Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  He paused and assembled his thoughts whilst Jane and Chris cleared away the breakfast dishes. The group completed all tasks, except washing and use of the WC, in the new HQ. It was warmer and everything they needed was to hand. Even though the power was still off, the gas supply was constant – however, Brady doubted that it would last another day. In any case, he had a couple of fall-back ideas up his sleeve if and when that happened. They only had to last another two nights here before they set off. It was still snowing heavily outside and Brady estimated that there was at least two to three feet of the white stuff lying on the ground. He knew this because some of the smaller cars parked across the road were gone! Buried in drifts! In addition, it seemed that his front door was completely blocked by drifting snow. There would be no way out of the house via conventional methods.

  This re-affirmed his determination to move on. Perhaps, they would have to leave tomorrow – a day earlier than planned – but that mainly depended on how the preparation went today, and whether the gas ran out.

  ‘Right, then, if you are sitting comfortably, I’ll begin,’ he joked.

  Chris and Jane sat either side of him on the sofa, and spread out in front of them, on the makeshift beds, was a large 1:50000 map. Brady had joined several maps together and had marked the proposed route in yellow highlighter. As an RAF navigator, he always had a store of aviation mapping at home, for reference mainly. They all stared at the map. At regular intervals, Brady had circled locations and allocated references. ‘D1A’ was the first stop on day one. ‘D1NS’ was the first nitestop location. There were similar marks all along the route from Grantham to Sleaford and on to Boston. They followed the route to the end point that was shown as ‘D6NS’ – day six night-stop.

  ‘Looks simple enough, but how long is each leg?’ Jane quizzed.

  Brady explained that each leg was about 3-4 kilometres.

  ‘Less than two miles and I think that we can manage that in about an hour. We reach each rest stop and wait roughly an hour, take in a hot drink and food and then press on to the next. If it continues to snow then it’ll be pretty rough going, but short leg duration and regular stops will enable us to keep up the pace. We’ll be warm enough as a result of the exertion, but will need to keep much warmer at the rest houses. I’m still working on that.’

  Jane was doing the sums in her head and although it was a big ask – especially for the boy – they could do it with a bit of luck. No, she reckoned - a lot of luck!

  Brady continued, ‘I’ll make two copies of this map, fold them oriented along the route and double wrap them in plastic sleeves. Jane will carry one as a spare whilst I do the main map reading. I know the route to Boston very well. I’ve driven it dozens of times but of course the landscape will be different with four to six feet of snow. However, the top half of buildings will still be showing, so I reckon I can navigate well enough - churches will stick out very well. We can travel on roads or in fields – it doesn’t really matter – the snow covers all obstacles. We should have a reasonably clear run. I’ve got a good compass and a personal GPS which is now fully charged, and will last the week if I use it sparingly. I also have a Sat Nav from the car and if I set it to ‘walking’ it will provide a good back up. Of course, this all depends on the ability to pick up signals from the satellites in this weather. I don’t hold out much hope. They are still transmitting signals through the cloud at present – but for how long I don’t know. However, by keeping the legs down to a reasonable distance, the chances of getting lost or disoriented are reduced.’

  Jane had a couple of questions regarding the map. She wanted to understand the symbols and the scale. Although she had used a similar version in the Girl Guides many years ago, her memory was faint. Brady spent thirty minutes going over the route in fine detail, pointing out stopping locations and nitestops. Some were houses, some pubs and some shops. He hoped that any occupants would be sympathetic – but he wasn’t relying on that. He would aim to break into unoccupied properties and squat. He believed that they should keep themselves to themselves. People do desperate things when under pressure and he would try to avoid all contact with the local populace.

  He was actually relying on a high human mortality rate. Morbid, he freely admitted – but realistic. He reckoned that tens of thousands of Britons had already succumbed to the cold and that many buildings would be unoccupied and therefore perfect for their purposes. Cold but out of that murderous wind chill!

  ‘Right, then, a cup of hot chocolate and then we’ll discuss equipment. Jane, put the kettle on. Chris, top up the water supplies whilst I assemble the ski kit.’

  Day 3 – Radcliffe on Trent, Nottinghamshire – 11:00am

  `Ziggy Arberfeld had spent an awful forty-eight hours in the power station.

  After the meeting in the cafeteria on Monday, the day before, many of the power station workforce had simply gone home. Or at least, had tried to go home. The snow in the car park caused mayhem and only a few vehicles made it to the main A453 link road to Nottingham and Derby. Clearly, no buses were running and it should have been obvious to many of the drivers that the roads were blocked anyway. There was no drivable route into either town.

  Therefore, several people had set off on foot and had disappeared into the blizzard in a vain attempt to walk home. Ziggy suspected that they would soon be in trouble. Fortunately, Ziggy lived on his own in Carlton, a suburb of Nottingham, so he had no one to rush home for. Nevertheless, he had been at work since Sunday evening - nearly two days ago now. It was clear that nobody else was going to turn up for work at the power station and it had become the responsibility of a small group of volunteers with no other choice - mainly managers and engineers like Ziggy - to keep the plant operational. They truly believed that it was their duty to try. Thousands of fellow citizens were relying on power from their station to survive. They felt that they must do something.

  However, running a giant power station was not a simple task. The management had little technical idea of how to operate the plant. Although much of it was automatic and could probably run for a week with minimal human intervention, the problems arose when minor mechanical or electrical breakdowns occurred.

  In addition, fatigue was beginning to have an impact. Food and water were not an issue; neither was heating. After all this was a power station and the buildings were warm enough.

  Nevertheless, it was only a matter of time before a critical fault prevented the plant from supplying power to the grid. Less than five percent of the nine hundred workers from the day shift were on duty by midday on that Tuesday. This was too few to guarantee the continued running of the power station.

  The first real failure affected the supply of coal to the furnaces. Coal is burned to supply heat to water which in turn produces steam, which is then fed to the turbines.

  The coal supply belt had failed at 10.32am that morning. It was probably a minor fault which could have been fixed by the properly qualified technician in a few minutes. However, the senior manager had been forced to send Ziggy to try to solve the problem. Ziggy didn’t have a clue what to do and neither did anyone else at the station. As a consequence, coal ceased to be supplied to the furnaces. By midday, temperatures at the furnaces began to drop and it wasn’t long before steam ceased to be produced. No steam – no turbines. No turbines turning – no power supply.

  At 5pm that afternoon the coal fired power station at Radcliffe-on-Trent stopped supplying power to the National Grid.

  It was the first to go down, but not the last.

  Day 3 – Grantham, Lincolnshire – Noon

  Brady had assembled three sets of ski equipment – clothing and skis – in the area to the rear of their HQ. He had decided to give both of his travelling companions a full mini-refresher course on the use of skis and the way to dress for the conditions outside. He had three sound sets of skis that his family had used on various winter holidays, as he generally found it cheaper and more practicable to use his own equipment.

 
He also had all of the clothing and ancillary kit that any self-respecting skier might ever need. From long-johns to goggles.

  ‘OK, then, let's get dressed for the cold. As we go through this gear that I’ve laid out, we will actually dress to make sure that, firstly, it all fits, and secondly, so that we can make any necessary adjustments. Jane, we’ll turn our backs until you’ve got your base layer on. Talking of which, we start with the underwear. Firstly, a thermal body shirt and thermal pants. Over the pants we’ll don a pair of ski socks which will keep us dry and help counter impact.’

  Brady handed out the kit to Jane and Chris who now had to remove their sleeping tracksuits – which they’d worn since breakfast. Jane showed no sign of modesty and quickly stripped down to bra and panties and Brady noted a trim but toned body. She looked strong. Chris was a typical twelve-year-old but was carrying a little puppy fat. That wouldn’t hurt, thought Brady. Any extra insulation against the snow could be an advantage.

  All three quickly, but carefully, dressed in the base layer and luckily all fitted pretty well. Next came a pair of ski pants. Although they were a rather garish orange, Brady didn’t mind as keeping sight of his team was vital. On top came a fleece jacket as added insulation. Brady then distributed the ski boots. This might be a problem even though Chris and Jane were close in physical size to his son and wife – shoe sizes were random.

  Jane took her boots and Brady looked at her feet.

  ‘These are a size six. Hope they are OK?’

  ‘No problem, I’m a five broad so an extra sock should do it’, countered Jane.

  She pulled on the right boot and pronounced it a good fit.

  However, Chris was a problem. He was a size ten, which was remarkable for his age, and size. Brady’s sons' boots were only a seven, which initially caused an issue.

  ‘Well young man, this presents a slight problem. But not for long. Luckily, I’m a size ten, so you will have to wear a pair of my old boots. They are a bit old fashioned and well used, but they will get you through.’

  Brady left the room briefly and fetched the spare pair, whilst Chris and Jane sat with bemused looks on their faces. They were both still in a state of bewilderment and it was only Brady’s enthusiasm and drive that was keeping them going. They looked at each other until Jane walked over and gave Chris a long hug. She was his surrogate mother now – even in the short term – and she resolved to look after him as best she could. Chris responded to the hug with a large smile and they parted just as Brady returned with the boots.

  ‘What’s all this then? No canoodling,’ he grinned.

  He was glad to see that some element of bonding was taking place.

  They now stood in the HQ waiting for the outer layer to be issued. Brady handed out ski jackets that fit as snugly as the outer layer. A pair of ski gloves and a bobble hat were the final items issued to Chris and Jane, who promptly put them on.

  ‘Not so fast, I’ve got ski masks to fit first - to protect the skin against frostbite,’ warned Brady.

  The trio were now standing fully booted and spurred, as if for a day on the Austrian ski slopes. The final touch were the ski goggles. Brady had to shout to be heard.

  ‘That leaves the skis themselves, the bindings and poles. But I think we can get undressed first, cool down and I’ll demonstrate the best method to fix your boots to the skis.’

  The next fifteen minutes was spent stripping down to basic underwear again and as Jane pulled her thermal vest over her head, her bra was pulled up and she stood with both breasts exposed.

  ‘Oops. No peeking!’ she cried.

  However, although Chris noticed nothing, Brady got a glimpse of a very nice pair of breasts. Large, pendulous and pale. He found himself strangely aroused and quickly turned away – although the image was burned into his memory.

  Jane regained her composure, quickly removed the vest and adjusted her clothing. She then plonked herself onto the sofa – breathing heavily and perspiring profusely.

  ‘I think I’ll just sit a while and cool off. No need for false modesty now.’

  She lay back and Brady was transfixed for a few seconds as he observed an extremely attractive young woman laid out on the sofa. The underwear was skimpy and a light purple in tone. He could clearly see the skin below the material and found it hard to turn away and pull on his own tracksuit bottoms.

  Nevertheless, he busied himself with the rest of the equipment - he definitely wasn’t prepared for an emotional attachment at this time.

  ‘As you both know a ski binding is a piece of equipment which fixes your boots to the skis. There now follows a mini-lecturette, which should emphasise the importance of bindings and ensure we’ve got them absolutely right before we leave. We can't afford to waste time or get it wrong on the road.’

  Brady continued after pausing to make sure his two students were paying full attention. He then spent twenty minutes explaining and demonstrating the function of bindings and emphasising their importance. He eventually finished up;

  ‘We will go thru this fitting procedure very carefully. Adjusting your ski bindings to the correct release setting is essential for your safety. Dangerous situations can arise on both sides of the setting: if too loose, then the ski can let go unexpectedly causing a fall. If too tight, then the ski will not release if you fall, causing your skis to act as levers and increasing your chance of injury.’

  Brady demonstrated every point he made using the appropriate piece of kit. The pair were engrossed – Brady was an excellent teacher.

  Got that?’ he asked.

  Jane and Chris were silent. However, they were still in their underwear and Brady looked embarrassingly at Jane with a furtive glance at her breasts.

  ‘Oh dear. I’d forgotten that I was still not dressed. I was concentrating so hard,’ she exclaimed with some embarrassment.

  She laughed as she stood up and put her tracksuit back on, bending over suggestively as she did so, giving Brady a glimpse of inner thigh.

  ‘I hope that wasn’t all too technical, but I will help you fit your bindings and make sure that the cross country version I’ve got works perfectly.’

  ‘Now the ski poles. Three main parts – grip, shaft and basket. Once again I’ll ensure that your pair is right for you and I’ll also spare you the lecture.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ breathed Chris. ‘My brain was frying.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Chris, I’ll make it all simple for you. But we do need to speak about the skis themselves. The ones I’ve got were specially made for someone else and we should look at them.’

  Brady kept the momentum going, as he was on the final stretch.

  ‘Clearly, the skis will not be the perfect length for you – but for our purposes they’ll be close enough. We’ll get you standing in your bindings and practicing stepping in and out until you can do it in your sleep. Luckily, you’ve both skied before, so it should be a refresher. The final issue to address will be ‘waxing’. As we are mainly cross-country skiing we will have to use ‘kick-wax’ – but I’ll get to that later.’

  Jane looked as if she was ready for a break and Brady took the hint.

  ‘Right then, I think that’s enough for now. How about a cup of hot chocolate and a sandwich? Jane, will you accommodate us whilst Chris and I sort out the gear?’

  ‘Anything to oblige,’ replied Jane, as she put the kettle on.

  Day 3 – Southampton, Hampshire – 2:00pm

  Staff Nurse Doris Ekins wandered about the hospital as if in a daze. There were no survivors in her geriatric ward. Illness and cold had killed all of the elderly patients and they lay where they had died. She had closed the ward and put a notice on the door indicating what lay within.

  She had then set off round the hospital to assess the situation. Nothing she found gave her any cause for hope. None of the day nursing staff had turned in since Monday morning. Almost no doctors were at their desks. The blizzard outside had put paid to that. Therefore, the hospital had to cope using
only the remainder of personnel who had not deserted and run home to their own families yesterday.

  However, who could blame them? The hospital was now littered with dead bodies. The elderly and seriously ill – including those on life support – had died in the night. Power failure was the catalyst to blame for this tragedy. When that failed, all associated facilities in the hospital failed.

  The standby generator had ceased to work – for whatever reason – so patient support had ceased as well. Anyone on life support died almost instantly. The critically ill were barely hanging on to life, due mainly to the minimal assistance from the overwhelmed nursing staff.

  The hospital was a ghost town – literally. Nurses wandered from department to department trying their best to help the sick. Pain killers could still be administered but little else could be done. No food was available as the kitchens were deserted. Main meals were supplied by an external contractor anyway – and the snow precluded delivery.

  The hospital was freezing cold. Doris had raided patients’ lockers and was now dressed in a hotchpotch of assorted warm clothing. So were all the other nurses. They had decided to try to centralise all of the patients into two main areas – one on each floor – and were trying to keep themselves warmer by moving people around on trolleys. Many of the surviving in-patients were now cold, ill and terribly afraid. Being in hospital was distressing enough, and the terrible weather conditions had almost certainly sealed their fates.