Nuclear Midnight

by Cole, Robert

  ‘Why’s that?’ Alex asked, trying to sound concerned.

  ‘Why? Why do you think? The place is falling apart. We’ve barely enough men to control the crowds.’

  An old man nearby, who had been supporting himself on a roughly cut stave, suddenly collapsed into the snow. The soldier crossed over to him and rolled him onto his back. The elderly face was disfigured with purple blotches, the eyes glazing over, and with each breath he let out a raucous whining sound like an asthmatic wheeze.

  The soldier gave a satisfied grunt. ‘He’s finished,’ he concluded. ‘You and you,’ he pointed towards a man wearing a balaclava and a youth no older than twenty. ‘Drag him over to the side of the road.’

  The dying man was unceremoniously hauled over to a group of bodies and dumped on top. While he lay there, still rasping for breath, the two detailed to remove him proceeded to strip him of his clothes.

  Alex was appalled. In a couple of strides he was beside the man with the balaclava, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him back across the snow. ‘At least wait for him to die!’ he shouted.

  The youth, seeing him coming, ducked out of the way and meekly re-joined the queue.

  ‘What did you do that for? He was virtually dead, anyway,’ the soldier asked.

  ‘Aren't you supposed to be setting an example?’ Alex retorted, stalking over to him and stopping in front of him, deliberately using his height to intimidate the man. If you let them behave like animals,’ he continued forcibly, ‘you'll lose what little control you have. They won't think twice about doing the same thing to you.’

  The soldier seemed momentarily taken aback by this show of anger, and hesitated before he replied. ‘Ah, and how would you know?’ he said finally. ‘Animals are what they are. The only way to control them is to give in to them occasionally.’

  The fact that the soldier had not seen through Alex’s façade spurred him on. He decided to continue his attack. ‘We have exactly the same problems as you, ye know,’ he stormed. ‘We control them by discipline. Once that goes, so will you.’

  ‘Well you’ve probably got better conditions than us,’ the soldier replied defensively, waving his hand toward the lines of people.

  ‘Our work camps are collapsing, our food is almost gone,’ Alex lied. ‘That's why my C.O. was coming here personally. He wanted to assess how bad the conditions were. I’m sure if he had seen all this,’ Alex gestured vaguely, ‘he would have ordered the abandonment of this distribution station immediately.’

  This last statement had its desired effect. The soldier's eyes narrowed and a look of pure astonishment swept over his face. ‘You mean your C.O. was coming here to tell us to clear out?’

  ‘More than likely.’

  ‘And he's dead?’

  ‘I told you. I barely escaped with my own life. There was no time to think about him.’

  ‘Shit!’ the soldier hissed, something close to a snarl appearing on his face. ‘It's useless hanging on here as it is. We'll be out of food in a day or so, anyway, and rumour has it there's a flu epidemic.’

  Alex nodded. ‘That's right. Over half the inmates in the camp I come from have gone down with the flu.’

  ‘Yeah, I hear a lot of the camps east of here are pretty bad. This lot are carrying it west with them.’ The soldier unslung his rifle and leaned closer to Alex, lowering his voice. ‘In my opinion we have to abandon this whole food campaign,’ he muttered. ‘Just guard the food stocks instead.’

  ‘What? And let the population starve?’

  ‘They're dying anyway, what's the use of a few more days of life to them? With the weather the way it is there won't be any food grown for a long time. The remaining stocks will have to last for years.’

  Alex opened his mouth to speak but then shut it again. The man was talking sense, in a way. The weather hadn't altered appreciably since the holocaust, and even if it cleared overnight the land had suffered enormous volumes of fallout. It would be madness, from the military point of view, to waste their food supplies on people who couldn't possibly last the first winter. He frowned and decided to change the conversation.

  ‘Have you heard anything about the conditions in the south east?’ he asked. ‘It must be pretty dire.’

  The soldier nodded gravely. ‘I've heard a few things from some of the refugees. Apparently London was hit many times. Some said as many as five. Not much was left standing. The fallout was enormous over the whole sector. There's nothing doing there. People were too badly contaminated to live for long. I understand the nearest distribution point was forty kilometres out.’

  Alex shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘And that's not the worst of it,’ the soldier continued. ‘All transport was knocked out, along with everything else of any use. All the survivors were on foot. Within days of setting up food distribution points they were overrun. We had to pull out and re-establish them further and further west. But that was in the first days; we're down to this trickle now, and they won't last much longer. This is the third distribution point I've been posted to and we're receiving very few people from around London anymore.’

  ‘How about further west?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Na, we're one of the last. This lot aren't going anywhere.’

  Alex’s eyes went from the soldier to the lines of the starving, shuffling forward. The will to help them was almost gone. Soon the military would be withdrawing and then even this nightmare would grow horribly worse. The thought made him suddenly feel very cold and frightened.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘You've told me all I need to know.’ He turned and strode off.

  ‘Hey, where are you going?’ the soldier called after him.

  ‘Wales,’ Alex shouted back without turning his head.

  ‘So there's no choice but to cross the Channel,’ Cliff concluded, after Alex had related his grim tale.

  ‘None,’ Alex replied. ‘Otherwise we'll be caught in the carnage that is sure to follow once the survivors realise there's no more food.’

  ‘But are we likely to find a suitable boat to take us? Anything that can float will surely have been taken by now,’ Tina added. ‘I suggest we should consider building one of our own.’

  ‘We've certainly got the skills,’ Cliff said, ‘but it wouldn't be easy, just the same. Not only would such a craft have to carry us all, it would need to have enough clearance to stop the waves lapping over the top in a storm. In this weather, adrift for five or six hours or more, it could be fatal if we became soaked with water.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Alex put in, ‘that's what we'll have to do unless we can find something we can use soon.’

  The discussion continued, with Cliff and Roy remaining unconvinced of the need for urgency. They both felt that any trouble which might flare up would be directed at the military, rather than toward other survivors. Alex, however, did not share their optimism.

  After pushing their way out of the queue they set off at a brisk pace towards the shore. The lanes, as they left the centre of the town, showed little sign of life. But if the streets were empty, lanterns and shadowy forms at the windows indicated that many of the houses were still inhabited, whether or not by their original occupants, they could not be sure. On the water's edge, however, away from the distribution point, the empty derelict properties seemed to increase.

  Roy and Cliff forced their way into one, a large brick house with a garage cum workshop attached. Alex and Tina took over its exploration as soon as it became clear that the house was empty. Meanwhile Roy and Cliff scoured the shoreline for materials for the raft. Alex wanted to find some clothes to replace his military uniform and, though the house had been ransacked, it appeared that the looters had only been after food, as the upstairs rooms were untouched.

  Alex took several woollen jumpers, a down jacket and a woollen based pair of trousers from a wardrobe in one of the bedrooms. Tina, meanwhile, went to the dressing table and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her actions were so deliberate that Alex c
ould not help watching her. She licked her fingers and gently wiped away the smudges of dirt from her cheeks, carefully examining her skin for purple blotches the tell-tale signs of radiation sickness. Then she tugged gently on her hair. A large clump came out in her hand. She let the strands of hair fall through her fingers onto the dressing table and stood staring blankly at them.

  Alex stopped what he was doing and went straight to her. She remained motionless, staring down at the table. He placed his arm around her shoulder. ‘Mine's the same,’ he said softly. He pulled hard at his hair and emptied a handful of it over the table. The strands drifted down and settled amongst Tina’s hair.

  ‘We're turning into monsters,’ she said sadly. ‘Like those poor creatures back at the work camp. Hideous, hairless monsters.’

  ‘Just because we have lost some hair,’ Alex said firmly, ‘doesn't mean we're going to die.’

  ‘I don't feel well,’ she said flatly, and suddenly her eyes were soft and moist. ‘It's more than just nausea. I have stomach cramps and I get so weak and tired. I just want to lie down and not get up, ever.’

  He put a hand over her forehead. She felt hot, not burning up, but she definitely had a temperature. His heart began to pound at once. ‘How long has this been going on?’ he demanded. ‘Why didn't you tell me earlier?’

  ‘I'm not about to drop dead,’ she said quietly. ‘I just don't feel very well.’

  Her voice was sad, filled with a weariness he had never heard before. She walked past him and sat on the bed. Alex followed, and took both her hands in his. They were freezing.

  ‘Are you getting worse?’

  ‘No…not really. Just very tired.’

  He switched on his torch and examined her more closely. Her face was deathly pale, the lines of exhaustion etched under her eyes. She looked dreadful.

  ‘Lie down,’ he ordered. ‘I noticed some medicines in the bathroom.’ He darted out and returned a few minutes later with some tablets and a flask full of water from their supplies. Tina had climbed under the blankets and was curled up into a tight ball. The fact that she had obeyed him so meekly sent a new wave of unease through him. He gave her two aspirins, then sat on the bed beside her, watching her anxiously.

  ‘I'm really okay,’ she said, trying to sit up and smiling at his mournful expression. ‘I probably got a bit of a high dose. And all this walking hasn't helped,’ she added unconvincingly.

  Alex’s alarm was deepening rapidly into misery and torment. ‘You must sleep,’ he pleaded. ‘Sleep will make you strong again. You just need to sleep.’

  But she shook her head. ‘There's no time for that. Once we're in Wales, we can start to think about relaxing.’

  ‘You sleep,’ he said sternly. ‘Leave us to sort out where we go from here.’

  They stared at each other and for a moment their wills clashed, but now his strength easily matched hers. After a moment, she leant back on the pillows.

  ‘Events have rather swept us along, don't you think?’ she said quietly, a clear note of surrender entering her voice.

  Alex nodded.

  ‘You know, I had a lovely life planned before the war.’ She was gazing directly ahead now, at no place in particular. ‘I was going to be photographer. Travel the world taking marvellous pictures.’ She turned to look at Alex. ‘Ironic, isn't it? In one fell swoop, everyone's dreams and aspirations have been wiped away. They all seem rather silly and self-centred now.’

  ‘Yes, we've all suddenly been brought to the same level,’ Alex agreed. ‘There's no rich or poor, or talented or beautiful any more. We're even beginning to look the same.’

  At this last comment Tina lowered her eyes and pursed her lips with such a lamentable expression that it made Alex ache. He felt as if he was made of glass and inwardly he was shattering. ‘Things always seem worse than they are, Tina,’ he added. And he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  She reached up and wrapped her hands around him, holding him tight. ‘I don't feel so strong anymore,’ she whispered. ‘Suddenly I seem to go to jelly. I want to be well, I want to cross the Channel, but my body continues to grow weak and decay.’

  He disentangled himself from her arms in horror and disbelief. ‘What are you trying to say?’ he gasped.

  ‘Only that I feel as if my strength is leaking away, and I'm very scared. Oh Alex, dear Alex, I've never felt like this before. If something happens to me...’

  ‘Nothing's going…’

  ‘If it does,’ she persisted, tears swelling in her eyes and beginning to tumble down her cheeks, ‘promise me that you'll not leave me to die by myself.’

  Alex's immediate impulse was to dismiss her words as an over-reaction, but he knew Tina well enough to be sure she would not say something without good cause. And the pleading look in her eyes was not one of self-pity. He could not speak.

  ‘I don't mind dying, I just couldn't bear the thought of dying alone,’ she continued miserably.

  He reached out and gently stroked her forehead. ‘I won't leave you, you know that.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said more calmly, ‘I think I do. I didn't want to upset you, Alex,’ she went on. ‘I just thought you ought to know. I remember reading somewhere that we all have different levels of tolerance to radiation. Well, I think I must be near the limits of mine.’

  ‘But you've been eating.’

  ‘No, 1 haven't, not really. I have been trying to force food down, but I have been vomiting it up again an hour later. I also have had diarrhoea for over a week now.’

  ‘But we all have diarrhoea to some degree.’

  ‘I'm passing blood,’ she said bluntly, ‘and it's getting worse.’

  Alex covered his eyes with his hand, rubbing his forehead as if he suddenly had a headache. He felt he would lose all grip on reality if something happened to Tina. ‘When we reach Wales,’ he said, almost on the verge of tears, ‘I'll find a shelter for you and we'll stay there until you're better again.’

  She leaned over and put her arms around him, gently drawing him back to her. Alex climbed in under the covers and took her in his arms. She was icy cold. Desperately he wrapped himself around her, trying physically to smother her in his own warmth, until finally, like a little bird cradled in a nest, she closed her eyes.

  For a long time Alex lay beside her, waiting for the deep rhythmic breathing of sleep to descend on her. When he was satisfied she was asleep, he gently disentangled himself and changed into the clothes he had previously laid out on the bed. He had heard some explosions earlier and when he looked out of the window of the bedroom he saw the cause of them. The food distribution point must already have collapsed. Huge fires were engulfing the town higher up. Angry voices sounded in the street. He ran down the stairs and met some passers-by; people who told stories of mayhem and slaughter, as the refugees took revenge on anyone who resembled authority. The closing of the distribution point had worked them all up into a kind of frenzy. They now knew, or guessed, that no more help would be forthcoming, and survival would depend on their own resources.

  Some, of course, had Alex's idea and contemplated escape across the water northwards to Wales. These survivors poured onto the shore in search of any craft that could take them across the Channel. In their search for materials to build craft, they took anything that would float, couches and tables among them, and quickly swamped the more promising vessels by crowding aboard in the shallows. Shouting and flashing knives, they would let no one else depart this way, if they could not go themselves. The sick were trampled underfoot; it was a vision of hell, made the more persuasive by the sudden breaking out of fires.

  Alex found Cliff and Roy in the garage. Their search along the shore had not been fruitless. They had collected a number of large oil drums from a nearby service station, along with several large rolls of plastic. They had not dared to take any more for fear of attracting attention to themselves. With Alex's help, they now began tearing up the floorboards, ripping doors off their hinges, breaking up cupboards and
chairs and dragging the whole lot down to the workshop. When Alex told them about Tina, they both looked shocked, neither having suspected that anything was amiss. But this bad news only served as further incentive to escape.

  After five hours of work, the raft was finished that same night. It was a large, awkward looking craft, held together by nails, wire and odds and ends of rope. Five drums served as buoyancy tanks, with a deck above them, made of doors and wooden beams, lashed and nailed together. Metre high planks rimmed the front and sides to give some protection in choppy seas. Roy had cut holes in these, through which could be slotted four oars to row them when the raft was safely at sea. The plastic stretched over a wooden beam, which ran along the centre of the raft, and served as the spine of a ridged canopy for warmth and protection. A rudder, crudely made, with a tiller attached, meant that the raft could be comfortably steered without leaving the shelter.

  Alex inspected the result critically. The raft was certainly large enough and would apparently be stable so long as the sea remained calm. But its size made it too heavy to carry. They would have the advantage of darkness, and the water was not more than eighty metres away, but dragging it over that distance they would be frighteningly vulnerable to attack. It only needed someone to come along with a lantern or torch and discover them and they would be fighting for their lives.

  While Roy and Cliff equipped the raft, Alex went upstairs to wake Tina. He found her still curled up tightly against the pillow, in the same position as he had left her. At his approach she stirred lazily, stretching her tiny limbs down the bed before turning toward him. He sat down beside her and asked how she was feeling. Her eyes rested on him contentedly, a slow, full gaze that filled him with a curious sense of excitement. A feeling of strength and self-importance.

  ‘I had a wonderful sleep,’ she said blissfully. She lifted his hand to her forehead. ‘I think my temperature has gone.’

  It was true. Her forehead was noticeably cooler. ‘Yes,’ he agreed.