by Cole, Robert
Alex and Jason had spent these fraught two days in a backpacker’s hostel near Victoria Station. After it had become apparent that conflict had been avoided, Alex bought several of the major newspapers and both sat down to read through them. Alex's paper had the headline: ‘48 HOURS OF TERROR’. After a brief article stating that the talks were making good progress it went on to focus on domestic news, recounting several family tragedies which had arisen as a result of the crisis. In one, the parents had administered lethal doses of tranquillisers to their children before dosing themselves and going to bed. Another man had shot dead his neighbour's family and stolen their food after an argument in a super-market.
In other news, control of the essential services had not been relinquished and the press still suffered censorship restrictions. The official campaign, centred round the 'Protect and Survive' pamphlets, had been cancelled, but the standard warnings on protecting your home still continued to appear in the media. Re stocking of the supermarkets had begun, but was painfully slow, and petrol supplies were still being limited.
Alex paused in his reading and looked up. Jason was deep into a dense article covering the lead up to the crisis. The writer concluded by saying that both sides would need to make significant concessions on the issue of arming space if a lasting peace was to be established. He grunted at that and glanced up.
‘It seems,’ he pondered, ‘that there will have to be compromises by both America and Russia. They say here that this should take place over the next week.’
‘Do you think they can reach an agreement?’ Alex asked.
‘Uh? Yes, of course they can,’ the reply came back sharply.
‘What I mean,’ Alex continued, deciding to risk Jason's anger, ‘is that neither power has made any compromises yet. They've just agreed to start talking again.’
‘They've hardly had much time, have they?’ Jason answered irritably. ‘Arms limitation agreements can't be hammered out over lunch, you know. It could take weeks or months for them to reach common ground.’
Alex shrugged. Jason could be right. It was hardly fair to expect an agreement right away, when they had failed to reach one in over seventy years. He was probably over reacting, as he usually did. The British government was just being cautious, winding things down slowly. He stroked his chin, realising that he hadn't shaved, or had more than a few hours’ sleep since the ultimatum had been announced. He now felt dirty and very tired, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. He wished he felt easier about the situation. When he had arrived, the grandeur and antiquity of London had seemed to linger in every street and building, urging him to wander endlessly, just to soak up the atmosphere. Now he felt he was living in a death trap. He knew something of the possible consequences of a nuclear exchange. If London was hit, many of its older suburbs would burn for days, incinerating thousands of people. Then the lethal fallout would start. He didn't know much about the specific medical effects of radiation, but he had read enough to realise that the homeless would not survive for more than a few days out in the open.
‘Why don't we start travelling around Britain now, and find a job in a couple of months?’ Alex asked, on impulse.
Jason, aware of the reasons behind Alex's request, sighed deeply and put on a resigned expression before he spoke. ‘If you feel safer in the country for the moment, I suppose we can go travelling for a few weeks until this whole thing blows over.’
Alex smiled back thankfully. At last he felt he could relax a little.
Over the next few days, Alex collected piles of holiday brochures and scanned online timetables and tourist guides. Jason had stipulated that they should only be away for a month, before returning to London to look for a job. The cheapest form of travelling was coach or train, but neither of them felt like enduring the hassle of that again; besides, they had money over from their incomplete European trip. So, after obtaining a range of car hire prices, they decided to drive.
On the morning of the fourth day after the end of the crisis, Alex and Jason took the motorway west to Devon and Cornwall. As soon as they could, they turned off and took the back lanes and secondary roads through Berkshire and Wiltshire. They had lunch not far from Stonehenge, then travelled on to Bath that afternoon. As in Europe, accommodation was easily found, even at this time of year. After a couple of leisurely days spent sightseeing around Bath, they set out again at a lazy pace, making their way towards Cornwall. It was the seventh of July; midsummer in England, and the earth was covered in a plush carpet of green. Every plant or bush seemed to have burst out in spectacular bloom. Flowers of all shapes and sizes were in every cottage garden or window they passed. Jason was driving, while Alex had the window wound right down and the radio on. The sky was clear with only a hint of cloud on the far horizon. Alex lay back enjoying the sweet, heavy scent of flowers coming from the hedgerows along the roadside. Each time the car reached the top of a rise, the brothers could see the gently rolling hills stretching out in front of them. Only the occasional clusters of thatched or slate roofed villages interrupted the already picturesque scene.
While driving, Jason was busily explaining some elaborate plans for hiking and fishing from one end of the country to the other. He seemed to have forgotten that there was ever a threat of war. He never spoke of it; he seemed to regard the whole episode as a closed book. Alex had not forgotten so easily but for him, too, it was like a nightmare they had put behind them.
Alex was just about to weigh in with his thoughts on the most scenic route to follow when he noticed that the radio had gone dead. Before he could reach across to fiddle with the dials, however, an official sounding baritone voice spoke.
‘Attention, please! Russia has launched a large number of medium range intercontinental nuclear missiles! It is believed they will detonate over Britain in the next ten minutes. Please leave the streets immediately and seek shelter in the nearest building. If you are in a car, stop where you are and enter the nearest brick or concrete structure. The basement of any house or building is the safest. Please seek shelter immediately - this is not a hoax. Do not leave your shelter till the authorities tell you to do so. I repeat: this is not a hoax. Seek shelter immed…’
As the broadcast continued the voice began to falter and crack. It mispronounced words and stumbled over phrases, then in mid-sentence the radio went dead. For an instant Alex saw Jason's confused features, then everything turned into a chalky brilliance, as if a dozen suns had suddenly exploded around him. He felt a blistering heat on his face and instinctively dived under the dashboard. The car crashed into the large removal van they had been following. The impact flung both brothers forward, then back as their seat belts restrained them; then forward and back again as the car behind careered into the boot. The front windscreen showered over them, then the back one immediately after. And still the heat remained. A searing heat that lasted for many seconds and forced Alex, already cut and bleeding, to squirm further under the dashboard for protection. There he waited, still held by the seat belt, but with his back exposed and burning, until his shirt felt as if it would explode into flame and shrivel him up. But, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Alex was left severely winded, breathing painfully, covered in a lather of sweat. He gripped the dashboard and tried to pull his head up. A dreadful pain seemed to radiate from his neck, making him gasp and slump forward again. He could hear Jason's uneven, heavy breathing above the screams and shouts from outside. Finally, gaining some control over his voice, he croaked, ‘JASON!’
The rhythm of his brother’s breathing continued, but there was no response.
Ignoring the intense pain in his neck, Alex twisted his head around.
‘JASON!’ he screamed again, with rising hysteria, as he saw his huge bulk lying over the steering wheel. His head was caught awkwardly between the spokes and his arms dangled uselessly down each side of the wheel. A huge gash above his left eye almost concealed his face under a multitude of coursing red lines. Some of the blood ran off his nose, while other
lines converged on his open mouth and streamed off his upper teeth and onto the spokes of the wheel. Only Jason's sharp, irregular breathing convinced Alex that his brother was still alive.
Then a shuddering, deafening roar drowned out everything. The remaining windows blew out, the car rocked violently. Alex could barely hear his own screaming above the blastwave. He put his hands over his ears, sobbing and yelling uncontrollably. When the noise finally died away and the ringing in his ears had lessened, he tried again to sit upright. Lifting his head with his right hand and levering himself up from the dashboard with his left, he slowly eased himself back. A surge of pain shot up his neck and he flinched with a sharp stabbing pain in his ribs. His breath started coming in short painful bursts and his head began to swim. He turned towards Jason and began to reach over to him with his right hand, but the effort seemed to require a strength he did not possess. His vision blurred, his hand seemed to creep forward as if time had slowed to a trickle. Then the image of his beloved brother faded into white. His head sank forward again and he lost consciousness.
CHAPTER 2
The fusion reaction was over within a millisecond. It liberated vast quantities of radiation, heating the surrounding atmosphere to temperatures approaching the surface of the sun. This created a huge, incandescent fireball, visible a hundred kilometres away. As the fireball grew it emitted energy in the infra red spectrum as a heat pulse, lasting over fifteen seconds. All structures in its path were vaporised up to a kilometre away. At five kilometres it charred wood and incinerated people; at ten kilometres it caused second-degree burns, igniting clothing, shrubs and trees. Its effects did not die until fifty kilometres away.
As the fireball continued to grow it touched the ground and seared out a crater thirty metres deep and three hundred metres across. Everything was turned to dust and vapour and thrown into the atmosphere in a huge mushroom cloud. After several more seconds the fireball reached its maximum diameter. The sudden heating of thousands of tonnes of air created a wall of high pressure, which travelled outward from the explosion at the speed of sound. Structures that had withstood the heat pulse, were blown apart by these over pressures and by winds which, near the centre of the blast, reached well in excess of a thousand kilometres an hour. As other blastwaves from other detonations met and collided with it, hurricane force winds ripped in one direction, only to be cancelled out within a few seconds by winds of equal strength blowing from another direction. Fires started by the heat pulse were fuelled into forest fires by the blastwave. In heavily bombed areas, cities disappeared under fire-storms. Smoke and dust quickly blotted out the sun. In the space of less than an hour, much of the greenery had been wiped from the face of Great Britain. In its place was a wasteland, ravaged by fearful winds and fires burning endlessly and out of control.
Alex had been conscious for several minutes, but had not moved from the thin, mouldy smelling mattress he had been lying on. He had drawn several deep breaths, moved his limbs around cautiously and found he was basically unhurt. His senses had cleared, too. He was acutely aware of a multitude of burned, broken bodies around him. They generated a rich, sickly smell, a combination of acrid burns, antiseptic, blood and sweat, which made him almost convulse whenever he took a deep breath. He could not believe this was happening. He found it impossible to collect his thoughts, or focus on anything other than the pain and suffering that was going on around him. In one devastating blow he seemed to have been thrown into a pit of human agony it was like waking up in hell!
He closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the events leading up to the car crash; the distraught voice of the broadcaster, the blinding flash, the heat and the thunderous roar. Then he remembered Jason's face, white, blood soaked, and he began to panic. He dragged himself upright against a sandstone wall at the head of his mattress and began searching amongst the injured. From his new position he could see right across the room. Only it wasn't really a room, more like a large chamber, holding maybe two hundred people. And it seemed to be underground, or at least the windows were high up. In the centre a number of large columns sprang from a single base and arched towards the roof. Each column had several lanterns suspended from it, providing the only lighting. He could see at once that there was a rough approximation of order in the arrangement of the injured. Close to a large wooden door at the far end of the chamber sat a large number of people who appeared to be uninjured, except for the odd bandage or facial burn. On the further side, sitting in small groups, sometimes many to a mattress were the more serious cases, each patched up with wooden splints, slings or long jagged lengths of bandage. These people, unlike the crowd near the door, talked little; they stared dully at the boarded up windows or appeared to be listening to the different tones of the wind, as violent gusts flung themselves against the side of the building. Finally there were the worst cases, furthest from the door; very few of these poor souls moved at all, and if they did, they usually groaned softly to themselves. Alex searched this group carefully, looking for a figure with a heavily bandaged face, but the light was so bad he couldn't make out any detail. He was contemplating trying to climb to his feet to start his search in earnest, when he noticed a woman watching him.
‘You're awake!’ she exclaimed, and she began to clamber over the thick tangle of bodies separating them.
She was a very large woman in her mid-forties, with a round head and fat, pink cheeks, which made her look as if she was permanently blushing. She reached the end of his mattress.
‘How do you feel?’
Alex felt terrible, but he merely shrugged. ‘A bit sore.’
She nodded. ‘My name is Katie Fletcher. I was there when they pulled your friend and yourself out of that car.’
‘My brother,’ Alex blurted. ‘What happened to him?’
‘He required further medical treatment, so they've taken him to the local hospital some distance from here.’
‘What kind of treatment?’
‘He had lost a lot of blood and his face needed stitching.’
Alex stared at the woman for a moment longer, then finally lowered his head.
Katie had not realised they were brothers. It always seemed more tragic when families were split up. ‘I'm very sorry,’ she went on softly, ‘but the hospital wasn't far from the scene of the accident and I'm sure they made it there safely.’
Alex nodded doubtfully. ‘When do you think I can leave here?’
She lowered herself onto the mattress beside him and studied him carefully. ‘I can't place your accent,’ she said after a pause.
‘Originally my family came from Southampton, but we left for Australia when I was young,’ Alex explained.
‘So your brother's the only family you have in England?’
‘Yes, apart from a few cousins in Southampton.’
‘I see.’ She looked solemnly at him. ‘And your name?’
‘Alex Carhill.’
‘Well, Alex, I don't think you quite realise what has been happening whilst you were unconscious. The explosion that caused your accident was the first bomb to land in this area. That's why we were able to rescue you. Any later and the fallout would have made any rescue attempt suicidal. There have been many more detonations since, especially to the east around London.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s only just past three in the afternoon, but already it's dark. Fallout has been coming down for hours. Anyone who went outside now would receive a lethal dose of radiation within minutes.’
Alex looked closely at the boarded up windows. The wind had splintered some of the boards, but there were no shafts of light filtering through the cracks.
The woman lifted one of her fleshy arms and pushed some hair out of her eyes, following his gaze. ‘Until the radiation level drops, we all have to be patient,’ she said sadly. She glanced over the other side of the shelter then pulled herself to her feet wearily. ‘Anything you want? Food? Drink?’
He shook his head. ‘No, thanks.’
‘Try and get some sleep,
’ she advised. ‘Tomorrow things may be better. Just call if you need anything.’ And with a brief smile she turned and was gone.
Alex watched her heavy frame work its way slowly over the injured until he lost her among the background of bandaged forms near the door. His eyes returned to the barricaded windows and he attuned himself to the sound of the wind as it played amongst the ruins outside. ‘Tomorrow things may be better.’ Her words bounced mockingly around his head. Tomorrow things would be worse, he was sure of that. And the next day, and the next week, if help didn't arrive, the situation would become horrific. As the food and water ran out there would be arguments, then fights and finally murders. He crawled back onto his mattress and pulled the blanket over his head. He thought of his parents and friends in Australia, but it was Jason who was in the forefront of his mind, and he was amazed to find himself praying for him. Not out of religious conviction, but from the sheer terror and hopelessness that comes from finding oneself in a situation over which one has no control. His prayers, however, did not ease his fears. He felt he was asking for a favour from God a God he had cared little about before today. The last moments of the car crash came back and he tried hard to console himself that Jason was not seriously injured, but his body started to quiver and shake and he found he had no control over it. Only when he let his mind go blank could he wrestle the spasms into submission. Sleep when it came was total, dreamless, absolute.
