Surviving The Evacuation (Book 6): Harvest by Frank Tayell Read Free Book Online

back towards the boat.
    “Tell me,” he said, when they’d dropped it next to the stairs.
    “Do you know what aviation fuel is?” she signed, as they went to collect the second of the two rafts. By the time they’d carried it over to join the first by the runway’s edge, he’d worked it out.
    “You wanted to know how far it had flown so you’d know whether there was any fuel left?” he asked.
    “Sort of,” she signed, and looked around for another plane. The birds landing on the broken propeller of the nearest was a good indication that there were no undead inside, but the six, small windows suggested that it wouldn’t carry anything larger than a life-vest. She pointed towards a large jet, a little further down the runway.
    “Wait!” Jay exclaimed. “Do you mean that if you found a plane with fuel, we could fly it to Anglesey?”
    “Not unless your Mum bought you flying lessons last year.”
    “You mean you don’t know how to fly?” he asked, and looked genuinely disappointed at the revelation.
    “I was Army, not RAF.”
    “So why do you want to know if there was any fuel?”
    “Because you can use aviation fuel in a diesel engine. You can’t just pour it in, we’d need a lubricant.” She saw his expression and decided to cut the explanation short. “We’d need to prepare it, but we could use it in a boat.”
    “Why not just check the fuel tank?” he asked.
    “And how do you do that?” she signed, and pointed at the nearest plane. “I don’t think it’s as easy as sticking in a piece of wire.”
    “Oh. But wouldn’t it have evaporated by now?”
    “Probably. That’s why I said it was a stupid idea,” she signed, then climbed up onto the wing. Her problem was that she saw the planes as what they had been: a near magical way for people to travel thousands of miles. In their new, harsh reality they were nothing more than scrap metal. She turned the handle, and opened the door.
    A corpse fell out on top of her. She tripped, stumbling backwards onto the wing, trying to push it off. Except it wasn’t a corpse. Its arms clawed, catching in her clothes. Its mouth snapped down, and as she tried to shove it away, she lost her uncertain footing, rolled off the wing and down onto the tarmac. She kicked and punched at the thrashing creature until she was on top, pinning its arms, as Jay’s crowbar slammed down through its eye.
    She pulled herself to her feet, pushed Jay back from the plane, and looked at the open door. There was nothing there. She climbed up, checked inside. It was empty.
    “Like I said,” she signed, “it was a stupid idea. A dangerous distraction. All that we had is now lost, and we have to stop thinking we can have it again.”
    Inside the plane they found the rafts, untouched, and a passport sticking out of a seat back pocket. Tuck flicked to the photograph. It might have belonged to the zombie, but it might not. She handed it to Jay.
    “Egypt,” he read. “Is that where the plane came from?”
    Tuck shrugged. There was no ticket with the passport. She checked the compartment above that seat, then the one next to it, then the ones opposite. They were all empty.
    “I think,” she signed, “that he must have been a passenger on the plane. Everyone else left, but he stayed here. Perhaps because he thought it was safer. But that’s a guess. After all this time, it doesn’t really matter.”
    “Mum would say that it does,” Jay said. “That’s why she writes down the names of the undead. Someone might be looking for him.”
    “And if they are, and if they find us, then what should we tell them? That he made it to London, but no further than the airport, and seven months later we killed him on the runway? And that zombie might not be this man. He might have got out of the plane before it took off. All we could ever give anyone is more questions that could never be answered. There would be no comfort in that.”
    “Maybe,” Jay said, unconvinced. They went back