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  AFTERMATH

  AFTERMATH

  JOHN WILKINSON

  Aftermath Copyright © 2016 John Wilkinson.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact;

  [email protected]

  Book and Cover design by John Wilkinson

  First Edition: May 2016

  Dedication

  Dedicated to Emma.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter FOUR

  Chapter FIVE

  Chapter SIX

  Chapter SEVEN

  Chapter EIGHT

  Chapter NINE

  Chapter TEN

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter FOUR

  Chapter FIVE

  Chapter SIX

  Chapter SEVEN

  Chapter One

  The diary you are about to read was retrieved on March tenth, two thousand and twenty-eight, from Camp Blue, Blackpool. It has been presented in complete form to serve as a reminder of what happened to our planet on August sixteenth, two thousand and twenty-seven, when the threat of nuclear war between humans became a reality and the aftermath.

  1/11/2027 - Time: 23:10

  Today was the day I finally came back to the surface, as I write this I’m sitting in an abandoned b&b about twenty miles from Manchester. I don’t know my exact location, it looks like a farm renovation, protected by hills to the north east. I escaped the nuclear attack on August the sixteenth by descending seven feet down a manhole into the sewer system. After spending eleven weeks evading the atomic downfall, I finally saw first hand the aftermath of the first nuclear world war. After scraping the final few baked beans out of my tin, I gathered my belongings together and started the climb to the surface. It might have saved my life, but I was happy to be leaving the shit smelling place behind. As I forced the manhole cover over, I wondered what kind of scene I would be presented with. Dust from outside fell on my face as I moved the cover, I wiped it off my lips where it had stuck to the moisture. I don’t know how dangerous this radioactive dust is, but I imagine it isn’t good. The eleven weeks had taken their toll on my strength, as I struggled to move the heavy metal grate using my crowbar. I expected daylight to come streaming through the hole, but it didn’t. My eyes took some time to grow accustomed to what was outside, it looked bleak. The sky was made up of blacks and greys stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was mid-afternoon yet outside was complete darkness, the sun was hidden behind a blanket of black clouds. The first thing that hit me was how cold it was, I have never experienced a cold as bitter. I needed to find some warmer clothing, it was a far stretch from the nice sunny day I was enjoying on the day of the attack. The wind kicked up and blew black dust around, stinging my eyes. When it was blowing directly at me, I had to close them and face the floor, I didn’t want to stay outside in those conditions for long. There was no sound, only the wind echoing around the ruined buildings. It looked like a war zone, like the old video clips of cities destroyed during the Iraq war some forty years ago. I’m a good twelve miles from the probable impact zone, some cars were on their tops, scattered around like seeds thrown out for the birds. The devastation at the point of impact must have been catastrophic, I only hope the people who died there didn’t suffer. At least here buildings were still stand in and will have offered some form of protection. The air seemed thick and stuck in my throat, I scanned the horizon searching for signs of life. My eyes were burning, like children’s eyes at the swimming pool. Everything seems dead, what was left of the trees were limbless and black, the plants that needed sunlight had all died and gone. I climbed out and took my first few steps, wrapping a scarf around my face to protect me from the dust. The ground crunched with a mixture of rubble and glass, there was glass everywhere, not a window pane left intact. There was so much debris blowing around it was hard to focus. I took my mobile phone out of my pocket and searched down the list of names. Picking one, I clicked connect but there was no tone. It was then I saw my first body, or what’s left of it, burned to a crisp. It smelt that disgusting I almost vomited, so I tightened the scarf around my face. There were dark remains of bodies everywhere, some seemed to have been piled on top of each other, I don’t think they died like that, they must have been moved by someone, there must be more survivors.

  I walked back towards where I had left my car, it was further away than I had remembered, in my panic to find a manhole. The traffic jam was still there, cars packed together like sardines desperately trying to escape the incoming fireball. There was a thin layer of ash covering everything stationary, like a black velvet blanket. The dead were still sitting in their cars holding onto their steering wheels, children still in their car seats. If Manchester was an impact zone as I expect, due to its size and population, this can only have been the tail of the fireball as we were some twelve miles away. I have no idea what size bombs were exploded, but they were big enough to kill anyone around here still caught up in it. It started to rain as I reached my car so I climbed in it to escape, the rain was black and stung my eyes and skin, it poured into the car where the windows used to be, chiming off the rusty metal. My glove box was open, as though it had been searched since the explosions, the contents emptied onto the floor. I got my car key from my pocket ready to go to the boot whenever the weather allowed. I sat looking at the devastation all around me, this will have been the view many people had, the final thing they would have seen as the fireball approached, death was coming for them showing no discrimination or remorse. The rain moved on so I got out of my car and went around the back, the key still opened the boot and inside I lifted the floor panel to reveal the tyre, under that I found my knife and my Welrod silenced gun with seven bullets. The gun has been in my family for three generations, first used by my Great Grandfather in his time in the SOE (Special Operations Executive) nineteen forty-two, helping the resistance in occupied Europe. He called it his ‘assassins pistol,’ and would tell stories of bravery and espionage, but he died before I was old enough to appreciate them. I would shoot tin cans off an old dry stone wall on my grandparents farm as a child. I filled the magazine clip, put the safety on and wrapped it in a hanky. I then placed it in my rucksack along with my knife, putting the remaining bullet into my pocket and walked back to the front of the car. I got back in and tried to start her up, but she wasn’t playing. I tried again, with no luck. The electronics must have been fried by the electrical serge before the explosions. With ninety percent of cars now electric, finding a working car was a struggle. I weaved in and out of vehicles looking for a petrol or diesel car, I made my way across the street and past a large imposing building, once made from glass, now in pieces under my feet. A strong gust of wind hit me as I rounded the corner, nearly knocking me off my feet. I noticed what looked like a second hand car lot on the other side of the road. It backed onto a muddy, grey field. I approached, following the back fence until I spied a black, nineteen ninety nine VW golf that I could back out. Using a rolled up magazine I found on the floor of the car, I b
rushed the broken glass off the car seat onto the floor outside. The key was still in the ignition, nobody steals cars like these any more, you would need a re-mortgage to run it. I turned the key and the car started first time, not bad for a thirty five year old. I reversed it out and spun the tyres a bit to get it moving, mud splattered the undercarriage as I revved the car towards the road. I got traction as the tyres hit tarmac, it spluttered along the deserted road, littered with bodies and debris. I drove for about twenty minutes searching the smouldering burned out shops for any sign of life, but there was nothing, only the ghosts of a once thriving town. Then I noticed a dark shadow on the footpath, it moved into the road ahead of me, around thirty yards away. A survivor I thought, I slowed the car down as I approached. The figure was a man, he was wearing a large black leather jacket, and stumbled as he walked, as though he was injured. His arm was across his stomach, his body hunched over, with his other arm outstretched reaching for me. I brought the car to a stop around fifteen yards from him, he continued to make his way towards me, as I unfastened my seat belt. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something moving behind an abandoned car, forty yards further up the street. I sensed something was wrong, and quickly slammed my foot onto the accelerator. The man ahead stood bolt upright and produced a hand gun from inside his coat, he aimed at me and started firing as I sped towards him, wheels spinning on the ash and debris. A bullet flew inches passed my head and another hit the radiator, causing steam to pour out. I ducked and drove straight at him, he bounced off the bonnet before another shot was fired, I saw him hit the floor in my rear view mirror. More bullets rained down on me from somewhere up above, jagged holes tearing into the metal work. I put my head down and tried to navigate the debris as a truck came out of nowhere, smashing into the side off my car, I lost control as the car flipped over and careered headlong across the sidewalk, and through a shop front, only settling when it hit the back wall. I was shaken, but not too badly hurt. I was lying on the ceiling of the overturned car, blood dripping from a head wound. I could hear voices behind me as I turned around to see three men, fifty yards away, walking towards me, as a further two men helped the injured man to his feet. I tried crawling through the window but the right leg of my pants was stuck on the mirror. I moved it around in a circle trying to loosen the grip, as the voices got closer. I managed to free it and crawl through the windscreen. ‘Where’s the driver?’ Shouted one man. ‘Take a look around’ replied another. I had crawled up the stationary escalators by the side of the crashed car, and positioned myself on the floor above where I had an unrestricted view of the scene below. There was a small blood trail, but they were clearly more interested in the car. Of the two men sent to search for me, only one came up the escalators, he slowly made his way around the edge of the balcony, while I hid in the shadows in the back. After a few minutes, they all met by the car, where they flipped it back over. The shop was a clothes retailer that had been looted, with displays knocked over and clothes strewn everywhere. There was a large window overlooking the high street, from where I watched the car speed off. ‘They’re not the kind of people you wanna get caught by’ said a voice from the other side of the shop. A small, dirty looking man was walking towards me holding a winter jacket, which he threw to me. ‘There are some bad people about. They would have killed you without hesitation, if they’d found you.’ I pulled the scarf down from my face to speak, admitting I had been lucky. ‘This time’ he replied. ‘But maybe not next time, you’ll have to learn fast or you’ll end up dead, or worse.’ He told me his name was Lee Weatley, he didn’t offer up much more information than that at the time, but did say he knew other survivors and would take me to them. When we got outside the weather had taken a turn for the worse, a storm had moved in with blizzard conditions. The snow was black and stained everything it touched, it was already four or five inches deep. We wrapped up tight and headed hastily towards the nearest chemist for some pain killers and a dressing for my head wound. The shop had already been looted, with medicines and wound care popular choices, people were less concerned with regrowing their receding hairlines or keeping on top of their tans. As Lee cleaned the wound on my head, he explained what had happened to him on the day of the attack. ‘My job was delivering kegs from the Hawkseye brewery to local pubs, I had been delivering the week’s beer barrels to the pubs around Bury. Jim, the land lord of the George and Dragon had called me into the bar as he often does. But it wasn’t for a brew and chat, he was worried about something, I could see it in his face. I’ve known Jim for nearly twenty years, not a man who scares easy. I thought his Mrs. had left him again, but he was listening to the radio, there was breaking news of a nuclear attack on Washington. At that point, I think a few countries had already been attacked but I didn’t know which, I had been listening to music in my cab.’ He stuck a plaster on my head before continuing.‘When the warnings for London hit the radio we panicked, there was pandemonium on the streets, suddenly the radio went off and we both fled into his cellar. I remember sitting there as the place shook with bomb after bomb, plaster falling off the ceiling, we were covered in it. At some point the lights went out, I remember thinking this is it, we are going to die. The cellar was full of alcohol, which doesn’t mix well with paranoia. Jim had always been a drinker, and was caning it, he lost his head after a couple of hours and went outside, I tried to stop him but couldn’t. I threw sand bags around the door, and jammed wet towels around the frame, trying to block the radiation from getting in. I found his body when I surfaced around three weeks later, it wasn’t a pretty sight. He hadn’t even got out of the pub before the radiation got him, he had vomited his internal organs up, it was a mess.’ Lee’s accent sounded Mancunian, although he said he was from down south, but had lived and worked around Lancashire for twenty plus years. He looked around forty but would always reply twenty one when I asked his age. He had a few rashes or burns on his skin, particularly around his hairline, and a nice crop of black hair, the same length as his beard. I thought it looked neat for a man going through a nuclear war but it was more likely he had sported a shaven head and a clean shaven face before the attack. He seemed more interested in my family than going into any detail about his own, I didn’t tell him much, only that I had moved to Scotland three years ago after my family had died in a car crash. I now lived on my parents farm thirteen miles from Edinburgh. I told him I was going to head back home to make sure they were all right, he was unsure if Edinburgh had been attacked. We set off to meet up with the others so we could piece together what we all knew. We walked for around two hours out of the city into the countryside, the black, burned human corpses replaced by black, burned animal corpses. As we approached the farm the tree branches reached for the hidden sun, spared the nuclear winds by the sheltering hills.

  When we arrived, all remnants of sun had disappeared, leaving the blackest night I had ever seen, nobody was risking lighting a fire to keep themselves warm in case it alerted any unwanted attention. The building looked like it had been protected from the tail end of the shock wave by its position, the only major damage was the loss of its windows, which had been partly boarded up. We past a wooden sign that read ‘Woodbridge Bed & Breakfast’ on the winding stone path to the entrance. The journey had taken its toll on my body, when we arrived my feet were frozen solid, they sounded like clogs on an old cobbled road. I was shivering, wet and hungry. Lee lead me through the front door and into the hallway, I picked up the telephone that was sat on a table by the living room door and held it to my ear, but it was completely dead. I pressed the dial tone a couple of times and then put it down. I followed Lee into the front room, sat on the settee I found a man and a heavily pregnant woman. Lee handed her a package which she thanked him for, and he introduced them as Roy and Nancy Curtis. He asked them where Steve and Simon were, wanting everyone present. Roy explained they had gone out a few hours previous to try and find a working vehicle. The couple looked in their forties, Roy was a police officer, well dressed and s
till clean shaven. His wife was very attractive, with long blond hair tied up. The room was lit by the soft flickering glow of two candles placed at either end of the room, and a wood fire smouldering in the centre, the wet wood crackled as it burned. I sat as close to the fire as I could to get some warmth while I listened to them.‘We came down to Manchester to see a play’ said Roy.‘We are originally from Wigan so didn’t have to far to come, but we thought we would make a weekend of it, the baby was due in three months so it would probably be our last chance to get a weekend away. We arrived late the night before, the fifteenth. I told Barbara, the owner, we wouldn’t be up for breakfast and thought we would enjoy a lie in. All that country air must have knocked us out because we remember nothing before being woken suddenly by a cacophony of noise.’

  ‘We sat bolt upright in bed’ interrupted Nancy. ‘Both of us. Everything exploded, the TV, the glass of water next to my bed, even the light bulb. The building shook like an earthquake, pictures fell on the floor, books, stuff was falling from everywhere. After the initial impact, the earth seemed to groan, for around thirty seconds, shuddering and shifting. For the next few hours, Barbara’s dogs were howling and barking in the back yard, like they knew something was wrong. After a while, their cries disappeared and we never heard from them again.’

  ‘But we had no real idea what was going on’ Roy continued. ‘Our bedroom was in the middle of the building, which was a blessing in reality, no windows. But it didn’t help our understanding of the situation, the TV wasn’t working, the phone wasn’t working, mobiles, nothing worked, we sat in our room for ages. Around one o’clock I decided to find out what had happened, I went downstairs and into the living area, I expected to find other people, maybe Barbara, but there was nobody. Through the living room window, I could see the black ash cloud slowly engulfing everything in its path, heading towards us, the curtains flapping wildly from the winds. The daylight was being eaten by the nuclear cloud, I watched the shadow as it made its way across the living room wall, until everything was in darkness. I ran into the kitchen and gathered all the tins of food I could find, bottles of water, that kind of thing. I stocked our room up as well as I could, it took about half an hour. I tried to think practically about the situation, I ran the baths in all the internal bathrooms, so there would be safe water for as long as possible, then I put damp blankets down at the edge of the door to our room and we settled in.’