My brother Danny and I had locked down the house, and he had then switched on the PlayStation and hadn’t stopped gaming since. I had padlocked the gates with two of our motorbike security chains and, as they opened inwards to the courtyard, had parked the black Range Rover parallel to them, too, keeping the driver’s door accessible in case we had to use it at a moment’s notice.
The wall that made up our perimeter was solid; the wrought iron gate, painted black with the individual struts about three inches apart, was the only way in or out. The house, just outside the village of Usk in Gwent, had been our family home forever. To say we lived in luxury was an understatement. Dad had patented some bracket that was used in pretty much every car out on the road and we had lived off the royalties ever since.
Ironically our parents had died in a motor accident over three years before, but they had made sure we would never want for anything, and we kind of took it to the extreme. Neither of us had worked since; why would we? We had cars, bikes, the house, and a regular income. We had our food delivered on a weekly basis, and the guy from Tesco had been around the day before all this kicked off. We’d both gone to a private school, but I had fared less well in the real world of university. I had lasted about four weeks before I realized I didn’t need to be pushing myself through the hard work and dropped out.
I suppose I could have had at least made the effort to fail my first year exams, but engineering had not been for me. Not when I knew there would always be enough money in the bank account for Danny and I to take life as easy as possible. I kept the garden in order, did most of the cooking, and since Danny had turned seventeen we had gotten rid of the domestic staff that our parents’ solicitor had put on retainer. Was that not enough for me to be getting on with? Was I really a nineteen year old underachiever if I was loaded? Dad had grown up with nothing, so it would have been gratifying for him to know that we would be in a position where we could wait for our life’s calling to come along.
Funny thing, it never did.
Not that we went looking for it. It turned out that our lack of drive and motivation would keep us safe. We could have been in a city, near one of the outbreaks when it all started, and that would have been it. Instead we were doing what we always did, where we always did it, and we could sit tight and wait it out.
Except this was the one thing that refused to pass us by; people refused to pass us by. It wasn’t even our neighbors. They spent every winter in Portugal, had done ever since old Des had retired, putting their dog into long-term kennels. But despite us being pretty isolated, people came. Wanting something. Needing help. I guess if there was one thing we had learnt from living this lifestyle, it was that if you could help someone then you did. Our parents had taught us a few life skills, after all.
We watched the road that afternoon, the tree-lined route from Usk to Caerleon, from the upstairs window, and when the car stopped at the gates we could see there were kids in the back. What were we meant to do? There was no way we would be opening the gates, but there was a ladder in the shed.
A minute’s effort and the family was in our home after they had pulled their Citroen onto the narrow verge opposite the gate, virtually in the trees. I recognized them from the village, Nick and Jenny Williams and their three children: Rob, the eldest at ten years of age, and his two sisters, Sally and Jayne.
We had the space and the supplies. We had the chance to help and, yes, the thought of our parents pleased at the action we took played a part. While Nick and Jenny settled in, Danny taught the kids how to play his games, and they seemed happy.
It had been a little around four when the Williams family arrived, and earlier, around midday, when the early reports had come in, when I had watched the first glimpses of the escalation of the situation via the Internet. We had seen and heard cars fleeing Usk all day, idiots blatantly disobeying the advice being offered by the authorities. Lock the doors and settle in, that was the message. With the gates sealed, it was a no-brainer; be safe and stay safe.
I was standing outside the front door, just getting some air to alleviate the claustrophobia I was starting to feel with the house being so full. I enjoyed the quiet for all of two minutes before Nick joined me. The driveway was about ten square meters, covered in chippings with a double garage, its back wall actually part of the boundary perimeter to the left of the house from where I was stood.
Our house was old, with five large bedrooms and a whole series of lounges, dining rooms, and studies downstairs. It was made out of huge, grey slabs and looked a little like a picture a child would draw of a house, but on a dark and drizzly day. Both Danny and I had suites and the general bathroom was huge. The Williams family was given the use of the two spare rooms.
I turned to face Nick. ‘So how come you decided to leave the village? You know, going against the orders and all that? Nothing would make me run. I mean it. Nothing.’
The man glanced up at me. He was short with small, round glasses, and although he had lived in Usk for quite some time, he had never fully lost his Liverpool accent, which meant he had sharp urgency about him when he spoke to me.
‘You haven’t seen them. You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Nick was interrupted by a rattle from the gate. He looked over and gasped. He pointed, taking an instinctive step back over the threshold and into the house. I followed his stare and realized he was right; I hadn’t seen them, but now I had, and all I wanted to do was run.