by Jason Ayres
“And they say the age of chivalry is dead,” joked Alice.
It was only a short hop on the train down to Reading. They were travelling light, just a couple of overnight bags each. In his coat pocket Josh was carrying the most important item of all: the tachyometer, a small wand-like device he and Professor Hamilton had developed together.
Josh had already had confirmation that it worked when he’d visited the railway tunnel where they’d found the first Time Bubble. Now he was armed and ready to find a new one.
The train pulled into Reading on time, and they made their way across the station to the next platform where they were to board the train that they hoped would take them all the way to West Cornwall.
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Hannah hadn’t needed an alarm clock to wake her that Saturday morning. It was a little after 8am when Jessica had come bounding into her room full of excitement. “Mummy, Mummy, it’s snowed!” she cried. “Can I go out and make a snowman?”
Hannah had shielded her daughter from the worst details of what Kaylee had told her. If the outlook was indeed as bleak as she had painted, there was no need to worry the girl yet. She would let her have some fun while she could. “Of course,” she said. “Let’s get some breakfast and then I’ll come out and help you.”
The previous evening Hannah and Jess had gone to the superstore as per Kaylee’s suggestion and filled up two trolleys with everything they could possibly need to see them through several weeks of bad weather. It hadn’t been easy. Lots of other people had had the same idea and the store was more packed than she’d ever seen it.
Some of the shelves were already empty. Most of the branded lines of baked beans and soup were long gone. There were a few dented budget tins left, and thankfully a fair bit of tinned fruit and veg so she grabbed as much as she could fit in her trolley.
Things got pretty heated at times, and she witnessed a few incidents of trolley rage. Tempers were indeed becoming frayed. She thought about intervening but not only was she off duty, she also wanted to shield Jess from any confrontations.
Mindful of what Kaylee had said, she had also stocked up on plenty of matches, candles, soap and drinks. She thought about stockpiling some bottled water but in the end decided against it. It would just take up too much space in the trolley that could be allocated to other things. Besides, if things got so cold that the pipes froze, she could always melt some snow.
After they’d left the supermarket she went to the large DIY store next door. There she purchased a Calor gas stove, portable heater and some gas canisters.
She couldn’t afford to take any chances. There was no way of knowing how much oil was left in her grandmother’s tank: what was certain was that it was not going to last forever.
Thankfully, when they got to the cottage she was pleased to see that the electronic meter for the tank showed that it was holding almost a thousand litres.
Jess had questioned why they were doing all this, but Hannah explained it away by saying that they were going to use the cottage to have a little holiday at half-term. All they were doing now was getting it stocked up and ready in advance.
Jess was quite excited by this prospect. She’d enjoyed playing in the woods close to the cottage before her great-grandmother had died and was looking forward to spending some time there again.
In the meantime, Jess had her heart set on some fun in the snow. They ate breakfast quickly, wrapped themselves up in their warmest clothes, and headed into the back garden. There were at least four inches of snow on the ground and it was still coming down. If there was trouble ahead, mused Hannah, it could wait. Today would be about having fun.
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Dan had been enjoying a different kind of fun. The previous evening, he and Ryan had gone up to the long abandoned Army base just outside the town. There had been a garrison stationed there until about fifteen years ago. Since then, the buildings had fallen into disuse.
Although not in use, the land still belonged to the M.O.D. and there were “KEEP OUT” signs all around it. The main entrance was guarded by ten-foot-high solid iron gates, and there were fences of the same height, covered with barbed wire, surrounding the whole base.
This wasn’t an obstacle to Dan and Ryan. A large hole had been gouged in the fence at some point in the last few years by teenagers using the base as a smoking and drinking den, and it had never been repaired.
Ryan showed Dan around the site. The buildings were dismal, cold and empty. What had served as the main mess hall was now littered with empty lager cans, used condoms and all manner of other litter. In another room, which housed a large generator, long silent, rats scurried away when Ryan opened the door. The room was full of rat droppings.
But what they’d really come for was the firing range. The camp had been used primarily for training, and the outside range was full of metal dummies of enemy soldiers with targets on their heads and chests.
“Now we can play for real,” Ryan had said.
Despite the freezing cold weather, Dan felt a strange sense of warmth as he held the gun in his hands. Ryan showed him how to load it and prepare it, and soon he was holding it in his hands, lining up one of the targets.
He squeezed the trigger and the gun fired. He was quite taken aback by the strength of the recoil, not something he’d expected. The sound of the explosion was also incredibly loud and hurt his eardrums. His aim was good, though.
“Awesome!” exclaimed Ryan. “You totally blew his head off!”
When it got dark, they’d taken the guns back to Ryan’s house and then gone down to the Red Lion to watch the Friday night live football match. This season the Premiership had been staging a live game every Friday night, and tonight it was Newcastle United at home to Liverpool.
Dan may have been barred from attending football matches but it didn’t stop him watching the games in the pub. If things didn’t go the way he wanted, particularly in England games, it wasn’t unusual for him to take it out on someone in a drunken rage. But the regulars were able to breathe easy on this occasion. When Dan and Ryan got to the pub it was to find that the match had been abandoned due to the weather.
So instead they’d decided to get drunk and try and pull some women. As Dan now awoke, midway through Saturday morning, he tried to piece together the details of what had happened.
He had a vague memory of going into the town’s only nightclub and propositioning one of the barmaids, but that was about all. There was no one in bed with him now, but then there very rarely was.
He desperately needed the toilet, so he hauled himself out of bed and immediately stepped in something wet and cold. There was a half-eaten kebab on the floor next to the bed. He groaned with the pain of his hangover, went for a piss, rinsed his foot under the tap, and came back into the bedroom.
He looked out of the window to see thick snow falling. He decided to write the day off as a bad loss, got back into bed, and went back to sleep.
Chapter Thirteen – 20th October 2029 (2.30pm)
Charlie and Kaylee were going nowhere fast. They had spent the entire morning in Gatwick Airport seeing their flight being put back again and again. Now they were seeing the dreaded word “CANCELLED” on the board.
An announcement came across the PA system. “Due to the inclement weather conditions, we regret to announce that all outgoing flights for the remainder of today have been cancelled.”
There was a collective groan from the thousands of disgruntled passengers milling around the departure lounge. This had become an all too familiar situation at the airport over the last six months.
The passengers were now faced with a choice – stay and hope to get a flight the next day, or give up, go home, and try and claim the cost of the flights back on the insurance. This was assuming, of course, that they’d been lucky enough to insure with a company that would pay out under such circumstances. The endless cancellations over the past six months had led many to hurriedly amend th
eir terms and conditions. Others had simply gone bust.
Kaylee was in no doubt what they needed to do. “We have to get out of here,” she said.
“And go where?” asked Charlie. “Back home?”
“It’s not our best option,” replied Kaylee. “If they can’t keep the runways here clear of snow, what are the roads going to be like?”
The restless passengers were already beginning to disperse. Some were heading towards the on-site railway station to try and get on the Gatwick Express. Others were heading back outside to the car parks.
“What about our luggage. How are we going to get that back?” asked Charlie.
“I don’t know,” said Kaylee. “We might have to leave it. Let’s go and see how things are outside.”
They joined the large crowd of people heading for the exits and walked across the road back to the hotel. Thankfully the snow had stopped for the time being, but there were a good few inches covering the ground. About thirty yards ahead of them, an elderly lady slipped and fell. Those around her were quick to help her up.
Charlie instinctively gripped Kaylee’s hand tightly as they crossed the road to protect his pregnant wife and their child. A few cars were attempting to drive along the road outside the front of the terminal building, but were sliding around all over the place.
They had difficulty finding their car in the car park due to the coating of thick snow, which took some time to clear off. There was a fair amount piled up around the wheels, too, which Charlie did his best to clear with his bare hands.
Once inside, the first thing Charlie did was to flick on the window heaters. The second was to turn on the radio. An announcer was giving an update on the latest situation.
“The worst of the weather has hit the north of the country. Police are advising people not to travel under any circumstances. All major routes north of Birmingham are currently closed due to the snow. In the south, the M40 is closed northbound beyond High Wycombe following a multi-vehicle accident.
The M25, M2, M3, M4 and M5 all remain open, but traffic is very slow-moving. Police are advising against any travel on these routes, particularly with more snow forecast for this evening.
A number of rail routes have also been closed due to the snow, and many flights have been cancelled. Gatwick, Heathrow and Stansted are currently handling incoming flights only. It is advised that anyone planning to travel should check online for more information. Cross-channel ferries remain open for the time being, but traffic routes to and from the ports are being disrupted due to the snow.”
“Well, that settles one thing, then,” said Charlie. “The M40’s blocked so we can’t go home.”
“And we can’t stay here forever,” said Kaylee. “So we need a plan C.”
“Well,” said Charlie. “From everything you’ve told me, I think we need to get out of the country as soon as possible. We are away from home, we haven’t got any luggage, so effectively we’ve got the clothes we are wearing and that’s all. What we do have is nearly 1000 euros in cash, our passports and personal effects. And the credit card, of course.”
“We could go back in and try and retrieve our luggage,” suggested Kaylee.
“I think we should leave it behind,” said Charlie. “It’s bound to be chaos in there and there’s no knowing how long it might take. Right now it’s not snowing, and we’ve got a few hours’ daylight left. Every minute we delay increases the risk that things are going to get worse. It will only take one idiot on the M25 to cause a pile-up and then we’ll really be stuck.”
“What about the car?” asked Kaylee. “Will it be able to handle the snow?”
“I’m not taking any chances,” said Charlie. “I’m switching it over to manual.” Charlie didn’t trust the driverless car enough to give it autonomous control in such conditions.
He switched the radio off so he could concentrate, and started the engine. Immediately the autopilot began warning him about the conditions. It could detect not only the temperature but also the snow piled up around the car.
He switched the autopilot off and reversed the car ever so gently out of the parking space. The wheels spun and the car slid sideways as he carried out the manoeuvre, but he just about managed to get it out of the space without hitting anything. He pulled forward very cautiously towards the car park exit at no more than five miles per hour.
Once they were out of the car park it got a little easier, but with several other cars sliding around, things were pretty scary. Only when they got out of the airport and back onto the main road did things improve slightly. The cars driving through the snow before them had made two sets of tracks that Charlie remained glued to.
“We could do with some snow chains really,” remarked Charlie. “But we don’t have time to go and look for any.”
“So where are we headed?” asked Kaylee.
“There’s only two ways out from here – either we try and go through the Channel Tunnel, or we go for one of the ports. The Channel Tunnel is nearer, but more of a risk, I think.”
“I agree,” said Kaylee. “I can’t see the trains running much longer if the snow keeps coming down at this rate, and imagine getting stuck in the Chunnel if the tracks are blocked on the other side. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“At least the weather can’t stop the ferries running. Unless the sea freezes over of course,” said Charlie.
“Things aren’t going to get that bad,” said Kaylee. “Not yet, anyway. It would take an awfully prolonged spell of sub-zero temperatures to cause the English Channel to freeze. Not that it’s impossible if the weather stays like this all winter. We might be able to walk to France in February.”
“Well, we can’t wait that long – not with baby on the way,” said Charlie. “We’ll head for one of the ports.”
“Which one?” asked Kaylee.
“Portsmouth is probably the closest – but I think we are better off heading for Folkestone or Dover. It’s motorway all the way through Kent from here, whereas we’d have to take smaller roads to get to Portsmouth. There’s too much risk of getting stuck.”
He switched the radio back on so they could listen to traffic updates, and proceeded along the snowy tracks of the M23 at a steady 20mph.
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Back at The Red Lion, Lauren was feeling quite relaxed. She’d got a roaring fire going and had made the place quite cosy. Quite a lot of shoppers had come in from the street to warm up, mingling with the football fans already there for the 12.45pm Premiership game between Southampton and Manchester United.
The match was over now, and the sports news channel was showing a bleak outlook for the rest of the weekend’s football programme. The Southampton game had kicked off before the worst of the snow had hit the south coast.
The away team had travelled down the previous night and stayed in a local hotel. They had no problem getting to the ground, which was more than could be said for the away fans. Most of them were stranded at various places on the M6 or on trains that had ground to a halt. With hardly any away fans to cheer them on, they had lost 2-0.
The last ten minutes were played in a blizzard, and the away team manager could be seen gesticulating furiously at the referee to abandon the match. But they played out the full ninety minutes. As it turned out, not only was it the final Premiership fixture to be played that weekend, but also it was the last of the whole year.
Lauren looked up at the screen where the fixture lists were scrolling across the bottom. Almost every match had “P-P” where the score would normally be. It seemed the only match left on was Exeter vs Plymouth.
“This used to happen all the time when I was a lad,” remarked Andy, inevitably sitting on his usual stool at the bar. “They used to have to get the pools panel to determine the results.”
“What’s the pools panel?” enquired Lauren.
“Before your time, love,” said Andy. “Can I have another pint?”
“Already?” asked Lauren. “I only
just gave you one.”
“Well I’ve got nothing else to do, have I?” said Andy. “Saturday afternoon and there’s no racing, no football. It’s a disgrace.”
“Well, in that case, you won’t mind if I switch it over to one of the music channels, will you? There’s not much point watching any more of this, is there?”
Before Andy could answer, the door opened, and another two refugees from the blizzard-stricken High Street staggered in.
“Close that bloody door, will you?” shouted a twenty-stone man in a Manchester United replica shirt who was playing the fruit machine by the door. “You’re letting all the cold air in.”
“I tell you what, Andy. Do you want to earn yourself a free pint?” enquired Lauren.
“What do you think?” replied Andy.
“Good, well, go out the back and fill up the wheelbarrow with logs and bring them back in here. I want to keep that fire topped up.”
“You’re the boss,” he said.
Lauren’s watch bleeped. She glanced at it to see Kent’s name flashing. He was due to fly back the next day. No doubt he was messaging yet again to find out what the previous day’s takings were. She opened the message:
“Stuck in Cyprus. No flights back. Can you handle things for a few more days?”
Why not? thought Lauren. Andy had called her the boss. She liked the sound of that. She texted him back.
“All under control – no worries.”
The reply came back almost instantly: “Nice one. PS: What were yesterday’s takings?”
Predictable as ever, she thought.
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Josh and Alice’s journey had also hit a brick wall. The train they’d boarded at Reading had got slower and slower until eventually it ground to a halt somewhere between Liskeard and Bodmin. They hadn’t moved now for at least a quarter of an hour. The snow had been coming down thickly for at least the past hour, but had now stopped again.
There seemed to be hardly anybody on the train. Josh and Alice had the carriage completely to themselves.