Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  ‘I thank First Minister Irvine for his statesmanship and bravery in handing over the reins to a wider alliance. I wholeheartedly agree that a coalition of the major military parties should be formed and go forward as a united force with one aim - to defeat the mutant threat. To this end I suggest that we address ourselves to forming a council to coordinate the struggle to come. I suggest that firstly, we adjourn for one hour for informal discussions to take place and that the Press conference is delayed until, say 2000 hours, so that we can present a united front. We owe it to the world to show that we mean business. And, my friends, please try to avoid petty political point scoring. If we are to defeat this terrible foe, we must apply ourselves to the general good. The future of mankind is at stake!’

  The Secretary General sat down to a small round of spontaneous applause, and the meeting broke up.

  Small groups formed and discussions commenced. Notes were taken and options were suggested, rejected and suggested again.

  Even the Chinese and Russians integrated and the next three hours were the cornerstone of the fight for survival.

  However, amongst all of this discussion and unprecedented co-operation, nobody noticed Lord Irvine and his three aides slip out of the meeting. They moved back to his private office where they immediately set about planning their new priority.

  The move to Breton.

  ***

  Professor John Forbes lay in a coma.

  His metamorphosis into a mutant was in the early stages, and it was now clear that Abraham Da Silva had succeeded in transferring the virus during the struggle a few days earlier.

  Da Silva was now fully awake and was employing all of his efforts to try to escape from his captors. His distress was patent and over four hundred miles away, 'The Rook' was fully aware of the signals being transmitted by her newest recruit.

  She was gathering data from Abraham about the research being conducted by Forbes and the UKRA. It was valuable intelligence and so she maintained the connection, as she would do with Forbes when he inevitably joined the horde.

  In any case her plan for invasion was gathering pace, as her acolytes were streaming eastwards towards Kent, from where the vanguard of the invasion would be launched. 'The Rook' had calculated astutely that the humans would try to take their revenge for the ‘Tennessee’ incident and so reasoned that the army should move away from their assembly areas. Some remained behind to man the small boats and ships which would spearhead the attack, which would take place in ten short days.

  The preparations were progressing well.

  The horde would soon be able to satisfy their growing hunger.

  ***

  Two thousand miles away, Brady and his daughter Chloe were following the progress of the crisis in France very closely indeed.

  ‘This incident in Swansea seems serious. But I still can't get my head around the whole ‘zombie/mutant’ scenario. It just doesn’t seem real.’ Brady was perplexed.

  He was finishing breakfast at Albert’s, their habitual watering hole in Cabopino Port. Chloe was also reading the UKRA newspapers, which now reached a huge audience throughout Europe, and indeed the world. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, and many British ex-patriots had not yet given up hope of contacting relatives and friends. There was a daily listing update of personnel newly added to the data base and even the smallest chance of finding a loved one sustained acute interest.

  ‘It's real enough,’ countered Chloe, ‘do you think we are really safe here?’

  Brady had already considered the threat to Southern Spain.

  ‘Well, for the time being, anyway. There is the Bay of Biscay to cross, which is no mean feat, even for seasoned ferries. If they were to travel on land, then they will have to fight their way through France, over the Pyrenees and then across the Spanish mainland and all that the inhospitable, arid mountain ranges and desert has to offer. I reckon it’ll be a while yet before they become a direct threat to the Costa del Sol. In any case, if these things do come ashore in France, it is clear that the joint armed forces of Europe, plus the USA and China and almost every other nation worldwide is preparing to repel them. I see no need to panic yet. Anyway, I think that this zombie issue has been overly exaggerated. In my estimation, I consider that we are fairly safe for the immediate future.’

  Chloe looked unconvinced.

  ‘It seems pretty serious to me. The Press is going beserk. Millions of new refugees are steaming eastwards and the Russians are threatening to Nuke all and sundry. If this continues, then a conventional or even nuclear European Civil War could well break out!’

  ‘You might be right, Clo, but none of this really affects us. If we buy a bar or a restaurant, then life could become extremely busy for us - and France is a long way away.’

  Brady wasn’t really convinced by his own words, but was attempting to allay the fears of his daughter.

  ‘Do you think we should go back and help?’ asked Chloe.

  ‘Dear God, Clo! What would that achieve? There's a price on our heads and if we didn’t end up in prison, we'd probably be drafted into fighting these things. No, we are far better off sitting tight. Agreed?’

  Chloe was uncertain. She had already lost one home and was unwillingly separated from Chris and his family. Of course, she understood the dangers of her situation, but something was niggling in the back of her mind. She couldn’t help feeling like a traitor. She didn’t want to become one of the rats deserting a sinking ship. However, for the time being she kept quiet and turned back to her newspapers, muttering:

  ‘It wouldn't be so bad if I could talk to Chris on the phone, but you say the yanks would trace the call within minutes. It's such a bloody pain!’

  Brady stared at his daughter. It appeared that she was harbouring the same reservations as he did. However, he wanted desperately to keep her safe. For the present, he would try to avoid the subject.

  Better safe than sorry.

  ***

  As Chloe and Brady finished their breakfast, Ann Fletcher, alias Marie Poitier was booking a high speed train from Madrid to Malaga. She would depart the next morning at 1030am. By the afternoon, she would have checked in to the Five Star Puerto Romano Beach Resort and Spa in Marbella, and could start the search for her daughter.

  The only fly in the ointment was Brady – but she could easily deal with him.

  Day 190 / Z-Day 155

  Saturday 22 June – Noon

  UKRA HQ Brussels

  The Press Conference scheduled for 1700 had been delayed to 2000 and then further suspended until noon on Saturday, the next day.

  There was so much to discuss and prepare, that it had been decided that a short postponement was required. The Media was given a short taster to keep them occupied, so to speak, in that it was announced that Lord Irvine had handed over strategic and tactical control to the UN Secretary General, and that at noon the following day, a comprehensive briefing would be presented by the new Supreme Military Council, as it was now designated.

  This kept the Fourth Estate happy for a few hours, as the unexpected resignation was big news, and gave them plenty to speculate and write about.

  Meanwhile the leaders of the western world got down to some hard talking, and after several hours of antagonism the discussions eventually led to the inevitable and necessary compromise. They all realised, some more grudgingly than others, that total co-operation was the order of the day, and that political in-fighting and point scoring would gain them very little.

  A Supreme council was elected.

  It consisted of the President of the USA, the Russian and Chinese Premiers, the German Chancellor, French Prime Minister, SACEUR and the Secretary General of the UN, who had the casting vote in any disputed areas.

  Sub-committees were set up to deal with refugees, armed action, logistics, finance and administration. Civil servants, military planners and other support staffs were readied and posted into Brussels from all over Europe, which had been designated as Alliance HQ. The
UKRA administrative building would be vacated on Monday, as the entire British staff would be transported to Brittany to oversee the transfer of power, thus leaving behind a readymade vehicle as a base to manage the coming conflict.

  Lord Irvine was already on his way to Quimper to take up residence in the newly constructed and renovated administrative building, which was to serve as the HQ for the British contingent of the new Breton. An army of administrative personnel and equipment would follow over the coming week and he hoped to have a skeleton government set up before the first of July.

  It was a huge logistical undertaking, but one that had been in the planning stage for a good month and so there was a great deal of support already in place to deal with accommodation, office supplies and food. All of the other vestiges of civilised human existence would come in due course. It would be a stressful and exhausting transition – but the British contingent had no real choice. And frankly, many of the personnel were relieved to be out of the mutant front line.

  The old British military had been transferring to their new stations for some time. The Royal Navy had taken over all ex-French naval ports and accommodation. They had been operating from Brittany for some weeks already.

  The RAF had already transferred its aircraft to French airfields and were operating bombing and reconnaissance sorties over the UK on a regular basis. Civilian airliners had been deployed to Breton and were attempting to set up the infrastructure for a new airline. Many of these aircraft were whizzing around Europe conveying British troops, administration staffs and supplies to Breton. This method allowed personnel to avoid road travel, which was all but impossible on the east-west arteries.

  The British Army had been slowly migrating into Breton over the past weeks and was reasonably well established. Lord Irvine’s advisors estimated that the vast majority would be housed and operational by the end of June.

  The situation wasn’t perfect, and the SNOW! survivors had a great deal of hardship ahead. However, they also had a great deal going for them.

  Firstly, they were out of the mainstream European panic which now encompassed an area from Paris and Le Havre in the south, across to Luxembourg in the east and up to Amsterdam in the north. Many millions of people were on the move and ‘utter chaos’ was no exaggeration when one searched for words to describe the situation. The populations of France and the Low Countries were running for their lives and the forces of law and order were unable to cope. No amount of reassurance from their governments could prevent the exodus. It was become a disaster of apocalyptic proportions. Food, water and shelter were increasingly difficult to find and as a result, public order was breaking down rapidly. A sort of anarchy took hold as the human tidal wave sought refuge from the mutant threat.

  Yes, the British were well out of it.

  ***

  The long awaited press conference started on time at noon on Saturday the twenty-second of June.

  The seven members of the ‘Junta’, as it was quickly re-named by the media, sat at long, oak table on a platform overlooking an audience of hundreds of reporters, cameras and observers.

  A one hundred page comprehensive brief which explained developments, outlined plans and detailed the individuals involved with the administration had been prepared and would be distributed to the audience, and published for wider public consumption via the internet at the end of the presentation.

  In essence it described the following, which senior military briefing staff outlined for the media:

  As previously announced, Lord Irvine had handed over control of the anti-mutant defence strategy to an alliance of major world powers under the auspices of the UN.

  This alliance would be based in Brussels in the old UKRA building, from where tactical operations would be planned and launched.

  First strikes against the enemy would commence at 0600 hours on Monday the twenty-fourth of June.

  These attacks would be air and naval based. All UK shipping had withdrawn to ports in Breton, and had been replaced by a combined fleet of US and European forces. Six US aircraft carriers with hundreds of attack and reconnaissance aircraft had deployed to the region in preparation for the assault on the mutant army.

  The five main targets would be the identified assembly areas of Swansea, Manchester, Glasgow, London and Brighton. Although the mutant army was on the move, they would be destroyed wherever encountered.

  Any mutants found aboard shipping of any kind would be engaged and destroyed. Any mutant survivors would be destroyed by flamethrowers in the sea. Specialised shipping had been modified for this purpose.

  The main priority was to find and positively identify the mutant leaders, in the hope that any chain of command would break down if they were destroyed.

  The ex-British armed forces would take no initial part in the offensive, but would be prepared to defend the French coastline when and if the mutants moved across the English Channel. The transfer to Breton was in progress. Maps designating the Breton boundaries were published within the brief, and this border would also be guarded.

  All refugees heading east would be stopped at the German border. Every road entering the German Republic would be blocked by the armed services and lethal force would be used to prevent border crossing. A similar situation would occur in Denmark, Italy, Spain and Russia. All civilians were strongly advised to remain at home or to return there as soon as practicable. The chances of survival were much improved if they remained where they were.

  There would be daily news conferences and a website would be set up to publish hour by hour reports on progress. No-one would be kept in the dark. All military operations and progress – whether positive or negative would be transparent and in the public domain.

  When the briefings and talking was done, and the inevitable and interminable questioning had ceased, the General Secretary of the UN rose to close the meeting.

  ‘I know that the entire globe is listening to me and monitoring our progress. We have faced nothing like this before and we must work together if this vile menace to our civilisation is to be defeated. They are a strong and resourceful enemy – but we are stronger – we have to be!

  However, the people sitting on this platform require the support and co-operation of the whole world. And that means everybody including the media. Yes, this is no time to stand and criticize the armed forces or politicians doing their utmost to save us. It is no time for cheap shots, personality assassination, unfounded criticism or sedition. We are all in this together – until we win. To this end, a State of General Emergency is now declared, giving comprehensive powers to the military, police forces and the ruling alliance. Looting, civil disobedience, defeatism and desertion will be met with uncompromising punishment.

  Draconian measures? Yes! But these are troubling times and if we are to survive, then extraordinary action must be taken.

  Many of us may die in this struggle, but we must give everything we have if we are to save this planet for our children.

  Don’t let us down.

  Don’t let yourselves down.

  Now is the time to stand and fight.

  We may not get a second chance.’

  Day 191 / Z-Day 156

  Sunday 23 June

  Brussels

  John Stubbins had watched the press conference with growing apprehension. Like everybody else in Brussels, he felt that events were rapidly overtaking his family.

  That very afternoon he had received some good news, and some bad news. His boss at the hospital had telephoned and then confirmed the directive by e-mail. John held a copy of the e-mail in his hand and was in the process of explaining the situation to his wife, Eve, and their two teenaged children.

  ‘Well, as I see it, we have no choice. The bad news is that any hope of travelling to America to work is now out of the window. Temporarily at least. Apparently, all migration from Europe has been stopped, as has immigration. Because of this mutant threat, the powers that be want a stable population. In addition, all British survi
vors are to be moved to Brittany – sorry, Breton – to assist in the formation of the new state.

  You’ve all seen the broadcast and it seems that the UK is withdrawing to Brittany to gather its strength and marshall its forces. As part of that strategy, I have been ordered to a place called Quimper – as has Eve – to take over as Chief Medical Officer at the British hospital set up to tend to our own people. Patients in Brussels are being casevac’d by air and it will be my job to set up a fully functioning medical facility. I'm informed that much work has already been done, and we shall be commandeering two wings of a French hospital. Eve is to be Chief Dental Surgeon. The kids will go to yet another British run school. That's the good news!

  In one way it's a huge promotion, and the salary quoted is phenomenal. I suspect they are frightened that we might just scarper in the face of mutant attack. I have details of an address in Quimper – can someone get a bloody map out and see where it actually is – and also Google Map this house address.’