A World at war

Diary

May is my favourite month, especially if it is warm. The air is filled
with birdsong and the ponds are alive with tadpoles. Primroses and
bluebells scatter brilliant yellow and blue patches through my garden
and butterflies flitter about going from Honesty to tulip. The whole
garden seems filled with colour and scent; even the evergreen lawn
looks better in May. In my vegetable garden the runner beans are
germinating and the broad beans will soon be flowering. That's what
happens in most Mays but not in this one.

This May is different. From inside my perpetually darkened house I
could hear no birdsong; no noise crept into my rooms. I was alone in my
house I'd not seen or heard another human being for months, not since
New Year's Eve. But I'm getting ahead of my story.

This diary should really begin two years ago when my husband came home
and said,
"The cold war is beginning to heat up. I think that we should take
precautions."
As my husband worked for the government who was I to disagree with
him?

We moved to a large house within a big enclosed estate and we converted
the extensive basements. He installed solar panels, ones to create
electricity, which was stored in rows of batteries and others for
generating hot water. The curtains were lined with lead impregnated
blackout material and they all closed at the push of a button. We had a
biomass converter, which gave us methane gas. And rooms were stacked
full of bags containing clean compost. In another room we had supplies
of seeds and daylight bulbs the ones that are supposed to be as good as
sunlight for plants. We could grow as much as we would need if we
needed to. We had a huge supply of logs for our wood-burning stove. I
fact we seemed to have everything anyone could need for survival, even
material to make clothes as well as a few animals; rabbits and
chickens. We would be able to feed these with what we grew and they
could supply us with other sources of food.
Then as the cold war became a real war Jeff was called away. I knew
that he would be in a government bunker somewhere very safe but that
didn't help me.
Although my country was not at war we were in the middle of it and
there was immense pressure to join it, but our Prime Minister showed
immense courage and said "No" not only that but she insisted that both
sides withdrew from our soil. From then onwards they had to fight each
other from a distance, as they couldn't supply ground troops
reliably.

Fighting escalated and we could see intercontinental ballistic missiles
streaking across the starlit sky.
Jeff would phone me regularly and we spoke for hours; he even managed
to come home for Christmas even though the news was bad.
"We've heard that they will use nuclear weapons to finish this."
"Who will?"
"Both sides will. Neither of them thought that it would go on this
long. They thought that it would be over in a couple of weeks if they
targeted major cities with conventional weapons."
"They won't explode any nuclear weapons over us will they?"
"I don't think so but everyone in this hemisphere will have the
radiation to deal with."
He left just after Christmas and I've not seen him since.
I was watching television on New Year's Eve when all of the programmes
were interrupted by an announcement that both sides had detonated
nuclear weapons above enemy cities. We were advised to take
precautionary measures. I closed all of our curtains, and they've
remained closed, and prepared to live the life of a hermit. The radio
gave out regular updates but the television didn't work, I didn't know
if it was just my set or if they had stopped broadcasting. But then one
day in February, on my birthday, the radio stopped all broadcasts. I
can pick up a few voices occasionally on my short-wave radio but
nothing I can understand.

So here I am, I think that it's May again and to be safe I must stay
inside the house for a few more weeks but today I risked a peek
outside. It was nearly as dark outside as it was inside. A dark layer
of cloud or maybe dust filled the sky, no sunlight filtered through it.
I know that if this continues then our part of the world will die. I
wonder if any rescue mission was being mounted by anyone in the other
hemisphere?
Closing the curtain I return to my daily tasks. After I've completed
them I'll go to the library and read another book. I really must try to
write this journal more often, but it depresses me to write about how
alone I am.

Yesterday I went to the library and started to read my book. I suppose
that for anyone who doesn't mind being alone it wasn't a bad life but I
miss my husband. We had had a great marriage; we were friends as well
as lovers but now I didn't know if he was still alive. As I was reading
my book I heard a noise outside, I crossed the room and moved the
curtain enough for me to look outside.
There was a dog, whimpering as he hobbled through the garden, my heart
went out to him but I knew that I couldn't take him into the house.
Then his head lifted, as if he was listening, and his hackles rose. A
pack of five dogs jumped into the garden and tore the first dog to
pieces. After eating him they strolled around marking their territory.
I wondered if I should get my shotgun and kill them but I didn't think
that it was safe for me to open the door or a window so I left them. I
heard them occasionally through the night but in the morning they were
gone.

Things got worse before they got better the layer of dust provided us
with a severe winter and when the dust cloud started to disperse it was
still winter. Looking out through my window I could see nothing moving,
nothing growing. It seemed that the only growing things left were in my
basement.

It will be May again in a couple of days. I've been outside but still
couldn't see anyone. I went to the top of a hill and searched using
binoculars but I saw no movement, no telltale smoke rising into the
sky, apart from that of my own fire. I found some more wood to burn and
managed to pull it back into my garden.

Everyday I switch on the radio just in case the broadcasts start again,
and I look to see if there's anyone out there. There will be I'm sure.
One day I'll see someone. Jeff will get to me now that it's safer to
come out. There's grass growing, sparse lumps of it but it's there. In
the pond there's tadpoles; I suppose that if the species survived for
millennia then a nuclear winter won't wipe them out. There are no birds
around, there's nothing for them to eat yet.

Today there was a message on the radio,
"People do not despair, we will find you"
By my reckoning it's been over two years but I get confused and don't
always record the passing of the days. I still hope that Jeff will find
me. Today in the garden there's a snowdrop flowering, so it must be
January or February. I've been slack about getting fuel for the stove;
I must go out today. I'll get the harness and drag a large branch
back.

It took me longer than I'd anticipated to get the wood but when I came
back into the house a man was standing there. I thought that I was
hallucinating until he said,
"I'm home sweetheart, home at last" and then he burst into tears.
I stood there bewildered; surely this man with the long hair and beard
wasn't Jeff? I stared at him, trying to find my husband in this
tramp-like figure. Then he brushed his hair back with his hand and the
memories of him doing that flooded back to me.
"Jeff? Oh Jeff; I've been so lonely without you."
I rushed into his arms and he held me while we both wept. Questions
came tumbling from both of us.

Jeff's been back home now for three weeks. He told me that a "stray"
bomb had exploded over our Capitol City, wiping out all broadcasts and
electronic means of communication. He had been safe deep in the bunker
but it had taken months before they had even been able to monitor what
was happening outside. My time keeping had been out by months. The
cloud that cut off the sun had stayed over us for just over a year.
When it was safe for him to leave the bunker he packed a rucksack and
started to come home. He knew that it would be difficult because of the
lack of water.

I told him about what had happened here; how apart from the dogs I'd
seen nothing outside, but that the rabbits and chickens were
thriving.

We constantly monitor the radiation levels and they are falling. The
vegetation outside has interesting mutations and it would seem that the
seed banks scattered throughout the country are going to be needed when
the radiation falls.

We've still not seen anyone around here. We think that the radiation
and the long winter wiped out most people. Apparently the other half of
the world decided that the risk of radiation sickness was too great
from them to conduct a rescue mission. Jeff says that during his three
months journey he saw no sign of life but that doesn't mean that
there's no one left.

Surely there must be others left? The only people in the bunker were
old men and women as is usual with most governments. Which leaves us
with a decision to make. Do we have children and risk them being
mutated and deformed or do we remain here by ourselves? Perhaps we will
be the Adam and Eve of our hemisphere.