agree as should this fall into the wrong hands then who knows what will become of us.

September 27

Fire! I heard several explosions, at least five, in various parts of the village, one after the other. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. The fire is spreading rapidly, leaping from building to building. With so few of us left, and no outside help, we can do nothing except watch it burn. We have no fire brigade, and the soldiers are standing on the other side of the barricade, refusing to help.

Some have fled—around twelve. I fear they will be shot on sight, like the others.

Mabel fears we will burn alive for our stubbornness and our refusal to leave what is now our only home.

September 30

It’s over. The waters come today. The village will be flooded despite our best efforts. David will remain here in the manor. CS wants him to oversee the dam. He has threatened to go to the medical council and have him de-registered if he does not. As the dead are buried beneath it, David feels obligated to remain here. He fears some remnant of the plague may remain in the ashes and thus still be a problem in the years to come.

David wants to place this notebook in the crypt before the church is flooded. This is the last entry. Our new life will begin with the death of the village. I can hear the sirens and the church bell. I must go. The water is coming.

Lou pulled out a piece of paper. “That’s it.”

Evan removed the book from her hands. “Wait.” He peeled back the corner of the back cover where it had come loose and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it.

September

The vault was drilled deep into the concrete foundations of the dam. This caused a huge crack, some fifteen inches wide in places to form, running the height of the dam. I fear the entire dam may give way at some point, especially if the ground becomes unstable or there is an earthquake similar in size to the one at Dogger Bank in 1931.

Fresh concrete was poured into the crack and the dam sealed. It’s been given approval by the board, but it’s possible they were paid to say that. The dam looks whole on the outside, but it’s rotten to the core. It is a house of cards waiting to fall.

Lou closed the book and raised her head. Her throat constricted. “If that was plague and has a long half-life…” She broke off. “How deep does that crack go? Evan, we may have a major disaster on our hands.”