Nuclear Midnight

by Cole, Robert

  ‘It might help if you talked about it?’ she probed further.

  He said sharply: ‘I don't want to talk!’

  She leaned back in her chair.

  At that moment he just wished she would go away. That would be the tactful thing, not to probe any further. But she remained where she was, her hand pressed lightly to her lips.

  ‘You and I are very different,’ she said, after a long period of silence. When he still didn't respond, she continued, ‘you brood over the past and let it distort your reasoning.’

  That was more than he could stand. He turned round sharply. ‘There's nothing wrong with mourning the dead!’

  ‘If that's all that you're doing?’

  ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You're not just feeling sorry for yourself, are you?’

  Her question infuriated him. ‘Aren't you upset that your parents died?’ he snorted. ‘Don't you care?’

  ‘I loved them,’ she said simply. ‘But they're dead. There was nothing I could have done to prevent their deaths.’

  ‘I'm still alive,’ he fumed. ‘And that's it, is it? That's all you have to say?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, don't look so superior,’ she continued, seeing his disgusted expression. ‘You don't hold the monopoly on feelings. I hurt just as much as you do, except I choose not to dwell on it. Nothing has ever been changed by dwelling on the past.’

  Alex held her gaze for a moment longer, then sighed and turned away. ‘It's not just the past,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It's everything past, present and future. I don't think I'm capable of surviving in this world, and I don't think I want to.’

  ‘You mean you want to give up?’ she asked. ‘Lie down and let someone finish you off, like they do a lame horse? You may as well have let them shoot you at the hospital.’

  ‘I had someone to live for at the hospital. Now I have nothing. What's the use of dragging on from day to day, week to week, just for the sake of it? Not knowing where your next meal is coming from, or if the next people you meet will try to kill you for your food? Too scared to relax for a moment and all the time slowly dying of radiation sickness?’

  ‘Things are not that grim,’ Tina said firmly. ‘You're letting your imagination run away with you. It won't be like this forever. We've only seen what it's like here; this may be the worst there is.’

  ‘No, you know that's not true. There will be much worse. The country may never recover; for all we know the whole world may be in this state.’

  ‘If it is, we'll have to accept that. You can't give up just because the going gets tough!’

  ‘Why not?’ Alex exclaimed. ‘What's the point of going on?’

  ‘You can't just quit life like it was some hobby you've lost interest in.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘If only it were that simple.’

  There was sudden silence after these last words which made him look across to see what she was thinking. She had an almost quizzical expression on her face, as though she could not make him out at all. ‘What are you trying to say, Alex,’ she asked finally.

  ‘It’s just ... ‘He paused with the effort to condense his thoughts into words. ‘It’s just that I don't want to be responsible for a person's death.’

  ‘Life, Alex,’ she corrected, ‘a person's life. You have already assumed that we are going to die.’

  He threw back his head, his hackles rising swiftly again. ‘I don't assume we're going to die,’ he almost shouted. ‘I'm just scared of someone else depending on me. I'm not a natural leader. I'll probably let you down.’

  She nodded, as his meaning became clear at last. ‘I’m not depending on you or anyone,’ she replied firmly. ‘I'll make my own decisions on my future. What happens to me will be my own doing and nobody else's.’

  He shook his head. ‘If we continue to travel together, then like it or not, we will be depending on each other, Tina. I'm just saying I don't know how I will react in a difficult situation. Don't you ever feel frightened? Don't you wonder whether you'll have the strength to survive?’

  ‘Yes, but I can only do my best. If it's not enough,’ she shrugged.

  ‘The hope's there, Alex,’ she continued. ‘Be strong. We have only to find it. And I think we've as much chance as anybody.’

  There was a ring of truth about this. The slate had been wiped clean. It was up to the survivors to inscribe it, if they had the courage. And if they had not, then they could die like the rest. Reluctantly, he turned back from the window to nod his agreement, but to his surprise the chair was empty. Tina had already left the room.

  Over the next few days he spent most of his waking hours talking to Tina. Their discussions ranged widely, and whatever the topic, he found her mind alert and her insights deep and probing. He had never met anyone like her. Before long most of the emotional barriers behind which people shield their more delicate feelings were breaking down. The speed at which their relationship progressed scared Alex. He told himself the reasons were obvious. They needed each other. Survival depended on mutual trust and commitment to each other. He wondered in normal times whether he would be this affected by her. Something told him he probably would be.

  Tina began to regain her strength and their talk finally returned to their present situation. Both agreed they must leave the Wanes as soon as she was strong enough. The government broadcasts had indicated that the country areas would be receiving no help, at least for the foreseeable future. This meant that the Wanes would need every scrap of food they had stored.

  Alex asked Tim for maps and they both set to work finding the places least likely to have been affected by the holocaust. Tim pointed out the location of the village. It was some thirty kilometres east of Taunton, and very nearly on the Somerset-Dorset border. To the west lay the counties of Devon and Cornwall, which had little in the way of military bases, industrial centres or large cities. Wales was in a similar position, except for its southern fringe. After a lengthy discussion it was agreed that they would head north to the Bristol Channel and cross over into Wales. Cornwall, it was true, would be closer, but would be more likely to be inundated with refugees than north Wales. Also, the more isolated Welsh hills might not have suffered such heavy fallout as further south. Of course, all such plans could only be tentative, for no one knew what the conditions were really like; they were only formulated as a guide, to be changed as circumstances might direct.

  On the fourth day after their arrival, they were ready to set out. The Wanes came to the front door to bid farewell to their visitors. Alex had managed to squeeze into a pair of old walking boots of Tim’s, and Tina too had a new pair of boots belonging to Margaret, who wasn't completely satisfied until they were both covered from head to foot in thick woollen clothes. Tim had also given Alex an old cloth daypack, a compass, maps and enough food for five days. In return Alex had handed over his rifle and ammunition. He insisted that they take it, saying that it would only attract attention to themselves. The gift was gratefully accepted.

  Leaving the village, they steered a course roughly northwards, skirting, with the aid of the map, the major roads or settlements where they might meet other, more desperate survivors. The weather was showing a slight improvement; the snow had stopped and the murk had receded enough for them to distinguish the shapes of houses in the distance. Travelling was still very difficult, however, as the recently fallen snow remained soft and powdery, reaching above Tina's thighs at times in snowdrifts.

  By mid-afternoon they had descended into a large fog bank further down the valley. Alex had only very dim memories of the fogs of London. How delightful his boyhood memories seemed in retrospect, when he had played with Jason, dancing between the wisps of mist that drifted under the street lamps! But this fog was nothing like that; it felt wrong, dirty, grey, defiled in some way. The air seemed almost liquid, a liquid that scalded the throat and burned the lungs. It reminded Alex of the old pea-souper smogs he had read about that used to choke London before they banned coal fir
es. And it was so unbearably cold. Soon ice started crystallising on his clothing and across his eyelashes and eyebrows. His hair became stiff and brittle, where his breath froze on it. The world had become a grey, pitiless place.

  The visibility quickly dropped to less than ten metres, forcing Alex to switch on his torch. Sounds, also, were distorted in some way, so that noises that may have been hundreds of metres away were amplified and misdirected until they seemed to be coming from many directions at once. Before they had entered the fog Alex had noted a river about two hundred metres on his right. The noise from the river now seemed closer, and mixed in with it were definite sounds of people trudging through the snow. It was as though they had unwittingly stumbled across some major thoroughfare. Occasionally they could hear voices, too, raised in anger and laced with violence and fear. They quickened their pace, stumbling in their anxiety as they tried to steer a course away from the voices closing in all round them.

  After nearly an hour, tired from their own exertions, they heard several shots very close by; but again the direction eluded them. Only minutes later they came across two bodies, still shedding their blood into the snow. The faces of both were bloody stumps from shotgun blasts; the clothes all but stripped from them. Two sets of footprints led off in the direction from where they had just come. The murderers must have passed within a stone's throw without knowing it. The shock of this discovery sent a fresh wave of panic through Alex and Tina. They began to imagine pairs of hands coming at them through the mist, crazed faces suddenly appearing around every hollow, every crevice.

  Alex’s plan had been to follow the direction of the valley northwards, but the thought of spending a night in this treacherous fog almost sent him crazy. After some discussion, they decided to abandon the valley and head eastward, hoping to strike higher ground and rise above the fog. Over the next hour they scrambled and clawed their way up the slopes, their fear overriding their fatigue. Several more distant shots sounded, along with other indications of people passing just out of sight. Occasionally they even spotted shadowy forms, which quickly merged into the greyness again, obviously as terrified as they were of meeting a violent end. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the mist thinned out and was gone. They had climbed above the fogbank, they were free, somewhere on top of a snow encrusted ridge overlooking a desolate world. They hugged each other and laughed hysterically. They had woken up from a nightmare.

  They found shelter for the night in a small wooden shed, filled with machinery and sacks of foul smelling fertiliser. Amongst the sacks they discovered the bodies of a man and a woman, with a young child only a few years old. Like the outcasts who had been denied entrance to the fallout shelter, they were moulded around each other, their expressions dull, lifeless, suspended until the world thawed and the process of decay rotted them into the fertiliser they had so desperately huddled against for warmth. Alex and Tina clung together in the opposite corner of the shed, both too cold and frightened to allow themselves anything more than a fitful sleep.

  When morning arrived they rose wearily and forced down some dried fruit and cereal biscuits which Margaret had made for them the day before. Outside, the weather continued to clear, the fog of the previous day having dissipated leaving a blackened, snow-covered landscape. The light had even improved slightly, so that they could see over the countryside for several kilometres in each direction.

  They made good progress northwards all that morning, only deviating from their route to avoid the patches of fog which still persisted in the valleys. By early afternoon the gently sloping land had given way to hills and large open pastures. Alex estimated they must have reached the start of the moorland, possibly only twenty kilometres from the coast. He was beginning to consider how they would cross the Channel when the sudden appearance of smoke coming from over a rise, drove all such thoughts from his mind.

  They crept forward, taking advantage of the natural cover of the ground, to observe what was happening. From a hilltop concealed among shattered birch trees, they cautiously looked down on a dozen, ragged people stoking up a large bonfire below them, while others were cutting up what looked like cattle carcasses. While they watched a cattle grid was dragged over to the fire and mounted across two boulders. The sides of beef were then brought over and thrown on the grid. Soon the smell of roasting meat started to waft in their direction. The aroma reminded them that they hadn't eaten a decent meal since they had left the Wanes. Although they knew they couldn't risk asking for food, the smells and the sight made them linger.

  ‘I’ll be a nice tasty roast when it’s done,’ a voice observed from behind them. They turned round sharply to find a short, stocky man carrying a stack of firewood under one arm.

  ‘You two look like you're off on a couple of days leisurely hiking,’ the man continued, surveying them with a faint smile.

  ‘We’re heading for the coast,’ Alex explained, angry at himself for being caught off guard so easily.

  ‘On your hands and knees, that'll take some doing, I shouldn't wonder,’ the man continued with a grin.

  ‘We were just being cautious,’ Tina answered coldly. ‘We've already seen a couple of murders.’

  ‘Haven't we all, lass? But that still doesn't explain the outfits.’

  ‘A family gave them to us a few days ago,’ Alex replied defensively.

  ‘You should've stayed with them. Around here you'll be shot and robbed if you look half decent.’

  ‘And who are you?’ asked Alex, ignoring the comment and springing to his feet.

  ‘Me?’ The man smiled. ‘Shall we just say I'm a freelance poacher? We're all that these days, aren't we? How else can you survive?’

  ‘So, you're on the run from the government?’ Alex asked.

  The man gave a short sarcastic laugh. ‘I've got news for you, guv. We're all on the run from the government. If they catch you stealing food, they'll shoot you if you don't stop.’ He paused, rubbing his bristly chin. ‘Come to think of it, they'll shoot you even if you do stop sometimes. Who knows what happens to the poor bastards they take away with them?’

  ‘So you have had contact with the government then?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Oh, I've had contact with them all right. Six of our group were shot in a village yesterday by the military.’ He nodded toward the fire. ‘Take a good look at them. Six days ago, forty sick and homeless people started off from Bristol because they had no food and the government wouldn't give them any supplies. Since then, some have died from the sickness, some have been arrested and some shot. There's only sixteen of us left now. We've lost our families, our homes, and now the government's trying to take our lives.’ He took a deep breath and seemed to become calmer. ‘You've been lucky, you've managed to keep out of their clutches, it seems. But watch your step from now on. And mind what I say, every man in uniform that you meet is your enemy.’

  They listened to him in silence, glancing at each other.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, walking towards the fire. ‘I’ve found some cows tied up in a barn a little way back. They were half starved, but at least they're not contaminated. In spite of your fancy clothing, you're probably as hungry as the rest of us.’

  Without further comment he strode off down the slope. After some hesitation, Alex and Tina followed.

  The group at the fire eyed them with a mixture of suspicious looks and envious stares. By its light, they became fully aware of the contrast they represented to this company. Very few appeared to have escaped injury. Severely burnt arms and faces, broken limbs and festering wounds were abundant. All wore tattered or burnt clothing, often ill fitting, probably because the garments had been picked up along the way. Many had badly singed hair, or were in the process of losing it through radiation sickness. A glazed look of shock still lingered on many faces as though intelligent thought had been simultaneously burnt away with the holocaust.

  ‘Not a pretty lot, are we? And we're the fit ones; those who were really bad we had to leave on the way,’ the man
commented aloud.

  ‘Where are you all going?’ asked Tina, hoping to change the subject.

  ‘Cornwall, probably. Anywhere there might be food and no military,’ the man replied, throwing the last of his wood onto the fire. ‘You're welcome to join us if you like. The more able bodied people there are, the better our chances of survival, as I see it.’

  ‘We were thinking of trying to reach Wales,’ Tina replied.

  ‘Wales?’ The man's face became thoughtful. ‘Yes, North Wales is a possibility. Harder to get to than Cornwall, though, isn't it?’

  ‘Yes, but it's even less inhabited, so we thought it's not so likely to have been a target,’ Alex answered.

  ‘True enough, but also less likely to have food, and the Welsh mightn't take too kindly to intruders. Still, it's as good a plan as any, I suppose.’

  By this time the rest of the group had all but forgotten the strangers, being more intent on the progress of the cooking. When the food was declared ready, it was charred on the outside and almost raw on the inside, but it tasted wonderful! Alex and Tina tore into it eagerly. So did the others, although Alex noticed that after a few mouthfuls most of them seemed to lose their appetites.

  Afterwards the man introduced himself as Cliff Benfield, a carpenter from Bristol. He hadn’t been in Bristol when the bomb detonated, but returned later to find his family had been killed by the blast.

  ‘There was no warning, you see,’ he continued. ‘I just happened to be out of town on a job. That close to the detonation, most of the electrical systems and circuity had been fried by the blast. The population was on foot with no transport and little food. I lost my van to a mob soon after I arrived back. With no food and the government barricading the warehouses, a group of us decided to head for the country. We've been living off what we can find, and dodging patrols, ever since. The military seems to have control over the major towns, but for the moment, at least, the country is free of them.’