Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  The hospital was not a happy place and Nurse Ekins realised that there would be no outside help until the snow stopped and had thawed somewhat. From her perspective that seemed a long, long way away.

  Nevertheless, she continued with her work – her vocation if you like – and tried her utmost to help the patients.

  She could do little else. She had already resigned herself to the inevitable.

  Day 3 – Grantham, Lincolnshire – 2:00pm

  The gas fire was still pumping out heat. How long this would continue was anyone’s guess. Nevertheless, Brady was grateful for small mercies. He believed that he had done just about everything possible to secure the safety of himself and his two new friends.

  Spirits were fairly high despite the terrible loss of their loved ones, combined with the lack of information about missing relatives and friends. Brady could not forget his family very easily but the pressure of survival had taken over and he was almost on automatic pilot. He was merely reacting as he had been trained to do. It was all he could do in the circumstances – there was no point in feeling sorry for himself – he now had two other lives to protect, and protect them he would – despite the huge odds facing them.

  Chris was surprisingly resilient. Jane had caught him crying once but had consoled and hugged him until he recovered his composure. She had taken to the boy and spent a lot of time talking to him – trying to distract his mind from his missing mother.

  As for Jane, Brady wasn’t sure. She was intelligent, sharp and determined. In addition, she was extremely attractive, but down to earth. She had no conceit or affectations. Jane got on with the job in hand – perhaps it was her journalistic training which helped her through. In any case she was a boon to the team and Brady was growing fond of her – rather guiltily as the memory of his wife was still strong.

  They had eaten a hot lunch prepared by Jane and Chris, and after disposing of the dishes Brady made an announcement.

  ‘I need to go out before the snow depth gets any worse. Firstly, to conduct a recce, and secondly to pick up some supplies. I’m going into the ASDA supermarket which is just across the road and then, if I can make it, to the camping shop in Westgate. I can pick up some gaz and other kit we might need. Clearly, we can’t carry too much, but I’m considering towing a sled or something similar to move the heavy stuff.’

  Jane looked worried. It was still snowing heavily outside and the depth looked to be around three to four feet, and deeper where it had drifted.

  ‘Are you sure, Andy? It’s pretty bad out there and what will we do if you don’t get back?’

  ‘Someone’s got to try it eventually. I need to know how difficult our journey will be and I can learn a lot by going on a quick trip outside. Remember that I’m a well-qualified snow survival instructor of long standing. I can look after myself. I’m fit and healthy, but I think I need to try it before it gets too much worse. I was hoping that there would be a break in the snow by now, but I can't wait forever.’

  Jane acknowledged his point and grudgingly agreed.

  ‘OK, you’d better get moving because it’ll be dark by 4pm. Perhaps you should wait until the morning?’

  Brady smiled.

  ‘Doesn’t really matter. With the visibility being so bad I can see nothing ahead whether it's light or dark! Anyway, it's not too far to ASDA. Then it's about three hundred metres to the camping shop. I reckon that although ASDA will be officially shut, there will be some people there. They will have been trapped by the weather and like us – are marooned. It won’t be pleasant but I’ll have to try. Might even have to break in. We’ll see. I suspect the camping shop will be closed and locked so I will definitely have to break in. I’ll leave a cheque for what I take – for all the good it will do them.’

  Jane nodded and jumped up from her chair and started to help Brady get dressed into his survival garb. Inner layers followed but middle and outer. Hat, gloves, balaclava, and goggles. Ski boots, poles and skis with bindings were carried to the window. An extendable ladder was fetched up from the cellar. There was no alternative – Brady would have to drop down from the first floor onto the snow surface. The front door was completely blocked and there was no access to the outside – with snow now drifting four to five feet above pavement level.

  The makeshift protective duvet was held aside so that Brady could climb out. It was a sash window and Jane raised the Austrian style blind two feet and fixed the pulley. Then she and Chris donned anoraks and retreated to the other side of the room. There was no point in getting too cold.

  Brady lifted the lower window high enough for him to move through. He fed the ladder through the gap and leant it against the wall. Luckily the legs didn’t sink in too far and he would reach the surface with no real problem. He dropped the skis onto the snow followed by the poles. He then quickly squeezed himself through the window and using the ladder stepped down into the storm.

  Jane, as previously instructed by Brady, ran forward, pulled the ladder in and slammed the sash window shut. She dropped the curtain and assisted by Chris, reattached the makeshift inner blanket. They turned and looked apprehensively at each other.

  ‘Two hours he said. On the dot of 4.30pm we prepare the window for his return. Here’s hoping he makes it OK. Let's fill the time by map study and sorting food supplies.’

  Day 3 – Great Gonerby, Lincolnshire – 3:00pm

  Mike Newman turned right as he left the protection of Brady’s house on North Parade. He knew in his heart of hearts that his task was all but impossible. He recognized that his wife back in Barrow was alone and afraid. He also knew that the chances of successfully travelling almost three hundred miles in this weather were extremely slim. In fact, there was no chance. He doubted whether he would get three miles, let alone three hundred.

  Nevertheless, he trudged off down the road he had travelled with Chris a few short hours before. It was hard going, but easier without the boy. He clung to the edge of the buildings to guide him. His aim was to get back to the cab and then use it as a battering ram. He would turn it round and then head back to the A1 and blunder his way as far as he could. He had a full tank of fuel – so he could reach home without refuelling. But that wasn’t his main problem. The snow and the storm were vicious. Vehicles were scattered everywhere. His only hope was if the verges and breakdown lanes were free from traffic. If so, his cab might just be powerful enough to slam his way north. Slim hope, he knew, but he had to try – for his family’s sake. He couldn’t just abandon them. He would perish in the attempt if necessary.

  He reached his cab about forty minutes after leaving Brady’s house and found it covered in snow. To make things worse, it was surrounded by other abandoned vehicles. Other drivers had clearly followed his example and barged their way through until encountering the blockage made by his cab. The snow continued to fall. He reached up to the cab door handle and released the catch. He stepped up and climbed in. Of course, he was sitting in an eerie sort of white darkness. It was already dark outside and the thick layer of snow didn’t help. He tried the engine. It started first time. He revved it and let it run whilst he made sure that the heating system was on full, and that the windscreen heater elements were functioning.

  The next job was to clear the snow from the three windows. He climbed down from the cab, taking a long handled broom that he kept for such purposes. Quickly, he set about clearing the snow from the three sides. Luckily, the wind was blowing from the opposite direction, so it wasn’t too thick and he was able to clear most of it away fairly easily. He also managed to free the windscreen wipers which had semi-frozen to the glass. He then sprayed a full can of de-icer onto the front windscreen. This helped enormously. Assisted by the heating element, the screen became relatively clear.

  He then hastily jumped back inside and set the windscreen wipers going. They spread the snow and de-icer and cleared a good viewing area. The side windows were OK but he didn’t really care too much about them.

  The next priority was to
get moving. He had a big and powerful engine with little or no weight to pull. If he could get the cab moving, then progress could be made. He would just shove anything in his way clear off the road! Desperate situations brought about desperate measures.

  He was pointing at ninety degrees to the correct direction of travel. He selected first gear and tried to edge forward. To his great surprise, the wheels engaged and he moved across the road. A car was abandoned right in front of him, so he gently rammed it and slid it out of the way. He reversed two feet and turned north towards the A1. He was finally on his way. The road was littered with vehicles – mainly cars – but the odd van was also in evidence. Of course, he could only see a few metres ahead, even with his lights on full beam. Nevertheless, he was determined to continue.

  One helpful feature was that the British, when they are forced to abandon their cars, do it in a very orderly fashion. They pull to the left hand side and try to park neatly. Consequently, there was a wide-ish gap in the centre of the road through which the cab could squeeze. Mike progressed nicely as a result. He had to barge the odd vehicle and scraped a few – but he was really past caring. He was at the start of a long journey home and he was determined to give it his best shot. He would deal with the consequences, if any, later.

  He continued up the hill and through Gonerby towards the A1, out of the village and down the hill, which is where his long journey home turned into a very short one. Across the road was sprawled a double decker school bus on its side. There was no easy way through.

  Mike pulled up and parked. He kept the engine running for warmth but he realised that the game was up. He just stared at the bus and the cars beyond blocking his path to the dual carriageway, just half a mile ahead. There was nobody about, but streetlights illuminated the scene. He peered into the darkness and then saw an advertising hoarding which sparked an idea in his head. It was a John Deere board. John Deere dealt with heavy plant – tractors and the like.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he thought. ‘perhaps, there was a chance?’

  Mike switched off the engine and pocketed the keys – one never knew – he may need to return for shelter. He jumped down from the cab and set off towards the sign after slamming the door. The yard was only fifty or so metres ahead and he reached it with no further incident. He approached the office, which had a light on, but seemed unoccupied. The courtyard was full of heavy plant – but what caught his eye was a digger with a large bucket at the front. Mike had driven plenty of these in a previous life, when he had worked on the M62 motorway and an idea was forming in his brain.

  He approached the office and tried the door. It was open, so he went inside and shook himself down. The light was a gas powered tilley lamp. He called out but no one replied. The office appeared deserted.

  Mike sat down and considered his options. One, he could go back to Brady’s. Two, he could give up here and now – or three, he could hi-jack the digger and blast his way back to Barrow.

  There was no real decision to be made. He sprang up, filled with renewed hope and enthusiasm and walked over to the large glass cabinet behind the reception desk. It was full of keys on fobs, all with registration plate numbers.

  He went back to the window and looked at his digger. He spotted the first three digits. BX 9 - - - -. So he returned to the cabinet and searched for the correct set of keys. There was only one set starting with BX, so Mike grabbed them. The next issue was fuel. He really didn’t know how far he could travel in a digger on a full tank – so he would need to stock up. Mike left the office and strode confidently towards the digger and climbed in after clearing the lock of snow. First things first – would it start? He tried it and ‘vroom!’ – the engine roared into life, and as luck would have it the fuel gauge showed full and also indicated a one hundred and eighty litres capacity. Mike did a quick calculation. Even at only two miles per litre he could reach home without a refuel – but he wasn’t going to risk it. He jumped down and walked back to the office. The side door led into the main storage shed which was full of vehicles. There was nothing more suitable than the digger, but it was a rich source of fuel. He searched for suitable containers and found four x 25-litre plastic water containers. These would do perfectly. He knew how to syphon fuel and after picking up a length of plastic piping, returned to the office and took the keys to the most easily accessible vehicles. He returned to the hangar and opened the fuel cap to a large tractor. It took about an hour to syphon all of the fuel from this and two other vehicles, and by the time he’d finished he had an extra one hundred litres of red coloured diesel. Perfect - illegal – but perfect!

  Mike was tired after his exertions – and hungry. Then he remembered the supplies and flask that Jane had provided him with. He’d left them in the cab, so he had to return and fetch them. He did this and settled back into the office for a personal refuel whilst he planned his route. The great thing about the digger was that he didn’t need to stick to main roads. The digger and its large wheels would take him anywhere. But he would need a Sat Nav – if indeed a Sat Nav would work in these conditions.

  Once more, he returned to his cab and fetched his Garmin. He had a quick look round, but couldn’t see anything else except a small photograph of his family which he kept in the cab. He snatched it down and put it in his pocket. Then Mike walked back to the John Deere office.

  It was now nearly 8pm. Should he start his journey now or wait until he’d had a few hours kip. He decided to sleep. So he looked around for somewhere to lay his head and found a sofa reserved for customers. Although it was very cold in the office, he settled down as best he could, and within five minutes was fast asleep.

  He awoke with a start and for a few seconds didn’t realise where he was. He was cold – he knew that. Then he came to, recognized the office and where he was. Mike checked his watch. 4am. He was shocked at how long he’d slept but was relieved to be awoken by the cold. He sat up and recovered his bearings. Bloody hell, it was cold. He needed to get moving. So, he jumped up, collected his flask and made sure he had his keys and Sat Nav. He looked outside and noticed, with despair, that the snow continued to fall fiercely. No matter, he thought, I’m going – it's now or never. On the off chance he tried the office phone in an attempt to contact his wife…but it was dead.

  So, Mike departed the office and closed the door behind him. When he reached the tractor-come-digger he climbed up and used his brush to clear the snow from the windscreen. He then clambered into the tractor cab and started the engine. He looked around the cockpit and re-familiarised himself with the controls. He had driven one of these exact models – the 9000 series – on his brothers’ farm, so the vehicle held no fears for him. He cycled the shovel up and down and shifted as much snow as he could. He ran the windscreen heater and operated the wipers. He was then ready for the off, and luckily the Sat Nav had locked on. He selected ‘Home’ and steered straight for it. It was much closer than he thought – only two hundred and seven miles as the crow flies – and it was showing nearly four hours duration. However, at tractor speeds, he could multiply that many times. He would be lucky to get five miles per hour – which meant forty hours constant driving – two days at least.

  Mike was daunted for the first time since he’d made the decision to travel home. However, he realised that it was all or nothing – no choice. He engaged the digger’s gears and set off. The cab heating was now kicking in and he began to thaw out. The visibility was poor but good enough at five miles per hour to see where he was going. When he reached the gate to the vehicle park, he saw that the road was blocked with vehicles – so he just turned left onto the verge and let the tractor take him down the hill to the A1. He dodged trees and ditches and reached the roundabout at the bottom of the hill in no time at all. He recognised that there was no point in following the Highway Code – so he just joined the A1 on the wrong side using the verge once again.

  The British motorists had obliged once more by parking tidily and in straight lines – so he progressed without havi
ng to shift too many vehicles out of his way. When this action was necessary – he always left the cab – being careful to lock it to thwart opportunists – and checked the vehicle was unoccupied. A couple of times he was distressed, because the car had dead bodies inside – frozen and pale. He still had to shift them but did it as gently as possible.

  In this way he progressed up the A1, against the traffic, and reached Newark by 5am. Good steady progress. The Sat Nav was still functioning and Mike counted down the miles. His route was simple – A1 to A66 at Scotch Corner and then home. He had to stay reasonably close to main routes as he may need bridges to cross water. He prayed that the tractor kept going. He was progressing at about ten miles per hour so his estimate for getting home was reducing all the time, so he reckoned that reaching his destination by early tomorrow morning was a real possibility.

  Food and warm drinks were a continuous concern and he contemplated stopping at a service station, but was afraid about the possibility of losing the tractor to more desperate people. Consequently, he decided to stop at a house – one of the deserted cottages sitting just off the A1. There were plenty and he spotted a likely target just south of Retford. Mike pulled off the A1 and into the field behind the verge hedgerow, which he demolished with the shovel. He pulled up at the house which showed no lights. He parked the tractor as near to the rear door as possible and climbed out – not forgetting to lock the door after shutting off the engine. A risk for restarting, he knew, but he couldn’t take the chance of someone breaking the window and making off with his tractor.