by Jason Ayres
“Why is it so dark in here?” she asked.
“Power cut,” he replied. “It went off about ten minutes ago. Thank God you’re here. Things have been going crazy this morning.”
“You’d better give me an update,” she said.
“We’ve been rushed off our feet with traffic calls,” he said. “There’s been a big smash on the M40, and there are cars off all over the place. We’ve also had reports of trees blocking some of the minor roads. We just don’t have enough people to attend all the calls. And there’s more.”
“Go on,” she said.
“Someone has ram-raided the window of the express supermarket on the new estate. Apparently they were using a Transit van and they loaded it up with as much food as they could get their hands on. The manager wants someone to go down there, but everyone’s out dealing with traffic problems at the moment.”
“We could do with some more help,” said Hannah. “I’ll get on the phone to Oxford.”
“I don’t think they will be able to spare anyone,” said Miley. “I spoke to my dad earlier. It’s mayhem down there. They’ve had people looting shops on Cornmarket Street and all sorts going on.”
Miley’s father, Adrian, was a D.I. in Oxford. He had worked with Hannah years ago when they had been young officers. “I guess we’re on our own then,” she said.
“What’s happening, Mummy?” asked Jess who had been listening quietly to the conversation. She was old enough to sense that something was wrong. “I’m scared.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, darling,” said Hannah. “I want you to stay here with P.C. Johnson for an hour or two while I pop out – you can be his assistant behind the desk. That’s OK, isn’t it, Johnson?”
“Of course,” said Miley. “Though I’m not sure how much we are going to be able to do. I could have shown you the CCTV cameras, but they are all off because of the power cut.”
“Does this mean I’m a police lady now?” asked Jess.
“Just for today, you are acting Sergeant Jessica Benson,” said Miley. “How does that sound?”
“It sounds fun!” replied Jess, brightening up. She seemed to have temporarily forgotten her fears.
“I’m going to head out into the town and try and assess what’s happening,” said Hannah. “We’re completely blind here without that CCTV. Can I count on you two to hold the fort?”
“Yes, boss,” they said in unison.
Hannah left the station and headed outside. It was a short walk across a small park to the town centre. She would start by seeing what was happening there.
Chapter Sixteen – 21st October 2029 (2.30pm)
At the pub, Lauren had come to an executive decision. She was not opening the pub today. She didn’t have a lot of choice, really. Like the supermarket, she was completely dependent on a sophisticated electronic till system. She was so used to pressing a button for each individual drink, she didn’t even know how much most of them cost.
Even if she could remember them all, the pumps wouldn’t work without electricity, so she couldn’t pull any pints in any case.
She had been expecting four staff in at midday – two for the bar and two for the restaurant. She didn’t have to turn any of them away as none of them turned up. Only one even bothered to send a message. So her decision not to open was vindicated. Kent wouldn’t like the lost takings, but he’d just have to lump it.
In the meantime, she had to decide what to do with all the food in the kitchen. There might not have been any electricity, but the gas central heating was still going strong and it was quite warm throughout the building. If the electricity didn’t come back on soon, all the food would defrost.
She bagged up all of the frozen food and opened the door leading outside from the kitchen. It was just a few yards across the snowy courtyard to the garage. She had no idea what the temperature was outside, but it had to be below zero. The garage should be cold enough to keep it frozen.
Kent might thank her for her quick thinking in saving his stock, but that was the last thing on her mind. She had been thinking about what Kaylee had said. If she was going to be stuck here for a while, she’d need a stock of food to eat. As long as the gas was working, she’d still be able to cook with the oven.
Once she’d moved all the frozen food, she started to clear out the fridge. She moved everything from there to the cellar. It was cold down there but not freezing – just right to keep the food fresh for a few days.
When she’d finished, she was pretty pleased with her afternoon’s work. In addition to all the fresh and frozen food, there was a cellar full of drink, alcoholic and non-alcoholic, plus at least 200 packets of crisps.
If things got bad, she could survive for weeks. She practically lived on crisps when she was working in the pub anyway, so it wouldn’t be all that different to usual.
She went back up to the bar, treated herself to a packet of crisps and a soft drink, and sat down in front of the fire. She would need to get some more logs in but for now she just wanted to relax for a while. The pub seemed eerily quiet without any electricity. The only sound was coming from the crackling from the logs on the fire.
Her peace was shattered by a car alarm going off outside, so loud it made her jump. She heard shouting and a motor revving. She walked over to the window and peered through a gap in the curtains. A car was spinning its wheels crazily as the driver tried to gain traction in the snow. Good luck to him, she thought. She was definitely in the right place.
Five minutes later, her peace was disturbed again by a loud banging on the front door.
She decided to ignore it. Whoever it was would have to go away. But they didn’t and continued banging away.
“Go away!” shouted Lauren. “We’re closed.”
The letter box opened and an instantly recognisable voice came through.
“Lauren, it’s me, Andy. Please let me in. I’m freezing.”
“You’ll have to go somewhere else, Andy. I’m not opening today – there’s no electricity to operate the tills or the pumps.”
“Please, Lauren,” he pleaded in the most pathetic voice he could muster. “Please, let me in, just for a minute. I’m frozen. Just let me warm up in front of the fire and then I’ll go – I promise.”
She was probably going to regret it, but she couldn’t leave him out there in that state. She walked across the flagstones and unlocked the door. He practically fell in. He was still wearing the same denim jacket and jeans as ever. It seemed that he’d made no concession at all to the cold weather.
“Bloody hell, Andy, couldn’t you have put on a warmer coat? You can’t go around in temperatures like this dressed like that.”
She took a quick look out of the front door. There was hardly anyone about. No one had seen Andy enter so she shut the door quickly. She didn’t want anyone else trying to get in.
He ignored her question and got straight to the point: “Can I have a drink?”
“You can have one – but then you’ve got to go. It’ll have to be a bottle, though.”
She handed him a beer and he settled down in front of the fire.
“Don’t get too comfy,” she warned him. “As soon as you’ve got yourself warm, you’re going home.” She had no intention of getting lumbered with Andy. A little male company would not have gone amiss right now, but he was definitely not on the agenda.
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More people had gathered outside the supermarket. The manager and the guard had succeeded in getting the doors closed, but an angry crowd of people were now banging on the glass. They stepped back as they saw Hannah approach.
Although she wasn’t in uniform, she was well known around the town, and after all her years of good service had earned the people’s respect.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
“They won’t open the door!” exclaimed the same middle-aged woman who had been haranguing the manager earlier. “We’ve tried all of the shops and they are all c
losed.”
“The shops have had to close due to the power cut,” she said. “The best thing all of you can do is to go home and come back tomorrow,” she said.
Deep down she knew that tomorrow things would probably be even worse, but she couldn’t tell them that. She felt guilty for the deception, but felt she had no choice. It was her job to uphold law and order and that meant keeping the peace. A state of emergency had been declared and she needed to get these people off the streets.
“It’s all very well you saying that,” replied the woman. “But all of us are short of food. What guarantees do we have that tomorrow will be any different?”
“A state of emergency has been declared,” replied Hannah. “The Army have been drafted in to assist. No one is going to starve.”
“I think we should try and drive into Oxford,” said a younger man. “There’s bound to be places open there.”
“That is absolutely what you must not do,” said Hannah. “The roads are extremely dangerous and there is no knowing what might happen. If you try and drive and get stuck, what will you do then, stranded in a freezing car with no heating? Now please, go home.”
The crowd began to disperse. For now, her authoritative tone had been effective, but for how much longer?
Her attention was caught by the sound of breaking glass and she began walking as quickly as she could towards the sound. It was coming from a jewellery shop at the far end of the street.
As she approached, two men wearing balaclava helmets came out carrying two large bags, and flung them into the back of a small jeep.
“Hey!” she shouted. “Police! Stop!”
Unsurprisingly they ignored her. She was still a good fifty yards away as the engine of the jeep roared into life and it drove away, but she was close enough to see that it was fitted with snow chains.
It was pointless to even think about attempting any sort of pursuit. Reluctantly, she conceded to herself that there was nothing more she could do here, so she turned and trudged back towards the station.
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Lauren had had enough of Andy. He was now on his fourth beer and showing no signs of leaving. Over the past hour or so she’d had to sit and listen to his life story.
It was nothing she hadn’t heard before: endless reminiscences of exaggerated past glories when he was young and attractive and nearly won The X Factor. This story had become increasingly inflated over the years. For the very few people around who could remember that long ago, he had in fact been knocked out in the first round.
She shouldn’t have let him in in the first place. She glanced at the clock on the wall – thankfully it was one of the few things in the place battery-powered and still working. It was just coming up to five o’clock.
“Right, come on, you, it’s time to go,” she announced in a no-nonsense voice.
“Oh come on, one more, eh?”
“No, Andy. It will be dark in another hour. You need to go home now – look the sun’s come out!”
Miraculously, the clouds had lifted and the late-afternoon sun was shining down through clear blue skies.
“It’s cold out there, though.”
“I’ve already thought of that,” she said. “Here, you can borrow one of Richard’s coats.” She handed him a large, brown, sheepskin overcoat, of the type once favoured by football managers and trackside reporters. Goodness knows how long Kent had had it. She had found it at the back of a wardrobe upstairs.
Andy was never very good at standing up to authority and, grumbling, he put on the coat.
“You’ll be nice and warm in that. If you go now you’ll be safely back home before dark,” she said.
“Can I come back tomorrow?” he asked.
“That depends. If the power’s back on, maybe. But I’m not opening if it isn’t.” She walked over towards the door, leaving him in no doubt that it was time to leave. Reluctantly he shuffled across the flagstones.
“See you tomorrow, then,” he said.
“A small thank-you wouldn’t go amiss,” she replied.
“Thanks, Lauren. You’re a good girl,” he said, glancing back towards the bar. “Any chance of a take-out?”
“No chance, I’m afraid,” she answered. “And you still have to pay for the beers you’ve had this afternoon.”
“I only had a couple, didn’t I?” he asked.
“Times two,” she replied. “You never give up, do you? You can pay me for them tomorrow. Now off you go.” She opened up the door and almost propelled him through it.
Before she could close the door he turned around and said tentatively, “How about a goodbye kiss?”
“Goodbye, Andy!” she said firmly, and closed the door, feeling a palpable sense of relief. She wasn’t that desperate yet. A fleeting, horrible thought passed through her mind. What would happen if she and Andy ended up being the only two people left in the town? Would she do it then?
She dismissed the thought as ludicrous and went to put some more logs on the fire.
On the other side of the door, Andy had noticed the damage to the jeweller’s on the other side of the road, and wandered up to have a look. The front window was completely smashed in. Most of the jewellery was gone, but there were a few watches still there. There was no alarm going off and nobody at all around.
He couldn’t believe it. He could do with a new watch, so he reached in and took one. Then he thought, Why just take one? The large coat Lauren had given him had very deep pockets so he stuffed them full of watches. He then looked around again. The street was deserted. No one had seen him. Nobody could, and with no CCTV in operation, he could get away with anything.
He feasted his eyes on the specialist wine and spirit shop next door to the jewellers. He didn’t need take-outs from the pub. He was going to get something much better.
In the centre of the pedestrianised street were several flower beds and a rockery, all buried beneath the snow. Andy knew he’d find what he was looking for underneath. He crouched down and dug down into the snow with his bare hands. Soon he found what he wanted – a huge chunk of Cotswold stone. He took it in both hands, walked across to the wine shop and launched it straight through the glass front door.
The air was filled with the strangely satisfying sound of broken glass as the pane shattered, most of it falling through into the shop beyond. No alarm went off. He figured that must be reliant on electricity, too. He stepped through the gap, cursing as his coat snagged on a piece of glass sticking out, but he wasn’t annoyed for long. He was in his own personal nirvana.
He looked around the shop. There were all manner of bottles of wine from around the world, some with very expensive price tags, but Andy’s long-sozzled taste buds wouldn’t have appreciated them. He was after the whiskies.
He examined the display, determined to find the most expensive bottle he could. Eventually he settled on a 25-year-old malt with a price tag of £299.99. That would do nicely. He opened it and poured the sweet, expensive nectar down his throat. This would definitely keep him warm.
One bottle wasn’t going to be enough, he decided. He thought about the collection of watches in his pockets. What use were they to him? He emptied them out, chose the best one and put it on his wrist, then threw all of the others onto the counter.
“Here’s my payment for the booze,” he remarked to an imaginary cashier. The coat had incredibly deep pockets, more than enough to fit in a couple of bottles. He perused the shelves further, selected a couple more bottles priced at £200+ and slid them into the pockets. All the while he was swigging away from the first bottle. It was having a pleasantly warming feel inside.
All of this took time, and by the time he got outside, dusk was falling. The blue sky that had all too briefly illuminated the day had been replaced once again by threatening black clouds. He needed to get a move on.
He crossed the street and took the small alley that led towards the railway underpass where, without realising it, he had twice in the past tra
velled forward in time through The Time Bubble. It was slow-going in the snow, and darkness was falling quickly.
By the time he reached the tunnel it was almost pitch-dark. He managed to find his way out of the tunnel, but he didn’t emerge into the brightly lit street he was used to. The lack of electricity meant that there was no street lighting - in fact very little lighting of any kind. He noticed a dim glow coming from one house which was probably candlelight, but other than that the darkness was total.
He stumbled along the street, knowing that once he got to the end of it, he’d be almost home, but he was destined not to make it. He’d been swigging from the bottle of whisky the whole way home and was now extremely drunk. He couldn’t see for the life of him where he was going and inevitably he lost his footing, catching it on the edge of the kerb. He slipped and hit his head directly on the side of a parked car.
Drunk and disoriented by the blow to the head, he passed out and slithered to the ground, the bottle of whisky slipping from his grasp. The remains of its very expensive contents poured wastefully away into the snow.
He may have been wearing Kent’s thick sheepskin coat, but it was no match for the cold around him. It began snowing again, covering him as he lay unconscious in the road. Slowly his body grew colder and the symptoms of hypothermia set in.
He never woke up again, and by the time daylight returned in the morning, he was dead.
Chapter Seventeen – 22nd October 2029 (9.00am)
Kaylee and Charlie were staying at the Lenox Montparnasse Hotel in Paris.
After a rough ferry crossing they’d arrived in Calais to find snow falling there, too. Fortunately the trains were still running and they had managed to get aboard one bound for Paris.
By the time they arrived in Paris it was late-afternoon. It was cold and there were some light snow showers around, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been in England. The city was still vibrant and running as normal.
Despite Kaylee’s misgivings that things might worsen, Charlie had insisted they stay in Paris for at least one night. They were both exhausted and he was worried for both her and the baby. They took the Métro out to Edgar Quinet station and walked the short distance to the hotel.