by Jason Ayres
She wrapped a thick, pink, woollen dressing gown of Debbie’s around herself and headed for the bathroom, thinking about what had happened the previous night.
Things had been far from quiet on the street outside. The looting had continued to a backdrop of breaking glass, shouting and cheering. From the windows she could see gangs of mostly teenagers starting fires in litter bins. It had gone on until well after midnight, only the start of another heavy snowfall dispersing the crowds.
She had felt warm in the pub, but not particularly safe. Twice there was a banging on the door and she feared that someone would either break the door down or shatter one of the windows.
Fortunately it seemed most of the crowd were more interested in the wine shop up the road, from where Andy had taken his last fatal drink. She knew not of his demise, but thought it odd that he had not returned.
The cold was even worse in the bathroom, and soon she realised she had another problem. There was no hot water. She ran the tap for a while, but to no avail. What started as a lukewarm flow soon turned cold. It wasn’t just the radiators which were not working.
She was running out of clean clothes, so turned to Debbie’s wardrobe. There was a lot of winter wear in there, including several baggy jumpers which swamped Lauren’s petite frame and looked quite ridiculous in the mirror. No matter, she thought. It wasn’t as if she was going to see anyone.
She headed down to the kitchen and went straight over to the gas hob. Her worst fears were confirmed. There was no gas. With gas, she had been quite comfortable. She had heating, hot water and cooking facilities. Now she had none of those things.
What was she to do next? She wasn’t sure, but as far as today was concerned, it looked like it was going to be crisps for breakfast.
Lauren was by no means the only one waking up to this situation. Gas supplies were running out all across the country. The Russians had carried out their threat to cut off the pipeline, and now the UK, almost totally reliant upon it, was in trouble.
What little was still provided by North Sea gas was nowhere near enough to supply a nation shivering in sub-zero temperatures.
With no electricity, no gas, no television and no radio, people began to panic. There was a second mass exodus from the smaller towns of those who’d elected to stay after the first snowfall. Invariably everyone either headed due south, or for the perceived safety of one of the major cities.
With most routes impassable, many ended up on foot, in conditions they were desperately ill-equipped for. Andy was only one of the first victims of the snow. He was now a statistic in a death toll that was beginning to rise rapidly.
Even in the cities, where the Army remained in charge, things were bleak. The Army were assuring people that help was on its way and that the US forces were mobilising to help the UK. By all reports, the situation was not as bad in North America as in Europe but, thus far, no help had been forthcoming.
By the time night fell locally, at least three-quarters of the town’s population were gone. Some had managed to reach Oxford and found shelter; others faced a grim night on the side of the A34 desperately trying to find some protection from the elements. The wind and the snow were unrelenting, sapping what warmth remained in the bones of those unfortunate enough to still be out in it when night fell.
Those who stayed behind in the town were safe for the time being, but how much longer could they hold out?
Chapter Nineteen – 25th October 2029 (12.30pm)
Kaylee and Charlie were sitting on the patio of the Rock Café on the main street of Corralejo in Fuerteventura. The sun was shining through clear blue skies, and they were lapping up the warmth.
They were watching the news broadcasts on the bar’s TV screens as they sipped their drinks: diet lemonade for Kaylee, and a Tequila Sunrise for Charlie. The more they saw of the news coverage, the more relieved they were that they had left when they had. Kaylee’s worries about the friends she’d left behind were growing, though.
The only pictures coming out of the UK now were from London, showing the Army on the streets, and shops and cars ablaze. It seemed that the UK was suffering worse than most.
Countries further north already had the infrastructure to cope, whilst those further south had avoided the worst of it. She reflected that her father had been right all along about Britain being unable to cope with the snow, even if these were exceptional circumstances.
It seemed that the plunge of cold air southwards had affected Europe more severely than other parts of the world. When the weather map of the world came up, although other big cities were showing low temperatures such as New York (+2) and Tokyo (+4), they were nowhere near as low as the temperature for London (-7).
Kaylee and Charlie had left Paris on Monday afternoon aboard the TGV in another thick blizzard, but the train had scythed its way southwards through the country. By the time they had reached Bordeaux, the ground outside had been snow-free.
Night had fallen by the time they had arrived in Madrid and the air was cool outside, but life in the city was refreshingly normal. They found a hotel, and contacted their family in Fuerteventura to let them know they’d arrived there safely.
The following morning they had taken a taxi straight to the airport, and booked themselves onto a flight. By mid-afternoon, they had touched down on the tarmac at Fuerteventura Airport.
Charlie’s mother, Kaylee’s father, and Kaylee’s sister, Olivia, were waiting for them in the terminal building, leading to an emotional family reunion. Even Olivia, who had fought like cat and dog with her sister during their teenage years, gave her sister an unprecedented warm hug.
When they had emerged from the building into the warm sunshine, a huge feeling of relief washed over Kaylee. They had made it, she could feel her baby kicking, and they were safe at last. After being in the cold for so long, she’d never appreciated the warmth of the sun so much.
They had headed back to the apartment in Corralejo and celebrated completing their epic journey with a meal out in a restaurant overlooking the sea. There they had made a decision which really didn’t require much thought. They were staying in Fuerteventura for the duration, and Kaylee’s baby would be born there.
“I wonder if Josh and Alice found the new Time Bubble?” said Charlie. Josh had rung him excitedly the previous Friday evening to tell him of their plans.
“If they did get down to Cornwall, I can’t imagine they’ll be coming back anytime soon. I just hope they are safe,” said Kaylee.
She had tried to access the Met Office website from the internet in their parents’ apartment, but it was down. A trawl around other websites, though, had given her enough information to suggest that the freezing conditions across England were not about to abate anytime soon.
Josh and Alice were indeed safe for the time being. They had made it to Truro on Monday morning, and from there managed to get another bus as far as Hayle, just three miles from St Ives. That was as far as the road would take them.
Away from the A30, the roads were impassable, and they had no choice but to continue on foot. It took them all afternoon to complete the journey, but at last they found themselves walking down a snowy lane leading towards the harbour front.
With the snow adorning the picturesque buildings, it all looked very pretty: a Christmas card scene, as Alice described it. They passed the church and rounded the corner onto the harbour front.
Most of the pubs and restaurants were still open, so they stopped at the far end of the harbour at a fish and chip shop with an upstairs restaurant. Josh wasn’t sure if it was just because he was so hungry after their long trek, but he declared to Alice that they were the best fish and chips he’d ever tasted.
There was no shortage of vacancies in the various bed and breakfast establishments they had passed, but Josh had already worked out where he wanted to stay. Just down from the chip shop was a delightful old pub called “The Sloop” that had been there since medieval times.
Josh had stayed there before
on holiday a few years ago and loved it, but that wasn’t his only motivation for wanting to stay there. It was the local of Robbie O’Neill, the sailor who they believed had unwittingly travelled through the new Time Bubble they hoped to find. Perhaps he could help them find it.
They went to bed early and slept for a good ten hours, worn out by their recent exertions. When they awoke it was to the loud baying of seagulls outside the window. They sounded hungry. The snow had covered the ground to such an extent that their usual meal of discarded chips and other food dropped by the never-ending flow of tourists to the town was not available.
Josh had learned from bitter experience to be wary of the gulls. He was still haunted by a childhood memory when he could have been no more than seven years old when one of them had swooped down and taken an ice cream cone clean out of his hand. There were many tears at the time, and, even after his father bought him another, it took him some time to get over the trauma.
In the morning they had their breakfast in the bar. It seemed they were the only guests staying there. A young and fit-looking man in his mid-twenties with bleached blond hair served them their breakfast. They had seen him behind the bar the previous evening, and now seemed as good a time as any to engage him in conversation.
“Quiet, this morning,” said Josh.
“We’re usually a lot busier than this,” replied the barman in a strong Cornish accent. “This place is really popular. We get booked up all year round. There were meant to be three couples staying here last night, but none of them turned up.”
“That’s hardly surprising,” replied Josh. “The roads are terrible. We barely got here ourselves.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty rough out there by all accounts,” he replied. “I tried to get a weather forecast earlier, but I can’t seem to get anything on the TV or radio and our internet access is down.” He paused and then said, “How long are you guys staying, anyway?”
“Oh – a couple more days, I should think, shouldn’t you?” said Josh, looking across for approval to Alice who nodded. “That’s if you can accommodate us, of course.”
“Yeah, I can’t see that being a problem. I don’t think we’re going to be inundated with tourists in this.” He gestured towards the window, where another snow shower had just started.
Josh decided it was time to ditch the small talk and get to the point. “Listen,” he said. “Do you know a man named Robbie O’Neill?”
“Oh, yeah, everyone knows Robbie. He’s in here most nights. He’s a bit of a local celeb right now. Is that why you are looking for him? Are you journalists?”
“Something like that,” remarked Alice. “Do you know where we can find him?”
“If you stay here long enough, he’ll find you,” replied the barman. “He works in the harbour and comes in for his lunch most days.”
They didn’t have long to wait. There wasn’t a lot of work to be done in the harbour in a raging snowstorm, and well before midday. Robbie had decided to spend the day in the pub instead.
Josh and Alice had stayed in the bar drinking coffee and reading the two-day-old newspapers. They had to do something to pass the time. Needless to say, there was no signal on the television here either, and going outside whilst it was snowing so heavily was out of the question.
When Robbie came in, Josh recognised him instantly from the newspaper report. The sailor went straight to the bar and ordered a pint of Guinness. The barman pointed out Josh and Alice to him, and he came over to where they were sitting.
“The barman said you were looking for me,” he said. “Are you journalists? You don’t look like journalists.”
“No, we’re not journalists,” replied Josh. “We’re from Oxford University, doing some research into unexplained phenomena.”
“We’d like to ask you a few questions about your recent experience,” added Alice.
“Now there’s a coincidence,” said Robbie. “There was another bloke in here yesterday asking the same thing.”
This was an interesting development, thought Josh. It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone else might be investigating the same thing. As far as he knew, no one else was aware of the existence of the Time Bubble outside of their own small circle. He put that thought aside for the moment as he needed answers to some questions.
“So, can you tell me exactly what happened on the day you came ashore?” asked Josh.
“There’s not a lot I can really tell you that you haven’t already read in the newspapers. I lost control of the boat, was dashed on some rocks, and managed to scramble ashore and find shelter where I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I remember is making my way back here.”
“Can you show us exactly where this was?” said Alice, producing a map of the coastline. “We’d like to go and take a look if we can.”
“I certainly can,” said Robbie. “There’s a cove right here,” and he pointed to the map, about halfway between St Ives and Zennor. “How far is it?” asked Alice.
“It’s about three miles up the coast from here,” replied Robbie. “I wouldn’t advise going up there in this weather, though. It’s not the easiest place to get to at the best of times.”
“Could you take us there by boat?” asked Josh.
“There’s no way I’m taking a boat round that coastline in these conditions. I’ve wrecked one boat up there this year already. To wreck another would be at best, foolhardy, and at worst, lethal.
“What would you recommend, then?” asked Josh.
“Your best bet would be to take the coast path,” said Robbie. “You can walk right down to the cove from there. But I really wouldn’t consider going while the weather is like this. One slip and you could be over the cliff.”
“Thanks, mate,” said Josh. “Can we get you a pint?”
“A Guinness would be lovely,” replied the sailor.
Josh and Alice had to admit he was right. They couldn’t risk trying to negotiate the coast path in a snowstorm. The good news was that it was only three miles. Josh had found that the tachyometer could pick up a signal from about two miles away. Once they got in range of The Time Bubble, assuming of course that it existed, they would be able to follow the signal.
They spent the rest of the day making plans. Later that afternoon, when the snow eased, they went out and stocked up on supplies in the hope of leaving the next day. But Wednesday brought more fresh snow. They had to wait for better conditions.
Not only did they have to get to The Time Bubble, they also had to get back. There was no question of one of them going through it and abandoning the other. They had to stick together.
Now, on Thursday morning, they had awoken to clear blue skies and sunshine. It even felt a little warmer than of late, leaving them hopeful of a possible thaw.
Cornwall was continuing to miss the worst of the weather, but even here, things were beginning to get difficult. All roads out of St Ives were now blocked and there had not been any trains for days. And as of the previous evening, there was no electricity either.
It was now or never if they were going to find the new Time Bubble. In several layers of thermal clothing, snow boots and backpacks laden with food and drink, they set out at 9am from Porthmeor beach along the coast path towards Zennor.
If they thought some of their previous treks across the Cornish landscape had been slow, this took it to a whole new level. Every step had to be carefully measured. The coast path wasn’t a particularly easy walk in normal conditions. With several inches of snow and ice underfoot it was incredibly treacherous.
The first mile took well over an hour but their spirits were lifted when Josh took the tachyometer out of his pocket, switched it on, and excitedly found that one of the five green lights on the front of the wand-like device had lit up. It had also begun to emit a low beep every few seconds.
“Look at this!” he exclaimed to Alice. “It’s registering. We’re definitely on the right track.”
With renewed enthusiasm they pressed on ahead. The weather
stayed fair and they covered the next mile within an hour. A second green light appeared on the tachyometer and the frequency of the beeps began to increase.
Not long after, they rounded a small headland and saw what they were seeking. Ahead the cliff path wove down to a large cove.
“This must be it!” he said. “Come on!” he cried and quickened his pace now that his goal was in sight.”
“Go careful!” she called after him. “We’ve come this far: no need to rush the last bit.” She tried to keep up with him, but then disaster struck. She took a bad step and felt the ground disappear beneath her. She was still a good fifteen feet or more above the cove, and had inadvertently stumbled over the edge of the path.
Desperately she flailed out with her arms to try and get a grip, but it was too late. She tumbled right off the precarious path and fell to the ground below.
Josh was horrified to see her fall. “Alice!” he called, fearing the worst, but he could see that she was moving. He scrambled down the last few feet of the path and across to where she lay. He was very relieved to see she was attempting to sit up.
Despite all the trouble the snow had caused, on this occasion it had done her a favour. Anyone falling fifteen feet on to the rocky shore below under normal conditions would probably not have lived to tell the tale. As it was, it became clear quite quickly that she wasn’t going any further. As she attempted to get to her feet she winced and fell back again.
“My ankle!” she cried. “I think it’s broken. I’m in agony.”
“It might be just a sprain,” he said. “We’ll rest here for a minute.”
“It feels like more than a sprain to me,” she said, through gritted teeth. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to walk on it. What are we going to do?”
Josh looked around the cove. There were some caves on the far side, set into the jagged cliff walls. The tide was out and perhaps he could manage to support her to get her over there.
“We need to get you into shelter. Can you stand at all? I’ll try and get you into those caves.”
