Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  Sir Ian was perplexed but remained silent as Ann continued.

  ‘Ian, if you knew that a member of your family was out there and still alive – and there was a chance of saving them – would you take that chance?’

  Sir Ian said nothing, but had instantly grasped the point of Ann’s request.

  ‘I need to know whether or not this chance should be exploited?’

  Sir Ian rose from his chair and made his response.

  ‘It's time for the briefing Ann and I suggest you compose yourself for a few moments before we start. Her Majesty will be present. She insists on knowing the truth of the wider situation.’

  Ann stood up and straightened her jacket and gave Sir Ian a look of abject desolation. Unbelievably, he had silently rejected her request. The mission was compromised. She had to get a message Ross via the helicopter pilot.

  ‘Sir Ian, I need to speak to my PA privately for a few seconds before we commence the brief.’

  The Prime Minister was already walking towards the conference room door and beckoned Ann to follow.

  ‘There’s no need to speak to your PA about anything, Ann, except about the business in hand. However, I’m sure that any action or decisions you have taken whilst you were Chair of the Committee for National Recovery were in the best interests of the nation as a whole. And I’m sure that the extra passengers on your flight over are well equipped to support that position. Now, shall we get on with it?’

  He gave Ann a broad smile and pushed open the door to the conference room.

  Day 22

  Sunday 5 January

  Nr Boston, Lincolnshire

  Mike Scaiffe’s son was yelling at his father through the skylight which gave them access to the roof.

  ‘Dad, dad; come quickly! We’ve got visitors!’

  Mike was down in the kitchen supping a warming mug of cocoa when the warning shout arrived.

  ‘Christ, that was quick! I didn’t expect anyone this soon. Jack, arm yourself and stay here; Roy, come with me. The rest of you, lock the kitchen door and stay here!’

  He turned and raced out of the kitchen and up the staircase to the attic room and rattled off a burst of questions aimed at his son.

  ‘How far are they away? Have they seen us yet? How many of them are there?’

  ‘You’d better come up, dad, it's not good. Grandad has let them get quite close – but I can't see any weapons,’ the boy warned.

  Mike climbed the ladder to the skylight and squeezed through.

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Just over there, towards Boston, about two hundred and fifty yards,’ answered his son.

  ‘Oh, bloody hell, how did they get this close, dad? What were you doing?’

  His father was crestfallen.

  ‘I'm sorry, son, I just didn’t see them, they came out of nowhere.’

  Mike was pumped up by now but saw no profit in giving his father a hard time – especially in front of his son. So he grabbed the rifle and gestured towards the skylight.

  ‘Okay, dad, we’ll talk about this later. Get back inside and break out another rifle. Load it and bring it up the stairs.’

  The old man grimaced in shame, but didn’t argue with his son. He did as instructed and within five minutes was standing beneath the skylight with a second loaded weapon.

  Meanwhile, Mike was assessing the situation. It was growing dark, but the snow was creating a false light and he could see the two skiers clearly, who were now only about one hundred metres distant.

  Mike decided to make contact.

  ‘Good evening. Would you mind stopping where you are and identifying yourselves, please?’ he yelled politely.

  The two figures halted and looked up at the roof where the two men perched, one with an automatic weapon. The larger of the two responded:

  ‘Good evening, can we come in? We’re bloody freezing, hungry and dog tired.’

  Mike gave them a long stare through his binoculars. He could see no sign of weaponry but couldn’t be sure. Both figures were toting backpacks and seemed well equipped for snow travel.

  ‘Have you got any weapons?’ Mike demanded.

  ‘Only if you count a Swiss Army Knife!’ the man replied.

  Mike smiled to himself and decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘Okay, approach our position, slowly, and we’ll talk some more before we decide whether to let you in.’

  Mike handed the rifle to his son and instructed him to move over to the other chimney breast and keep the two strangers covered.

  ‘If I raise my arm, like this, fire a burst over their heads. Over their heads, mind you. Do not shoot them – do you understand son – do not shoot them!’

  The boy nodded understanding, took the rifle, moved over to the other chimney and took cover behind it.

  The mystery visitors moved towards the house and when they were ten metres from Mike’s position, he asked them to halt.

  ‘Hello, again,’ he said cheerily, what can we do for you?’

  The man lowered his ski goggles and briefly told his story.

  ‘My name is Maurice Wrigley and this is my son Ash. We had a little grocers shop on the edge of Boston. There were five of us at the start, but my wife and two young daughters died when the heating gave out. We made it through, just, because we had the food and water. I suppose because we were strong enough – but the girls weren’t. When it stopped snowing this morning, we thought we’d strike out and see what was happening. You are the first people we've seen all day. Come on, we aren't going to hurt you – we just want a place to rest for the night and then we’ll be on our way.’

  Mike, ever the suspicious one, was not entirely convinced by their story, but it was becoming rapidly darker and so, in the spirit of human kindness, he decided to let them in.

  ‘Okay,’ warned Mike, ‘come forward one at a time. I will make sure you have no concealed weapons and then you may proceed down into our attic room. But be warned – any funny business and we will respond. We are armed, as you can see. I make no apologies for these precautions – I have a family to protect.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ countered Wrigley, and shuffled slowly forwards to Mike’s position, where he was superficially frisked and sent down the ladder to the attic, after detaching his skis and passing them down. By now, one of Mike’s other sons, Roy, was in attendance. The boy, Ash, was processed through the same procedure and joined his father under the beady eye of Bill, who had the second gun.’

  Tony, the lad on the roof, made sure that his father was safely down the stairs, before lowering the skylight.

  ‘I’ll send up a relief at 8pm,’ his father shouted, and turned to face the two interlopers.

  ‘Hello, my name is Mike Scaiffe, this is my father Bill and my son Roy; Tony is on the roof. Would you mind following me, please?’

  The two men nodded, laid down their ski poles and traipsed after Mike, who led them to an unoccupied bedroom which they were using for general storage. There was nothing worth stealing here, so he didn’t mind the strangers seeing what was inside this spare room.

  ‘You can disrobe in here if you like – I’ll prepare some hot beverages to warm you up. Roy, would you mind going and knocking up some cup-a-soups for these gents? He gave Roy a hidden warning glance – as if to communicate not to let these two strangers know that there were others in the building. Roy grasped the message and went downstairs. The men had taken off their goggles, hats and gloves by now, but preferred to keep on their outer garments as it was cold in this room.

  ‘Well, now,’ said Mike warily, ‘where are you headed?’

  Maurice sat down on a settee which lay against the window and sighed.

  ‘I'm not sure. We just set off this morning and hoped that we’d be picked up or find somewhere with food or warmth. We hadn’t really planned what to do or how far we'd go. It's stupid really because we haven’t got much food or any way of heating it up. We've seen nobody – nothing but this bloody snow – and
most houses are buried. Yours was the first place, apart from the odd church, that we've seen sticking out of the snow. So we thought we'd investigate. I must say, I'm surprised at the mixed welcome we've received!’

  Mike was taken aback.

  ‘I'm not sure what you expected. Did you think you could just walk in and take what you wanted? I have responsibilities to my family. They are my first priority. Of course, I have a humanitarian responsibility to assist people like yourselves, but you’d be naïve if you think that everything is hunky-dory out there. It isn’t and I fully expect that some bad characters are going to try and take away our property and supplies. The point I'm making is that after you leave tomorrow – and be assured, you will be leaving – you can tell anyone else you meet that this house will not be easy pickings for chancers. Certainly, we’ll help anyone in distress, but as I’ve already stated – my family is my ultimate priority – as no doubt is yours!’

  Bill looked on in both admiration and astonishment at his son’s diatribe. He hadn’t really thought very deeply about the aftermath of the storm – but clearly his son had – thank God! At that point, Roy returned with two steaming cups of soup and two huge bacon sandwiches.

  ‘I thought I'd get them something to eat – they look famished.’

  ‘Thanks, son,’ said Maurice, ‘at least someone round here has got a heart!’

  Mike was unrepentant.

  ‘Look, mate, you can like it or just bugger off back out into the snow. I’ve explained my reasoning and you’ll just have to fucking-well accept it!’

  ‘Whoa there,’ apologised the man, ‘I'm sorry if we've given you a fright, but we’re really just who we say we are – we don’t intend to pose a threat to you or your precious family!’

  By now Mike had taken enough and for two pins would have ejected them right there and then. However, he took a deep breath and carried on.

  ‘You're welcome to make use of this room tonight. There are logs here and you can get a fire going in that grate. I’ll fetch two spare mattresses and some blankets. I'm afraid you’ll be locked in here tonight and there will be an armed guard outside the door all night! So, no funny business! We’ll feed you in the morning and you can be on your way.’

  The two men looked up at Mike with an expression nothing short of contempt.

  ‘Well, thanks for nothing pal! Talk about the milk of human kindness. I think you need a course at a bloody charm school!’ sneered Maurice, ‘I also think I’ll be glad to get out of here just to avoid hearing you bang on about your bloody family all fucking day!’

  ‘You are now officially pushing your luck, mate. If it wasn’t for the boy there, you’d be out on your ear - now! So just zip it and be grateful for small mercies!’

  At that Mike left the room, calling for Bill and Roy to follow. They locked the door.

  ‘Blimey, Mike, that was a bit harsh,’ whispered Bill.

  ‘Dad, just let's get back to the kitchen and settle down. Roy, get them the bedding and take first watch outside their door. We’ll relieve you and Tony at 8pm – it's only a couple of hours or so.’

  Mike turned to his father.

  ‘Just think yourself lucky I didn’t throw you in there with them after your display today, Dad. You nearly dropped us right in it. You are going to have to understand – and damned quickly – that this is now a life and death situation. Until the authorities re-establish the rule of law, and order is restored – it's every man for himself. And if that's bloody harsh, well bad bloody luck – no-one, and I mean no-one, is going to prejudice the welfare and safety of my family – and I’ll take whatever steps necessary to achieve that end.’

  Mike stormed off into the kitchen leaving Bill standing in the hall with his mouth agape in shock. This was a side of Mike that he’d never experienced before and just hoped that the boy was not tipping over the edge.

  Perhaps the strain of it all was becoming a little too much.

  Day 24

  Tuesday 7th January

  Sandringham House, Norfolk

  The Prime Minister and the Ambassador bowed as they entered the conference room. Seated at the back of the room, in two rows, were HM The Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Charles, The Princess Royal, The Duke of York and Prince Edward. Also, sitting behind the Prince of Wales, were the Princes William and Harry.

  ‘Good morning Prime Minister. Ah, Dame Ann, we were expecting you. I believe we owe you a debt of enormous gratitude for representing our interests in Europe during these terrible times. My close family and I will be sitting quietly and observing your discussions with Sir Ian. We feel that it is important for us to know just exactly what is happening within and without the Kingdom. We also feel that our subjects – wherever in the world they may be – should know that we are here to provide support and leadership. For your information we, that is my husband and I, shall being remaining at Sandringham, whilst the other members of the Family will be leaving to assist in the recovery by providing evidence that the country is still fighting for its survival. Now, please proceed. We may have the occasional question, but on the whole we shall try to be silent.’

  Ann Fletcher acknowledged the remarks made by Her Majesty with a slight nod.

  ‘Thank you your Majesty, I appreciate your kind words. I shall try to be as brief as I am able; however, I have a tremendous amount of information to impart to the Prime Minister. It is important that he is fully acquainted with the true situation – both inside the country and in the rest of the world. Indeed, citizens of most countries on the planet are now directly involved in this crisis. There is no doubt that this is truly a global problem and individual governments would be foolhardy to suggest the contrary. There were many thousands of non-British tourists, visitors and immigrants in the UK at the time of the storm. Their friends and relatives will be equally concerned for their welfare. Now, with your permission I shall begin my presentation.’

  ‘Prime Minister, as you know it started to snow on Sunday the fifteenth of December…..’

  The briefing took five hours, including a short break for lunch.

  The Ambassador gave a brief overview of the causes and effects of the snow. She outlined the progressive breakdown of infrastructure within the UK, emphasising the loss of power, internet and communications. She also covered the potential loss of life – and had to be quite forceful to convince her audience that so many people would have probably perished.

  ‘I appreciate that it is very difficult to comprehend and even harder to accept that so many of our citizens, and those of other nations, may have died in the snow. Please let me elucidate.

  Some seventeen million workers commute to work by car every day. Assuming that only about ninety percent of those set off on the Monday morning when conditions were still drivable, there are approximately fifteen million people trapped in cars en route to the workplace. We know that all major arterial routes, town centres and link roads ground to a halt, nationally, by lunchtime on that Monday. Real gridlock occurred and motorists had two unenviable choices by that evening; firstly, to stay with their vehicle and wait it out or, secondly, to try to walk to safety.

  The majority stayed with their cars as they erroneously imagined that help would come when the snow stopped. Of course, it didn’t stop snowing for three weeks. The people who walked out generally fell foul of the weather because they were not properly attired. Most UK inhabitants wholly underestimate the dangers associated with going out in a blizzard. So, I'm afraid it is highly likely that the vast majority of these people are lying dead in their vehicles or on the side of the road.’

  She paused to take a sip or water. Whilst Ann was speaking, her PA was displaying photographs of the progressive build-up of snow. It was plain to see that the Ambassador was not exaggerating. A lot of these photos had been posted on Facebook and YouTube before the power failed. Dame Ann continued:

  ‘So; how many other people were trying to make their way to work? There are thirty six million people of working age i
n the UK – and we have accounted for the seventeen million in cars already. Of the thirty six million workers, five million are unemployable (disabled) or unemployed.

  That leaves another fourteen million workers unaccounted for. Almost all of these use rail, tube, bicycle or just walk to work – and about one million people travel into London each day. So we have a situation where roughly ten million workers – assuming that some just stayed at home - are either trapped on trains, at airports or stumbling about in the snow. I’ve already explained the survival rates for people out in this weather.

  Let us now turn to the tragic subject of schoolchildren. There are almost eleven million children attending school in the UK. Unfortunately, only about ten percent of schools were closed on the Monday morning. The remaining ten million children probably set off to school that day – some on buses, on trains, in cars, by foot – with or without parents in tow. When school administrators fully realised the power of the storm – it was heartbreakingly too late. Many kids had reached school but could not leave. Parents could not get back to rescue them – don’t forget half of these children would have been under twelve, so millions were trapped in their classrooms with little supervision or guidance. When the power failed many will have frozen to death within days. Many parents will have perished in the vain attempts to reach their offspring.’

  A photograph of a secondary school in Crawley was flashed up onto the screen. It was easy to see that the school was completely cut off by the snow.

  ‘I know it's terribly hard to take in these statistics, but we've run the figures many times,’ pausing as she underlined her point.

  ‘We should now address the people who sensibly stayed home. About fifteen million pensioners would probably have adopted a siege mentality and remained safely indoors. However, many of these would have been living alone, frail or disabled. Need I say more?

  Add to these the five million out of work, and say, five million workers who got to work safely or just didn’t go and we have about twenty five million under cover – either at work, in their homes or in some unplanned shelter selected at random. That's almost half the population sitting at home waiting for the snow to stop. However, many of these would have gone out in the snow to try and rescue their children in school or reach other relatives. We estimate that another five million would have been lost in this way.