Snow! The Series [Books 1-4]

by Clifford, Ryan

  ‘Job done!’ he announced proudly to Lyndsey as he returned upstairs.

  Lyndsey was still inconsolable, so she registered no joy at his achievement. Jeff let it pass, and continued with the task of stacking the sleigh. Only after he was half-way through the loading did he realise that pulling it up through the attic aperture would be nigh on impossible. So, he unloaded all of the gear and stored everything off the ground in the corner of the bedroom, ready for separate transfer to the outside tomorrow morning. He covered it all with a thick duvet to keep it protected from the elements.

  It was at about 5pm when they heard the helicopter. It passed quite close to their position, but neither of them could scramble back up onto the surface before its rotors faded into silence.

  ‘That's heartening,’ said Jeff cheerily, ‘it means that the government is out looking for us and others like us.’

  Even this could not bring Lyndsey out of her gloom, so Jeff merely added a couple of white sheets to his pile, after writing the word ‘HELP’ on both with red paint from the garage. He would hang these from the factory windows on their return.

  They settled down to rest and sleep on the bed covered in copious amounts of duvets collected from the airing cupboard. Jeff wanted to get up early and try to get back to the factory in one day. He would follow the tracks they made coming out – so navigation should be easier – and once they spotted the mast, they were home and dry. The last thing they did was to crack a couple of bottles of Moet & Chandon, which they glugged down with gusto. It was their first taste of alcohol in three weeks and as a direct result, they fell into a deep and dreamless.

  The next morning at around 7am, regretting his over indulgence the night before, Jeff started the chore of transferring his improvised sledge and stores to the surface. He picked a spot about twenty metres from the house where the surface seemed more secure, and stationed the improvised sledge. Lyndsey was helpful and seemed more upbeat – even though she, too, was nursing a mild hangover. She passed the assembled gear up through the hole in the roof and Jeff loaded it onto the sledge. By 8am he had covered it with a tarpaulin and tightened it with bungees which he hoped would prevent it sliding off. At 8.15am they said their goodbyes to their home and set out on the return trip to their factory unit, tears welling up in Lyndsey’s eyes.

  It was another bright and sunny day, but the snow surface was still crisp and firm and the sleigh slid along nicely. Progress was a bit slower, but even so, by 2pm Jeff spotted the mast in the distance and changed course slightly, heading directly for it. They had glimpsed another chopper in the distance at around midday, but it was too far away for them to hail, or for it to see them.

  Jeff was glad to be going back to the safety of the industrial unit and he believed that now helicopters were around, it wouldn't be long before they were picked up. Hopefully, he wouldn't need all of this bloody kit he was hauling around, expending a great deal of effort!

  They approached their unit and Jeff actually noticed a brief smile on Lyndsey’s lips as they got to within fifty metres. She was dog-tired and relieved to be ‘home’.

  It was still light as they reached the entry window and Jeff was just about to open it, when it was flung open and a large, bearded man stood on the other side, scowling.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ exclaimed Jeff.

  ‘More to the point, what do you think you’re doing,’ shouted the man, ‘get away from this window. This is our shelter. Now, piss off!’

  Jeff was momentarily taken aback which gave Lyndsey a chance to intervene:

  ‘What do you mean? This is our factory. We've only been away for one night. Let us back in at once and we can talk about it.’

  Scowler was having none of it:

  ‘You’re bloody joking, darling. Although, actually YOU can come in, but your boyfriend can piss off. We could do with a bit of entertainment, couldn’t we lads?’ as he glanced lasciviously back into the room.

  Lyndsey couldn’t believe her ears. But before she could react, the man jumped through the window, advanced on Jeff and thumped him viciously in the face. Jeff went over into the snow, clutching his nose as a second man hopped out and grabbed Lyndsey, pulling her towards the window. She struggled and fought like a wildcat, but the other man seized her arm and forced her to the ledge. By now a third man was standing over Jeff kicking the living daylights out of him. As he lost consciousness, the last thing he heard was a shout of alarm from his assailant.

  A small jet helicopter was soaring in from the direction of the phone mast and had flown to within fifty metres of the melee. It reduced speed and hovered over the group as the two interlopers quickly re-entered the building, leaving Lyndsey outside and Jeff prostrate on the snow, dazed and bleeding profusely from his nose. The helicopter’s PA system boomed out:

  ‘We represent the British Government National Recovery Alliance. What is going on down there?’

  Lyndsey looked up and made a gesture of prayer and somehow made it clear that she and Jeff needed assistance.

  The heli crew caught on pretty quickly and reduced their hover to a couple of feet, after which a crew member skipped onto the surface and the heli rose to a position about twenty metres away to prevent the downdraught blowing snow everywhere.

  ‘What's happened?’ he shouted at Lyndsey.

  She explained briefly and pointed to Jeff, who was slowly coming round after his beating.

  The airman once again quickly assessed the situation and signalled for the heli to approach – at which point the window to the unit re-opened and a man appeared wielding a rifle.

  Two seconds later a shot rang out, and Scowler flew backwards out of sight into the building. Lyndsey looked up at the helicopter and saw a second crewman in the doorway pointing a rifle at the open window. The helicopter settled down ten metres away and Lyndsey was shepherded up and into the body of the aircraft. The airman then returned for the prostrate Jeff, who was bundled in next to Lyndsey. Ten seconds later the chopper was up and away. As it departed another of the interlopers foolishly came to the window brandishing a weapon, and the second crewman promptly fired two warning shots into the wall above his head. As he ducked back inside, the two survivors were lifted out into the evening sky.

  Jeff and Lyndsey Hyne had made it!

  Day 25

  Wednesday 8th January

  Sandringham House – Norfolk

  At first light on the eighth of January, a stream of fifteen C-130 Hercules aircraft and dozens of helicopters and smaller transports took off from bases in Germany, France and the Low Countries armed with millions of Ann Fletcher’s leaflets for the British and Irish survivors. The leaflet outlined the situation and gave tips on further survival and the best ways to attract attention and effect a successful rescue. These aircraft operated at above one thousand feet above ground level (AGL) because simultaneously, hundreds of helicopters were launching from ships stationed around the British coast in an attempt to find and pick up survivors – and they all flew at below one thousand feet. Mid-air collisions were always an issue – and strict flying discipline and avoidance was to be maintained.

  An ingenious system for transporting the survivors to eventual safety on mainland Europe had been devised. They would fly to the helicopters’ mother ships for medical triage and then be transported to hospital ships for treatment if necessary. From there they would travel by air, or sea and land, to their final destinations. It wasn’t ideal, but the best that could be done at such short notice.

  The Prime Minister posed more questions for Ann Fletcher.

  ‘I’d like a twice daily update on numbers, Ann – which we should report in the newspaper with names, if at all possible. It will give great heart to people in the camps if they spot a family member on a list. However, I see no point in publishing the names of the dead yet – although I suppose we are going to have to start recovering corpses in due course.’

  ‘I agree, Ian, it would do more harm than good. Let these poor souls have so
me hope, at least. By the way, we are slowly but surely combing through the camps in Germany and flushing out useful bodies – so to speak. Doctors, nurses, engineers, military personnel, minor politicians, administrators, tradesmen and priests are all being asked to volunteer. We’ll certainly need plenty of them! The governments of most European countries are helping enormously with accommodation. Our embassies all over the world are starting to come to grips with the issues and, to be fair; our citizens are beginning to properly appreciate the enormous difficulties involved.’

  ‘That's good news, Ann, because we are going to need a hell of a lot of goodwill over the months and years to come. Now, to change the subject, have our Royal Family been dispatched yet?’ replied the PM.

  ‘Well, they are all packed and ready to go. A fleet of helicopters will transport the minor royals to their destinations by close of play today - which brings me to our move to Brussels. It's planned for the day after tomorrow – Friday the 10th. That should give us time to review our choices for the Cabinet and transfer them to the city for the first meeting at noon on the same day. Agreed?’

  Sir Ian nodded.

  ‘That's good, Ann. Is there anything else of pressing urgency before I start the round of radio calls?’

  ‘Well, actually there is. I spoke with the Met Men early this morning and their prognosis for next week is worrying.’

  Sir Ian looked up sharply from his desk.

  ‘Why, not more damned snow, surely?’

  Ann Fletcher momentarily hesitated to pass on the forecast.

  ‘No, Ian, next Monday they are predicting rain – and lots of it!’

  Day 24

  Tuesday 7th January

  Tesco Superstore – Brighton

  After a good night’s undisturbed sleep, Patric and Joanie Silver woke refreshed – and hungry.

  The ex-‘inmates’ had been exceedingly busy whilst they had recovered some of their strength, and the Chair of the new council had been waiting to speak to Patric. He waited until the pair had washed and had eaten a cooked breakfast before revealing his news.

  ‘Good Morning Patric…Joanie…my name is Bob Nixon and I’ve been elected to lead the new council of five which will defend this supermarket and those within it until help arrives – whenever that may be. We held the elections last night and have co-opted that Magistrate fellow who was on the old committee. Actually, he is an exceedingly nice chap, very useful and knowledgeable. The first thing we did was to make an inventory of supplies, and we found an incredible amount of food and water in the storehouse attached to the shop. That bastard was really holding out on us – there is everything we need back there, including enough Camping Gaz equipment to host a Boy Scout Jamboree!’

  Patric smiled: ‘I wondered where the hot breakfast came from. It was all so unnecessary. They could have guessed that the snow wasn’t going to last forever. What about defences?’

  ‘We've bolstered the front entrance with all sorts of furniture and it is quite well barricaded. We've done the same at the rear. There is only one real entrance back there and I suspect that the delivery roller blind is beneath snow level. Unfortunately, we haven’t got any weapons, so a determined attack by a force of men with guns may very well succeed.’

  ‘Yes, that's a pity, because some people out there will definitely have weapons and will be prepared to use them. Are you going to admit friendly survivors?’

  Bob was uncertain:

  ‘How would we know if they’re friendly or not? How would we know if they were not faking dire need and then turned into a Trojan Horse? It's a difficult one.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Patric, ‘but you can't really leave people out in the snow when you’ve got so many resources now. Surely rescue will come sooner rather than later?’

  Bob Nixon was in a dilemma and said that he'd have to talk with his council on that one. He then asked if Patric was still leaving:

  ‘I think so, but not today. We’ll leave tomorrow. I could do with a really good rest and feed-up before setting off. So could Joanie.’

  ‘Well, feel free to eat what you like. You wouldn't believe how much food is in the back. It's incredible!’ offered Bob.

  Later in the morning Patric and Joanie took an extensive tour of the store, and spent the remainder of the day gathering items for the trek they had planned for the next morning. Patric had a rough plan in his mind for getting to safety and that involved being near the sea. He planned to ‘borrow’ a small craft and sail to France. However, he wasn’t at all sure if any small vessels had survived the weather. They'd find out sure enough tomorrow.

  During the day there were several sightings by the supermarket look-outs of helicopters buzzing around. This made Patric think and he talked it over with Joanie.

  ‘It looks like the authorities – where ever they are, have started some sort of search and rescue mission. Do you think that we should hold up here and just wait and see?’

  Joanie didn’t answer his question directly as she had something else on her mind:

  ‘I don’t know about that, but I’ve been thinking about our parents. (They had no offspring to consider.) I know you must be concerned about your family up north, but I suppose there is not much we can do to help them from here – it's just too far to travel. However, my mum and dad – if they are OK – are only down the road in Worthing. Do you think we could check out their house to see if they are alright?’

  Patric had already considered this option and was almost certain that Joanie’s mum and dad were probably gone. He really didn’t want her to find them if they weren’t alive. It would be harrowing for his wife and he’d like to spare her that extra suffering.

  ‘I'm not sure, Joanie, do you think we could travel the ten miles or so in these conditions? And then, could we find their bungalow – the snow is thirty feet deep in places and beginning to melt? It's a tricky journey to make.’

  Joanie nodded in less than wholehearted agreement and didn’t press the point, but Patric could see that she really wanted to give it a go, so he spent an hour thinking it through.

  By the time they retired for the night their haversacks were loaded with goodies and enough supplies for two or three days, which should see them to safety. They had been given two sets of skis and boots, donated by one of their fellow ‘inmates’ who felt that he wouldn't need them again. The majority assumed that rescue was imminent and couldn’t understand why the pair was so insistent on leaving.

  Nevertheless, Patric was determined to leave the next morning and he broke the good news to Joanie that evening.

  ‘Okay, we’ll head for your parents place in Worthing. We've got skis, supplies, proper clothing and a Sat Nav. I’ve programmed in your parents address and it's 9.8 miles in a straight line. I reckon we can do that in a day easily – it's only four or so hours at a steady pace. There are several problems to overcome though.’

  ‘What do you mean,’ said Joanie, ‘it's stopped snowing now.’

  Patric tried to outline his reservations:

  ‘Well, firstly, we have to hope that we don’t meet any hostile people on the journey. Remember the men we expelled. They could be waiting for us just outside. Secondly, if we find the bungalow – how do we get inside – there is a lot of snow to dig through. Thirdly, what if the weather turns? Finally, if one of these search helicopters offers us a lift to safety, what do we say? ‘No thank you’ and just carry on? I'm not so sure that that's a good idea. So, we have to consider all of the potential issues involved. Nevertheless, having said all that, it will probably be a cakewalk, so we’ll give it our best shot. We've really got little to lose at this stage in the proceedings.’

  Joanie was a little more concerned after this speech from Patric and was less certain of the eventual success of their little side trip.

  ‘Oh, should we just give it up then? I didn’t think it through that deeply.’

  ‘No, we’ll set off tomorrow as planned. At 4am, in darkness, from an upper window, where the offices a
re. I’ve identified an escape route which can get us away from the shop as quickly as possible. We just have to hope that any potential interceptors are still sleeping in whatever shelter they have found for themselves. By the time it's properly light we should be a good mile or so away.’

  They discussed the route to Worthing – which was straightforward enough. It was essentially a straight line, but Patric decided to zig-zag between buildings to provide cover and rest stops. It was quite late before they finally settled down and Patric was excited by the prospect of getting out into the fresh air once again. They had been virtual prisoners for over a week and he had no inhibitions about venturing into the unknown. After all, as he had told Joanie – they had very little to lose.

  Day 25

  Wednesday 8th January

  Sandringham House – Norfolk

  Whilst the Royal Family were being packed up and conveyed to palaces all over Europe, barring the very senior members, Sir Ian James, newly appointed Prime Minister and HE Dame Ann Fletcher, his deputy, were putting the finishing touches to their proposed Cabinet, which would have its inaugural meeting this coming Friday in Brussels.

  Brussels was chosen as the HQ for the displaced British Government because of the substantial administrative infrastructure already in place. Europeans had been extraordinarily generous and helpful in dealing with Britain and her problems. Huge numbers of displaced persons were now being housed and fed in private homes, specially erected camps and hotels throughout the continent, stretching from France in the west to Greece in the east. Hundreds of thousands of Britons were being supported in holiday destinations throughout the world, but this unqualified support could not go on for ever and Sir Ian James was negotiating with leaders round the globe to try and establish protocols and agreements to more permanently house these increasingly desperate citizens.