Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]
Page 77
As a direct consequence, the rescue co-ordination centre in Holland decided that helicopters would in future conduct searches in pairs – so that one could hover out of reach whilst the pick-up proceeded calmly. If trouble and panic reared their ugly heads – then gentle, and not so gentle persuasion, would be used to restore order.
In the general scheme of things, most rescues went very well – as the survivors were far too exhausted to do anything but be lifted out – some did not have the actual physical strength to climb aboard a rescue flight.
Normally, a smaller chopper would discover and identify a group of ailing citizens and vector a much larger craft to their position, so that up to thirty or forty survivors could be picked up in one action. Ann Fletcher’s innovative leaflet had been adapted to explain the methods of extraction, and these would be dropped first if a potential problem was identified. Each of the escorting helis had a couple of Royal Marine Commandos covering the rescue, and they would direct operations using an airborne public address system.
Whilst the sun shone in those first few days after the snow stopped falling rescue ops were relatively successful. Almost thirty thousand people had been rescued and transferred via chopper to the medical processing ships posted around the British coastline.
The most vulnerable and fragile were relocated onto hospital ships or onwards to the European mainland for additional treatment and nourishment. The walking wounded were general flown to one of the transit camps located in Germany – staffed by US/UK armed forces - and allowed to slowly come to terms with their predicament.
Each of the rescuees had a tale to tell.
Each of them had lost family and friends.
All of them were suffering from severe shock and fatigue.
Many had irreparable mental health issues as a result of their experiences.
Many had committed acts – terrible acts – in order to survive.
Many would take their own lives in the coming weeks and years as a result.
The UKRA Cabinet member responsible for rehabilitation certainly had his hands full.
Although the relocation and hospital authorities were doing a superb job – the reality was that they faced an almost insurmountable task.
Extreme fatigue, physical weakness, psychological problems and an unquenchable desire to find their loved ones made a disastrous combination.
However, none of these issues could compare to the overwhelming sense of guilt that each and every survivor carried – and would bear until the day they died.
Now that they had been rescued, they were unable to come to terms with the fact that they had survived - and that their wives, husbands, children, parents and friends had not. It was an enormous burden to bear.
However, the strain they felt was also shared by the personnel coordinating the rescue. They, too, had relatives in the snow and realised that there was little that they could do to assist them. It helped to be busy – flying, nursing, administrating and organising – but their grief was just as strong as those they had rescued.
Imagine their feelings, sitting on a rescue ship or manning a recovery station when, day after day, folks were saved and yet their own families still lay buried deep in the snow. Many of these aid workers – ‘shanghaied’ to a certain extent, had to be relieved and comforted, and a steady stream of volunteers from around the world were slowly trickling into Europe to bolster up the aid effort.
When the rain started to fall after the initial bright spell, it brought with it yet more problems that required addressing.
The air temperature had risen to about ten degrees centigrade during daylight hours, and combined with the warm water falling onto the snow caused a floodwave of unimaginable proportions.
For coastal areas it was a short lived boon, as snow melted and water cascaded into the seas surrounding the UK. This allowed shipping to temporarily dock and send rescue parties ashore to investigate – looking for survivors and damage.
However, the water flooding off the land and into the sea brought with it horrors of biblical proportions.
Bodies.
Thousands of bodies.
Men, women, children, domestic pets and livestock.
All were dead and now exposed to the air in a state of rapidly worsening decomposition.
Sir Ian James and Ann Fletcher had foreseen this horror, and although there were insurmountable moral issues, were obliged to deal rapidly and methodically with the problem.
It was, rightly, unthinkable to allow hundreds of thousands of corpses to float unsupervised and unidentified in the coastal waters surrounding the UK.
Consequently, a plan of action was sanctioned.
The plan was horrific, but necessary, and Ann Fletcher wearily endorsed the operation.
Firstly, she had recruited a fleet of fishing vessels – trawlers – from Iceland and Norway – sixty in all. She had selected eight locations around the UK – islands – on which to construct huge mass graves.
The RAF had landed teams of bulldozers on Lundy, the Scillies, the Isle of Man, Islay, Hoy, Lindisfarne, The Isle of Wight and Mersea.
These teams were now furiously preparing final resting places for the tens of thousands of bodies recovered from the sea. Perhaps – sometime in the not too distant future – these bodies could be disinterred and buried properly and decently – but for the time being it was necessary to act quickly and efficiently. The risk of disease was too high.
And at least the survivors would know that their loved ones were not just fish food.
The situation was highly unsatisfactory – but what else was there to be done?
The trawler crews were all volunteers and being – on the whole – non-British, were partially detached from the dreadfulness of the situation. However, it remained a horrific task.
Further volunteers – including some foreign nationals on salary – were dispatched to the eight locations and supervised the burials. Each body recovered would be searched for identification and a comprehensive log maintained. In this way, many thousands of survivors on the mainland achieved some modicum of ‘closure’ when lists of the dead were published in the UKRA newspaper – the GB News – which kept the UK citizens worldwide up to date with the tragedy unfolding in their homeland.
All in all, it was the best that Ann Fletcher could do.
It was a necessary evil – and she would have to live with it.
Although, for her, that wouldn't be too difficult.
***
The water which flooded into every conceivable orifice also caused untold damage to already weakened buildings, electricity pylons and vehicles.
As the trickle built into a stream, and then into giant gushing white-water rapids, anything not tied down flowed with it.
Cars, lorries, vegetation and general detritus mixed with human remains, as the entire mass searched for somewhere to rest.
At the coastline, there was generally nowhere for it to go except into the sea, and it wasn’t long before mountains of debris began to choke the harbours and bays around the British Isles. Of course, some sank in the deeper water, never to be seen again, but in the shallows the wreckage began to build up into huge piles of rotting garbage, and as a result, the shipping which had initially ventured to the shoreline had to withdraw to a safer distance.
During the rain, the piles of rubbish which represented the remains of many thousands of British families and their lives merely lay as a ghastly and macabre memorial to the past.
However, when the rain stopped and the sun came out again, the stinking putrefaction would set in.
***
A small Huey helicopter was on patrol in Lincolnshire, near Sleaford and had come across what appeared to be the wreckage of another aircraft just outside the village of Ruskington. The crew circled for a minute or two, checking for signs of life both in the wreck and in the local area. They were under strict instructions not to land in any circumstances, unless supported by a second chopper.
&nbs
p; However, they could see no life within several hundred yards and they decided to investigate further.
‘Let's take a quick look, Tom,’ said the co-pilot. ‘There might be survivors.’
His colleague acquiesced and after making a quick radio call informing the Ops Centre of their intentions, hovered near the surface, so that the co-pilot could jump out and test the integrity of the surface. It was still raining gently, a sort of drizzle in light winds, so the co-pilot stepped gingerly onto the surface, and ensuring that he didn’t sink too far, trudged over to the small chopper. He noted the aircraft registration and peered inside.
He wasn’t prepared for what he discovered.
Both crew members remained strapped into their seats, heads hanging at an impossible angle, blood spattered over the dashboard and flying controls.
Both of their throats had been ripped out.
Day 30
Monday 13th January - 1800
HQ UKRA - Brussels
Prime Minister Sir Ian James led his deputy, Dame Ann Fletcher, into the Cabinet meeting room, where his governmental colleagues rose from their seats to acknowledge his arrival.
‘Please be seated ladies and gentlemen.’ He was looking tired and pale – a shadow of the man who had been looking forward to the Christmas festivities with his family but a few short weeks ago.
‘Dame Ann will be conducting Cabinet this evening – I’ve been pre-occupied with several unexpected issues and she has agreed to lead our discussions. Ann?’ he gestured to his deputy, who opened a thin file and commenced her briefing.
‘Good evening. I trust you will have all viewed the PM’s broadcast and extrapolated those issues applicable to your own particular portfolio. With that in mind, I suggest that we go round the table this evening and each Minister should bring us fully up to date with progress in their particular field. We are looking for specific detail and proposals for improving our situation and taking the UK forwards. It is clear that, as the snow recedes, that our options are receding. I will start us off with an overview.’
Her audience shuffled uncomfortably in their seats as Ann Fletcher commenced her briefing. They all respected but feared her.
‘To begin then. If you hadn’t noticed already, it's raining in the UK and although this has caused temperatures to rise and snow to melt, the consequences are nothing short of disastrous. Flooding has commenced across the country and this brings with it a whole raft of other major problems – no pun intended.’
Her colleagues who were by now fully aware of the flooding risk, did not dare to smile.
‘There are two main problems. Firstly, bodies are being washed within the flood water and into the sea.’
Dame Ann went on to describe the measures being taken to solve the problem of human body disposal. There were several expressions of disbelief around the table, which Ann countered in no uncertain terms.
‘What alternate solution would you propose? Leave our citizens floating in the North Sea only to be washed up in Holland or Denmark or Ireland – or to become bloated food stores for fish. No, of course not! We are obliged to adopt expedient methods – however distasteful they might seem.’
She waited for further objection and when silence prevailed, she continued.
‘Secondly, we are experiencing a vast amount of damage by flood waters to buildings and vegetation. It's a logarithmic progression. Loose articles – trees, furniture, cars, lorries – sorry – and bodies – are caught up in this debris and as it rolls along it causes yet further damage – often to previously unaffected buildings. The upshot is that thousands of piles of detritus are cascading around the countryside. Some are temporarily settling in natural hollows, some have become too large to continue movement and some are merely rolling into the sea and sinking. In short, the UK is building for itself a huge unnatural barrier along the coastline, which is going to make access very difficult in the future. To make this even more unpalatable, human remains are mixed with the debris. It is not a pretty or savoury sight.’
At this point she flashed up several examples of the destruction caused by the flooding, and a short video taken that afternoon of the docks in the Tyne and Wear regions. It made for appalling viewing and the Cabinet watched in stunned silence.
Ann Fletcher wasn’t finished.
‘Consequently, it seems that the snow storm was merely the start of our troubles. By the time this snow melts and the floods subside, the UK is going to be in a truly sorry state. Existence on the surface over the vast majority of the UK mainland will not be possible for many years. Until we can clear away the rubble and dispose of the bodies, subsistence will be virtually impossible. There is no power, no infrastructure, no food and probably little water that has not been contaminated. Naturally, there will be opportunities for the more resourceful to exist on high ground in isolated regions such as Scotland and Wales, but it will take time and money to set these people up with a realistic chance of survival. Of course, we will do our best to encourage re-habitation – but to be blunt – it’ll be like going back to the Middle Ages - with a plague to go with it!’
Ann took a sip of water and continued.
‘As you know there is a general curfew and prohibition of movement in the UK and Ireland except for the rescue services. We are briefing teams to prepare to go back in when the flooding abates, but that could be many months away. The Royal Family has been fully evacuated, and is dispersed around Europe with their extended families. The Princes are flying rescue missions and others are involved in ‘hearts and minds’ duties - God bless them!’ Nobody round the table was absolutely certain whether Dame Ann was being sincere or not!
Ann was almost finished, and now prepared the way for Richard Castle to introduce his, or rather, their plan for the rescue of the gold in London.
‘Sir Ian and I have discussed the issues at some length and taken advice from those few British experts who remain alive – and from our friends abroad – and the consensus is that the UK is finished as a viable country or trading nation for some time to come. This disaster is not only our problem, but a worldwide catastrophe. The UK features in the daily lives of billions around the globe – financially, legally, morally, industrially and socially. We are far more important to the world that we can imagine. However, if we cannot prove to the rest of the world that we are coming back from this – then we will be marginalised for decades to come. Some are already saying that we are finished – and it's damned hard to contradict their point of view from where I'm standing. Therefore, we must immediately address the needs of our five million or so survivors - those people who were abroad when the bloody snow started. Of course, some are gainfully employed and settled in their adoptive countries and will need little help. But others are no better than destitute. It's these people on which we should concentrate our efforts. We must see them resettled as soon as possible – a state of limbo is completely unacceptable. It is with this in mind that this Cabinet should look forward. And to kick us off, I would ask Richard to put forward his proposals for immediate action.’
Dame Ann glanced at her close ally and confidant, smiling thinly as she anticipated the next few minutes with profound pleasure. Richard Castle, ex-Guardsman and war hero, whose electric personality had propelled him up the political ladder in just a few short years was Ann Fletcher’s man. She imagined that she had a ‘Svengali’ type control over the forty-something, debonair and exceedingly attractive cohort. However, there were always two sides to every coin, and Richards Castle was nobody’s fool – least of all Ann Fletcher’s.
The only real question was: which of the treacherous and amoral pair could outwit the other?
Richard Castle paused for effect and commenced his update:
‘Good evening Prime Minister, ladies and gentlemen. You are all aware of my experience in the financial sector prior to the disaster – five years in the City and then a period in the Treasury, which led to my assignment as Financial Minister in the newly formed UKRA. It is with th
is background that I feel it necessary to reiterate the situation, and then apprise you of some of the proposals we are making to restore confidence in the ‘British Economy’ – if you can still call it that!
First of all, a few facts of life – a number of inescapable realities which are not going to disappear overnight. In fact, in our considered assessment it is going to take at least a generation – if not longer – perhaps half a century to see the United Kingdom up and running as a viable trading nation. As you’ve already been told, the landscape is currently under snow and rising floodplains, which are causing indescribable destruction. When the water finally drains away, we will be faced with total and utter desolation. It will be a wasteland. In fact, a nuclear holocaust may have left us better able to move forward. However, we will have to deal with the cards in our hand.
And just exactly what have we got?
Financially – not very much.
The UK Gross Domestic Product or GDP in 2017 was £1.6 Trillion.
Next year it will be ZERO!
Our Gross External Debt is £8 Trillion. That is eight thousand billion pounds sterling. This money we owe to other trading partners worldwide. In some way, we will have to nullify or at least postpone repayment of this debt until further notice.
Why?
Simply because we have no way of immediately repaying these sums of money. The UK has no industry, no workforce, no banking system, no shops, no factories, no exports – essentially - no money!
We are destitute. In short, overnight we have become a third world country – in fact it is worse than that – because we have nothing to offer the world except begging bowls.
Last year exports exceeded imports by £125 billion, but this year we will export nothing.
We are insolvent. Bankrupt! Broke! Bust!
And we are reliant on charity from the rest of the world to get back on our feet. That charity will only last for so long, and then impatience and irritation and long-held hatreds will rear their ugly heads – and financial aid will slow and eventually stop. Our allies and friends will help in the short term, but they cannot prop up and finance the rebuilding of a new country – especially one as large and powerful as ours once was.