Aftermath: The complete collection

by John Wilkinson

  ‘Everyone has to do it’ said Officer Wilson, as he patted me down, slowly and carefully. He then moved onto Bernard, checking him over, top half and bottom. The children lined up behind Bernard, one by one, nervously waiting their turn. Officer Wilson got down onto his knees to search them, he reassured each one as they took their turn. The guards requested we emptied our rucksacks onto the table, removing everything so they could check them. It seemed strange to see everything I owned, scattered across the table, the sum total of a lifetime of living, could now be fit in a shoulder bag. They removed my knife and crowbar, describing them as possible weapons, and put them, along with our handguns, in the locked suitcase by the door. The walkie talkie started flashing while Bernard and I repacked our rucksacks, and a voice came over the speaker. ‘Lookout Delta to base, lookout Delta to base.’ Officer Abbott walked over to the table and picked it up, ‘Go head’ he said, moving the half eaten sandwich off the chair and sitting down. ‘Two adults on route, look old, maybe male and female. One bag, twenty minutes away at their speed, clear.’

  ‘Clear’ he replied, standing, and picking up my rucksack from the table and handing it to me. ‘I think we’re all done here, everything seems in order. Follow this road, the camp is straight ahead on your right, I hope you have a pleasant stay. When you get into the camp, the guards will ask for any diaries or documentation you have, I noticed you have been keeping a diary.’

  ‘Why? For what?’

  ‘We are always trying to stay one step ahead of the enemy, so we ask to see any information people might have, someone entering the camp might have that one piece of intelligence that will turn the war in our favour.’ I could understand that, but I had become that used to writing in my diary, I wasn’t sure how I felt about losing it. I am comforted by re-playing things over in my head, I might have to start another one, once inside the camp. I looked out of the front of the tram, and could see the elderly couple slowly making their way towards us. We fastened our rucksacks and climbed through the exit and down the steps, turning to help the children. We didn’t have far to walk before the huge hotel that formed most of the camp, loomed into view through the dense ash cloud. Its bright white walls, lighting up the street with the help of an enormous flood light and generator. It was a large building with five floors, inside the top row of windows facing us, were the letters that spelt out ‘C A M P B L U E,’ in white paint, one letter per window, the rest of which were blackened out. We walked around the building to the front, where we found more and more people milling around. The further we walked, the more people appeared, it was easily the largest crowd I had seen since re-surfacing. A large queue had formed around the building, with most travellers desperate to get inside, the cold night was fast approaching. Someone rode past us on a pedal bike, looking around I noticed bikes everywhere, the camp resembled the centre of Amsterdam at lunch time. Every face we past seemed to have something in common, the strain and anguish had gone, everywhere we looked were smiles. The overhanging sense of impending doom, that was visible on almost everyone we met had lifted. As we were taking in the hustle and bustle of the camp, the sound of a car horn startled us from behind. We had been walking in the middle of the road, and a truck had driven up behind us. We moved to the side to let it pass, and watched it drive into the football stadium to our left. It was carrying various pieces of wood, from broken furniture to basic planks, it stopped outside the huge double doors while a guard checked its load, and then let it through. A got a quick glance inside the stadium before the doors shut and saw a huge collection of wood and metal, sorted into heaps like bonfires, with men working around them, all under the dim haze of the floodlights. There was a large armed presence around the camp, guards on every door, and soldiers on patrol. As the night closed in, the generators were working overtime to keep the lamps producing enough light, the smell of burning petrol was evident from metres away. The further we walked, the more children we saw, sat in groups, running across the dusty floor on a freshly made games area. Emma’s face filled with excitement when she saw them, they were just like her. It had been so long since I had seen children just being children, able to play without fear. James and Josh had smiles the length of Blackpool promenade, it was good to see so many happy children. It had been a long and hard journey to get to this point, but it had been the right decision. I saw something familiar as we reached the entrance to the hotel, the missing eye from the top of Blackpool Tower had been placed at the front doors, and was being used as a filing office. A queue of weary looking individuals snaked around the building, and in through the eye. The queue was large, so we decided to let it die down before joining it, the children were excited and wanted to play. There were more armed guards outside the main doors, some sat on the metal furniture around the entrance, talking to members of the queue. We stopped at the table and chairs, so I could write the final entry in my diary, before I had to hand it in to the authorities. Bernard sat watching the children play, as they started to gain confidence, and introduce themselves to the other children. It wasn’t long before I was interrupted by Emma, to meet a parade of new friends, she had always been drawn towards girls younger than herself, her nurturing qualities shining through. She was holding hands with Beth and Nancy, two sisters from Liverpool, probably aged around five. They were shy and not keen on meeting any new adult males, which I could understand. I could see their worried father sat a few chairs away, still keeping a close eye on his daughters. When I had finished the diary entry, I took some time to gather my thoughts before we entered the camp, deliberating over what had happened, how we had got here and what the future might hold. There are still so many unanswered questions, maybe the following days and months will uncover exactly what happened to our planet. I hope I live long enough to find out the truth for myself, and the human race can recover, for the sake of our children. Since Jane died I have worried about losing Emma, it’s every parents nightmare, outliving their child, and having to bury them. But I’m now equally concerned what would happen to her should I die, it scares me to think. This world is brutal, who can I trust to protect her? I must stay alive, I cannot leave her to fend for herself, she’s not old enough nor equipt. I don’t know what the future holds, for any of us, hopefully my fears are unfounded now, and we are safe. I suppose some people might think we are taking a gamble coming here, we don’t know what’s going on behind these walls, and our faith in humanity has been gradually worn away. But eventually we have put our trust in someone, or something. We cannot run forever, I’m tired of running, we’re all tired of running.

  Just before we entered the camp, I heard a commotion near my table. I looked out over the camp, and could see everyone looking skyward, the whole camp had stopped dead. A white seagull was heading inland from the coast, fighting against the strong winds, its perfect white body defined against the black ash sky that permanently surrounds us. I had always disliked seagulls, but this one was different, this one embodied all our hope, as it fought with the conditions and past over us, on its way inland.

  Aftermath: The battle for the North

  25/11/27 - Time 00:40

  When the queue had died down, I signalled for the children to come back, as Bernard and I stood up, lifted our rucksacks off the ground, and slung them over our shoulders. The boys arrived back, but Emma was ignoring me, so I told the boys to stay with Bernard, as I went to get her. She was still playing with the young girls she’d introduced me to, skipping around in a circle, completely oblivious to my arrival. ‘Come on Emma, we need to get inside, and get settled in. You can come and play with-’

  ‘Beth and Nancy’ she interrupted, smirking at my inability to remember their names. ‘Can they come and stay in our room dad?’

  ‘I don’t think their dad will want them staying in another room,’ I replied, acknowledging a look from their father, sat on the opposite table, that said as much. ‘You can arrange to see them tomorrow.’

 
‘They would be happy with that’ said the girl’s father, standing to shake my hand as he spoke. ‘My name is John, we are in room thirty five on the first floor. Nancy and Beth would be happy to play with Emma again.’

  I introduced our group, and then asked John how long he had been at Camp Blue.

  ‘We arrived four days ago’ he replied, sitting back down.

  ‘How are you finding it?’

  ‘I’m so grateful we were picked up, without the army, I don’t know what would’ve happened to us. We’re still settling in at the moment, seeing how it all works, but it’s good to have some organisation back in our lives, and a feeling of security.’

  I said good night, picked up my diary, putting it under my arm, and ushered the children towards the entrance to the hotel. The tower eye, now situated at the front entrance, was brittle and rusting with decay. The children picked at it as we waited our turn, pulling bits off and putting their fingers through the holes. There was a low rumble of thunder in the distance as the winds kick up around us, and most people started to head inside, so we joined the queue behind two elderly men. I took a final look outside as the black clouds lit up, and we were reminded of the impenetrable darkness surrounding us. Inside the building, directly in front of us, was a large desk manned by two officers. Above them was a sign, with ‘Please register here’ painted in big black letters. On their left was a post guarded by one officer, who was checking people’s identification as they past on their way to their rooms, on the right was an ‘Out of order’ lift and a set of stairs. As the elderly couple in front were registering, I picked up an elastic band from a bowl on the table, and wrapped it around my diary.

  ‘Is that to be handed in?’ Asked the soldier, standing a couple of steps away from the register’s desk. I nodded and with a heavy heart offered him the book, he took it from me and added it to the collection of books and other literature on the table.

  ‘Good afternoon and welcome to Camp Blue’ said the seated officer, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair.

  ‘I haven’t had a break for seven hours, but you guys look like our final five, and I’m just about ready to sink my first cold beer of the day’ he laughed, as the standing soldier nodded his head in agreement.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan’ I replied, acknowledging a look of agreement from Bernard.

  ‘What are your names and where have you guys travelled from?’

  ‘I’m Nathan, this is Bernard, and the three children are Emma, James and Josh. We have travelled from Edinburgh via Dumfries.’

  ‘That’s some distance. My name is Officer Farrell and this is Private Chadwick. How long have you been on the road?’

  ‘Since the attack.’

  ‘Oh man, you must stink!’ He said, pointing at the children.

  ‘No you stink’ retorted Emma, ‘You smell like an orangutan’s arm pit.’

  ‘Really? Do I?’ He asked, looking at the boys, who nodded nervously. ‘I’m gonna have to do something about that, I cannot be smelling worse than you.’ Private Chadwick walked around the table, picking up a Polaroid camera on route and asked us to form a line for photographic identification. ‘Your photo ID will be ready for collection at the ten o’clock meeting tomorrow, this is your room key, I’ll give you two, one for each adult’ continued Officer Farrell as he handed out bottles of water to each member of our party. ‘Water is distributed at the camp meetings, at six o’clock. You missed today’s so this is your supply for tomorrow.’

  We all had our photographs taken, much like a passport photo, look straight ahead, and no smiling. ‘These are tomorrows food vouchers,’ he said, handing me five pieces of card. ‘You will need these for every meal you have, breakfast, lunch and dinner. The officer who serves you your food will sign the card each time, don’t forget it, no card no meal. Breakfast is served at nine am, lunch at twelve pm and dinner at five pm. On each floor there’s a wash room,’ he continued, waving his hand in the air frantically until it was acknowledged by the soldier on the left, who started to walk towards us. ‘I’m sure your stay at Camp Blue will be a happy one, this is Nathan, Bernard, Emma, James and Josh from Edinburgh’ he announced to the soldier, who shook Bernards hand, and then mine. ‘My name is Sergeant Davis, and I’m your Camp Blue representative. If you have any problems or questions, I’m the person to ask. If you follow me, I’ll show you to your room, and give you a short tour of the floor.’ The building was in reasonable shape, clean and tidy, with white walls that smelt recently painted, and dark wood doors. ‘This floor is one long corridor, with the door numbers going in sequence. The wash room is the first on the left, it gets busy during the day, I find first thing in the morning or last thing at night the best time to go.’ We continued along the corridor towards some large double doors. ‘You will be glad to know the bar is located on this floor’ Sergeant Davis laughed, opening the double doors wide enough to see inside. ‘Certainly a selling point for me when I got this position, not got as far to stumble back to my room.’

  ‘When is it open?’ I asked, trying to make conversation.

  ‘If someone wants a drink, it’s open. We have an extremely large amount of alcohol, seized by one of our search teams. Something like two hundred thousand bottles, so it’s not presently rationed, but when supplies dwindle, that will change. It’s mostly inhabited by the camps soldiers at the moment, but hopefully others will feel comfortable enough to join us soon.’

  Sergeant Davis was the kind of bloke I would normally resent, around six two, athletic and too damn handsome. With close cut brown hair and a jovial personality, I searched for a flaw like everyone would, but I couldn’t find one. Sergeant Davis pointed out the dining room next, which was opposite the bar. ‘Every floor has its own dining hall, breakfast, lunch and dinner are served in here, just don’t forget your vouchers.’ We stopped outside our room as he gave us the final part of his spiel. ‘This is your room, number forty two, you have no neigbours on your right at the moment, but that will inevitable change tomorrow. The door at the end of the corridor is the fire exit, if the alarm should sound continually, head through there, lifting the steel bar until the security lock opens. You will find out a bit more at the camp meeting tomorrow, each day we have a meeting at six pm, we just ask for one member of each room to be present, but as you are new, you must all attend the newcomers meeting, tomorrow at ten am. Do you have any questions?’

  ‘Do the toilets and sinks work?’

  ‘The toilets on this floor are fine, higher floors are experiencing some problems, but will still work if you tip a bucket of water into the bowl to create the pressure to flush. I certainly wouldn’t drink the water that comes out of the tap though, we clean our own water for drinking, and make it available at the camp meetings. The bath has been filled with water for washing, and is refilled with clean water every week. We wouldn’t advise you bathe in the water, just pour enough into the sink and hand wash.’

  I thanked Sergeant Davis, bid him good night, and opened the door to let the children into the room, who went straight for the beds. The room was a reasonable size, clean, with two single beds, three mattresses, and a window that overlooked the outdoor play area, which was handy. There’s a small bathroom, with a toilet, sink and bath. Bernard and I removed our rucksacks and emptied the contents onto the bed, sorting through it all. I threw all the dirty clothes onto the floor by the door, and tried to brush the creases out of the clean ones, before putting them on hangers in the wardrobe. They barely took up a quarter of the space, it seems strange unpacking our belongings and settling somewhere, I think I’d resigned myself to a life on the road. I put the rest of my stuff neatly on the bedside table, in between the two single beds, and sat next to the children. Above the beds were three black and white photographs, each one showing a different part of Lancashire, Great Britain during the Second World War. The centre piece was an aerial photograph of Blackpool dated A
ugust third, nineteen forty. If my history is correct, that was during the Battle of Britain, the photo shows a largely undamaged Blackpool, with smoke bellowing from surrounding areas, possibly Fleetwood. Ironically, Blackpool looks more war torn now, but mainly from decades of poverty and bankruptcy, before any nuclear winter took hold. Bernard mentioned the Nazis never attacked Blackpool, even thought it had strategic targets, as it was believed Hitler wanted it intact when they invaded. I knew there was going to be an issue with the sleeping arrangements, the beds proving too inviting to the children.

  ‘Can I have this bed Dad? It’s massive, and I fit in perfectly.’

  ‘I think Bernard and I will take the beds, you and the boys will be fine on the mattresses.’

  ‘It’s not fair, I wish I was old, you get everything when you’re old.’

  ‘When you’ve carried us around the countryside for days on end, I’ll let you take a bed.’

  I asked Bernard if he had any dirty clothes for washing. ‘I’ve already put them in the pile by the door,’ he replied, with a smile on his face.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’

  ‘You’

  ‘Me? Why, what have I done?’

  ‘Just making excuses to go and have a beer.’

  ‘The most important thing to me at this moment, is to get all these dirty clothes clean-after that, I might just call in the pub for a beer. Is that OK with you?’

  ‘Yeah that’s fine, I’m tired anyway.’

  The children had a mad thirty minutes, excited to be somewhere new, and happy to be with other children. For the first time in as long as I can remember, my thoughts weren’t taken up with what dangers tomorrow would bring, now replaced by an almost nervous apprehension of a new camp life. A new home, with new worries. I don’t know where children get their energy from, they’d arrived at the camp more hyper than when they woke this morning. But eventually it caught up with them, first their eyes started to glaze over, and they curled up into little balls and fell fast asleep. I stripped them of their dirty clothes, and tucked them up in bed, making sure they were well covered. The strenuous journey had also caught up with Bernard, who had put himself to bed, and was now soundly snoring away. I put one of the room keys between my teeth, gathered all the clothes together in my arms and carried them to the door, which I held open with my foot.