Nuclear Midnight (4 page)

‘You're just guessing,’ Ted retorted, though his voice was tinged with uncertainty for the first time. ‘The government could already be on the surface trying to restore order.’

But he had already lost the argument. Hugh just shrugged. ‘I'd rather be shot looting than die of starvation,’ was his only comment. The others murmured their agreement and Ted, finding himself with no support, sat down suddenly and did not pursue the argument.

As there were no further objections, it was decided to spend the next couple of hours searching the shops for supplies. The general reluctance of the group was overcome when Alex suggested that only those supplies needed immediately should be taken with them. The rest could be hidden in one of the shops and picked up on the way back.

After a while the storm passed over and the company wearily resumed their journey, this time in search of the shopping centre. Alex was given a hessian bag and assigned to a large supermarket at the end of the street. He went in through the smashed glass panels at the front, kicking away the snow piled inside and climbing over one of the checkout counters. The floor of the supermarket must have been awash before the temperature dropped below freezing, because it was now covered in a black sheet of ice. He flashed his torch down the aisles until he found the dried food section. Kenneth had given very specific instructions on the type of food to collect. Only packaged food was to be taken, preferably dried, with a high content of protein and complex carbohydrates. In places the shelves were empty and packages of food had spilled onto the floor, but it was impossible to tell whether it was looters or the holocaust which had caused the mess.

Alex opened his bag and started working his way along the shelves, reading the labels and trying to deduce the best items to take. At the end of the aisle he came to a frozen meat section, which appeared to be largely untouched. He thought of a roast leg of lamb with fresh mint and lots of gravy and stuffing. The memory brought back the smell of the roast coming out of the oven, and a sudden sadness overwhelmed him. That would be another thing he would only ever dream of in the future. He turned away, then stopped, a small figure was huddled between some empty shelves. It was such a shock that he let out an involuntary gasp. The figure was completely motionless, and for a second Alex thought it was another frozen corpse, but as he looked closer he saw its chest was moving. Its head was between its knees and covered by the hood of a large, bulky jacket, which also hid much of the figure's body. He took a few steps closer and shone his torch over it. The head moved sluggishly, like someone awakening from a deep sleep.

‘Excuse me,’ he said softly.

The head jolted back abruptly and Alex found himself staring down at a woman around his own age. For a moment they gaped at each other, both too startled to speak. She had dark hair pushed back loosely; accentuating the pallor of her face, but her eyes remained bright and intense.

‘I was searching for food when I noticed you here,’ Alex said awkwardly. ‘I thought you might be hurt or sick.’

‘I’m not hurt or sick,’ retorted the women, shaking her head defiantly.

He hesitated, then suddenly realised he still had his balaclava on and hastily pulled it off. ‘I’m, Alex Carhill,’ he said shyly.

The women’s eyes focused on the half-filled bag he was dragging behind him.

‘Supplies,’ he explained with a sheepish grin. ‘We've stopped off briefly to get some supplies.’

‘We?’

‘Yes. I'm with a group of people travelling to the local hospital.’

‘The hospital?’ she echoed.

Alex explained about the car accident and how Jason and he had been separated. She slowly nodded as he spoke, but her face soon became dull and lifeless. Her eyes focused on a point somewhere beyond him, and he doubted if she had heard anything. His voice trailed off and ended in mid-sentence. He stared at her again, feeling uncomfortable.

‘Look, I don't know what your situation is,’ he said, trying another tack, ‘but it seems to me that anyone sitting in a freezing supermarket in the dark must need some help. Don't you have any family, friends, anyone at all you can stay with?’

For a moment she seemed angry at his question. Her mouth tightened into a thin line and she returned his stare fiercely. ‘My parents are both dead,’ she said. ‘The house we were staying in collapsed. I'm the only one left.’

‘Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know,’ he said lamely, feeling like an idiot. ‘Do you know anyone in the village?’

She shook her head.

‘I see...’ He lowered the torch slightly so she only appeared as a dark shape amongst the shadows of the shelves. ‘So, what will you do?’ he pressed softly.

‘There's nothing I can do, except wait until the weather improves or help arrives.’

‘But suppose there isn't anyone left to help?’ he asked, lifting his torch so that he could see her face again.

‘Then I will have to cope as best I can.’

Alex watched her face carefully and felt sure he could see the first signs of self-doubt and confusion flicker across her features. ‘Why don't you come with us?’ he asked. ‘If you stay here you could freeze to death and you'll meet a lot of people scavenging for food. I'm sure they won't have any qualms about taking your food supply, if they can't find any themselves.’

She glanced around at the ice covered floor and the scattered cans of food all around her; then she folded her arms as though suddenly feeling cold.

‘There's nine of us,’ Alex continued. ‘I'm sure no one would object to one extra.’

‘What will you do once you reach the hospital?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘I'll see what my brother wants to do.’ There was a slight pause. ‘We'll think of something.’

She bowed her head and stared at the ground. After a pause, she gave a brief nod and then looked up at Alex. Her face had visibly softened. ‘I'd love to come along,’ she said.

The party accepted the new recruit with little interest. The food was pooled and the bulk of it stored under some loose floorboards at the back of the bakery. Three days' supply was divided up between the members of the party. Although it was still snowing, Hugh was all for pressing on to the hospital where there might be some form of heating, rather than lingering near the shopping centre. So on they went.

As they walked Alex watched the woman closely. There was not much of her. She was small, with a slight, almost delicate build. When she looked across at him he detected a depth of sadness in her eyes that nearly broke his heart. Almost without thinking, he reached out and put his arm around her. She smiled warmly at the gesture and Alex saw the softness in her. The suffering and loss was there, too, controlled, suppressed, but there all the same. He felt a sudden flood of feeling toward this woman, which astounded and perplexed him, so he shied away immediately. But the feeling remained, even though the moment had passed.

The women introduced herself as Tina Hartley. She had been holidaying in the area with her parents when the bombs hit. She was an only child, so the loss of her parents had hit hard. When it was clear that no help was coming, she had buried her parents amongst the ruins of the house. Since they had only a few days of food in the holiday house, after a week, she was forced to scavenge for food in the village.

After half an hour the snow had died out and the surrounding countryside became visible again. Spouting huge clouds of steam, the group had started a long ascent up a ridge. At the top, Hugh had assured them, they would see the lights of the hospital. Alex and Tina reached the top just behind Hugh. Both were out of breath. The rest of the group struggled up, one at a time, in a similar condition.

Hugh pointed to a group of lights at the bottom of the hill. ‘That's it,’ he announced. ‘Probably no more than a kilometre away.’

It took another twenty minutes of hard walking to reach the complex, which, as they approached through defoliated trees, had a strangely forlorn appearance. Like a row of dimly lit street lamps, it stretched for several hundred metres in both directions, finally terminating in a large sprawling car park. It wasn't until they reached the perimeter of the car park that the now familiar smashed windows and blown in doors became evident.

They entered the reception area only to find it deserted. Tables and chairs had been overturned, debris lay about and patches of what looked like frozen blood stained the floor. The party wandered around the mess in silence, hesitating in front of two large swinging doors. Beneath the doors a shaft of neon light stretched across the floor. The signs above the doors read. ‘Through to wards 1, 2 and 3’.

Alex walked over to the reception desk. Most of the drawers had been pulled out in some previous frantic and probably quite pointless search. Its contents lay strewn around. The computer screen had also been smashed and now lay bent and twisted against a nearby wall. He picked through the rubbish with a sinking heart, then noticed a large book bearing the word 'REGISTER', written in bold black letters on the cover. With rising hope, he fumbled through the pages. It contained lists of admissions dating from the seventh of July, the day of the holocaust. He ran his fingers down one page, then another, then another until, scrawled in almost illegible handwriting he read: ‘Jason Carhill, age 24, suspected fractured skull, Ward 3.’ With a sigh of relief, he called the rest of the group over. Soon they were all eagerly gathered round the register. Alex pushed his way to the back and found Tina near the reception entrance.

‘Is he there?’ she asked anxiously.

He smiled at her. ‘He's here all right, ward 3.’

Taking Tina's hand, he turned towards the swinging doors. But the distant crack of heavy boots stopped him in his tracks. The sound grew quickly, stifling even the excited sounds of the company. Suddenly the doors swung open and at least a dozen armed men, dressed in military uniform, burst in.

One of them carried a large kerosene lamp, which he placed on the floor between

the two groups. The leader was not hard to distinguish; he towered over his companions, both in height and physique. His large, blunt features and flattened nose gave him the appearance of a prize-fighter, more than a soldier. His thick, meaty hands rested near the trigger of an automatic rifle   he didn’t look too friendly.

In spite of the warlike posture, however, Alex could hardly repress a smile; his uniform was several sizes too small for him. His companions also wore dirty, ill-fitting clothes and several of them looked sick and weak.

The leader spoke in a rough, abrasive voice. ‘There's no room for you here. This hospital has been taken over by the military for its own personnel.’

‘We don't want medical attention,’ Hugh answered. ‘Over a week ago some road accident victims were admitted, we just want to visit them.’

The man shook his head. ‘We don't have any road accident victims here, only military personnel.’

A voice from the group which Alex, to his dismay, recognised as that of Ted Richards, spoke up. ‘So, what have you done with them?’ The tone was unfortunate.

The leader of the soldiers glared at him. ‘All patients who were not bedridden were asked to leave when we commandeered this hospital.’

‘But these people were too sick to leave,’ Ted replied.

The leader shifted his weight from one leg to another, frowning. ‘When we arrived a few days ago,’ he said flatly, ‘there were no car accident victims here. I would advise you to leave.’

The uneasiness of his soldiers standing behind him was by now clearly evident.

‘This country is under martial law, you could be shot for refusing,’ he continued menacingly.

Exclamations of anger and outrage greeted this remark. Alex, knew how they felt, coming all this way, only to be threatened with death. But something told him that the slightly absurd-looking leader wasn't bluffing and neither were his men.

Ted, however, failed to register this fact. He took another step forward. ‘We know they're here, it was written in the register.’

Alex saw the leader glance in surprise at the book, still in the hands of one of the company, then his face twisted into an ugly snarl. ‘If you don't leave now, we will open fire,’ he said forcibly.

Alex gripped Tina by the arm and guided her towards the back wall. He judged they would have to cover about five metres to the door if the firing started. The atmosphere had become electric. Both sides now tried silently to assess the intentions of the other. Once again it was Ted who, with monumental stupidity, broke the deadlock. Blindly, he blurted: ‘And whose bloody authority gives you the right to take such murderous action?’

The answer almost tore him in two as the leader opened fire. His men responded, cutting down the screaming company in a sudden volley of lead. With the first shots Alex dived for the door, dragging Tina after him. They spilled out into the snow, clambered to their feet and ran round the side of the building towards the distant trees. Behind them others of the group had emerged and were sprinting wildly in all directions. Alex looked around and saw one figure falter, then collapse. A second weaved in and out of the cars. Several men gave chase, stopping periodically to aim their rifles. In the hospital the last shots rang out, finally silencing their victims' hysterical screams.

Alex and Tina reached the shelter of a small wood some sixty metres from the hospital. Driven by sheer terror, neither looked back for signs of pursuit, but crashed through a tangle of fallen branches and splintered trees. Finally Alex tripped and ended up face down in the snow. Tina followed, landing heavily on top of him. For several minutes they lay where they had fallen, panting heavily, too scared to talk or make any noise at all. But there was no sound of pursuit, or searchlights probing the woods.