Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  It didn’t really matter in the short term anyway. He and Jane were on their way, and unless the sun came out on a permanent basis, they would fight their way to Boston and the sea. Hopefully, they would find some sort of boat which might carry them safely towards the Belgian coast. There were bound to be ships out there trying to access the UK, and he hoped that one of these would pick them up. He wondered how rough the sea was; or was, in actuality, the sea already frozen? They would only find out after they reached Boston and saw for themselves.

  Jane was now stirring, so Brady decided to prepare some breakfast. He went downstairs and raided the fridge for the ingredients to make an omelette. There was cheese, bacon and nine eggs. To make sure they were not ‘off’, he broke one at a time into a cup and if it proved odourless, he transferred it to a small bowl. Five more eggs later, he added some milk, salt and pepper and carried the mixture, plus a small frying pan, upstairs. He had chopped some of the bacon and had grated some of the cheese into the eggs.

  Jane was dressed and in the bathroom, having stolen the hot pan of water for a wash. Brady whisked the egg mixture and soon a sort of Spanish omelette was frying away on the fire. After breakfast, which included hot coffee and toast, Brady outlined the plan for the day.

  ‘We’ll get started as early as possible, if you’re OK with that. It's not too strenuous a day. The wind has dropped somewhat and we’re aiming for Heckington, a small village on the A17 – about ten or eleven kilometres in all. We’ll stop on the other side of town, at the A17 junction and then once more outside Heckington. We should be able to find somewhere quite easily, and frankly, it's a lot better-going without Chris – it has to be said.

  ‘I wonder how he is?’ pondered Jane, whilst she stood up and started donning her outer clothing.

  ‘I’m sure George is looking after him. However, I can't believe Chris’s family have survived and I certainly can't believe that George is stupid enough to go looking for them on some sort of wild goose chase!’

  Jane was shocked.

  ‘But he promised!’

  ‘Expediency,’ Brady countered. ‘Now, let's concentrate on our journey, not Chris’s.’

  Jane was taken aback somewhat and gave Brady an old fashioned look and turned away, disappointed that she may have misjudged him.

  They departed the house in Sleaford at 9:15am, which gave them extra valuable daylight to travel with. It was snowing, but for some reason the wind was only about ten miles per hour and it provided a welcome respite. Brady expected to come across more people today and to counter any possible threat, he had his gun slung across his back.

  Jane led into the centre of town, crossing the railway before they spotted another chap on skis. He stopped to chat, and seemed friendly enough, conducting a conversation with the pair for about ten minutes. He was out scavenging for food. He had a farm on the edge of Sleaford and was self-sufficient, but there were six of them and they would need extra supplies soon. He had not seen anyone else for two days and figured that most people had suffered an icy fate. Brady concurred, waved farewell and they continued through the town. The snow covered the frontage of most shops up to fifteen feet high in some cases, so there was no chance of picking up any bonus items for their survival packs.

  They turned onto the Boston Road and as it was nearly 11am, Brady decided to look for a rest stop. There was a trading estate either side of the road, and a large sheltered loading bay was attached to a warehouse. It wasn’t indoors, but as the weather was relatively benign, they stopped for twenty minutes and enjoyed a flask of cocoa and some left over omelette. They saw no one.

  The couple continued to the A17, and found the rough path of the dual carriageway which headed eastwards to Boston. This was the road that led to the sea. It was more or less a straight path, so there was no point in cutting corners, as shelter tended to be near to the main highways – or what was left of them. Most houses now had snow past the upper windows! That would make house selection tonight a trifle more interesting!

  The next stop was just outside Heckington and they sheltered until 1.30pm in a detached two-storey farmhouse, which was completely deserted. Brady had to break a window, but the snow remained immobile on the roof this time!

  They reached the edge of Heckington at around 3pm and Brady went into search mode. Most houses were small, ancient cottages and access via upper windows looked impossible. Some properties were completely buried and some roofs had already collapsed inwards, so his target would probably have to be a large barn conversion – which he found about three hundred metres further along, on the right hand side. It was very large – about fifty metres long, with a hefty brick built extension to the front and rear. There was good access to an upper window and he could see no lighting, so turning to Jane, he signalled that they would attempt a break in.

  The normal procedures were followed, with special attention paid to the roof and within fifteen minutes they were safely inside, which was just in time, because the wind was starting to whip up again. Brady completed a rapid recce of the house to satisfy himself that there were no other occupants, and inside five minutes he returned to Jane, who had by now disrobed.

  ‘All clear, and there's a bedroom with a fireplace across the hall. Let's move across and it should be much the same drill as yesterday.’

  Leaving the sled where it was, they moved across the hall and within half an hour had set up a snug overnight sleeping place, with another log fire burning in the grate. Jane went downstairs to fetch some food, whilst Brady took a well-deserved forty winks.

  He was rudely awoken from his slumbers by a man’s threatening voice:

  ‘Wake up, sonny. Come on, wake up and no sudden moves!’

  Brady opened his eyes to see Jane with her arm twisted up behind her by a gruff, but clearly alarmed, elderly man. Jane was contrite.

  ‘Sorry, Andy. They took me by surprise. I didn’t even hear them.’

  ‘Shut up you,’ threatened the man. To his left stood a small woman in a large coat, scarf and gloves, holding a shotgun, aimed squarely at Brady’s head.

  The man continued:

  ‘What the hell are you doing in my house, you bastard? This is private property. How dare you invade my privacy, and then try to steal my food. That's looting, and by rights, I should shoot you both – here and now!’

  Brady tried to stay composed.

  ‘Hang on, mate, calm down a bit! Haven’t you looked outside recently? We are only taking shelter for the night. Have a bit of sympathy – we can't possibly survive in the open overnight. I checked to see if the place was empty and couldn’t find any evidence of human life here.’

  ‘Not my problem, chummy! This is my place and you are leaving – now!’

  Brady stood up and before he knew it or could react, the small woman had fired the shotgun.

  Fortunately, the gun was far too powerful for her to manage, and she was thrown backwards as the shot smashed into the ceiling, taking a large chunk out of the plaster, covering Brady with the residue as he instinctively ducked.

  The gruff man briefly relaxed his grip on Jane, turned towards his wife who was now sat on her backside against the wall and for a crucial few seconds took his eyes off Brady – who saw and took his chance. Jane wrenched herself away from the man, as Brady launched himself across the room full into the man’s chest, forcing him onto the floor. Jane grabbed the shotgun and Brady dealt the man a swift punch to the jaw.

  The tables were now turned.

  Brady stood up and grabbed his own weapon, which was loaded.

  The man sat up, dazed, winded and subdued.

  ‘Now, friend. Like I said, we only want shelter. We have our own food and water, so we won't touch your supplies at all. All we want is to be left alone until 9am tomorrow morning and we’ll be gone. Agreed? Now, how many people are there downstairs? Jane did you see anyone else?’

  ‘No one else – I think it's just them, Andy? What are we going to do?’

  ‘Well, let's se
e. You two – up! Let's go downstairs and see what the situation is.’

  The elderly couple, now much subdued, led the way downstairs covered by Brady and his gun. They went through the kitchen into a separate single storey building, which had been very cleverly set up to shelter the couple from the storm. Food, water, logs and other kit lined the walls, and a roaring fire filled the grate. There was only one entry/exit, and they had just passed through it.

  ‘Right,’ ordered Brady, ‘you two will be prisoners here tonight, I’m afraid, because we need to be able to sleep, without worrying that you might be coming back up to hassle us. I’ll release the door tomorrow, before we go. I promise. Just remember, we mean you no harm, we only want shelter, so just stay put – I’ve got the gun now! By the way, have you got a car here?’

  ‘Yes, it's through a door at the end of the corridor in its own garage. But it's no use to you in this,’ protested the man.

  ‘Let me be the judge of that,’ snapped Brady.

  Brady backed out of the room and shut the door. He turned the key in the lock and moved a heavy sideboard to block the exit.

  ‘That should keep them secure till tomorrow. I’ll let them out in the morning. Now let's find something to eat and get back upstairs.’

  Jane stood open mouthed.

  ‘More expediency. Needs must, Jane – get with the programme,’ Brady muttered, walked to the door at the end of the hall and opened it. There was an almost new Mercedes 4WD parked in a specially designed space. Keys? He glanced around and spotted a set on the wall. Grabbing them he clicked the remote. It worked first time, so Brady tried the engine which roared into life. Great! A strong battery – so he turned the engine off.

  ‘Pop up and get the Sat Navs and chargers. We’ll get some new life into them. They must be nearly dead by now. Always thinking, see!’ he quipped, almost arrogantly.

  Jane produced the Sat Navs in a few minutes, whilst Brady checked the garage for anything useful, but found nothing. They left a Sat Nav on charge and would swap them over after dinner.

  After returning to the kitchen and taking a few select items and borrowing a couple of pots, Brady and Jane returned to their bedroom. They sat in the glow of the fire and ate their meal when it was ready – ravioli, soup and biscuits – before crashing out for the night.

  ‘That was close,’ whispered Brady, as they lay together in bed again. ‘I’m not sure I can get to sleep knowing that they might escape.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Jane sleepily, and she dropped off within seconds, as Brady lay awake reviewing the day’s events. There were clearly many people still alive – but their supplies must now be limited – like the man they encountered in Sleaford earlier today. How long could they possibly keep going – the answer would come if it didn’t stop snowing. However, Brady’s new main task was to avoid all contact, or as much as possible, with anyone. They'd had too many close calls for his liking – their luck was bound to run out sooner or later!

  Day 9

  Monday 23 December

  En-route to Boston – 2:00pm

  Brady and Jane had a restless night. They couldn’t quite put the idea of their reluctant hosts escaping out of their minds, so when they finally got up, it was 7.30am and still dark. The storm continued to rage outside and it looked like it would be a tricky journey into Swineshead.

  After dressing, and scoffing a couple of tins of beans ‘n sausages heated on the regenerated hearth, they both went downstairs. They need not have worried. The door was still blocked by the cupboard, firmly trapping the old couple in their den. Brady moved the cupboard and knocked sharply on the door.

  The old man responded feebly so Brady shouted his response:

  ‘We’re going to leave shortly – in about thirty minutes. I’ll unlock the door just before we exit, and I’ll leave the shotgun in the bedroom. Please don’t do anything stupid. Thank you for your hospitality – begrudging though it was. Perhaps you might need to consider your behaviour in the future. We won't be the only people you come across and others might not be so forgiving! Goodbye and good luck – you’ll need it!’

  Jane led the way back upstairs to complete the dressing drills. They loaded the sled into the exit bedroom, whilst Brady explained the days march.

  ‘We’ll make straight for Swineshead Bridge – about nine kilometres. I think it would be sensible to go direct. There's no point in following the road out here. Great Hale Fen is about half way, hopefully we’ll find shelter for lunch, and then we can press on to Swineshead. I know that there are a couple of reasonably large farms en route, where we should be able to rest up for an hour out of the wind. If we can get this leg done as quickly as possible, we can rest up for even longer and recharge the batteries for the final two-day push into Boston.’

  Brady gave her a long and searching look.

  ‘Are you up for it, Jane?’

  Jane nodded.

  ‘Absolutely, I’m feeling really good. No aches and pains or injuries. No problem with the cold either – certainly no frostbite yet. Let's get going, Andrew.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Brady smiled affectionately. She was doing very well.

  They hoisted the sledge out of the window, quickly following it through, and were away by 9am. They followed the road to the east of the village where Brady navigated his way towards Great Hale Fen. They travelled alongside each other for mutual support in atrocious conditions. A steady forty miles per hour wind howled at their backs and the snow continued unabated. The temperature had dropped again, and even Brady was beginning to feel the cold – so God knows how Jane was coping – but she was a determined young woman, who wasn’t going to give up easily.

  As if by magic, after about ninety minutes, they all but bumped into a farm building. Brady peered into the snow and in the shadows of the storm spotted the main farm buildings and house. They edged forward in almost zero visibility, until they physically hit the wall of what appeared to be a barn. Brady looked left and right for a way in and, seeing nothing, edged his way around the perimeter. He found the gap in the wall round the other side. He quickly unhooked the sled and manhandled it through the gap, signalling for Jane to follow. He was last in to the loft which was cold – but it was dry and out of the wind.

  They both collapsed onto the straw covered floor, and stole a few minutes to recover their composure. The barn was empty and filled with standard farming implements – however, at one end the roof had collapsed under the weight of snow. It looked as if no one was home, so Brady relaxed and set about fixing up something hot to eat and drink. He extracted a camping gaz canister and lit it with one of the ASDA lighters. Opening the sled pack, he selected four Cup-a-Soups, boiled some water and mixed them thoroughly. They made excellent eating, and warmed the couple through to the bone.

  ‘You’ve got a bit of tomato on your nose, Jane,’ joked Brady.

  She wiped her nose and cried out in pain.

  ‘Oh, shit!’ exclaimed Brady, and moved closer to examine her nose. The tell-tale first signs of frostbite were quite plain. A small red smudge had appeared at the tip.

  ‘How are your fingers and toes,’ Brady demanded.

  ‘Fine!’ she protested fiercely.

  ‘We’ll soon see. Show me your hands and get your boots off!’

  She held out her hands and Brady gave them the all clear after a thorough examination. The toe situation, however, was far from OK.’

  The two large toes were swollen and red, as were the first joints. There were no blisters as yet, so Jane’s toes were only in the early stages of frostbite. Brady knew not to try to re-warm the affected areas, because if the toes re-froze, then the effects would probably worsen. So he dug out two fresh pairs of socks and got Jane to put them on. He also had a spare pair of gloves, which were dry and that could only help. As for the nose, he found a packet of plasters, one of which he placed across her itching hooter.

  ‘There, that will help, but you must let me examine you regularly from now on. Frostbite will rea
lly make your life a misery if we don’t catch it and take precautions. It's my fault really, for extending the length of the marches. Getting too bloody over confident. Sorry!’

  Jane smiled.

  ‘Not your fault, Andy, it's damned hard going, and this was bound to be a possibility. No harm done yet.’

  ‘When we get to Swineshead Bridge, I’m aiming to billet at the Barge Pub and Restaurant and if it's suitable we’ll stay for two nights. That will give you time to recover. You need to be in tip-top physical shape to go to sea!’

  ‘I’ll be fine, really. Let's get moving again and get to that pub – it's only an hour or so and I could do with a nice restaurant meal!’