The sled wasn’t large and he'd rigged up a basic harness system from old rucksacks, which would allow him to pull it along without too much effort or entanglement. Chris would be to his rear, watching the sled to ensure that it remained secure. The centre of gravity was low and central, so Brady didn’t anticipate that it would topple over too often.
The next job was to finish packing the rucksacks. He had decided that they shouldn’t be too much of a burden. No point in exhausting everybody. This wasn’t an SAS exercise in wildest Wales! So he had packed sensible amounts of equipment in each. Spare clothes, cooking and eating utensils, food and snacks. Jane’s snacks went in last, into the external pockets so they could be accessed more easily. Once they were ready the rucksacks were transferred to the bathroom, along with the skis and ski-poles.
It was now 9am and time to get dressed. Brady had made them practice the drill several times, and it wasn’t long before all three of the team were fully garbed – except for their headgear and gloves. Brady checked the other two and in turn they checked him and gave the thumbs up, to confirm that all was well. They all resembled Michelin men but Brady realised that in temperatures of minus twenty degrees C or worse they would need extraordinary protection.
Brady picked up the map pouches and hung one around Jane’s neck and one around his own. He tucked the Sat Nav into Jane’s rucksack – already programmed with every waypoint on the way to Boston. In an emergency all she needed to do was select the location and steer to it. He had set it to the pedestrian setting and was grateful that it was still working, despite the heavy cloud cover. Clearly, it had a limited battery life but it could be recharged via car lighter points and Brady crammed a charger cable into a pocket wrapped in a Zip-lock bag. One of his jobs every night would be to find a vehicle with a battery to recharge the Sat Nav. It wouldn’t be easy as most cars seemed to be buried – but if he found a house with an adjoining garage, it would be a possibility.
He had his own GPS, which he had programmed, protected in a Zip-lock bag and he took it into the bathroom, followed by Jane and Chris. They carried their haversacks and dumped them into the bath. Brady opened the bathroom window and was able to step through it onto the surface of the snow. He had already placed a large piece of hardboard, which he had stored in the cellar, onto the snow just outside the window. He stepped onto this and stood waiting for Chris and Jane to lift the sled and pass it through to him. They did this with little difficulty and Brady then climbed back into the bathroom. Once safely inside he asked them to finish dressing. So they donned their balaclavas, hoods, goggles and gloves. Brady then went back outside and asked them to pass out the haversacks, skis and poles. He placed these on the hardboard and then slipped on the harness for the sled. He then clipped on his skis.
Brady then asked Jane to climb through, which she did nimbly. She then clipped on her skis. Brady helped her put on the rucksack and she picked up her poles, stepped down into the garden and waited about three metres away.
Next came Chris who followed the same procedures. He then moved towards Jane and waited, whilst Brady closed the bathroom window and then pulled on his rucksack. The GPS dangled from his chest with his map as he turned gingerly towards the rear of the garden. The snow had almost stopped which Brady took as a good omen – but then thought perhaps the crisis was over and this effort was all in vain. But after looking up at the cloudbase, he realised that it would soon start snowing again. In any event it was very cold and they needed to make provision to keep warm. The supply of Gaz would not continue forever.
He looked at Chris and Jane, who both gave him the thumbs up signal to indicate that they were ready to proceed. He had drilled them in this procedure and was encouraged to see that they were on the ball. He returned the signal and moved forward. He knew the route like the back of his hand so didn’t really need to consult the GPS at this early stage. So Brady took the first step on the journey to escape the snow. Chris fell in behind, about five metres back and Jane brought up the rear. As Brady skied out of the garden and turned left towards the main road, the snow had started falling again, so he pulled down his goggles and mouthed a silent prayer.
Brady continued towards the main road, and was surprised to discover how easy it was to ski on the snow. The extra cold conditions had toughened the surface and as he checked Chris and Jane, he could see that they were skiing comfortably. The sled was working perfectly as well. It slid nicely behind him and was in no danger of toppling over. The snow was falling quite heavily again now but the wind had abated somewhat, which allowed reasonable progress.
They had turned onto the main road out of town heading east and had yet to encounter another soul. He skied along the centre of the road using the tops of the streetlights as a guide. As he was familiar with the area he knew the way to the first stop – the Vicarage on Manthorpe Road. Brady knew that there were several houses in the area and he would pick one that looked empty.
They trudged on past the hospital – which looked very quiet – and shortly afterwards they came across the ‘dead body’. The first of many they were to find. It was really just a hump in the snow, but a gloved hand stuck vertically out of the snow like a frozen signpost, pointing the way. Brady ignored it and skied past, hoping that Jane and Chris had missed it.
They hadn’t.
Brady continued east down the Manthorpe Road and turned up towards the Vicarage. There were several houses along the way and he glanced at his watch. 10.45am. They had made good time, but he wouldn’t push his luck. He started eyeing up the houses to the left of track. Of course, only the upper floors showed and the bungalows had all but disappeared. He was looking for easy entry – a window which he could force without too much effort. Double glazing was an issue, so he was pleased to spot an older property – perhaps Grade II listed – which had old-fashioned wooden sash windows. He raised his left arm in the pre-arranged signal, moved towards the house and stopped at the window. He banged hard on the glass and waited.
There was no response, so he banged again and waited a full minute. Whilst he waited he removed his rucksack and harness. Still no response. He raised his goggles and signalled for Jane and Chris to take off their rucksacks.
Brady made the decision to break in. He located the locking mechanism and turned his head away whilst striking the glass sharply with the small claw hammer he was carrying for such business. The glass shattered and Brady quickly put his hand through the gap, and avoiding shards, released the catch and raised the window.
‘Quickly, let’s get in!’
Brady threw his rucksack through the opening and did the same with Jane and Chris’s. Next he took their poles and skis which they had unfastened. These followed the rucksacks, and Chris then clambered over the windowsill swiftly trailed by Jane. Brady brought up the rear, deciding to leave the sled propped up against the wall. An hour outside wouldn’t bury it at that angle. He slammed the window shut and turned to Jane and Chris, signalling them to be silent.
‘Sshh! There might be someone hiding in the house. I’ll go and check, whilst you stay here. Don’t move. I won’t be long.’
Brady crept towards the bedroom door and opened it carefully. The house seemed quiet and was very cold – which was a sure sign that no one was home. He continued towards the stairs and crept down to the ground floor. There was no evidence of any human presence. He quickly checked each room and found nobody. There was a gas fire in the sitting room and he tried to light it. Success! It lit first time, using matches he found on the hearth, and so he turned it up full. He then went back upstairs and back into the bedroom. Jane and Chris had not been wasting their time. They had dusted off all the snow on their clothing and now waited patiently for further instructions. The clock in the bedroom struck 11am. Perfect timing thought Brady.
‘We’re in luck. No one home and the gas is still flowing – there must be a propane supply. I’ve lit the fire. Leave everything here and we’ll raid the fridge.’
The trio descen
ded the stairs and traipsed into the sitting room. They took off their balaclavas, goggles, gloves and outer anoraks before plonking themselves down on the sofa.
‘Right, we’ve got an hour. We’ve done really well but we need to refuel and get going by twelve o’clock. Jane, can you find something in a tin we can heat up quickly? Ravioli or spaghetti? Chris, get the anoraks and balaclavas dry. I’ll check the house for anything we might need.’
Within fifteen minutes Jane served up three bowls of Heinz ravioli which she purloined from the kitchen cupboards. She found matches to light the gas and a pan hanging on the wall. It was a nice, homely kitchen and she was slightly sad to think that the owners were probably dead.
They scoffed down the food and slumped back to rest up in the deep sofa. They had less than forty minutes to regain their composure before setting off again.
Brady contemplated their situation and was relieved and proud. He was chuffed that Jane and Chris were reacting so well. He knew that it was only the first leg of about twenty, but it had gone like clockwork and they had been lucky with the house. He put his hand into an inner pocket and pulled out a cheque-book. He detached a cheque and laid it on the table. It was signed but the amount left blank. He hoped it would cover the cost of the damage and food ‘stolen’. This small act eased his conscience and Jane smiled as she watched him.
He hoped that the rest of the journey went as smoothly – but he gravely doubted it.
Day 5 – West Willoughby, Lincolnshire – 5:00pm
Brady led the group out of the house in Manthorpe and they continued their journey east towards Belton, where they went through the same drill without incident. They saw no one – alive. Bodies lay at regular intervals along the route, and in the house at Belton there were six dead bodies in the front room – all frozen. He exited quickly and went into the kitchen, where they spent their next rest hour. He didn’t see the point of distressing Chris and Jane.
They reached the Stag Public House in Barkston on schedule and Brady decided to try his luck and see if there was anyone at home. Their luck was in. The landlord stuck his head out of a first floor window and welcomed them enthusiastically.
It was fantastic to actually speak to another human being. The landlord and his family were surviving pretty well. Of course they had plenty of food and drink and in addition had a good supply of LPG in a protected shelter, which saved it from freezing. There were five of them and they were extremely welcoming. They explained that for the first couple of days people used the pub as a focal point for the village, but by Wednesday they had been left on their own as people barricaded themselves in their own homes. He desperately wanted news of the outside world and in exchange fed and watered the three travellers.
Brady brought him up to date with the situation in Grantham and the landlord seemed to grasp very quickly that his own situation was very grave indeed. He offered Brady the opportunity to stay the night, but although sorely tempted to do so, Brady declined as he knew that they must get on.
So, at 4pm and although it was dark, Brady led Chris and Jane away from the pub and on towards West Willoughby, where he planned to stay the night. He knew that there were half a dozen houses in the hamlet and he hoped and prayed that his friend of twenty-odd years was alive and well at the Old Bakery. If not, he would use his home as shelter.
The journey to West Willoughby went smoothly enough, but they were all getting very tired and by the time Brady pounded on the upstairs window at the front of the old cottage, Chris was in a bad way. Perhaps he had pushed them too hard this first day. Too late now though – but he'd store the lesson away for tomorrow.
There was no immediate answer to his pounding and Brady feared the worst. He was just about to smash the glass and break in when a face appeared – a man wrapped in a thick overcoat was peering out at them.
‘George, it's me – Andy!’ Brady shouted.
A look of astonishment, and then recognition passed over his friend’s features. Quickly, George released the catch on the bedroom window and set about helping Brady and his two companions into the house. This time Brady dragged the sled into the house and by the time it crashed to the floor he had collapsed exhausted next to it.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’ gasped George. ‘And who the hell are these people? Where are Sally and the kids?
Day 5 – West Willoughby, Lincolnshire – 5:22pm
Brady’s old friend, George Brayne, slammed the bedroom window shut to keep the cold out, only for Brady to shout:
‘No, George, our skis – get our skis and poles in, we need them! They’ll be buried in minutes otherwise.’
George gave Brady a look of astonishment, but complied immediately with the request. He forced open the window and dragged inside every piece of ski gear he could see and managed to grasp the tip of the last pole just before it was covered. He placed the skis in the corner of the room and turned back to the three travellers and stood, mouth agape, for several seconds – mostly in amazement and surprise.
‘Come on, George, get the bloody kettle on – we’re gasping for a cuppa!’
Brady stood up, removed his goggles, gloves and ski cap, and shook his old friend’s hand vigorously.
‘You can see we are in need of food and shelter – can you oblige old chap?’
‘Only if you swear to tell me everything. I can't believe that you are out in this - and who are these two? And where are the others?’
‘All in good time, George, first a warm drink. I’ll tend to these two and see you downstairs in a few minutes.’
George nodded, shook his head in disbelief and left the room, muttering to himself.
Brady looked down at his companions and didn’t like what he saw. Jane was sitting up, having removed her outer gear and was holding Chris’s head in her lap, gently removing his goggles and hat.
‘He’s exhausted and frozen, Andrew. He needs revival and quickly.’
Brady ran out of the room to the bathroom – but there was no bath. The cottage was too small – just a shower unit stood in the corner. He turned it on – nothing. No power. He’d forgotten. George had no independent supply. So, he raced back to Jane and lifted Chris into his arms and carried him down to the living room where a large log fire burned in the grate. He lay Chris in front and gave the fire a stoke, adding a couple of large logs. He then removed all of Chris’s outer garments and shouted for Jane to bring a duvet from upstairs, which she immediately did. Brady directed Jane to sit in front of the fire, cradling Chris, wrapped them both in the duvet and pushed up the sofa to support them in the sitting position.
‘Hopefully, you will both revive each other. The fire will soon flare up again. Is he conscious?’
Chris opened his eyes and managed to mutter a feeble reply.
‘Of course I am….I’m just cold…’
‘Thank God,’ muttered Brady, as he removed his outer ski gear. He was warming up now and looked towards the door as George brought in four steaming cups of cocoa. He gave Brady and Jane one each and placed Chris’s on the hearth.
‘You can share yours. I suggest you get some of that into the lad as quickly as possible. There's a slug of brandy in it which should help a bit.’
Brady slumped into an armchair, as he greedily slurped at the hot cocoa.
‘I suppose I should try and explain.’
‘I suppose you should,’ exclaimed George. Brady spent the next thirty minutes relating the entire story. George sat silently and didn’t move a muscle, except once, to go out into the kitchen to give the beef stew a stir and turn on the potatoes for supper.
When Brady had finished he looked down at Jane and Chris and shook his head. He reckoned that they were close to their physical limits – he would have to reassess the situation, but at least he now had a good base from which to operate. They could hole-up here for a day or two and regain their strength. Maybe, George would come with them?
His musings were interrupted by a pathetic murmur from the floor.
‘I’m starving,’ bleated Chris.
Brady smiled in relief as George got up to serve supper.
Day 5 – Brighton Camping Site – 5:00pm
Patric and Joanie Silver had moved down to Brighton from their base in Staines-upon-Thames, Middlesex, on the tenth of December. They were the proud owners of a new Autotrail Dakota SE Motorhome and had decided to spend this Christmas in the ‘van whilst enjoying the delights of the south coast. They were comfortably placed on an excellent pitch at the Caravan Club site on the outskirts of Brighton. Patric had recently retired from the Metropolitan Police and was determined to travel the UK and Europe with wife Joanie on a full time basis. This trip to Brighton for the holiday period was part of the ‘van familiarization process, before they crossed the English Channel in mid-January.
Snow! The Series [Books 1-4] Page 29
