Brady was laying it on the line and wanted an answer.
Jane and Chris both eventually nodded, sadly.
‘Right,’ said Brady, ‘let me continue.’
‘First of all, I’ll summarise the plan and then we’ll get some sleep – if we can. I’m going to take a pill to help. In the morning we’ll go over the plan in detail and start our preparations. Basically, it's about fifty-two kilometres to Boston, which is on the coast and is the nearest seaport. If we travel at an average of two kilometres per hour and assume a six-hour day – daylight that is – then we’ll need five or six days to get there. That presumes one hour travelling and then one hour resting in pre-planned stopovers. That means about six to eight kilometres distance covered per day – depending on conditions. I’ve planned a route via Sleaford on – or rather over - main roads. It's fairly flat so skiing should be easier. We cannot walk – it's too tricky. We’ll need a lot of luck and must be prepared for all eventualities – which is why we need two days to get ourselves ready.’
Jane and Chris looked at each other with what could only be described as horror.
‘Six days in that storm! You must be crazy!’ ventured Jane. ‘The boy – sorry, Chris – won’t make it. Neither will I come to that. Are you mad?’
Brady bristled with irritation.
‘Look, I’ve just explained at some length just exactly what the situation is. It's extremely grave. We can sit here and fester or we can have a crack at living. The electricity is already gone and the gas WILL run out. How long do you think we can survive when that happens? At least if we are moving we have an aim –survival! We can easily manage two kilometre treks, we’ll make regular rest stops and can pick up supplies en-route. We can do this. At least sleep on it before rejecting the idea out of hand.’
He turned to Chris who had been silent throughout this entire discussion.
‘Chris, what do you think – you’re an equal partner in all this? Can you make it? Surely you want to give it a go?’
‘I think we should do it,’ he stuttered. ‘We will have a better chance than waiting here to freeze. I’m for it.’
Jane was visibly filled with admiration for the young man’s pluck. But she wasn’t entirely convinced just yet.
‘OK, I’ll sleep on it, but I’m not promising anything. I should really try to return to Warwick and my family. If we go to Boston then I’m just deserting them - leaving them to their fate. It's selfish and immoral. I’ve got to think about it. Let's get some sleep and I’ll give you my decision in the morning.’
Brady frowned.
‘OK, but don’t leave it too long. We are going – with or without you.’
Day 2 – Downing Street – 10:00pm
The Prime Minister of less than two weeks sat in the bowels of No.10 Downing Street. His country was in the midst of a storm of calamitous proportions and there was nothing he could do about it.
He had a small team of civil servants and MPs who were equally helpless. They and the staff who serviced the Prime Ministers’ London residence were trying to make themselves comfortable in the emergency accommodation normally reserved for national disasters. However, the only reason they were there was because they couldn’t get out of the building due to the snowstorm raging outside. Everyone was equal here – the snow was a great leveller.
They were lucky enough to have food and fuel reserves that would
They were lucky enough to have sufficient food and water to keep them going for some months. However, this was no consolation to anyone trapped in this unthinkable situation. No one wanted to be there and yet no one had a way out. In a way, they were entombed – buried alive.
Communications with the outside world were deteriorating. The PM and his advisors had been manning the phone, radio and internet all day. They had learned bit by bit of the disaster overtaking the nation. Just about everybody was trapped somewhere. In an office, at home or worst of all – in a vehicle. Many thousands had already perished in the cold. The emergency services were non-effective. In truth, they were non-existent. Even the Armed Forces couldn’t help – as they were confined to barracks and the RAF couldn’t get off the ground. Only the Royal Navy was still operational – but that was well offshore.
Many of his colleagues, who were in their constituencies following the recent election and early break for Christmas, were completely helpless. They were fighting a battle for their own survival. After a mere thirty hours of snow the country had come to a standstill.
The PM was desperately concerned for his family. He had heard nothing since they had separated from their CPO and even he had not been in touch since. The PM had no idea where they were or even if they were still alive. It was a personal torture and was affecting his leadership and judgement.
He had spoken at length to foreign allies who were initially dubious about the seriousness of the weather, but were now realising that the UK was in bad trouble. Thousands of people were clogging up European airports and it was now clear that no aircraft would be flying into the UK for quite some time to come.
However, there was very little anyone could do to support them. The snowstorm precluded any assistance. The UK was on its own.
Day 2 – General Update – Midnight
It had now been snowing ferociously for a mere 30 hours. Non-stop blizzard-like conditions that had brought the UK close to complete collapse.
The issue for most Britons is that they are not used to excessive amounts of snow. The odd sprinkle is generally not a problem. If it gets a bit deeper then out come the sleds and bobble hats and children are given the day off school to hurtle down local hills.
Yes, the transport system quickly breaks down and something approaching bedlam inevitably ensues. The Press and the Government Opposition of the time call for better reaction times and investment in snow clearance equipment. Some parts of Scotland can be very badly affected and deliveries to supermarkets can be disrupted. Councils receive grief about lack of gritting lorries and the Highways Agencies are bombarded with criticism regarding potholes caused by snow and frost.
People harp on and reminisce about the ‘good old days’, saying, ‘oooh, it used to snow every winter when we were at school in the sixties and there were none of these problems!’
However, in the sixties there wasn’t the level of traffic on the roads that the 21st century has to endure. In addition, Britain does not have the snow-clearing infrastructure because it is very expensive to buy and maintain for the slight off-chance of a snow shower once a year. Councils could not be expected to prejudice other services for low risk and short lived issues like snow.
Therefore, a balanced view is taken and, on the whole, the great British public go along with it because by the time a cold snap begins to affect the nation – it's suddenly gone! Gone and forgotten for another year as the daffodils spring into life.
Ipso facto, if it snows heavily and relentlessly for two or three days like it was doing now – then the population is completely unable to deal with the consequences. We are not talking about a quick three or four hours of fluffy stuff rapidly thawing to slush, but a sustained blizzard of Siberian proportions. Hard, driven snow in powerful winds of up to sixty miles per hour and temperatures of down to minus twenty-five degrees C.
Recall the chaos of the normal British winter cold snap and then imagine the ferocity of an Arctic storm. It was this latter scenario that had now engulfed the United Kingdom.
Unfortunately, many people were on their way to work and anybody caught in a vehicle was almost certainly doomed. Even if the full Governmental machine were in full swing, it would be unable to do anything to assist the nation. It is a plain fact that the average British citizen cannot cope with sustained cold. Snow makes the situation worse because travel soon becomes impossible – or very difficult. If and when power fails, water freezes and gas supplies cease – it is only a matter of time before humans will start to die of hypothermia. If not the extreme cold, then after a few days, water
becomes a critical issue. In any case, the draw on electricity and gas would increase phenomenally and it would only be a matter of time before demand outweighed the ability to supply.
If the snow were to continue for a week or a fortnight or more – then many, many people would certainly perish.
It is in this horrific situation that the UK found itself at the beginning of Day 3 of the storm.
Day 3
Tuesday 17 December
Grantham, Lincolnshire – 9:00am
Brady had been awake since 7am. He had been going through the plan in his head repeatedly, trying to find potential problems with it. However, the strategy was essentially sound. The major issues were the ability of Jane and Chris to cope with the physical aspects of the trek – and then, if they made it to Boston, finding a way across the Wash and then the North Sea. He didn’t know whether shipping would be accessible – and what if the sea was frozen? It was a distinct possibility. However, he would have to cross that bridge if and when he came to it – if only there was a bridge, many of his problems would be solved. Getting to the Chunnel was just not feasible. The first priority was to get Jane on board and then lead the pair safely to the east coast.
Chris was sound asleep. The exertions of the previous day - and half a sleeping pill - were having their effect. Jane was stirring. The three of them lay at right angles to the gas fire. Jane was nearest and Chris in the middle as a bolster. However, any suggestion of inappropriate behaviour was far from anybody’s mind. They had slept in tracksuits provided by Brady, plus thick walking socks - and Jane even had a pair of gloves on. Luckily the gas fire was still going. Brady wondered how long that would last. A combination of supply and demand failures would surely cause stoppages very soon indeed.
‘Are you awake?’ Jane whispered.
‘Yes,’ Brady replied.
‘Can we talk?’
‘Of course, go ahead; Chris is away with the fairies.’
Jane had been thinking seriously about her options. She knew in her heart that Brady was fundamentally correct. There was very little she could do to assist any of her family. Her parents were already dead and she had been unable to save them. It would be suicide to try to get to other relations. Moreover, even if she succeeded, what could she do for them – except be with them? It was a terrible decision to have to make – but what choice did she have? For all she knew, they were probably also already gone. A tear came to her eye, which she wiped away quickly so that Brady wouldn’t notice.
‘I’m with you – one hundred percent – there’s no point in being anything else,’ Jane admitted.
She went on to explain her feelings, and how she had come to her reluctant decision – but now that she had, she would try her damnedest to make sure Chris reached safety.
‘Excellent,’ replied Brady, ‘I needed you to be with us. I don’t think I could do this alone. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, now let's get some breakfast before the gas runs out.’
Day 3 – Boston, Lincolnshire – 9:00am
The central heating in the one-roomed flat was non-existent. The only source of warmth that Helga Inkerwicz enjoyed was a two-bar electric fire. The power in Boston had gone off in the middle of the night and the temperature in the small room was well below zero.
Of course, Helga was used to the cold. She had arrived in Britain from Krakow in Poland two years before, and had managed to get work in the agricultural sector. Basically, she picked fruit and veg for a large company team run by one of the gangmasters who operated in the area for a major veg processor and distributor. However, the work, although backbreaking, was fine in the summer but the winter months brought hardship. She even managed to send money home in the summer. Not much, but enough to help her mother feed and clothe Helga’s young daughter.
Helga had been desperate for work in Poland which was non-existent, which finally drove her into England where she believed that she could build a better life.
Unfortunately, the streets of Boston, in particular, were not paved with gold. She could work about eight months of the year picking fruit and although the money was poor, it was good enough to feed, dress and house her, leaving a little to send home. So, reluctantly, she put up with her lonely existence as returning to Krakow was not an immediate option.
Nevertheless, winter was hard. No work – so no income. A bit of State Benefit and Housing allowance but precious little to spend on herself. She’d had the odd boyfriend but nothing serious as she really didn’t need a relationship. Helga wasn’t unattractive – in fact she was a bit of a looker. Long blond hair and curves in all the right places that made her the target of many local men. Consequently, she used her looks to attract men who she thought might spend a few pounds on her. Dinner and a night out, which she couldn’t afford herself. Of course, her side of the bargain was often a night of feigned passion in her flat.
It wasn’t a big jump to what she was doing now. However, the descent into prostitution had not been an easy decision. She placed a small add in the local paper and charged £50 for half an hour. Sometimes, Helga could make as much as £300 in one day if she got lucky. Of course, with no pimp – although she’d been regularly pressured by local low-life - she was treading on thin ice, and a couple of times she had been the victim of a rough client. But it wasn’t yet dangerous enough for her to think of discontinuing the habit.
She’d been plying her trade for about six months and reckoned she could go home to Krakow with a nice stash in two more years. She could make at least £50K in that time if she was careful and lucky. But she needed to be wary and up to now she had survived.
However, the lifestyle had its negative side. To endure the degradation, she drank too much. Sometimes she downed a bottle of Vodka in a day – mainly in the evening when she’d finished ‘work’. Clearly, the alcohol intake was taking its toll, and Helga was starting to go downhill. Her looks had been affected and the flat was mostly a tip. She had terrible hangovers every morning and could just about rouse herself for her first client at around 11am.
Nevertheless, she was determined to carry on. Working in the fields had been exhausting and it was ruining her hands. She really didn’t want to go back to that – and even the smelliest, nastiest ‘John’ was preferable to ten hours per day picking strawberries for a pittance.
Therefore, she continued to sell herself and she continued to drink excessively to mask her shame.
On that Sunday afternoon in December, she’d already ‘had’ a couple of customers, the second of which was particularly nasty. The man was drunk and had forced her to do a couple of things she didn’t like. He also removed his condom which had taken her by surprise, and she was now worried about possible infection. He had eventually left without paying having punched her very hard in the stomach. He revealed himself to be a pimp, was applying pressure and had made it crystal clear that she would work for him now – or not at all. Although Helga was terrified, she couldn’t call the police for assistance, as they might just arrest her for conducting illegal practices and deport her – or worse. In addition, she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
Consequently, Helga hit the bottle again and downed a handful of painkillers. She drank a full bottle of vodka with nothing to eat except a bag of crisps and a cold piece of chicken. By 9pm she was half way through her second bottle when she eventually passed out and collapsed onto the floor wearing only a nightshirt.
And that is where she now lay. The temperature in her pathetic, pokey, overpriced, shit-hole of a bedsit had dropped to minus twelve degrees C during the night and Helga was simply overcome with hypothermia. The electricity failed at 3pm and what little heat the fire provided quickly faded.
Helga suffered the same fate as many vulnerable people in her position did that night. Loners, drug addicts, alcoholics and the homeless all over the country stood no chance in the vile conditions. They were generally oblivious to the cold until it was too late, or had been exposed to the snow because the
y simply had nowhere else to go. The general public neither noticed nor cared.
Most would never be found or even missed.
Day 3 – Grantham, Lincolnshire – 10:00am
The three new companions sat in the sitting room or ‘HQ’ as they called it, after consuming a cooked breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, toast and coffee. Brady advised eating up as much of the remaining fresh or frozen food as possible. They would have to carry a certain amount of food for the journey, but he didn’t envisage that finding fresh supplies on the road to be his greatest problem.
‘I think that we’ll find loads of empty houses en-route. Empty because their owners will be out in the snow. We might have to break into the odd house – but I can't see anyone in neighbouring buildings arguing the toss. They will be struggling too hard to survive themselves to worry about us.’
Snow! The Series [Books 1-4] Page 22
