Days of Fire

by Rebecca Fernfield

  “None of them back in the town were working.”

  “Not the newer ones, but if we find an older one, one that isn’t effected by the EMP-”

  “If there has been an EMP.”

  “Well, what else would knock out all the cars?”

  “I dunno—alien attack? That’s what happens in the films—like The War of the Worlds—all the cars stopped working then—at least at first.”

  “Hah! Trust you, Alex.”

  “Well—you never know.”

  “OK, but it is at the outer reaches of believability,” she says with a smile.

  “What do you really think it was then, Jessie?”

  “Well, I think it was probably a solar pulse. One far bigger than they expected. If not, it would have to be a nuclear bomb detonated in the earth’s atmosphere.”

  “Nuclear!”

  “But, I can’t see that being the reason for it. International relations just aren’t bad enough for that. Are they?”

  “I guess not—who’d want to nuke England anyway?”

  “Well-”

  The sound of a car’s engine stops Jessie in her tracks and she turns to the noise scouring the landscape for sight of the moving vehicle.

  “It’s a car!” Clare shouts.

  “Does that mean the electric’s back on?”

  “It’s not as simple as that—engines will need repairing if they’ve been damaged. Must be an older car.”

  As she looks down the road a red car appears.

  “Perhaps they’ll give us a lift.”

  Jessie doesn’t move from the middle of the road as the car approaches. She’s not going to give the driver the opportunity of ignoring her. The car moves closer. Jessie holds her ground.

  “Jessie!” Clare says with anxiety. “Move to the side.”

  “He’s slowing,” Alex says as he joins Jessie in the road.

  “It’s definitely a vintage model,” Clare says as a faded red Ford Escort with rusted wheel trims slows to a stop.

  Chapter 18

  Jessie walks up to the driver’s door, a red-headed woman with a frown looks out. The window remains closed. Jessie taps on the glass and smiles, catching the woman’s eyes. For a second, she merely stares back, but as Jessie is about to lose hope, shrugs and begins to turn, the woman leans forward and winds down the window, her shoulder moving with each turn of the handle.

  The woman is pretty, in her early thirties at a guess, but her face is pinched and a frown makes a deep line between her brows.

  “I can’t get past if you stand in the road!”

  “We need help, please!”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “We need to get home. If we walk, it’ll take us about six hours and we’re already half-starved.”

  The woman sighs. “Where’s home?”

  “Bramington.”

  “I’m not going there, but I can take you to Winterham which is about ten miles outside. I’ve got to get to my kids. They’re at my mother’s—but she’s useless in a crisis.” Jessie feels the anxiety leaking from the woman. “And if they’re starting to run riot in Felsham, like they are back there,” she says nodding her head towards Stainthorpe, “then she’ll be doing her nut and scaring my girls.”

  “I can understand that,” Jessie replies. “I want to get home to my family too.”

  The woman looks across her shoulder to Clare and Alex.

  “Alright. I know I shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers, but you don’t look like crazed killers—not sure about that lot back in the town though!” she smiles at her own joke. “Hop in then. There’s plenty of room in the back. Don’t mind the mess—the kids had some crisps the other day—my mistake!”

  Jessie makes her way to the back and opens the door. The grey fabric of the seats is worn through in places, covered with dog hairs and the small, pale crumbs of the offending crisps. “Alex, I’ll sit in the back with Clare if you want to sit in the front,” Jessie offers, knowing that Alex, with his long legs, will be cramped in the back.

  “Sure,” he replies and slides into the passenger seat.

  “All OK?” the woman asks as Jessie clicks her seatbelt.

  “Yep.”

  The car’s engine starts again. It picks up speed slowly and emits a low hum then begins to vibrate. “Nought to sixty in three minutes,” the woman laughs as the engine strains. As the speedometer rises, so do the vibrations.

  “It’s old, but it gets me from A to B,” she says as they rumble along. “Keith, my ex, laughed at me when I bought her,” she says tapping at the dashboard, “but looks like I’ve had the last laugh. I haven’t seen a single car moving since the blackout last night.”

  “It was certainly a relief to see you,” Jessie responds though she wonders if they’ll manage the next mile never mind all the way to Winterham in this car.

  After fifteen minutes the road widens then comes to a slip-road. A sign reads ‘Bramington 10 miles.”

  “See, not so far to go,” Lucy says as she steers the car up the slip-road

  As they descend onto the motorway that will take them closer to home Lucy groans and Jessie’s hopes flag. Nothing on the road moves, and although the far-side lane is clear, the one they need to travel down is blocked. A tangle of lorries, cars and vans sits between the steep verge and the concrete dividers separating the two roads.

  “Damn!” Lucy blurts in exasperation. “How the heck am I supposed to get down the road now?”

  “Pull up as close as you can,” Alex suggests.

  Lucy continues to drive until the vehicles block the way.

  “Go to the edge—you should be able to get round if you drive on the verge,” Clare suggests. “Looks like there’s a gap.”

  Lucy manoeuvres the car to the left. Between the back end of the lorry and the hedgerow is a small gap.

  “We can’t get through that!”

  “Let me look,” Alex says and opens the door. He jumps out and walks up to the gap then returns. “Lucy’s right. There’s a ditch between the road and the embankment. The car will fall down it if we try.”

  Jessie gets out of the car to see the problem for herself, assessing the positioning of the stalled vehicles.

  “There’s no way through!” Lucy exclaims, hands on hips as she stares at the lorry skewed across the road.

  “We’ll have to move them,” Jessie says with determination.

  “Move them!”

  “They’re too heavy, Jessie.”

  “If we take the handbrakes off, we can move them.”

  “Not the lorry!”

  “Maybe not the lorry, but if we can shunt those vans and that car out of the way maybe the gap will be wide enough?”

  “Well, there’s four of us. We can at least try,” Alex says with a smile.

  Jessie laughs at the glint of excitement in his eyes. He loves a challenge.

  Jessie walks to the front of the first van. It’s nose points to the verge. Peering in through the window and looking about along the road, there’s no sign of the driver. She pulls at the door. To her surprise it opens.

  “We can push it to point down the road,” Alex suggests. “Lucy, you’re the smallest. Will you steer the van whilst we push?”

  “Sure,” she says, “but I’m strong too,” she replies with a grin and flexes her bicep with a mock display of strength.

  Alex laughs and walks with Jessie to the rear of the van. Placed between Clare and Alex, Jessie pushes at the back. The grime on the unwashed back doors is gritty beneath her fingers and she wipes it off on her shorts leaving a trail of black smeared across the cloth. The grime feels sticky on her skin.

  “Ready?” Alex calls.

  “Ready,” Lucy replies.

  “Push!”

  With effort, Jessie pushes at the van. It doesn’t budge.

  “Come on!” Alex chides. “Put some welly into it!”

  She leans into the van, the tips of her boots pushing against the tarmac, and pushes.

>   “Has she got the handbrake on?” Jessie asks as the effort of pushing begins to burn.

  Alex runs to the front and returns with a roll of his eyeballs as Lucy shouts ‘sorry!’

  “Not now!” he says shaking his head then turns and takes his position. “Ready? Push!”

  This time the van moves—just an inch. Encouraged, Jessie pushes harder against the tarmac, her shoulder strong and leaning into the van. Though progress is slow, it begins to pick up speed.

  “Stop!” Alex calls.

  Sweat breaks out on Jessie’s brow and her legs ache with the effort. She needs more than a few weeds to feed her. Hands trembling, she wipes at the sweat and laughs as Clare leans up against the van and moans in exaggerated exhaustion.

  “That’s the first one!” Alex says as he stretches his muscles.

  “The first one?”

  “Yep. Look at the others. There isn’t enough space to get the car through.”

  Jessie turns to look at the gap they’ve created. Alex is right about its narrowness. On one side is the central barrier and the other a steep bank. Between the two, another van and a lorry block the road. The lorry lays on its side.

  “Well, there’s no chance of moving the lorry,” Jessie says, “but I think we can get through,” she says looking from the car to the gap.

  “No way!” Lucy says stepping next to Jessie. “It can’t suck its belly in to get through there!”

  “If we take the wing mirrors off it might.”

  “Perhaps,” Alex replies walking up to the stationary vehicles.

  Jessie turns to the car. The wing mirrors are fixed, not like the ones that can be repositioned for narrow access or street parking on modern ones.

  “We’ll have to break them off.”

  “What?”

  “It’s the only way. That or let the lorry rip them off as we go through.”

  “But, Betty! She’ll be ruined.”

  “Betty?”

  “Yeah, my car. Betty.”

  “I can’t see another way,” Jessie says as she walks to the other side of the car. She takes the wing mirror and pulls. It’s loose.

  “They can be fixed back on—after. We’ll have to walk otherwise.”

  Lucy looks from the car to the overturned lorry and van. “OK,” she concedes and strokes the wing mirror. She grabs it with both hands and pulls. It doesn’t move. She sighs then turns to face Jessie and Alex. “They won’t budge,” she sighs with defeat. “I’ll just drive through.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” she says with another sigh and glances to the gap. “Let’s do it.”

  “Good,” Jessie says with a tinge of guilt as she notices the pained expression on Lucy’s face.

  “OK then,” Alex says with a clap of his hands. “That’s settled. Everybody back in.”

  As Jessie slams the door closed, Lucy accelerates forward. The car lurches and stalls. “Sorry!” She takes a deep breath, then turns the ignition. The engine chugs and the car rolls forward.

  “So, we’re just going to squeeze through?”

  “Yes.”

  The car’s front end is level with the upturned lorry and then rolls into the narrow gap. A tap and Jessie is thrown forward as Lucy presses hard on the brake. Clare grunts.

  “Sorry!”

  “Just ram it through,” Alex suggests.

  Jessie checks out of the window to the side of the car. “You’re too close to the van. Move closer to the lorry, Lucy.”

  “But how?”

  “Reverse, realign, then ram it through.”

  “Neat!”

  “Reverse, realign, ram,” Lucy repeats.

  The car moves back and as Lucy manoeuvres, Jessie realises she’s struggling.

  “Do you want me to drive?” she asks.

  Lucy’s shoulders sag. “Oh, would you?”

  “Sure.”

  Within seconds Lucy has opened the door and jumped out.

  “I’ll wait here until you’re through,” she says.

  “That’s a good idea. “Clare, why don’t you wait with her. Alex, I’ll need you to check on the side.”

  “Sure.”

  Sitting behind the wheel, Jessie reverses the car until she has a clear line of sight through the gap. She edges it to the left.

  “Ready?”

  “Yep,”

  She pushes the gear into first then pushes down on the accelerator. As the car gathers speed she shifts it into second and floors the pedal. The car shoots forward central to the gap. The wing mirrors shatter as she ploughs ahead and metal scratches against metal as the car scrapes alongside the lorry.

  “Ouch!” Alex exclaims as the scratching continues.

  The scraping howls as Jessie moves the car forward. “Sorry, Betty!” she says turning the wheel a fraction to the right. The car pulls forwards and then they engine is clear. The driver’s door clears. Screeching sounds from behind as the car tugs against the lorry. Jessie accelerates harder. With a lurch the car is clear of the gap. Jessie slams on the brakes.

  “Sorry!”

  “Ouf!”

  “Sorry!”

  “Remind me not to be your passenger again,” Alex laughs.

  “We made it though.”

  “We did, but I’m not sure about Betty!”

  Jessie turns to look out of the back window. Lucy is waving and running towards them. She doesn’t look very happy.

  “Oops!”

  Jessie steps out of the car.

  “My car!” she shouts and stoops down. She reappears with the car’s bumper in hand.

  “Sorry!” Jessie cringes. “But we had to get through.”

  Lucy looks at her without speaking then opens the boot and throws the bumper in.

  “Let’s go,” she says and slips into the driver’s seat.

  Ahead the road is dotted with cars, lorries and vans. There are people too. Some standing next to their vehicles, others walking along the road, bags in hand. Another man appears from bushes at the roadside then walks to a car half in the ditch.

  “I’m not sure how far we’ll be able to get, but I’ll take you as far as I can—well, the next junction is the turn off for Felsham anyway, so I’ll have to drop you there. Is that OK? I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

  “That’s fine,” Clare replies.

  The car weaves in and out of the parked, stalled, and crashed cars, lorries and vans along the road for the next ten minutes until a slip-road appears and Lucy pulls the car to the side. Jessie thanks her for her help and waves as she pulls away. A sign just a little further down the road reads, ‘Bramington 3 miles.”

  A group of men sit a little further ahead next to a van parked up on the hard shoulder and a woman with a teenager walk past them. Both look unhappy and the woman wobbles on her heels before reaching down to take them off.

  Jessie’s belly rumbles again as they reach another flyover. At the bottom of the concrete slope a group of men and women sit resting. Jessie eyes them carefully as she passes, wary of any strangers. The group take no notice and continue talking among themselves. Jessie’s belly grumbles again as they reach the other side of the flyover.

  “Shall we stop for a minute. I’ve got a couple of bars of chocolate in my bag.”

  “What?”

  “Chocolate?”

  “Yes, just a bit.”

  “Why didn’t you say?”

  “I wanted to keep it until we really needed it,” she explains slipping off the rucksack and squatting. She unzips the bag and reaches in. At the very bottom sit two small bars of chocolate. Not much, but enough to keep them going and give her the burst of glucose she needs.

  As she stands and unwraps the first bar the group move from under the flyover and continue their journey.

  “She’s got chocolate,” Jessie hears one say as they pass.

  Alex catches her eyes, a shift of his head telling her to be wary. She drops the bars back into the bag, zips it up and slings the strap over her sho
ulder.

  “Let them pass,” Jessie says in a low tone and her fingers tighten around the strap of the rucksack and she watches them pass. Two women exchange words then look in her direction. Jessie squares her shoulders but doesn’t make eye contact. As they pass and then move down the road, Jessie relaxes and shrugs off the backpack.

  “If we get it out now, do you think they’ll smell it?” Alex laughs as Jessie unzips her bag.

  “Hah! Maybe,” she laughs as she retrieves the chocolate bars, still watching the walkers as they get further away.

  “If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to drop through,” Clare complains.

  “Here,” Jessies says and offers her two squares of chocolate.

  “Is that it?”

  “Yep. That’s it. You can have more later unless we’ve found something else to eat. It’s all we’ve got so we need to make it last.”

  “Sure,” Clare agrees though she eyes the bar greedily as Jessie puts it back in the bag.

  Further along the road and opposite the slip-road they need to take, a man moves from one car to the other pulling at their door handles.

  “Do you think he’s stealing what people have left?” Clare asks as they pass the man. He looks up at them without a hint of embarrassment as he moves to yet another car and pulls at the handle.

  “Hah!” he says as the door opens. The sound of coins being scraped together follows and then the sat nav disappears from the windscreen.

  “He’s robbing it,” Alex says.

  The man steps back out of the car, stuffing his hand into his back pocket, then opens the back door and reaches in again, this time pulling out a blanket. Jessie takes a look back without lessening her pace as the door slams shut and the man walks quickly behind them.

  “He’s coming our way.”

  “Just keep walking forward. We take a left at the top of the slip-road. Hopefully, he’ll go the other way. Looks like he’s only interested in looting the cars anyway.”

  As they reach the top of the incline to the roundabout at the top, the man stops at another car and repeats his search. Jessie keeps him in her peripheral vision until they take the first exit and walk down to the road.

  “We’re here!” Clare exclaims as they reach the bottom of the road.

  A large roundabout faces them, but at the first exit on grey, tubular stilts sits a sign that reads ‘Bramington’.