Time Split

by Patricia Smith

  Jason could just see the man’s head twisted upwards, the grotesque remains of what was once a face now pointed in his direction.

  The horror of the murder and the obvious lawlessness of those with ‘the power’ now held Jason in rigid terror. The mugging was bad enough. Still, he knew, if he hadn’t been so naive, he should have expected it, considering the circumstances. Painfully aware he was the only hope of fixing this thing, he knew he couldn’t afford to be injured or worse; from now on he would have to be more savvy than that. Jason felt sick at the thought of moving from his hiding place, even after the soldiers had gone, and now considered whether he should possibly be only travelling by night.

  “Have you replaced the circuit board?” Andrews called to an unseen person down a side road. He was rewarded with the sound of an engine starting up. A few seconds later a lorry pulled onto the main road. Turning, it faced south before levelling up, then drawing to a halt.

  Andrews separated three men from the group. Moving them off to one side he thrust a small white bundle at each in turn. “Put those on.”

  A thin layer of snow, which covered the ground at grass level, had already soaked through Jason’s trousers. His legs were stinging with the cold and only the gentle flexing of his toes kept the blood flowing through his feet.

  The three men donned the white outfits, which turned out to be paper protection suits.

  As one of them dressed, he asked apprehensively, “What are these for?”

  “You’ve got a little mission,” Andrews replied jovially. “You three were chosen because you’ve got families.” He pointed up the road where the snow was stained with blood. “You’ve seen the results of defiance, so I hope we’ll not be having a repeat performance.”

  The men remained silent.

  “Just outside of the city, beneath the town moor, there are two food silos. The tunnels which lead to their entrances are recorded on this map.” He handed a folded sheet to the nearest man. “You’re to bring the food and water inside the silos back to the base. Hopefully it’s uncontaminated. There’s a mechanical digger in the back of the lorry, in case you need it. The entrances are close to the city boundaries so they might have been damaged or buried in the nuclear blast.”

  “You can’t send us there,” the man with the map blurted. “It’s murder. If we go to the city, we’re all dead.”

  “Shut your mouth,” the soldier with the injured face snapped. He pushed the civilian hard with his free hand.

  Stumbling backwards the protestor tripped against the kerb and sat down painfully at the edge of the road.

  “If you’re in and out quickly, you’ll only get a small dose,” Andrews continued. “The half-life of this radiation means it’s deadly at first, but the levels soon drop. It’s been six weeks now. You can afford to be exposed for a short period of time. It just means the longer you hang around the worse it’ll be. The suits will protect you from the dust, which I can guarantee you don’t want on your skin or clothes. There are masks in the pockets. They won’t do a lot, but if it makes you feel better, wear them.” Then, as he turned away, his smugness suddenly gone, “We’ll probably all be dead from cancer in the next five years in any case,” he added grimly.

  The driver’s door opened and a soldier jumped out.

  “Come on, you three, in,” Andrews ordered. He handed the keys to the last into the cab. As the engine roared to life, he yelled over the noise, “With the food at the base running low, it’ll be your families who’ll starve,” he warned. “Hurry back or we’ll think you’ve done a bunk with the supplies. We would then have to be more selective about who we feed.” He slammed the door and stepped back as the vehicle pulled away.

  In the ditch, Jason could hardly feel his legs. The burning cold had subsided into an icy numbness. He looked around at the hedge behind. Although it was compact it was quite open at the base; whether it was enough for him to crawl through, though, he couldn’t guess. If the bush were to move and the covering of snow, which had settled on the branches, loosen, then his presence could be revealed. Either way he would have to move soon or risk serious damage from the cold.

  Shaking uncontrollably, he lowered himself closer to the ground, then grasped the trunks of two of the shrubs. Holding his body steady he tried to negotiate his way through, but found the gap too narrow. As he scanned the hedgerow for a larger hole, he suddenly realised the soldiers were moving away.

  Jason returned to the edge of the ditch and counted the seconds until the men were through the trees. Then risking standing, he stamped his feet to bring back the circulation whilst continuing to check they were definitely gone. It was some time before he was confident the soldiers would not return and had the courage to step onto the road.

  In the half an hour which had passed Jason had been stripped of any hope that civilisation still prevailed. The humanity he once knew was gone. As he carried on north he was a more humble and frightened man, acutely aware that those with the guns and no moral code now ruled.

  A couple of hours later he arrived on the outskirts of Alnwick without further incident. As he stopped to eat, on a nearby hill, he could see the town sprawled out ahead.

  The hills to the north and the forest to the west, leading out towards the coast, showed signs of a missile attack. The damage was small and localised, but obviously devastating. The local RAF base would have been situated where now only a deep blackened crater remained. The side of the hill, which protected the town from the blast, was stripped of its trees and all that was left was splintered, charred kindling. Alnwick itself seemed relatively untouched, except for a small amount of fire damage on the edge of the town.

  Soup eaten cold from the tin required minimum cleaning. He carefully licked the spoon spotless before returning it to his rucksack, unconcerned by the lack of hygiene. He did not intend hanging around long enough for anything to go rancid.

  He started down the hill, moving towards the town, but as he neared the bottom he heard a noise. He thought he was mistaken, but as Jason paused to listen he heard it again.

  The sound of gunfire echoing across the valley towards him confirmed his worst fears; there were not only people still living in Alnwick, but people with guns.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sarah stood by the window, shrouded behind netted curtains, watching as Jason left the building. A sense of disquiet grew as she followed his steps up the street until the road swung left and he disappeared from sight.

  She was unable, or possibly unwilling, to identify the cause of the unease, but suspected it lay in guilt. His harsh words had stung and she questioned whether she had refused him help because of this.

  She gathered some toiletries, then made her way to the washroom.

  As she pushed past the door her image was reflected on the far wall. It was surprisingly worse this morning. A barely recognisable version of herself stared back from the mirror.

  She’d hoped the decent meal the night before would have improved things. The food had dealt with her bodily needs, but today, her emotional state was the problem.

  Her encounter with Jason made her realise how desperate the last month had been. As she recalled his words of hopelessness, she could feel her energy sapping.

  She drew closer to the mirror and examined the bump. Blue and yellow bruising, which gradually paled, spread from a swollen, rosy centre. A gentle prodding caused her to wince. There was a touch of colour around her eye which had seeped down to the cheek. Apart from that she looked like a ghost.

  The room was freezing, as the stone floor and tiles offered no protection from the cold. She knew it was important she kept clean, but a quick wash was all she could bear.

  The past two weeks had seen her progressively neglecting her hygiene. It would only accelerate her lethargy and decline, but a desire to simply curl up and fade away was growing within Sarah by the day and she knew it was a bad sign.

  As she stepped out of the toilets she saw the paper on the opposite wall was beg
inning to peel.

  The remainder of the building, beyond her little haven, was starting to suffer after six weeks without heat. She had recently noticed by the time she’d passed through the freezing corridors and stepped outside, it was actually warmer on the street.

  The light which bled into the frigid passage, from the offices on either side, provided just enough illumination to see her breath gathering in a mist as she sped back to the room with the fire. Quickly she closed the door to prevent any heat loss, then crossed to warm herself by the hearth.

  For the first time since the bombing she’d been forced to face up to the realities of her existence. A desperately lonely future lay ahead with the strong possibility of a horrific death and, as she stood staring blankly at the embers of the dying fire, she felt agonisingly alone.

  Her previous life was a distant memory. The world she was now a part of had brought out the animal in the humans she’d observed from afar. Then suddenly, and unexpectedly, along came Jason – a man totally unspoiled by the surrounding death. He reminded Sarah of a civilisation that was now so far away it only seemed like a dream.

  A growing chill crept its way into her consciousness. She looked down to see the flames were nearly out. The amber glow of the fading heat barely penetrated the blackened, carbonated wood.

  She looked at the bucket and realised it was empty; the last of it was used on the morning fire.

  Her thoughts returned to Jason. His portrayal of the facts was shockingly brutal. She now appreciated it was necessary. She needed shaking from her apathy.

  He was right – there’d been no rescues and no emergency aid, the skies had remained silent and all radio channels dead since that fateful day.

  As the fire went completely out, the room quickly became uncomfortably cold. She tried to rally herself to collect more wood.

  She checked her watch. It was a mechanical device which had kept going when all electrical timepieces had stopped. Winding it daily was a task she relished, as it was her only link to a routine of the past. It was 10.42 a.m.

  She visualised Jason’s journey. He should be halfway there.

  She deeply regretted refusing him help. It was obviously important to him, whatever he was searching for, and she questioned whether her own humanity had been stripped away so soon.

  The four empty cans left by the bucket caught her eye. As another wave of guilt pulled at her conscience she realised there was still time to make amends.

  She started to pack for the journey. A desire to prove she hadn’t become hard and heartless, burying the fear.

  If she missed him on the road, she was confident she could catch him in the town.

  Bracing herself to face the hostile and barbaric world outside, Sarah left the room with a deep feeling of unease and determination.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jason decided to adopt a more furtive approach when entering Alnwick. Abandoning the road he joined a dirt track leading into a forest, the boundaries of which came directly to the edge of the most northern side of the town.

  The way through the trees proved to be more difficult than he’d anticipated. Debris caused by the blast was strewn across a wide area and foul black soot coated everything in sight. The usual smells he associated with a forest were replaced by a heavy, sickly odour. It choked the freshness like a suffocating blanket. The deeper into the trees he strode the thicker the scent became.

  His progress was hindered further by a ground which seemed alive underfoot. A thick covering of frozen leaves, which obscured his view of a safe step, caused him to slip and stumble on unseen obstacles beneath.

  As he reached the edge of a slope Jason stopped. A quick scan for a safe path revealed nothing; each route contained its own dangers. Roots, loose stones, prickly shrubs and densely packed trees could all bring about his undoing. To turn back, though, was no longer an option, there was no more time to waste.

  Continuing along the edge of the decline Jason finally found a route with minimum hazards. A trail, snaking to the valley below, bypassed bushes and trees on the way.

  Gingerly, he joined the trodden path, using trunks and roots to aid his descent. His progress, slow and laborious, was at least safe – until halfway down when he made a critical error. Leaves, piled upon branches, concealed a sharp dip. When he stepped down, believing it was solid, the structure gave.

  As the ground beneath him shifted, he lost his balance. Initially he fell backwards, then tumbled to his stomach, but the earth, no longer static, now poured like water. Gathering momentum, he grabbed at anything in reach. On an avalanche of debris, he could only hope to minimise his injuries. Dirt was everywhere, in his eyes, nose and mouth, and the surrounding hiss, of shifting leaves, quickly grew to a painful level. At the bottom of the hill he hit the ground with force. As his knees buckled, he fell back, then sat hard at the base of a tree. Winded and disorientated, he slowly looked up. The course of his descent was obvious. A channel, passing dangerously close to a large boulder, was gouged into the side of the hill.

  Stiffly, he unbuckled the backpack. Shifting the weight from his shoulders he climbed to his feet and retrieved some water. As he opened the bottle, his hand stung. He stopped to examine his injuries.

  The tips of his grazed fingers were bleeding in places and a cut to his left palm was ingrained with mud. There was a danger of infection.

  Only a little water was used; reluctant to waste his precious commodity, Jason poured the minimum in the centre of his hand to clean the wounds. It did nothing to eradicate the dirt and seemed to thin rather than remove it. He would have to be happy with a ‘make do’ wash until he reached the library.

  As he rinsed his mouth to clear it of mud, he checked his new surroundings.

  The valley floor, which was mottled with light, only had a thin covering of leaves.

  The trees were still dense in this section of the forest, but seemed to part a short distance away. He hoped this indicated they neared the edge of town. Retrieving his rucksack he headed in that direction.

  He made good progress and his pace increased further when he moved beyond the reach of snagging branches.

  As grass instead of leaves began to carpet the forest floor he noticed, up ahead, a set of tyre tracks trailing into the distance.

  He stopped, his heart rate jumped, as he listened for sounds. There was very little cover. If there were anyone in the vicinity, there was a good chance he would be seen. He sidled towards a tree. It was small comfort; he would have to be very lucky with the angle to be hidden. When the forest remained silent he continued with his approach.

  He arrived at the tracks to find they were deep, heavy indentations made by either a four-wheel drive or a truck. The grass was gouged from the bottom and the soil billowed to form a lip across the edge. A thick winter tread patterned the base.

  He stepped into the hollow and kicked the side. It must have happened when the ground was soft. He realised they couldn’t have been made recently as the soil, now frozen solid, was hard as a rock. Still, he proceeded with caution. Staying close to the trees, he followed the trail which led into a glade.

  A fire had raged in the centre of the clearing with such ferocity the grass was scorched to soil level. The charred bark of nearby trees showed the height of the flames, which in places had singed the overhanging branches.

  Curiosity drew Jason closer. They seemed to have been burning animal remains, but remains of what?

  As he moved around the blackened pile, looking for recognisable features, something caught his attention.

  A diamond encrusted, gold ring, glistening in the sun, lay among the ashes. It looked like a wedding band.

  It was then that it dawned. As he studied the remains with new eyes he saw it for what it was.

  Human skulls and limbs were melted together in the raging heat. How many, he couldn’t guess. Even carbonised the mound stood a metre and a half high. Horrified, he backed from the grisly scene.

  Moving away from the clearing
he returned to the trail which he followed to the edge of a road. Mud on the tarmac indicated the direction the vehicle had taken.

  Relieved to have his going easy again, he joined the road and soon found, as he cleared the trees at the brow of a hill, he could see the outskirts of Alnwick in the distance.

  Cobbled stone replaced tarmac when he entered the main street and passed through the ancient gate – a remnant of the old town’s fortified wall. The road ahead, which was lined with shops and cafés, gently climbed upwards and off to his right it branched into a number of side streets.

  He stopped and looked around, unsure of where to go next.

  On the far side of a crossroad, fifty yards on, a tourist information post contained a number of plaques. He moved to read the signs, but before he drew close he heard a woman screaming.

  “Stop! He’s got my rations!”

  Quickly Jason disappeared down a nearby alley. As he watched, a young man rounded a bend and came into view.

  Sprinting as fast as he could, a box stuffed firmly under his arm, he ran down the centre of the road. Burdened by his booty, he was barely able to stay ahead of a woman who was slowly closing the gap. Their shoes, clattering noisily on the cobbles, bounced off the surrounding walls. As they passed by Jason’s position their breath came in short, sharp gasps. No other sound was made, as the desperate struggle took place. Then moments later the woman grasped the base of the youth’s coat. This seemed to have the desired effect when he slowed, but it quickly became apparent he hadn’t had a change of heart. He drew to a halt just long enough to turn and fling her off with such force she fell into the gutter at the side of the road.

  By now other voices could be heard, screaming abuse, as they joined the pursuit.

  As a pool of blood formed around the unconscious woman’s head, the thief again started to run.

  A short while later two men armed with baseball bats passed Jason’s position as they continued with the chase. Following closely behind, a teenage girl stopped to aid the woman.