UKD3: UK Dark Series Book 3

by Chris Harris

  Jerry finally declared me fit for duty, but to my frustration, there was very little that I could do.

  Pete was constantly thinking up ways to keep people busy: organising games and competitions, and persuading anyone with an area of expertise to give a lecture.

  Allan, who with the help of the engineers, was always desperate to start on another project, constructed a firing range on a neighbouring street and set about training us all on how to use the new weapons we’d received from the base. The “range hut”, heated by a rudimentary fireplace, provided much needed shelter for his eager pupils while they waited their turn, and soon everyone had a basic level of competence on all the new weapons we had.

  We talked about our own way of life now and how it compared to that of the early pioneers and people living subsistence lifestyles. Like them, we’d spent the warmer months gathering enough food and supplies to last us through the long winter and now, forced by the weather, we were having to spend long periods of time cooped up together. We kept “cabin fever” at bay by occupying ourselves with jobs or just enjoying the opportunity to spend time together and strengthen our family and friendship bonds.

  It must have been incredibly hard on the smaller groups. We at least had the knowledge that the weather would only last for a few more weeks to keep us going, but the size of our community was also a huge benefit, as there was always someone different to interact with, and a new and different conversation or activity to join in with. But still, with every new fall of snow we would ask ourselves, “How much longer will this go on for?” The weather was never far from anyone’s mind.

  As January slowly turned into February, the weather began to improve and temperatures rose slightly. Although snowdrifts up to a couple of metres deep still lay against the walls of the houses, we began to hope for a thaw. From the lookout post we’d constructed at the top of the church tower, we’d spotted a few distant plumes of smoke, possibly a sign of other groups we hadn’t discovered yet.

  Using a mixture of compass bearings, maps and local knowledge, we managed to identify their approximate positions in the hope of paying them a visit once conditions allowed.

  Eventually the snow levels dropped enough to attempt to reach the base by vehicle.

  As we had nothing better to do, we all gathered round to watch as the two armoured vehicles left the compound, their crew compartments full of soldiers. There hadn’t been sufficient room for everyone who’d been scheduled to return, but although many of them had young families they were desperate to see back at the base, no one had wanted to take someone else’s place. So, when volunteers were called for, not one of them had applied. It finally came down to Harry picking names out of a helmet, refusing to take no for an answer and ordering the lucky winners to “just get on the bloody bus!”

  As we huddled together shivering in the near-zero temperatures, watching the vehicles until they disappeared around the corner, my eyes were naturally drawn to the tracks left in the snow.

  Absentmindedly, I remarked to Allan, who was standing beside me, “If we don’t get another fall of snow, until that lot melts we’ll have a bloody great arrow advertising where we are and where the base is.”

  Allan nodded thoughtfully, “Well there’s not much we can do about that now. But with the measures we’ve already taken and the new weapons and extra manpower we have, I’m pretty sure we can keep ourselves safe. Things will only go wrong if we relax or drop our guard.”

  We turned and walked back into the house.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As we watched the snow gradually retreat, we began to look forward to venturing out again and wondered what the coming year would bring. We were confident that we could protect ourselves against physical threats and we still had the reassurance of a store of food for back-up, and the skills and knowledge to catch or grow more, so we weren’t too concerned about going hungry.

  Yes, we knew there were still dangers out there, but we felt in no immediate peril.

  As I’d predicted, groups and individuals had begun to appear at the barricades. They were all in a pitiful state and weak from starvation, malnutrition and frostbite. Out of sheer pity we offered them whatever help we could, but we couldn’t afford to allow them inside the compound. We prepared more houses outside for them to stay in and recuperate, and offered them all the medical help and food they needed, but after the last incident, we’d had to harden our hearts and stick to what we’d agreed.

  We weren’t going to place anyone from the community in danger out of a misguided sense of kindness and trust.

  Although we found it hard to believe, their stories made it clear that they were the lucky ones. They had survived. Thousands more had been unable to find food, and had either starved to death or been preyed upon by gangs who’d stolen everything they’d managed to gather. Most had been discouraged from returning to the cities by the alarming accounts given by the people who were escaping. Instead, they’d opted for trying to survive in the countryside. Many of them had banded together for protection, working together to gather what food was available.

  The human body is capable of withstanding the most extraordinary hardship. If the stories they told applied to the rest of the country, then clearly millions of people had been clinging to survival by their very fingernails.

  But then the winter had hit and many had lost their battle with the freezing temperatures. Whole families had huddled together under blankets in whatever shelter they could find, and died. The conditions had made it impossible to venture out. As soon as they were able to, the few that remained had been forced to leave behind the bodies of their family members and friends. The few who managed to reach us said that even the route to us, through the tyre tracks, had been littered with the bodies of people who had almost made it.

  The base was reporting similar stories. Due to a shortage of suitable accommodation they were building a tented village to house the survivors.

  We knew that what we were doing was important to the recovery programme.

  If we could play just a small part in nursing these people back to health, then hopefully they would be strong enough to travel to the base to begin the important work of growing food for everyone, safe in the knowledge that they and their families would be under the protection of the base.

  Towards the end of February, the weather changed abruptly. The temperature rose by fifteen degrees and we experienced a bewildering mixture of clear sunny days, interchanged with days of torrential rain. The melting snow and the heavy rain caused widespread local flooding. As there are no major rivers or waterways flowing through Birmingham, we escaped the worst of it, with just a few roads rendered impassable by a swollen stream or brook. We knew the waters would soon subside.

  By this time, every last trace of the snow had gone, and along with it, the tracks that had led the refugees to our door.

  The smoke from our cooking fires was still a beacon of hope for the few who managed to make it to us or one of our neighbours, but there were far fewer now, and most of these were escorted by the other communities around us.

  Including the people who had approached the base, a quick census revealed that we’d still only been able to save two hundred and fifty people. And now that the snows had gone, patrols sent out from the base came back with shocking reports of fields choked with the dead bodies of men, women and children. The planners set themselves the grim task of re-calculating the expected survival rate.

  It came out at a truly shocking five percent.

  According to their estimates, only three million people were left alive in the United Kingdom (about half the population of the West Midlands, prior to the event). We shook our heads in despair. We’d seen so few people lately, we knew it was entirely possible that the number was even lower than that.

  Weekly convoys began between our road and the base, primarily to transport the new arrivals, who wanted to take part in the recovery plan. Most were keen to participate, having recognised that it was the onl
y way to ensure their survival, but inexplicably, one or two still refused.

  While they were recovering, we offered them support, but if they were declared fit enough to travel and then showed no interest in the recovery plan, we lost no time in giving them a quantity of supplies, wishing them well and sending them on their way. If they weren’t prepared to contribute, then they could expect no more help from us.

  The missions to secure the weapon locations were mainly successful. Large quantities of weapons had been recovered and although a few places were found to be empty, with signs of forced entry, the majority were still secure.

  The “gun culture” had never been prevalent in British society, so we assumed that most people had concentrated primarily on food rather than worrying about weapons.

  Few people would have known where to find firearms and even fewer would have known how to use them. It was easy to see how so many people could have fallen prey to gangs like Gumin’s.

  As the convoys spread out across the country, they kept us informed of the survivors they found. The people they encountered were given the following options:

  They could remain where they were, sign up to the recovery plan and wait to be contacted again once the plan could be coordinated on a national level.

  They could head directly to the base in Herefordshire, and depending on the skills they had, they could begin to contribute to the plan there.

  If they were likely to pass by us on the way to the base, they were given our location and asked to wait for a “lift” on the next convoy. If this was the case, we were informed of the size of their group and given an approximate arrival date, so that we could prepare for them.

  A few of the groups we were notified about never arrived, and some reported attacks from other communities or roving gangs. For the ones who hadn’t arrived, we could only assume the worst.

  If we were given enough information to pinpoint the locations of a gang or a hostile community, Paul Berry would set out with some heavily armed men on a “search and destroy” mission. In some cases, after some careful handling, amicable relations were established after all, and the targets would willingly sign up to the plan. Other groups had clearly been attacked too many times and lost too many people. They were no longer prepared to trust anyone and adopted a “shoot first, ask questions later” policy. Sadly, this left the mission commander with no room for negotiation and he would have to use whatever force was necessary to eliminate them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Although much of our time was now taken up with helping the survivors that approached us, we still had a community to run, and as a matter of pride we were keen to continue scavenging, hunting and growing our own food rather than just relying on the stores we had.

  We began to sow and tend to the areas that we had already prepared, and worked hard to clear more ground. More areas were being cultivated, because we were planning to create an extensive area of polytunnels to enable us to grow food all year round.

  The chickens and rabbits were proving very successful. Butch had lived up to his name and had already sired his first litter. We planned to let the population grow a little before using them for food but as we all knew it was likely to explode shortly, we were looking forward to the prospect of rabbit stew on the menu.

  McQueen the rooster was enjoying himself to such an extent we’d had to expand the chicken run with a separate nursery area to accommodate the new arrivals.

  The farmer at the base was providing us with a wealth of information and advice on how we could make the best use of what we had available. The radio calls to the base sometimes sounded like episodes of Farmer’s Question Time.

  Chris Garland was running continuous Forest Skills courses and educating us all in bushcraft, survival and foraging skills. He taught us that nature surrounds us with all sorts of things that can be put to good use, or be a valuable source of nutrition. In fact, his lessons were proving so popular that Pete was obliged to make up a waiting list so that everyone would have an opportunity to learn. As Chris explained, you never stopped learning, because each new season yielded new treasures, many of them edible, and useful additions to our food stocks.

  We continued with the foraging missions, although the radius of these was expanding continually as we systematically stripped out anything we could use from houses, offices, shops and warehouses.

  These missions also functioned as security patrols, and enabled us to keep in touch with the few groups that had decided to remain and help with the recovery plan by becoming as self-sufficient as possible. They in turn, would then be in a position to offer help to anyone who approached them.

  We set up a rudimentary trading scheme with these groups, exchanging surplus goods or passing on requests or messages from other groups living beyond the range of their territory. We also delivered seeds and medical supplies from the government stores. If they were participating in the plan, then the government was determined to offer what assistance it could, however small that might be, as a sign that they were receiving their support. The trades were rarely to our advantage, but we knew that we were setting an important precedent.

  We also offered a meal and a drink to any passing foraging patrol from other communities we knew. And if it was getting too late for them to return, we also gave them a bed for the night.

  The other groups began to reciprocate, and this helped to strengthen the bonds between us.

  As we’d hoped, tracking down the distant smoke trails seen from the church tower, had brought to light a few new groups and we’d succeeded in making contact. Most decided to head for Herefordshire but a few still opted to remain.

  The government policy change that had resulted from the women’s abduction made sense to us all. We agreed that it had been the right thing to do.

  The plan had been for most people to leave the base and begin working mainly on agricultural projects. As the population increased, so did the need for additional space. No one new was being allowed access to the base facilities. They would be told about it, but as all they required was shelter and food, these could be provided above ground. Therefore, there was really no need for them to enter the base.

  Occasionally an exception might be made for someone with a specific skill, or for a medical emergency, for which the base hospital might be required.

  In the future, as the number of its occupants dwindled, the plan was for the base to become an administration hub. Possibly, I was told, it might be “mothballed” altogether at some point, as by then it would probably just be a waste of valuable resources.

  As the weeks wore on, a new problem presented itself, which threatened to seriously undermine everything we’d achieved.

  From the outset, we’d been careful to burn the bodies of our enemies, mindful that from a “public health” perspective, this was the best way of disposing of them. We’d also adopted this policy with any bodies we found in the locality. But now that the snow had gone and we were venturing further out, we discovered that the bodies of thousands of people lay rotting where they had died. Horrified, we set about the grisly business of trying to dispose of them.

  But the sheer volume of bodies made this task impossible, and as the temperatures rose higher, we quickly began to realise that our efforts weren’t making the slightest dent in the number that were still decomposing in the sun.

  The receding floodwaters, which had affected the entire country, had other unexpected and terrible results. The River Rea, a small river that flows through Birmingham, had been transformed into a raging torrent by the meltwater and heavy rain, before subsiding and becoming a gentle stream again.

  But as a result, the bodies of hundreds of men, women and children lay discarded like litter along its length, either trapped by obstacles in the flowing water, or thrown up on to the banks on either side. They must have been washed into the river by the floods. The River Rea is just a short tributary of the River Tame, and only fifteen miles long. I could only imagine what all the other
river banks in the country looked like.

  Like everyone else, I found it impossible to look down on such an apocalyptic scene for more than a few seconds. Yet I knew with sickening certainty that the image of it would stay with me forever.

  The sun shone down without pity, the increasing warmth accelerating the rate of decay. Some of the bodies were in a more advanced state of decomposition than others, suggesting that they had met their deaths before the freeze had begun. Clouds of flies swarmed over and around the bodies and carrion birds pecked and pulled mercilessly at the rotting flesh. Every time a patrol passed one of these scenes, played out along the river, they brought back reports of the worsening stench and the growing number of rats and dogs that could be seen feeding on the pitiful remains.

  Before long the sweet, cloying smell of death and decay was making its way as far as our community. Depending on the wind direction, it varied from being faintly unpleasant to stomach churning.

  Either way, we had no choice but to endure it and hope that time would bring it to a natural conclusion.

  Understandably, the reek from the bodies had a terrible effect on morale. Moods darkened and tempers became frayed, as the miasma of evil settled over the whole community.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dogs, up until now, had not been much of a problem, but now we began to see them more frequently.

  Out of all of us, the few dogs we kept as pets on the road, including my two, had adapted best to life after the event. They’d readily accepted the increasing size of their “packs” as neighbours moved in with each other, presumably because this meant more fuss and attention. When the fences had first come down between the properties, there had been a few minor tiffs between them, while the hierarchy in the four-legged community was established, but that soon settled down.