Nuclear Midnight by Robert Cole Page B

feel the warmth of the fire, leaving only a thin blouse, the top unbuttoned and soaked from the snow that had seeped in under her jacket. Her hair was also wet and hung in a dark tangle of springy curls around her shoulders. She raised a hand carelessly to brush it back from her face. She had small, almost delicate features, with a finely cut nose and thin eyebrows, which curved downwards slightly and gave her a brooding or thoughtful look. Her eyes, now blinking slowly with fatigue, appeared almost too large, like some creature used to the night. Her mouth was wide, but her lips were thin and stained blue with cold so they stood out against the paleness of her face.
    Noticing him watching her, she smiled, and at once her features, almost sad before, radiated such warmth and beauty that he felt like reaching across and touching her. Indeed he would have done so if they had been alone, but the man had seated himself in a large, leather covered chair close by, and was leaning forward determinedly, studying them with a mixture of apprehension and suspicion.
    He introduced himself as Tim Wane. His wife's name was Margaret and their daughter was Anne. Alex and Tina, Alex mostly, began to tell them about themselves, until the horrified expressions on the faces of the family almost stopped him. In normal times their village had been insulated from the outside world by the surrounding hills; now, those same hills had protected them from the worst effects of the heat pulse and the blastwave. They were the first, it appeared, to have come that way so far seeking food and water; and the news they brought with them plunged the man and his wife into despair.
    ‘I should have guessed,’ Tim said, bowing his head. ‘Before you came I wanted to believe that Britain had not been seriously damaged.’ He gestured to one of the windows. ‘I thought this weather would only be temporary. The sun would soon return and truck loads of food and water would be coming down the road any day. From what you tell us, that no longer seems likely. But what are we to do when the strangers start to arrive? We've only so much food. We can't afford to share it with all and sundry. I don't mean you, of course,’ he went on hastily. ‘It’s the future we're worried about.’
    ‘You've just got to face facts,’ Tina said sharply. ‘Just a few bombs didn’t cause this weather. It's a major attack; maybe there's no government left to distribute food. We were at the hospital; what happened there is going to happen in every building and shelter where supplies of any sort are to be had. Your whole village should wake up to that fact now, before it's too late.’
    Seeing the surprise and confusion in their faces, she frowned.
    ‘You're agonising over the wrong question,’ she continued. ‘You won't have the choice whether to turn people away. They'll smash in your doors and windows; they'll tear up your floors for firewood. Your only chance lies in uniting the village into some type of fighting force to warn off the gangs that will be coming after your food.’
    There was a moment's silence while her words sank in. ‘I don't think you're right, you know,’ Tim said defensively. ‘I've already intercepted radio broadcasts, which claim the government still exists. Oh yes,’ he went on, registering their startled looks, ‘I have a shortwave radio set. I took the precaution of disconnecting the battery and aerial a few days before the attack. When I reconnected it, a few days after the holocaust, I found it still worked. I've been monitoring the airways ever since.’
    ‘Go on,’ Alex prodded.
    ‘At first I found nothing, not a whisper, despite scanning all the frequencies for several hours each day. Then I started picking up brief messages, very faint and with a lot of static, possibly from ham operators. The set has a range covering most of England, and Wales, and parts of Scotland and Ireland, so it may be that these broadcasts were a long way