by Jason Ayres
Now they were working for Dan. They hadn’t really been given a lot of choice to begin with, but having seen the benefits of what he had to offer, were now willing converts.
First thing on Monday morning, Ryan and Dan had gone out, stolen a Land Rover, fitted it with snow tracks, and driven round to the rear doors of the supermarket. There they’d forced their way in to discover the manager and the guard camped out in the staffroom, helping themselves to the store’s food.
Their protests at the intrusion were soon silenced when Dan produced one of Ryan’s guns to show he meant business. Dan had no intention of shooting them, but they didn’t know that. He wasn’t looking to kill people. He wanted recruits, just as he had when he’d been active with his Fascist political party, so he offered them a deal. A place to stay, under his leadership, in exchange for their help, and as much food as they could take with them from the store.
The two men had little choice but to accept. Dan’s gun was very persuasive.
With the store under his control, Dan sent the others out to the car park to search for another suitable vehicle, whilst he headed straight for the deli counter. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than bullying people, it was food, and he was going to take full advantage.
It was cold in the store and the food on the deli hadn’t gone off, despite the lack of electrical refrigeration. Dan went behind the counter and began to stuff his greedy, fat face full of pork pies, slices of ham, cheese and anything else he could get his hands on. It was the ultimate buffet.
When the others returned, having secured another 4x4, they split into two groups. Dan didn’t trust his new recruits yet not to do a runner, so he took Neil with him to search for fuel, whilst Ryan and Colin loaded up the Land Rover with food to take back to the base.
Getting the gates of the Army camp open wasn’t easy. Although the lock was relatively easy to cut, clearing all the snow from the gates took time.
Whilst Ryan and Colin were sorting that out, Dan and Neil were at a petrol station half a mile up the road. It had been abandoned, but sitting on the forecourt was a full-size tanker that had arrived to make a delivery and got stuck in the snow. From the label on the back they deduced it must be full of diesel, exactly what they needed for the generator.
They broke into the shop, grabbed as many plastic fuel carriers as they could, and opened up the fuel line for the tanker. Dan wasn’t sure if they’d be able to get it open, it was bound to be secured, but in the end it proved remarkably easy.
Clearly the tanker had been in the process of making its delivery at the time it had been abandoned, and the outlet pipe was still unlocked.
With a truck full of diesel they’d headed back to the camp, got the generator going, and made the place habitable. They’d even brought Ryan’s PS6 and a TV with them, so spent the night playing games and getting very drunk, until they had all passed out. Their male bonding was complete, and by the morning Dan had no further fear of his new recruits running out on him. They were enjoying themselves too much for that.
It was all part of Dan’s plan. He presented a benevolent but firm approach to them. The undertones were clear enough. They were working for him now: serve him well and they would be rewarded. Let him down and there would be consequences.
The plan for Tuesday was much the same as the day before. They would go out foraging for whatever they needed. As Dan explained to them, they had no need to fear the law. They had not seen any police or Army the whole of the previous day, so, whatever was happening in the wider world, clearly no one was coming to help them.
With no law and order, it was up to them to provide it in the short term for the greater good. If they needed to steal to survive, who could begrudge them that if the alternative was death by starvation or exposure? It was not as if anyone was waiting around to take them into custody.
Dan’s acolytes hung on his every word. Everything he said made sense to them. Stick with him and they’d be OK. Choosing his words carefully, he continued to outline his plans.
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Dan was right about one thing. There was no law and order, at least not locally. Whilst the Army and the police focused what resources they had on the major cities, smaller towns and villages had been left to fend for themselves.
By Monday, Hannah had realised that there was very little she could do in her role as D.I. All the landlines were down and her mobile phone battery was flat with no way to charge it, leaving her cut off from her colleagues. When she called at the police station, Miley was gone, whereabouts unknown.
She took a quick walk through town to find that half of the shops had been broken into. Other than that the place was like a ghost town. Most of the residents either had barricaded themselves in their homes or had left in a mass exodus the previous day. Devotion to duty was one thing, but attempting to single-handedly take charge of the situation was pointless.
What could she realistically do, anyway? It was time to think of herself and her daughter.
Now it was Tuesday morning and the two of them were safely ensconced in the kitchen of her grandmother’s cottage. As Jess sat at the kitchen table, Hannah was frying up eggs and bacon on the Aga. Next to the frying pan was a pan of fresh water, close to boiling. Hannah was really in need of a good cup of coffee.
Jess was enjoying herself tremendously. To her, this was one big adventure. Lighting candles, making fires, boiling water on a stove: these were all novelties to her that she had read about but never previously experienced.
“Is this what it was like living in the old days, Mummy?” she asked.
“It certainly is,” replied Hannah. “And I’ve thought of something else we can try after we’ve had our bacon and eggs. How do you fancy making some toast over the fire?”
“Yay!” replied Jess.
“And later we can bake some of our own bread in the Aga,” added Hannah. Her daughter’s enthusiasm had begun to rub off on her. Rather than just buy fresh bread, she’d thought ahead and picked up not only some part-baked rolls that were vacuum-sealed and would last for months, but also yeast, flour and all the other ingredients needed to make bread from scratch.
She saw no reason why they couldn’t survive. After all, the human race had survived for millions of years before electricity and other mod cons were invented. Why shouldn’t they? They had enough food to last at least three months. She was hopeful that the oil in the tank would last that long, too, if they were frugal.
Jess had been right: this was exactly like the old days. She was almost looking forward to it. And it was only three months until Peter would emerge from The Time Bubble. Then they would all be together.
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When Lauren awoke, she was cold, despite being wrapped up tightly in a thick duvet. She reluctantly climbed out of bed, noticing the frost on the window. She placed her hand on the radiator. It was cold.
She wrapped a thick, pink, woollen dressing gown of Debbie’s around herself and headed for the bathroom, thinking about what had happened the previous night.
Things had been far from quiet on the street outside. The looting had continued to a backdrop of breaking glass, shouting and cheering. From the windows she could see gangs of mostly teenagers starting fires in litter bins. It had gone on until well after midnight, only the start of another heavy snowfall dispersing the crowds.
She had felt warm in the pub, but not particularly safe. Twice there was a banging on the door and she feared that someone would either break the door down or shatter one of the windows.
Fortunately it seemed most of the crowd were more interested in the wine shop up the road, from where Andy had taken his last fatal drink. She knew not of his demise, but thought it odd that he had not returned.
The cold was even worse in the bathroom, and soon she realised she had another problem. There was no hot water. She ran the tap for a while, but to no avail. What started as a lukewarm flow soon turned cold. It wasn’t just the radia
tors which were not working.
She was running out of clean clothes, so turned to Debbie’s wardrobe. There was a lot of winter wear in there, including several baggy jumpers which swamped Lauren’s petite frame and looked quite ridiculous in the mirror. No matter, she thought. It wasn’t as if she was going to see anyone.
She headed down to the kitchen and went straight over to the gas hob. Her worst fears were confirmed. There was no gas. With gas, she had been quite comfortable. She had heating, hot water and cooking facilities. Now she had none of those things.
What was she to do next? She wasn’t sure, but as far as today was concerned, it looked like it was going to be crisps for breakfast.
Lauren was by no means the only one waking up to this situation. Gas supplies were running out all across the country. The Russians had carried out their threat to cut off the pipeline, and now the UK, almost totally reliant upon it, was in trouble.
What little was still provided by North Sea gas was nowhere near enough to supply a nation shivering in sub-zero temperatures.
With no electricity, no gas, no television and no radio, people began to panic. There was a second mass exodus from the smaller towns of those who’d elected to stay after the first snowfall. Invariably everyone either headed due south, or for the perceived safety of one of the major cities.
With most routes impassable, many ended up on foot, in conditions they were desperately ill-equipped for. Andy was only one of the first victims of the snow. He was now a statistic in a death toll that was beginning to rise rapidly.
Even in the cities, where the Army remained in charge, things were bleak. The Army were assuring people that help was on its way and that the US forces were mobilising to help the UK. By all reports, the situation was not as bad in North America as in Europe but, thus far, no help had been forthcoming.
By the time night fell locally, at least three-quarters of the town’s population were gone. Some had managed to reach Oxford and found shelter; others faced a grim night on the side of the A34 desperately trying to find some protection from the elements. The wind and the snow were unrelenting, sapping what warmth remained in the bones of those unfortunate enough to still be out in it when night fell.
Those who stayed behind in the town were safe for the time being, but how much longer could they hold out?
Chapter Nineteen
Kaylee and Charlie were sitting on the patio of the Rock Café on the main street of Corralejo in Fuerteventura. The sun was shining through clear blue skies, and they were lapping up the warmth.
They were watching the news broadcasts on the bar’s TV screens as they sipped their drinks: diet lemonade for Kaylee, and a Tequila Sunrise for Charlie. The more they saw of the news coverage, the more relieved they were that they had left when they had. Kaylee’s worries about the friends she’d left behind were growing, though.
The only pictures coming out of the UK now were from London, showing the Army on the streets, and shops and cars ablaze. It seemed that the UK was suffering worse than most.
Countries further north already had the infrastructure to cope, whilst those further south had avoided the worst of it. She reflected that her father had been right all along about Britain being unable to cope with the snow, even if these were exceptional circumstances.
It seemed that the plunge of cold air southwards had affected Europe more severely than other parts of the world. When the weather map of the world came up, although other big cities were showing low temperatures such as New York (+2) and Tokyo (+4), they were nowhere near as low as the temperature for London (-7).
Kaylee and Charlie had left Paris on Monday afternoon aboard the TGV in another thick blizzard, but the train had scythed its way southwards through the country. By the time they had reached Bordeaux, the ground outside had been snow-free.
Night had fallen by the time they had arrived in Madrid and the air was cool outside, but life in the city was refreshingly normal. They found a hotel, and contacted their family in Fuerteventura to let them know they’d arrived there safely.
The following morning they had taken a taxi straight to the airport, and booked themselves onto a flight. By mid-afternoon, they had touched down on the tarmac at Fuerteventura Airport.
Charlie’s mother, Kaylee’s father, and Kaylee’s sister, Olivia, were waiting for them in the terminal building, leading to an emotional family reunion. Even Olivia, who had fought like cat and dog with her sister during their teenage years, gave her sister an unprecedented warm hug.
When they had emerged from the building into the warm sunshine, a huge feeling of relief washed over Kaylee. They had made it, she could feel her baby kicking, and they were safe at last. After being in the cold for so long, she’d never appreciated the warmth of the sun so much.
They had headed back to the apartment in Corralejo and celebrated completing their epic journey with a meal out in a restaurant overlooking the sea. There they had made a decision which really didn’t require much thought. They were staying in Fuerteventura for the duration, and Kaylee’s baby would be born there.
“I wonder if Josh and Alice found the new Time Bubble?” said Charlie. Josh had rung him excitedly the previous Friday evening to tell him of their plans.
“If they did get down to Cornwall, I can’t imagine they’ll be coming back anytime soon. I just hope they are safe,” said Kaylee.
She had tried to access the Met Office website from the internet in their parents’ apartment, but it was down. A trawl around other websites, though, had given her enough information to suggest that the freezing conditions across England were not about to abate anytime soon.
Josh and Alice were indeed safe for the time being. They had made it to Truro on Monday morning, and from there managed to get another bus as far as Hayle, just three miles from St Ives. That was as far as the road would take them.
Away from the A30, the roads were impassable, and they had no choice but to continue on foot. It took them all afternoon to complete the journey, but at last they found themselves walking down a snowy lane leading towards the harbour front.
With the snow adorning the picturesque buildings, it all looked very pretty: a Christmas card scene, as Alice described it. They passed the church and rounded the corner onto the harbour front.
Most of the pubs and restaurants were still open, so they stopped at the far end of the harbour at a fish and chip shop with an upstairs restaurant. Josh wasn’t sure if it was just because he was so hungry after their long trek, but he declared to Alice that they were the best fish and chips he’d ever tasted.
There was no shortage of vacancies in the various bed and breakfast establishments they had passed, but Josh had already worked out where he wanted to stay. Just down from the chip shop was a delightful old pub called “The Sloop” that had been there since medieval times.
Josh had stayed there before on holiday a few years ago and loved it, but that wasn’t his only motivation for wanting to stay there. It was the local of Robbie O’Neill, the sailor who they believed had unwittingly travelled through the new Time Bubble they hoped to find. Perhaps he could help them find it.
They went to bed early and slept for a good ten hours, worn out by their recent exertions. When they awoke it was to the loud baying of seagulls outside the window. They sounded hungry. The snow had covered the ground to such an extent that their usual meal of discarded chips and other food dropped by the never-ending flow of tourists to the town was not available.
Josh had learned from bitter experience to be wary of the gulls. He was still haunted by a childhood memory when he could have been no more than seven years old when one of them had swooped down and taken an ice cream cone clean out of his hand. There were many tears at the time, and, even after his father bought him another, it took him some time to get over the trauma.
In the morning they had their breakfast in the bar. It seemed they were the only guests staying there. A young and fit-looking man in his mid-twenties with bleached blon
d hair served them their breakfast. They had seen him behind the bar the previous evening, and now seemed as good a time as any to engage him in conversation.
“Quiet, this morning,” said Josh.
“We’re usually a lot busier than this,” replied the barman in a strong Cornish accent. “This place is really popular. We get booked up all year round. There were meant to be three couples staying here last night, but none of them turned up.”
“That’s hardly surprising,” replied Josh. “The roads are terrible. We barely got here ourselves.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty rough out there by all accounts,” he replied. “I tried to get a weather forecast earlier, but I can’t seem to get anything on the TV or radio and our internet access is down.” He paused and then said, “How long are you guys staying, anyway?”
“Oh – a couple more days, I should think, shouldn’t you?” said Josh, looking across for approval to Alice who nodded. “That’s if you can accommodate us, of course.”
“Yeah, I can’t see that being a problem. I don’t think we’re going to be inundated with tourists in this.” He gestured towards the window, where another snow shower had just started.
Josh decided it was time to ditch the small talk and get to the point. “Listen,” he said. “Do you know a man named Robbie O’Neill?”
“Oh, yeah, everyone knows Robbie. He’s in here most nights. He’s a bit of a local celeb right now. Is that why you are looking for him? Are you journalists?”
“Something like that,” remarked Alice. “Do you know where we can find him?”
“If you stay here long enough, he’ll find you,” replied the barman. “He works in the harbour and comes in for his lunch most days.”
They didn’t have long to wait. There wasn’t a lot of work to be done in the harbour in a raging snowstorm, and well before midday. Robbie had decided to spend the day in the pub instead.
Josh and Alice had stayed in the bar drinking coffee and reading the two-day-old newspapers. They had to do something to pass the time. Needless to say, there was no signal on the television here either, and going outside whilst it was snowing so heavily was out of the question.
