Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  However, it was still snowing heavily at 7am, so each of the Townsends attempted to contact their individual work places and confirm that they would not be travelling in. However, none of them managed to get through on the telephone, so they made the joint assumption that nothing had changed. Lynne and Marie would have been heartbroken if they'd been aware of the human tragedy unfolding at both of their schools. The local TV news channels were full of apocalypse type scenarios, revealing that the trains, buses and the London Underground were not running. Schools had been closed nationwide and the roads were gridlocked. So, the family gathered at No.50 and spent the day in front of the television – watching Quincey Roberts keeping them up to date with developing events. They were all becoming greatly alarmed at the ferociousness of the storm and when the Prime Minister appeared on TV at 2pm that day and predicted a sort of frozen hell, they were flabbergasted.

  This was when Les Townsend came up trumps. He had not been idle for the past twenty-four hours and had declined the invitations to play Cribbage or Monopoly in front of the fire. He had bigger fish to fry!

  Les had been in his Nuclear Bunker putting the finishing touches to the place which was to become the salvation of the Townsend family.

  Over the past two years, Les had fitted four sets of bunk beds, installed chairs and a dining table, connected the water tank to the mains and fitted two large gas fires with spare bottles. The bunker was just about complete except for the niceties, and Les was now ready to reveal his plans to the family. After watching the PM on television, Les allowed the group to calm down before calling them to order.

  ‘I’ve got something to say and I’d be grateful if you’d all give me your undivided attention.’

  The family were in the sitting room, and Les asked Sue to make a cup of tea whilst he turned the volume down on the television. When they had all settled again with a cuppa and nibbling mince pies, he made his announcement:

  ‘Right, you’ve all been sniggering behind my back for the past twenty-odd years with regard to my little project in the cellar. No; don’t deny it – I don’t really care – I'm big enough and ugly enough to take any and all of your teasing.’

  ‘Come on Dad, we didn’t mean anything by it,’ apologised Chris, ‘we were only having a bit of a laugh. It was your private hobby and maybe we were a bit naughty to take the mickey – but perhaps we were all a bit curious too.’

  ‘Never mind, Chris, I took no offence and I believe that it's now time to reveal the intended and new purpose of my little project.’

  The family sat in rapt anticipation.

  ‘It was intended to be a Nuclear Bunker.’

  Someone laughed, but a stare from Sue immediately shut them up.

  ‘As I said, it was intended to be a Nuclear Bunker. In 1989, when the Berlin Wall came down, and before most of you were born, I judged that the world might be on a knife edge. Random ex-Russian nukes were scattered all over the old USSR and it was wholly foreseeable that some nutter would just ‘lob one over onto London’. So, I looked at what I could do to mitigate the threat to my family. I knew we had a good cellar which I could use to a purpose. Sue kindly gave me permission to have exclusive use of the space – and so the project began. Yes, I agree, it's all taken a bit longer than I initially intended, but I am glad to announce that it is now complete!’

  ‘What the hell are we going to do with a Nuclear Bunker, dad?’ laughed Matt.

  ‘Not a Nuclear Bunker, Matt - a snow shelter. A damned good snow shelter! You’ve just seen the Prime Minister predicting at least a week’s worth of ghastly weather, and we need protection. And now, almost by accident, we have that shelter. All we need to do now is centralise our food stocks, transfer other bits and pieces which I have itemised, and we’ll be ready to move down there when the going gets tough. I don’t believe that the power will last much longer, so once we run out of wood and coal for the open fire, we will need warmth and protection.’

  Marie was outraged.

  ‘Dad, I am not going down into a cold, smelly cellar full of spiders’ webs!’

  ‘I think you might change your mind once you’ve made a visit, Marie,’ countered her father gently.

  At which point, Les rose from the sofa and invited the group to take a tour of the ‘bunker’.

  Everyone looked at each other with a certain amount of scepticism, and it was the ever loyal Sue who stood up first and shepherded the children towards the cupboard under the stairs. Even she had not been privy to the purpose of the cellar project, and was desperately keen to have a look at Les’s project.

  Les led the way by opening the entrance door under the stairs and descending the steep flight into the main cellar room.

  The family were soon eating their previously disparaging words.

  The outer door had a heavily insulated lining as had the walls leading downstairs. The steps were thickly carpeted and as they entered the shelter proper, they were nothing short of gobsmacked!

  ‘Welcome to Chez Townsend,’ declared Les proudly, standing back to allow his family a clear view of his remarkable achievement.

  It was truly amazing. The cellar was well lit, the floor covered in warm deluxe linoleum/vinyl with oriental rugs spread about. Heat was provided by a gas fire at one end of the room. There were bunks with bedding, a toilet, water supplies, bookshelves, cabinets, ventilation systems and even a battery operated CD player. All it now needed was something to keep them all occupied and some food. There was even a large ‘ham’ radio in one corner.

  ‘Dad, this is fantastic,’ declared Chris, as the girls hugged Les in delight.

  ‘There's still a bit a work to do. I’ve prepared a set of five lists – one for each of you – with items to be transferred from this house, and yours, to the cellar. Books, games, CDs, paper, pens, clothing, booze and food - to mention but a few. When you’ve completed your tasks, we’ll eat dinner upstairs – which Sue and I will prepare, and then I’ll go through my plan and answer any questions you might have.’

  The family spent the next ten minutes nosing round the cellar in undisguised amazement at what Les had achieved. They then started to filter out and back upstairs to fill their lists.

  Whilst Sue arranged supper, Les remained in the cellar and took delivery of the items brought down by the kids. Chloe brought books, board games, playing cards, CDs, pens and paper. Chris was in charge of alcohol, including beer and spirits, soft drinks, fizzy bottled water and suitable drinking vessels for seven people. Les stored all of this on specific shelving designed for the purpose.

  ‘Chris, do you think you could also jury-rig a charger for a laptop that we could run off 12v?’ queried Les. ‘If so, we could watch DVDs as well.’

  Chris, a professional electrician, said he'd give it a go.

  Matt and Lynne transferred all frozen food from across the road at No.45 and No.47 to the freezers at No.50, where they restacked and reorganized.

  Marie was in charge of clothing. She relocated all exterior clothing which Chloe, Chris, Lynne and Matt had laid out on their beds. This was all placed at one end of the dining room in seven distinct piles. Underwear and other leisure clothing would be brought over by individuals, with a certain amount going into the cellar into wardrobes, but the majority would have to be stored upstairs.

  All five youngsters rounded up a percentage of their assorted kitchenware for transfer to the cellar – cutlery, plates, bowls, pans, bottle openers and coffee mugs. It took them the rest of the afternoon, but by 7pm, they were all able to sit down to a lovely, warming roast pork dinner with crispy crackling cooked by Sue, which was one of Chloe’s favourites – as her own mother had never fulfilled that particular need!

  During all of this activity Bracken, the cocker spaniel, was rushing about, getting under everybody’s feet, trying to work out what was going on. Sue spent some time considering where Bracken should sleep and where he could do his ‘business.’

  By 8pm, they were all sitting at the dining table, exhausted
, as the journeys to and fro across the road in the blizzard had been very hard work. Les continued with his proposals:

  ‘Okay, we’re almost there. Just a few odds and sods to finish off and I'm sure that everyone will remember something or other we really need! But, be quick. I reckon by tomorrow we might not be able to get across the road. So tonight could be your last at home. Make the most of it – because we are all going to lose some privacy if this snow goes on much longer!

  Everyone smiled and acknowledged the inevitable, but no-one really expected to be in the damned cellar for more than a few days. Although it all seemed like a great adventure right now, in a few days they would all be singing a different tune. Les knew this and planned to allocate duties on a rota basis to keep them occupied. He also had timetables worked out for recreation, eating and sleeping. He seemed to have thought of everything – well almost everything – but that issue would not rear its ugly head for about three weeks.

  ‘Fine, I suggest you four return across the road, prepare your last minute items for transfer and be ready to return at first light tomorrow. I intend us to live upstairs until the last possible moment. We can cook and warm ourselves as long as the electricity and gas last. We can't predict when that might fail so we should be ready to decamp to the cellar at any time. But there’s no point in wasting resources if we have them up here. Coal and wood for the open fire should be used before the gas in the cellar. We will all sleep in this house from tomorrow night, and I further suggest that you bring over anything you particularly treasure – like jewellery, passports or items of sentimental value – tomorrow morning. I fully expect roofs to collapse in due course, if the snow continues, so you may all lose everything across the road. In a week it won't even be possible to get over there. And, whilst I remember, Matt, can you bring over your skis and any other snow gear that you and Lynne have. It might be useful.’

  Matt nodded and spoke for everyone:

  ‘I didn’t realise how nasty and unforgiving snow can be, dad. I know you built the shelter for some spookily weird other purpose, but thank God you did. I think I speak for us all when I say that your vision – although slightly unintentional – will probably save us all from freezing if the electricity fails!’

  There were murmurs of agreement and thanks from the others as they rose from the table and prepared to cross back to their homes. After saying their goodnights, the four young people fought their way across the twenty metres to their own houses, realising that the storm was not lessening and that getting back tomorrow might be trickier than they at first assumed.

  Nevertheless, after assembling their final bundles of gear for transport to No.50, they spent a restless night contemplating the future. At 8am sharp the next morning, Chris swung his front door open to be greeted by a drift of freezing snow which blew ferociously into the hallway. It actually knocked him off his feet and he needed Chloe’s full support to move their kit across to safety. It took almost an hour to complete the transfers, after which Matt and Chris returned to their homes one final time to secure the property and turn the heating up to full. They switched on all of the lights and as they slammed their front doors closed, they could see some of their neighbours at their front windows waving and gesticulating. However, the boys didn’t have time for niceties and quickly hurried into the warmth of No.50.

  They moved permanently into the cellar on the Friday, just five days after it started snowing.

  Day 24

  Tuesday 7th January

  Woodford Green – East London

  ‘We need to find cover quickly and fix our exact position,’ advised Ross.

  Brady looked around for shelter. The landscape was weird. A flat, blinding white surface punctuated by buildings which were originally over thirty feet high. He could see no domestic two-storey housing poking through the snow, and it appeared that there were no people in the vicinity to impede their progress. There were no obvious tracks in the snow and nobody had noticed their arrival – or so he thought.

  ‘Over here!’ ordered Ross, as he pointed his ski-pole at a multi-storey car park. There was a lot of snow on the concrete roof, which seemed to have survived the enormous weight crushing down on it. Ross had spotted a concealed entrance through which they could sneak, take cover and take a position fix.

  Five minutes later Brady and Ross had synchronised their individual GPS readouts and had confirmed their exact position. Ross surveyed the surrounding area with an expert eye, and picked out the protruding spire of a church.

  ‘Comparing my latitude and longitude with that spire, I reckon we are about two and a half kilometres from our target. I’ve re-checked the position given for the house in question and it's showing a heading of 236 degrees and 2657 metres. Does that check with you, Andy?’

  Brady glanced at his GPS and then back up at Ross.

  ‘Affirmative, 236 degrees, 2657 metres. I can't see anything in the way to impede our progress. However, I can't see much cover either. What do you suggest, Ross?’

  ‘We were really lucky to be dropped so close by the chopper. I thought that the pilot said we would be at least four klicks from the house, so that will save us some time. It would only take us about an hour to reach the house in normal conditions, but these aren't normal conditions. We really should try our utmost to avoid contact and should be prepared for trouble. Unsling your rifle and prep it. Set it for single-shot and I’ll walk at around twenty metres to your rear whilst you nav.’

  Brady nodded in agreement.

  ‘We’ve got plenty of daylight left, so we should be able to reach the house in good time before we need to seek shelter for the night. Actually, I'm really quite concerned about our ability to find the correct house. Just looking around here makes me wonder how we are going to get those people out. How are we going to gain access through all this snow?’

  Ross was guarded.

  ‘I don’t know either, Andy, but we should deal with this mission one step at a time. Our priority now is to get to the target without drawing any attention to ourselves. We know that there is activity on the surface, and with hundreds of thousands of potential survivors in this city we can expect unfriendly contact at any time. These people have had two full days to make it up onto the surface from their hidey-holes, and they will be hungry and desperate. We both need to be prepared for serious drama. We might very well have to use these weapons Andy – are you ready for that likelihood? Are you really prepared to fire that weapon in anger?’

  Brady had already considered this possibility and judged that it was much more than a probability. He had encountered weapons on his trek to Boston from Grantham, and fully realised that to survive this undertaking he may have to shoot at somebody in anger. He was absolutely sure that he would now do almost anything to secure the safety of his newly-discovered daughter. However, the stark reality of a firefight may well produce an unexpected reaction. Could he really shoot at a fellow countryman?

  ‘Don’t worry about me Ross – if it comes to the crunch I’ll be there!’ he bluffed.

  ‘Good,’ replied Ross dourly, ‘because in my experience, you rarely get more than one chance when someone is shooting at you. Let's get going. You lead, I’ll follow, and keep your visual scan going – we don’t want anyone getting the drop on us.’

  Brady smiled, nodded and stood up on his skis. After checking the area and finding it clear, he set off on a rough heading of south-west. Ross waited a few seconds and set off behind him, his head scanning left and right searching for potential threats amongst the snowbound buildings that were still in view. He fully expected to be challenged at any moment and was on full alert.

  After an hour, they reached the approximate midway point which, if it had been visible, would have put them on a bridge over the North Circular Road or A406. They espied the very top of a Waitrose Superstore on the southern side of the invisible dual carriageway, and to the right of that, a large horseshoe shaped building which they couldn’t identify. Nevertheless, it would
provide respite for a spot of lunch, so they skied over to the vicinity and found a window still clear of snow and expertly broke in. It was deserted and very cold inside, so Ross tried the door to the next room and discovered nothing and no-one. Feeling relatively secure, they shucked off their backpacks and set about preparing a hot drink with one of their Camping Gaz canisters.

  Brady looked over at the partly destroyed Waitrose store and realised that the roof had indeed given way in several places. He absently wondered if anyone was still inside, and whether the same fate had befallen them as had the poor souls hiding in Downtown near Boston. He hoped not. Anyway, he turned back to Ross and accepted a steaming cup of chicken Cup-a-Soup which he greedily slurped, slightly scalding his tongue.

  ‘Damn, that's hot,’ he cried, and as he went to put the cup down on an adjacent table, Ross suddenly jumped up, grasped Brady and hauled them both crashing to the floor, slopping the soup right across the room.

  ‘What the f…,’ Brady exclaimed, but Ross put a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

  ‘People! Over there by the shop! I saw movement.’

  Brady rolled over and shuffled towards the outer wall to take cover, whilst Ross did the same on the other side of the window through which they had entered.

  ‘Do you think they saw us?’ whispered Brady. ‘How many?’

  Ross was edging towards his rifle, which he grabbed and then returned to the window and tried to sneak a peek through the opening.

  ‘I dunno, mun. There were at least half a dozen. Couldn’t see if they were armed, but I think they’ve spotted us.’ Ross gasped.

  Brady started to respond but ducked involuntarily and then froze, as a shot was fired and ricocheted round the room.

  ‘Shit!’ exclaimed Ross, as he ducked back into cover. ‘They’ve seen us all right!’

  Brady re-gathered his composure and looked to Ross for a lead.