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I woke up and immediately felt cold.

It was odd because when I had gone to bed the previous evening, it had been quite warm, after one of those balmy autumn days.  We had all been basking in what seemed to be an endless heatwave and finally getting some relief, and the last thing I’d seen was storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

It had been the strangest of summers, unprecedented, and as some of the more radical climate change so-called experts said, the beginning of the end.

The more rational scientists, the people the government relied on to advise them, had said that changes were occurring though not in a manner that rang ring alarm bells, but it was not part of the normal weather patterns.

Storms like that being predicted were normal, what was not normal, was feeling cold.

Also, I’d woken to an eerie darkness because there didn’t seem to be any lights on in the room. A few minutes later, that darkness had given way to a murky light as dawn broke, and I shivered.

Something was not right.

I looked at the clock, and it had stopped.  I checked my phone, and it had a seventy per cent charge where it should be full.  The charger was not working.  A few seconds later, I tried the light switch.

Nothing. There was no power.

Another shiver went through me, but this time, it was generated by fear.  I was being drawn to the window, and then when I looked out, what I saw took my breath away.

What in hell’s name had happened?

Outside, there was nothing but snow as far as the eye could see.

I’d gone to sleep after spending a few hours on a warm balmy night with Tricia, the waitress from the flat above, over a cold bottle of white wine.

Over the last few weeks, we had talked about this, about that, about nothing at all, slowly discovering that spending these few hours together relieved the boredom and inanity of our mundane lives.

For me, it had given me the hope of something else in the future than of being nothing of consequence and going nowhere.

That landing we had sat on only a few hours before was now deep in snow.  If it was January, I wouldn’t give it a second thought, but this was September.

I threw on some warm clothes, buried in the bottom drawer and smelling of mothballs because I wasn’t supposed to need them for a few more months.  It looked bleak outside, and I wanted to see just how bad it was close up.

After another look out the window to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, I went downstairs where there were a dozen or more people in the foyer and more out on the sidewalk, most of whom had looks of stunned disbelief.

As I descended the stairs it got colder, and with the door open, we could all feel the breeze swirling the lightly falling snow outside and in through the opening.  The building supervisor was rugged up, standing by the door, making sure it closed after someone entered or left.

I knew most of those downstairs.  I also recognised the looks on their faces.

Fear.

“What’s happening,” I asked.  “Aside from the obvious.”

Mr Jacobson, the oldest member of our little enclave and the most educated, peered out the door and then looked at me.  “It seems winter has come early this year.”

There was a hint of irony in his tone.  The previous day had been in the low seventies, and the weather forecast had been for rain.  Instead of rain, we got snow.  How was that possible?  I’m sure he would tell me if I asked, but I was not sure I’d understand him.  He was a scientist in his previous life before forced retirement.

“Or, if it isn’t that…”  I said, perhaps expecting him to complete the sentence.  I knew he had a thing about climate change, even though everyone else had dismissed it when it seemed the planet’s climate appeared to have readjusted itself a few years back.

Some said it was a miracle. Some said we were all worried about nothing, but some said it was a sign, one last chance to stop going down the path we were on.  If it was a reprieve, we ignored it.

Mr Jacobsen had told everyone that adjustment was only temporary, but he’d been saying the same thing for the last few years, and nothing had happened.  Now he was simply the man who cried wolf.

“Mother Earth has been waiting patiently to take her revenge, and because we preferred to be complacent, this is just the beginning.”  Mr. Jacobson wasn’t saying it out of spite, I believed he knew what was happening but couldn’t explain it in words any of us would understand.

But Harry Johnson, the man who knew everything but knew nothing, threw in his two cents worth.  “You scientists have been banging on about this nonsense for decades, and nothing has happened.  This is an aberration.  Something had to give after an abnormally hot summer.  It’ll be gone in a day or two. Mark my words.”

Mr Jacobson shook his head, but he said nothing more.  There was no point. No one was going to believe him now.  “There’s no power,” he said to me.  “And it’s going to get colder.  They should have insulated the power stations when they had the chance, but they didn’t.  My advice, to everyone, get some extra blankets.”

“Or head south,” someone yelled out.

“You think it’s going to be better there?”   Someone else asked.

“Out in that cold.”  Another resident, one from a few floors above me, came in from outside shivering as if to emphasise his point.  “You wouldn’t get far. The police are saying it only goes as far south as Washington, but everyone has the same idea, and the roads are clogged with people trying to get out of the city.  They also say we’re actually not as badly off as those further north.”

“I didn’t see any police outside,” Harry Johnson said, and I’ve been out a few times.”

“They’re moving from building to building, telling people to stay indoors and keep warm until the power is back on.  There is only limited transport options and office buildings and shopping centres are closed due to the blackout.  They say we should tune into the radio for further information. Didn’t any of you take notice after the last disaster when we were told to be prepared in case it happened again?”

“That was different,” Harry muttered.

“How?  This is worse.  Then they rationed power, but we had power, and trucks and transport could move.  This time, we have no power at all, and nothing can move because of the snow and icy conditions.  This is going to take a while for the authorities to fix. If the weather changes out there, and it doesn’t look like it will change any time soon.  Go to your apartments and keep warm.  Find a radio and keep yourselves informed.”

There was murmuring, and a few complaints about people telling them what to do, but within five minutes, they were all trudging back up the stairs.  With nothing more to see, I went back up the stairs myself.  When I got to my apartment, Tricia was outside the door, dressed in her ski gear.

“What happened?  Where’s the heat.  I just woke up freezing.”

“Mr Jabobson says it’s Mother Nature taking revenge on us horrible humans.”

“The mad scientist?”

It was one of several names the residents gave him.

“I don’t think he’s as mad as we want to believe he is.  He says it’s going to get colder and we need extra blankets.”

“I could get mine, bring them down, and we could share if you like.  I know you’d like to be with me as much as I would like to be with you.  It’s as good a reason as any.  I am assuming you like me as much as I like being with you.”

I hadn’t expected whatever we had to move quickly, but I had thought my feelings towards her were not fully reciprocated.  I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation, but it was a sensible idea.

“I do, and I’m happy if you’re happy.  I don’t think the heat or the power will be back in a hurry, so we are not likely to be going far.”

“Then let’s go up and fetch the blankets.”

It was coincidental that recently, I had been reading about doomsday events.  The oil crisis was not likely to happen again, and someone had thought about that Hormuz bottleneck, built alternative pipelines, and considered a lot more scenarios again after the recent mini-crisis.  Then there was the possibility of a meteor crashing into the earth and knocking us out of orbit, but that was a bit more extreme and unlikely.

Nor was it because I was one of those prepper types who were hoarding necessities in an underground bunker, but because for a few months, about a year ago, the Middle East went up in flames and the oil supply briefly stopped, again.

It just proved that we should never put politicians in charge of trying to de-escalate a potential war.  For those few months, it began with anarchy until the order was restored, and everything was rationed until common sense prevailed.

We saw what could happen, and it wasn’t pretty.

This, however, was a different problem.  What could be a prelude to the next ice age had just arrived on our doorstep, and it would be interesting to know what was happening, even get a weather report that could tell us it was temporary. If we had learned anything from the past, people needed to be kept informed.

Even if they told us a lie, that everything would get better soon, it would be better than nothing.  After the last crisis, everyone was aware that there had been precious little truth spoken as time passed, and inaction was met with unrest.  It came very close to martial law, and no one wanted to see that again.

After that, I bought a small battery-operated radio, knowing there would be a designated radio station that had its own power supply to advise people of what was happening and what to do in a crisis like this; once Tricia and I were comfortable and warm, we tuned in to the station. It wasn’t confidence-inspiring, and the deadpan announcer’s voice only added a sense of the sinister to the news.

It definitely wasn’t good.

What we did learn; the snow basically blanketed the whole of the northern hemisphere from the north pole to the latitude below Washington, though there were snowy conditions for a further hundred miles south past that point.  It was similar to the southern hemisphere, where it reached as far up as the bottom of Tasmania, an island south of mainland Australia.

And it wasn’t predicted to stop snowing for a few days at the very least.  The poles were apparently clouded over and in a similar situation to being fogged in.  There, the temperatures were a lot, lot colder.

No one was commenting on why it was happening, only that it was an unexpected turn of events that was not expected to last, and that the city’s services would be soon operating on a reduced scale, predicted to be within 24 hours, and that people, unless they were designated as working for essential services,  should stay home until advised otherwise.

They acknowledged that power stations had been temporarily disabled by an abnormal amount of snow.  The drifts had also caused problems in the substations and along the feeder lines, whatever that meant.

Then, the message looped after saying to stay tuned for any change in the situation.  At the very least, they would advise the latest weather report on the hour.  That was twenty minutes away.

We both listened to the weather report, and we both agreed that the wording was a signal.  Not necessarily to us, but to others, and that was most likely to say things were not going to get better in the short term and to prepare for trouble.

The announcement underlined the necessity that we all stayed in place, the conditions would soon improve, and, shortly after that, another announcer said there would be limited power returning in a matter of hours.

A specific number wasn’t mentioned.  It was as close to saying that no one knew definitely.

After several minutes of a rather sombre symphony playing softly in the background, both of us agreed it was weird because New York was never this quiet, ever. Tricia said to no one in particular, “What are they not saying?”

She was right.  The announcer had spoken for nearly half an hour and told us nothing we already didn’t know. In words we really didn’t understand.

“My father always said that when people start using big words, they’re trying to hide the truth.”

“It’s not getting better, is it?”

“We don’t know.  Mr Jacobson, the man you call the mad scientist, said that winter had come early, and while he made it sound like a joke, I don’t think he meant it that way.  I’m going to see him and ask him what he’s going to do.”

“Don’t you think he’s crazy?”

Everybody did.  Especially after he lost his job after telling anyone who would listen that exactly what happened was going to happen.  Maybe if it had been five years ago, someone might have listened.

“No.”

Outside the door, we could hear raised voices.  Had Harry decided to tell Mr Jacobson to keep his theories to himself.  “I’d better go and see what’s happening.”

By the time I got the door open, it was to see Jacobson being escorted by two policemen.  I ran up to them before they descended the stairs, yelling out, “He’s not mad, just concerned like all of us.”

He stopped and turned to me.  “It’s fine, Alex.  I’m going to have a talk with the meteorologists.  They requested I go and meet with them.  Remember what we talked about a few months back?”

For the moment, I couldn’t, but I had made a note of it on my phone.

“No matter.  When you do, it’s Z.  Do you understand?  Z.”

I repeated it, and he nodded.  Then they continued down the stairs, a few of the residents following.

On the way back to my apartment, I tried to remember what it was we were talking about.  He had been, I remembered now, rather disjointed, as though he was having a hard time articulating what he wanted to say. He’d been more distracted than normal, but I had put it down to the anniversary of his wife’s death.  It had hit him very hard, and I could only imagine what it would be like for him.

I went in and closed the door behind me.  Tricia was still under the blankets. “What was it?”

“Jacobson, your mad scientist, was being taken away by the police.  He says he’s been taken to see the meteorologists.”

“Or the loony bin.  I heard Harry say more than once Jacobson was a loose cannon.”

“Harry wouldn’t know his ass from his elbow.  Jacobson reminded me of something we talked about a few months ago.  It might not be relevant; he was rambling more than usual at that time.  He asked me to write it down, so all I have to do is find the notes on my cell phone.”

Which then took the next two hours to go through.  I hadn’t realised that I’d accumulated so much junk over the years, nor so many photographs of New York all through the year, a visual reminder of what it was like before the snow.

“We will have to think about food soon,” Tricia said. “I usually only cater from day to day, like everyone.”

It was probably what a lot of people inside and outside the building were also thinking about, and given what happened the last time food supplies were interrupted, it could get ugly very quickly.

That was why I stocked up on some essential long-life items like milk, canned meat, vegetables, and fruit.  Enough for two people to last a month.

“The thing I do remember from talking to Jacobson several months ago was to store up some essential items in case the oil stopped again.  He said it was prudent these days to have supplies because of how things are in the Middle East.”

Tensions never die down there, and rockets were always flying about threatening to extend the current conflict between Israel and the Palestinians into a wider war with Lebanon, Syria, and Iran.

Who knew we’d have something else to worry about.

“For you, perhaps.”

“For two.  I have always included you in my disaster plan.”

“Then believe me when I say you are the first.”

“I know how that feels.  But only if you want me to.  I don’t want you to feel obligated or have to do anything in return.”

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.  “I know.  Now, what was the mad scientist trying to tell you?”

I found the relevant document file and scrolled through the pages, a whole mass of disjointed and in places almost unintelligible notes.  Jacobson had been reciting stuff so fast that I could hardly get it down.  His wife had been an expert on shorthand, and he forgot that I was not her.

But then I got to the section that had a ‘Z’ on it, in capitals and bolded so that it stood out.  He must have slowed down by then.

“It says that Plan Z was to get ready for an ELE event.”

“ELE, what is that?”

“Can’t remember, hang on.”  I scrolled through a few more pages and then stopped reading.  It was not on the page, but I suddenly remembered what it was.

An apt description of what happened when the meteor struck Earth and killed all the dinosaurs.  I said, “It’s what is known as an Extinction Level Event.”

“I thought that was when meteors were coming.”

“It could also be a deadly virus like Covid, or an ice age, though that wouldn’t kill everyone, but it would make things very difficult to survive.  Maybe that’s not what he specifically meant. Perhaps it’s just some of the suggestions he made if such a thing happened.”

“He did say z, plan z.”

“No, just Z, but he did say it was what we had been talking about, and that was the only z I can remember, or made notes on. And if they’re pulling him back to be an advisor after scoffing at his ideas, then what they’re not telling us is quite telling if you ask me. If you don’t mind the irony of it all.”

It was met with a wan smile from her.  “What did you think we should do?”

I shrugged.  “If It was just me alone, I’d probably head south.  There’s no transport, so I’m not sure what I’d use.”

“And go where?”

“Always wanted to go to California, and that’s past the current freeze line.  Somewhere where there’s power for starters, though.”

“I’ve got a car.  It’s not a very good one, but I used to hang out in my dad’s workshop, and I pretty much know everything there is about cars and trucks.”

“And you waitress?”

“Girl mechanics don’t get far, just hit on.  Lasted a week before I hit one jerk with a spanner.  They’re very useful for teaching jerks lessons.  Do you have any hidden talents?”

“Aside from washing dishes, not really.  I can read, not comics, but textbooks and learn from them.  Very good at trivia questions. I can program computers, and I have a funny little program running at the moment collecting every digitised book on the planet.  Useful, of course, to no one but me.”

“Every book?”

I shrugged.  “That can be freely downloaded, yes.”

“Why?”

“The usual reason, because I can.”

“How about speaking other languages, like Russian, or German?”

“Yes, several.  Why?”

“Another quirk, I guess, that I have too.  I can speak about six or seven different languages.  I just can for some reason.  Helps to talk to the customers at the diner when their English is kaput.”

Interesting.  But time for a change of subject.  “Does the car have petrol?”

“Diesel.”

“Spare fuel?”

“Some.  So, we have a car, we have food, we have blankets and warm clothes.  Still might not be enough.  We certainly will not get on the roads with the stay-at-home order in place, but when things get better, it’s a possible plan.”

Another announcement had just been made, that if you had no reason to be on the street, stay at home, until further notice.  There was also a specific reference to looting and the fact that perpetrators would be apprehended.  This time, they were not waiting until everything went to hell.

“The question is, and don’t take this the wrong way if I was to consider going anywhere, I would not want to leave you here, not while this is all going on.  And if it does pass, I would consider going south, but again, I don’t want to leave you unless…”

“I have something better to do with my life, or I have a secret boyfriend or ex-husband, or maybe I just don’t like you.  What you see is what you get, Alex.  I don’t want to be alone, and yet that’s what always happens.  The type of guys I get to meet, well, you’re not one of them.  Let’s see what happens in the next few days when we are so close; bad habits are bound to surface.  I’m not perfect.”

“Neither am I.  Nor do I have many dates.  Talking to you on the fire escape has been the highlight of my life.  Make of that what you will.”

It was hard to tell what she was thinking, though, at times, it was easy enough to gauge her mood.  At the moment, with everything, there was an element of fear, tinged with something else.  But the fact she wanted to stay with me and see what happened was a good sign.

She took my hand in hers and held it with both of hers.  “I’m not sure if I should curse or thank this weather.  But one thing is for sure, it brought us together in a way I never expected, though part of me was hoping something might develop.  Lives such as ours don’t give scope for much, but it doesn’t mean we can’t try.  Plan for two.  I think soon, we’re going to be in for a hell of a ride if we can get in front of it.  That said, in the meantime, what have you got to eat?”

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©  Charles Heath  2024

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