Project - 16 (20 page)

“
What a fucking mess,” she muttered to herself. “Look how
quickly it grows!”

“
That's nothing,” said Piotr. “You should have seen
Newcastle.”

“
How bad is it now?” I asked.

“
Very bad. Some of the high-rises have collapsed now,
flattening most of the city centre. The dust is everywhere. It
doesn't stop the weeds though. It's like they're pulling them down,
tearing our work to pieces in a slow, methodical rage.”

“
What about the bridges?”

“
All but one is gone. I think there must have been a bad storm
that finished them off.”

“
Where is that?” asked Riley.

“
North of here,” I said. “At the end of Hadrian's
Wall.”

“
Oh,” she said. “It's fucking grim, I'll tell you
that.”

We walked on, passing the Post Office and the old pub - its
roof gone and half the front wall missing. Piotr poked his head
inside but he didn't see a drop that hadn't already been looted. He
came back out shaking his bald head.

“
It was worth a try,” he called.

“
I could have told you without the effort,” I said.

We walked on, passing through to the other side and taking a
path that ran along a dry stone wall edged with more green moss. It
was a pleasant enough morning but the chill was bothering me - it
meant that winter was far more advanced than it should have been. I
couldn't explain why the pattern had changed or when. I'd only
noticed it about four years ago when I'd woken in late October to
eight inches of snow. Since then the temperatures had more often
than not dropped to less than zero for weeks at a time. If the same
happened while we were out it'd make for a more than interesting
challenge.

We had something to eat a little after 12, stopping to sit on
a rocky outcrop overlooking a small lake. Then we pressed on, not
stopping until nightfall until we found a patch of wild woodland
that had broken free from a plantation, spreading its new roots in
all directions and tearing down the fence with it.

It was during the third night out in the woods that the first
few flakes began falling softly through the bare branches of the
forest. They began to stick instantly on Riley's tent and I watched
the moonlight glitter off them as they tumbled to the
ground.

“
You were right,” said Piotr who was looking at the snow from
under his shelter. “This isn't normal.”

“
It could make things a bit difficult,” I said, looking up
from my hammock as the snow began to collect in the sagging tarp
above me. “I can just about navigate in it but it'll be slow
going.”

“
It's beautiful though.”

“
Surely you're used to snow by now?” I laughed.

“
You never get tired of snow, my friend, even in the taiga
where it will kill you.”

Riley emerged from her tent with her hat on, looking up as
the snow fell onto her face.

“
You must be kidding!” she said. “Snow? Fucking
snow?”

“
Yup,” I said. “And it will be a whole lot worse by
morning.”

And it was. I didn't really drop back to sleep but I was
dozing when I finally woke with the kind of shocks you sometimes
get in a vivid dream. I was disorientated for a moment because the
woods were so well lit - the dawn's rays being reflected back off
the snow. It was ankle height and Riley was struggling with her
tent door, trying to get out of it without letting too much in at
the same time.

“
This is a fucking joke!” she called from inside. Piotr was
already awake and had his stove going, boiling some tea and pacing
up and down to get warm. My tarp was sagging badly now that it was
loaded with snow and I gave it a shove from underneath, sending a
minor avalanche down in front of me, missing my boots by a few
inches. I lit my stove too, eager for a coffee before facing life
outside of my quilt.

“
Do you need some help?” asked Piotr as Riley pulled herself
out onto the snow. It clung in small clumps to her jumper and she
brushed violently at them till most of them had been shaken
off.

“
No, I don't. I need to go home, that's what. You guys aren't
meant to get snow like this!” she cried.

“
I agree, but here it is,” I said.

“
I need a coffee.” Riley dragged her pack into a flattened
patch of snow and got her cook kit out. I'd just got a boil going
by the time she started and I led back drinking it with no small
amount of satisfaction. I put some more water on to make my
breakfast with. There was something special about life in winter
and I savoured it as often as I could. Perhaps it was the ingrained
sense of achievement for overcoming the cold, some kind of evolved
instinct that took the challenge of the toughest part of the year
to heart. Sitting there, warm and well fed, seemed to smack of
human pride at surviving all the way to the top of the food chain.
Or maybe it was nothing like that at all.

“
Are you okay there?” asked Riley with plenty of sarcasm.
“Hanging there above us normal fucking mortals.”

“
You had a choice - again. You chose to sleep on the
dog-shelf.”

“
Dog shelf?” asked Piotr.

“
Yeah, the shelf for the fucking mutt,” said Riley, stamping
her feet. “I'm going to keep regretting this, I know I am.” She
took the lid off her pot and began swearing even more. “How long
does it take to boil some water?”

“
It'll get worse,” said Piotr. “I can see it.”

“
Thanks Sergei,” snarled Riley. “That's a big
help.”

“
You've never seen snow?” he retorted.

“
Not in countries that say they don't get much!” She gave up
on the boil and poured the hot water into her waiting MRE pouch and
her cup, stirring the instant coffee with as much venom as she
could put into the long handled spoon. It slopped over the sides
and she stomped over to me with her hands full, sitting down on a
pad under my tarp.

“
At least you have a clear patch,” she said without looking at
me. “You can at least share that.”

“
Tell you what, we can swap tonight. Will that make you
happy?” I said.

“
No.”

I finished my breakfast and led back, watching her eat from
the foil pouch with a delicacy at odds with the rest of her
appearance. She carefully avoided getting any of the beans and
bacon on her fingers as she dipped her spoon in and when she sipped
her coffee she blew gently across its surface. Only once did she
turn to look at me and I could have sworn there was a faint smile
upon her lips when she did. My heart decided that it was a good
time to skip a few beats.

“
We have a long way to go,” said Piotr, packing up his gear.
“And it'll get colder. It's a bad omen.”

“
A moment ago you were saying how warm it is,” said Riley with
a little more kindness this time.

“
Yes, for all the years I've been coming here the weather has
always been warm compared to Russia. But now...” He kicked at the
snow with his boot. “Now I do not know.”

“
We'll manage,” I said with some confidence. “I've weathered
it before. I once spent a few weeks out in the worst of it hunting
down a young couple from Canada. I survived.”

“
You got them back?” asked Riley.

“
No, they died of hypothermia,” I said. “But they weren't
trained like a former Ranger and a Russian tracker.”

“
Gee, I'm filled with confidence now. Any more of this and
we'll be skipping there. You're a fucking legend,
Miller.”

We set off and I put on my cleats to fair better across the
snow and icy rocks that lined our path. We continued on that
morning and late into the afternoon though I worked a few breaks in
this time, stopping once in the morning for a hot drink and once in
the afternoon as well as a half-hour dinner. I drank hot water,
saving my coffee for the mornings whilst Piotr seemed to have an
endless supply of tea. I started to wish I'd brought a bag of
nettles to brew with if only for the flavour. Any that were out in
the wilds were probably buried under the snow. It's not that I
liked nettle tea in particular, it's just that it tastes better
than hot water and that isn't saying much. Rumour has it, there's
some vitamins in it. Maybe Dad just told me that to make me drink
it.

That night we built a large fire and sat round it trying to
warm ourselves up before retreating to our sleeping bags. More snow
was falling now and the landscape had become a maelstrom of
whirling flakes and ice-cold wind that stung any exposed patches of
skin. The woods we were in blocked most of the gale but we could
still hear it roaring in the distance, howling like a beast
desperate to hunt us down. Only the crackling flames and the heat
from the orange glow brought us any comfort.

“
I think my toes are frozen,” said Piotr, untying his
shoelaces and putting on a thicker pair of grey socks.

“
That's why I love my gear,” said Riley. “These boots and
socks are unstoppable. I got 'em online last year, a fucking
bargain. This jumper? Man, it was cheap - and fucking good quality
too.”

“
I will take your word for it,” said Piotr. “You no longer
have your army-issued gear?”

“
Nah, that stuff is crap, man. I got rid of that the moment I
got my tab. It's like they fucking want you to shop elsewhere
knowing the stuff they give you is shit anyway. Most of us bought
new gear from the guys online who cater for troopers and give us
discount. Before Syria I had these boots and I still have them now.
Fucking awesome.”

“
What about you, Miller?” he asked me.

“
I got a load through the Colonel and just boxed them up in
the garage. I stocked up on things like that, things I couldn't
replace myself. I have enough until I die I think.”

“
He gave you US shit?” said Riley.

“
I don't think so. I got the same ones my Dad used to get and
he never had any complaints.” I lifted a foot and showed her the
boot. “They seem to have done okay for me.”

“
Yeah, they're not so bad I guess,” she said.

“
If it isn't broke - that's what you say over here, isn't it?”
said Piotr. He poked the fire with a long stick and sparks kicked
up into the frosty night air. “In Russia we have good brands of
shoe. These I have for years and they must have seen most of the
taiga. Only one pair ever failed me.”

“
Yeah?” she asked.

“
American brand. I forget what name.”

“
I should have known you Commies wouldn't like our
gear.”

The conversation passed around the fire and for the first
time I saw Riley begin to warm to Piotr who took her scathing
remarks with the mature ease of an older man, a veteran. I didn't
say much - my own life had been sheltered for the most part and
what I knew of the world outside my own was limited, but I enjoyed
watching the exchange as the flakes fluttered softly to the ground,
tumbling over and over until they became one with the
others.

In the morning we pressed on, much slower now that navigating
had become a much more careful process. Any landmarks I had were
submerged in snow and more often than not I relied on my compass
and the odd bit of ruined building here and there to go by. Piotr,
who was more familiar with the snow, often joined me at the front
of out little line and helped, pointing out things I couldn't
see.

At some point we crossed a section of motorway which was
clogged with the traffic of fifty years ago - now only a line of
green and brown hulks parked nose to bumper. The snow had fallen
here but seemed unable to find a purchase on the moss and bind
weed.

“
Longest traffic jam I’ve ever seen,” said Piotr as we looked
down on it from the bridge.

“
That's nothing. I went to New York once,” laughed
Riley.

We negotiated the sloping sides until we were on the tarmac,
the bridge having collapsed near the other side. Carefully we
picked our way between the cars and overturned trucks. Half way
across, Riley called out to us.

“
Look at this!” she cried. Piotr and I squeezed between two
hatchbacks and saw her stood in front of one of the better examples
of Britain's post-apocalyptic furniture. “It's a Jag!”

“
And?” I asked.

“
This'd be worth a fortune back home! And look at her!” She
gestured to the wreck with both hands.

“
Knock yourself out,” I replied and carried on walking. I
heard her attack the car with her knife and when she caught up with
us she was waving the chrome Jaguar in my face.

“
This'll fetch me a buck or two!” she said.

“
Did you ask the driver?” said Piotr.

“
Driver?”

“
Yeah, look.”

She turned around and saw the skeleton slumped over the
wheel. I'd noticed it before - a single entry wound in its right
temple. No exit.
.22 maybe. Bullet
probably bounced around inside his skull after being fired at close
range.