Nuclear Midnight (6 page)

Tim woke Alex mid-morning and led him to a small room at the rear of the house. The radio occupied a large table in the centre of the room. Tim switched it on and tuned the dial. At eleven precisely, the static suddenly stopped and the following statement was issued: ‘This is an official broadcast by the wartime government. Great Britain has suffered a major nuclear attack. Most military installations, industrial and population centres have been hit. You are warned to remain in your homes. Large movements of people from the towns have been reported. We advise all would be refugees to turn back. Anyone committing violent acts will be shot. The government is doing its best to implement emergency measures. Food rationing centres will be established on the outskirts of cities in a few days. Country areas will have to live off their own produce until the situation improves. Food rationing will be on the basis of health and willingness to work. Fifteen hundred calories will be given to those who agree to work; non workers will receive five hundred calories. All hospitals are severely overcrowded; resources are limited and must be directed towards those thought capable of survival. The government realises the hardship these measures will create but no good will be served in this present crisis by a failure to face the present reality. We therefore implore everyone to work together to improve conditions and reduce suffering as much as possible. A further report will be broadcast at the same time, on this frequency, tomorrow, and thereafter at times to be announced.’ The voice cut out abruptly.

‘Fifteen hundred calories a day,’ said Tim shaking his head, as he turned off the set. ‘That's hardly enough to sustain a human, let alone keep him fit enough for a full day's work.’

Alex nodded grimly. ‘And if you refuse, you starve to death on five hundred calories a day. People won't take that type of treatment, they'll riot.’

‘Yes,’ Tim agreed, ‘they'll overrun the food stations, then head for the country to grab what more they can.’

The conversation had come dangerously near to what Tina had said earlier, and nothing more was said at that time.

After lunch Alex wandered restlessly about the house, from room to room and from window to window, peering out into the overwhelming greyness as though a different angle on it would somehow show a chink of light. But his mind was busy. He was turning over the events of the past few days, trying once more to come to terms with the disappearance of his former life, his prospects, his family and Jason. Who knew how far this contaminated wasteland stretched? Perhaps all around the world, so that there would be no escape from it. In the living room he approached the window and rubbed some of the condensation off the panes with his sleeve. Large flakes of snow jiggled their way past and settled on the growing heap on the sill. He tapped the glass and the snow subsided, but at once more flakes settled and began to rebuild, as before.

The door opened and Tina came in, walking unsteadily. She gave him a half-hearted smile, then sank down onto a chair.

Alex thought how weak and fragile she looked; though he knew there was an enormous depth of strength within her. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘In a day or two, I'll pick up. How about you?’

Alex was silent, knowing that it wasn't his physical condition she was enquiring about.

‘Are you still thinking about Jason?’ she persisted.

He made a face.

‘You must have been very close.’

He began to fret at this. These were his personal concerns he did not want to discuss. He hunched his shoulders and turned to stare out of the window.

‘It might help if you talked about it?’ she probed further.

He said sharply: ‘I don't want to talk!’

She leaned back in her chair.

At that moment he just wished she would go away. That would be the tactful thing, not to probe any further. But she remained where she was, her hand pressed lightly to her lips.

‘You and I are very different,’ she said, after a long period of silence. When he still didn't respond, she continued, ‘you brood over the past and let it distort your reasoning.’

That was more than he could stand. He turned round sharply. ‘There's nothing wrong with mourning the dead!’

‘If that's all that you're doing?’

‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

‘You're not just feeling sorry for yourself, are you?’

Her question infuriated him. ‘Aren't you upset that your parents died?’ he snorted. ‘Don't you care?’

‘I loved them,’ she said simply. ‘But they're dead. There was nothing I could have done to prevent their deaths.’

‘I'm still alive,’ he fumed. ‘And that's it, is it? That's all you have to say?’

‘Yes. Oh, don't look so superior,’ she continued, seeing his disgusted expression. ‘You don't hold the monopoly on feelings. I hurt just as much as you do, except I choose not to dwell on it. Nothing has ever been changed by dwelling on the past.’

Alex held her gaze for a moment longer, then sighed and turned away. ‘It's not just the past,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It's everything past, present and future. I don't think I'm capable of surviving in this world, and I don't think I want to.’

‘You mean you want to give up?’ she asked. ‘Lie down and let someone finish you off, like they do a lame horse? You may as well have let them shoot you at the hospital.’

‘I had someone to live for at the hospital. Now I have nothing. What's the use of dragging on from day to day, week to week, just for the sake of it? Not knowing where your next meal is coming from, or if the next people you meet will try to kill you for your food? Too scared to relax for a moment and all the time slowly dying of radiation sickness?’

‘Things are not that grim,’ Tina said firmly. ‘You're letting your imagination run away with you. It won't be like this forever. We've only seen what it's like here; this may be the worst there is.’

‘No, you know that's not true. There will be much worse. The country may never recover; for all we know the whole world may be in this state.’

‘If it is, we'll have to accept that. You can't give up just because the going gets tough!’

‘Why not?’ Alex exclaimed. ‘What's the point of going on?’

‘You can't just quit life like it was some hobby you've lost interest in.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘If only it were that simple.’

There was sudden silence after these last words which made him look across to see what she was thinking. She had an almost quizzical expression on her face, as though she could not make him out at all. ‘What are you trying to say, Alex,’ she asked finally.

‘It’s just ... ‘He paused with the effort to condense his thoughts into words. ‘It’s just that I don't want to be responsible for a person's death.’

‘Life, Alex,’ she corrected, ‘a person's life. You have already assumed that we are going to die.’

He threw back his head, his hackles rising swiftly again. ‘I don't assume we're going to die,’ he almost shouted. ‘I'm just scared of someone else depending on me. I'm not a natural leader. I'll probably let you down.’

She nodded, as his meaning became clear at last. ‘I’m not depending on you or anyone,’ she replied firmly. ‘I'll make my own decisions on my future. What happens to me will be my own doing and nobody else's.’

He shook his head. ‘If we continue to travel together, then like it or not, we will be depending on each other, Tina. I'm just saying I don't know how I will react in a difficult situation. Don't you ever feel frightened? Don't you wonder whether you'll have the strength to survive?’

‘Yes, but I can only do my best. If it's not enough,’ she shrugged.

‘The hope's there, Alex,’ she continued. ‘Be strong. We have only to find it. And I think we've as much chance as anybody.’

There was a ring of truth about this. The slate had been wiped clean. It was up to the survivors to inscribe it, if they had the courage. And if they had not, then they could die like the rest. Reluctantly, he turned back from the window to nod his agreement, but to his surprise the chair was empty. Tina had already left the room.

Over the next few days he spent most of his waking hours talking to Tina. Their discussions ranged widely, and whatever the topic, he found her mind alert and her insights deep and probing. He had never met anyone like her. Before long most of the emotional barriers behind which people shield their more delicate feelings were breaking down. The speed at which their relationship progressed scared Alex. He told himself the reasons were obvious. They needed each other. Survival depended on mutual trust and commitment to each other. He wondered in normal times whether he would be this affected by her. Something told him he probably would be.

Tina began to regain her strength and their talk finally returned to their present situation. Both agreed they must leave the Wanes as soon as she was strong enough. The government broadcasts had indicated that the country areas would be receiving no help, at least for the foreseeable future. This meant that the Wanes would need every scrap of food they had stored.

Alex asked Tim for maps and they both set to work finding the places least likely to have been affected by the holocaust. Tim pointed out the location of the village. It was some thirty kilometres east of Taunton, and very nearly on the Somerset-Dorset border. To the west lay the counties of Devon and Cornwall, which had little in the way of military bases, industrial centres or large cities. Wales was in a similar position, except for its southern fringe. After a lengthy discussion it was agreed that they would head north to the Bristol Channel and cross over into Wales. Cornwall, it was true, would be closer, but would be more likely to be inundated with refugees than north Wales. Also, the more isolated Welsh hills might not have suffered such heavy fallout as further south. Of course, all such plans could only be tentative, for no one knew what the conditions were really like; they were only formulated as a guide, to be changed as circumstances might direct.

On the fourth day after their arrival, they were ready to set out. The Wanes came to the front door to bid farewell to their visitors. Alex had managed to squeeze into a pair of old walking boots of Tim’s, and Tina too had a new pair of boots belonging to Margaret, who wasn't completely satisfied until they were both covered from head to foot in thick woollen clothes. Tim had also given Alex an old cloth daypack, a compass, maps and enough food for five days. In return Alex had handed over his rifle and ammunition. He insisted that they take it, saying that it would only attract attention to themselves. The gift was gratefully accepted.

Leaving the village, they steered a course roughly northwards, skirting, with the aid of the map, the major roads or settlements where they might meet other, more desperate survivors. The weather was showing a slight improvement; the snow had stopped and the murk had receded enough for them to distinguish the shapes of houses in the distance. Travelling was still very difficult, however, as the recently fallen snow remained soft and powdery, reaching above Tina's thighs at times in snowdrifts.

By mid-afternoon they had descended into a large fog bank further down the valley. Alex had only very dim memories of the fogs of London. How delightful his boyhood memories seemed in retrospect, when he had played with Jason, dancing between the wisps of mist that drifted under the street lamps! But this fog was nothing like that; it felt wrong, dirty, grey, defiled in some way. The air seemed almost liquid, a liquid that scalded the throat and burned the lungs. It reminded Alex of the old pea-souper smogs he had read about that used to choke London before they banned coal fires. And it was so unbearably cold. Soon ice started crystallising on his clothing and across his eyelashes and eyebrows. His hair became stiff and brittle, where his breath froze on it. The world had become a grey, pitiless place.

The visibility quickly dropped to less than ten metres, forcing Alex to switch on his torch. Sounds, also, were distorted in some way, so that noises that may have been hundreds of metres away were amplified and misdirected until they seemed to be coming from many directions at once. Before they had entered the fog Alex had noted a river about two hundred metres on his right. The noise from the river now seemed closer, and mixed in with it were definite sounds of people trudging through the snow. It was as though they had unwittingly stumbled across some major thoroughfare. Occasionally they could hear voices, too, raised in anger and laced with violence and fear. They quickened their pace, stumbling in their anxiety as they tried to steer a course away from the voices closing in all round them.

After nearly an hour, tired from their own exertions, they heard several shots very close by; but again the direction eluded them. Only minutes later they came across two bodies, still shedding their blood into the snow. The faces of both were bloody stumps from shotgun blasts; the clothes all but stripped from them. Two sets of footprints led off in the direction from where they had just come. The murderers must have passed within a stone's throw without knowing it. The shock of this discovery sent a fresh wave of panic through Alex and Tina. They began to imagine pairs of hands coming at them through the mist, crazed faces suddenly appearing around every hollow, every crevice.

Alex’s plan had been to follow the direction of the valley northwards, but the thought of spending a night in this treacherous fog almost sent him crazy. After some discussion, they decided to abandon the valley and head eastward, hoping to strike higher ground and rise above the fog. Over the next hour they scrambled and clawed their way up the slopes, their fear overriding their fatigue. Several more distant shots sounded, along with other indications of people passing just out of sight. Occasionally they even spotted shadowy forms, which quickly merged into the greyness again, obviously as terrified as they were of meeting a violent end. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the mist thinned out and was gone. They had climbed above the fogbank, they were free, somewhere on top of a snow encrusted ridge overlooking a desolate world. They hugged each other and laughed hysterically. They had woken up from a nightmare.