Everstorm

By Ian Chapman

Everstorm is a story of hope and survival in a devastated world.

The planet has been torn apart by a massively destructive storm for over a decade. The only way to survive was to go underground. We join sixteen year old Arvid and his friends in a bunker just outside Wellington. An emergency exercise quickly becomes horrifyingly real. They have been trained to deal with any emergency, but the fragility of their existence becomes all too apparent.

Life in the bunker is difficult. Rumours about life on the outside are commonplace. What will it be like on out there? Could they survive? Where will they go? What will they do?
Everstorm is the first book of a trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ian Chapman
• Release date: May 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310089626

Book preview

Everstorm

by

Ian Chapman

Published by Ian Chapman at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Ian Chapman

Everstorm

By

Ian Chapman

As I looked up into the sky it folded three times

blues became more than black

and then void.

It was gone as if it had never been there at all.

I folded the memory of the sky three times

placed it safely in a pocket of my mind

to be unfolded when needed

when the void was not enough

when more than black needed to be blue.

I would stare with awe at the blue

and ignore the creases.

Some had predicted the end, but even those few couldn’t have known the true horror that was to unleash itself upon the world. Annie hit first. She swallowed the Northern Hemisphere in one insatiable gulp. With super cold hail carried upon the back of subsonic winds she tore the soil from rock and flesh from bone. Coastal cities lost their footing and succumbed to the relentless surge of the torturous sea. Those that fled inland were chased down by the deadly cold; a cold that froze the tears in their eyes and the blood in their veins. Helpless, the Southern Hemisphere watched in shock and awe.

New Zealand mourned their loss but planned to survive. Bunkers were built deep underground along the spine of the country. Each was filled with families that not only had the skills to survive down there, but also, eventually, maybe, the skills to live once more on the outside.

Three massive storms formed in the oceans around Antarctica and slowly drifted north toward the deadly embrace of Annie. With voracious hunger she consumed Harry before those left on the world could draw breath. She then turned to his siblings, hunting down both Julie and Isaac with deadly intent. They were quickly, almost lovingly, devoured. All four had become one massive predator that swallowed the whole planet.

A predator, for those few who survived, was named Everstorm...

*

'What are you playing at?'

Sixteen year old Vicky didn't reply; she couldn't. Whoever had hold of her, held her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. The group was moving fast. Her feet barely touched the ground as they ran through the tunnels back to the bolthole. A gust of ice-cold air stung her face; a warning went off on the sleeve of the man’s environmental suit. To Vicky it sounded tiny, metallic and terrifying.

'Warning! Warning! Temperature dropping.'

Vicky's eyes started to hurt, she curled her hands into tight little fists trying to protect fingers that were already feeling like useless lumps of ice.

'Warning! External temperature minus eighty degrees!'

'Hold your breath!’ the man screamed.'Emergency shut down in two minutes.'

She sucked one last deep freezing breath and held it with lungs that were already complaining from the dust and smoke. The cold seemed to suck the very life out of her, her body shivered uncontrollably in a futile attempt to keep itself warm.

'Warning! Warning! External temperature minus ninety degrees!'

Suddenly she was airborne, and for a moment, at peace. There were no sirens, no warning alarms, no one shouting; just a strange euphoric peace. Warm and comforting like dozing in a hot bath in an empty house. Am I dead? The cold hard floor snatched away the tranquility. Her momentum carried her under the emergency door, cracking her head on the descending slab of steel. The terror and the noise returned. Her lungs burned with pain and her heart raced. Pinpricks of intense light erupted behind her eyelids as thunder roared continuous in her ears. Blood from a gash on her forehead trickled over her eyelids and down her cheeks like tears. Oxygen-depleted air exploded out of her mouth as if she had thrown up something poisonous and deadly. With a quick short gasp she gulped down a single breath and waited for the pain. It was cold, her lungs ached with it, but it was breathable. She took another cautious breath and pulled herself up against the wall. The door must be doing its job! She glanced back toward the ever decreasing gap under the door.

The door to the bolthole must be almost closed. Panic struck. She grabbed the handrail and leapt down the stairs three at a time. As she reached the small platform that led to the dungeon its door closed with a clunk and a hiss as the pressure seals inflated; a dim emergency light painted its base red. Damn, too late. She ran faster, down and down the spiral staircase barely touching the stairs, barely touching the cold steel of the hand rail. It was almost as if she were flying. She landed at the base of the stairs with a thump and could see the door. The piercing light of the bolthole cut through the tiny gap and spilled across the floor like liquefied metal.

A silhouette of someone's head peeked through the gap. 'Vicky, it’s Vicky!' someone screamed. ‘Hold the door!' hands slipped under, trying to stop the doors descent. Trying to give Vicky another second, just one more second. There were screams of pain and effort as it continued downwards. She was so close that she could see their white knuckles and the dust on their shoes. She dived forward with every ounce of energy and hit the floor with a sliding thump, hoping her forward momentum would carry her under the door and into that warm, safe sanctuary of the bolthole.

*

The five arms of the upper bunker radiated out from the central hub like a thick spoked wagon wheel. Each connected to the outer corridor which could then be completely sealed off from the rest of the bunker. This allowed access to sections of the bunker without an emergency affecting the whole bunker. There was a flaw to this design, known to all, a deadly terrifying flaw that they tried not to think about ... It let the cold in. Below the main bunker was the heart- the dungeon. It contained the bunkers life support systems, its reactor, water purifiers and heaters. Below the dungeon was the bolthole. The last self-sufficient short term refuge for those needing to escape the raw, deadly cold.

*

Debris and rocks, dislodged from the walls by the earthquake, littered the floor of the dimly lit tunnel. Forty six year old Hank led the team of teenagers as fast as he could over the rubble. Each of the four member team carried equipment slung over their shoulders. Two of the team also pulled a trolley loaded with a compressor, coils of insulated pipe and cells of liquid foam.

Each of their environmental suits crackled with warnings, their intercoms hissed and gasped with their own laboured breath and those of their team mates.

'What's happening Hank?' Arvid asked from the control room.

'Almost there,' he shivered. 'It’s a little chilly in here, did one of you leave a window open?'

'You haven't got long!'

'I know,' he said calmly.

'Minutes at most!' an edge of panic caught the words in Arvid's throat.

'I know.'

'It’s dropped past minus one hundred and twenty.'

'I know! Hey Arvid. Keep it calm. I know you're scared but this is what you kids have been trained for. You can do this. Make your parents proud.’ Hank’s voice sounded like warm golden syrup over the microphone. ‘Hey Arvid.’

‘What? What is it? What's wrong?'

'Turn that bloody siren off will you. It’s giving me a headache.'

The siren fell silent just as they entered sector H.

'Lights please, Arvid!’ they blinked on and he scanned the walls. There, directly ahead in the middle of the wall, lancing like a lightning bolt, up to and across the roof, was a huge black crack. The wound was surrounded by a halo of ice made from the moisture in the bunkers sanitized atmosphere, moisture that would have condensed and become super cold as soon as it hit the outside air.

'Amy, Te Manawa, get the patches put together,' Hank barked. 'John get the compressor and pump going before the fuel freezes, and remember to check your steps before taking them.' None of them bothered replying; they didn't need to; they knew what to do. They had trained for this very moment for years now; they could do it blindfolded. Hank kicked away the huge lumps of rubble and peered into the gaping maw. The air in his suit was getting cold, he looked at his wrist thermometer, minus one hundred and forty-eight. Bloody’ell, no wonder the suit’s heaters are struggling. He looked into the crack and something caught his eye. He squinted moving his head left and right.

'Arvid, turn the lights off again will you.'

Surprised, his team stopped what they were doing and looked up. Arvid didn't question Hank’s request, the lights blinked off. Hank closed his eyes until the red afterglow on his retinas settled down. He wished he could rub the ache away. He looked up again, through the rock and ice. There was light. There was daylight! He shook his head. It couldn't be light, at least not enough to illuminate the tunnel. Could it? He had imagined it to be pitch black out there, sunlight having no chance of getting through the thirty kilometres of thick blanket of cloud that permanently covered the planet.

'Minus one hundred and fifty degrees.' Amy whispered in his ears.

'Check this out,' he said stepping away from the fissure.

The three of them moved over to the crack.

'That's daylight,' Te Manawa said.

'What?' Amy said, pulling Te Manawa out of the way. 'Wow, I thought it was meant to be dark out there.'

'So did I,' Hank whispered as he leant against the wall.

John put a hand in the gap and pulled himself into it, craning his neck. 'Yep that's daylight. I remember it well.' He slipped back down on the floor. 'So it’s your choice Hank, seal it or put a nice picture window here?'

'Minus one hundred and seventy!' Arvid shouted in his ear.

'I guess we are going to have to seal it then. Lights please Arvid.' he pushed himself away from the wall as the lights came back on and walked over to the snake of pipes that lay coiled up on the trolley. John switched on the machine and connected the foam cell to the pump. Hank picked up the foam gun, checked the nozzle, ran his hand over it and connected it with a satisfying click to the hose. 'How long till the patches are ready to go on the wall?'

'About 3 minutes.' Te Manawa answered as he moved back to the thick-layered carbon-fibre, foil-foam patches that he and Amy had already lain out. He sprayed the back of each of them with an expanding adhesive as Amy connected the bolt gun to the compressor.

Hank set the nozzle and pushed the gun's barrel deep into the fissure. Anchoring himself against the wall, he pulled the trigger. The gun kicked back sending a stream of foam deep into the abyss. It hit the rocks and quickly expanded, filling every square centimetre. He worked the foam back and forth, laying down layer upon layer until it completely filled the hole. Releasing the trigger, Hank stepped back and waited for the foam to expand. Thirty seconds later it had set solid and although it was filled with millions upon millions of air pockets it was harder then the surrounding rocks. John stepped forward with a diamond grinder and sliced off the protruding foam. It looked like a slice from a giant loaf of bread as it fell to the floor.

'Well that's that then!' John said and reached up unsealing his helmet and twisted it off.

'No!' Hank screamed as a pure white blossom plumed around John’s mouth. His eyes turned into glistening white pearls as they froze in their sockets. He fell to his knees, a macabre sculpture forever in prayer.

‘Oh my God,’ Amy cried. ‘Put his helmet on.'

‘It’s too late.’

‘No, no, no. He’ll be all right. Help me!’

‘It’s too late.’ Hank said gripping her arm.

‘It can’t be, it has only been a second...’

‘That’s all it takes,’ he pulled Amy closer.

She pushed away. ‘You’re wrong and wasting time.’

‘He’s gone Amy, now finish your job.’

Horror sat alongside disbelief in her eyes.

‘We have to finish the job.’

*

The darkness, thick with malice, folded around Vicky like a smothering blanket. Pulling her arms tight around her knees, she strained to hear a murmuring beneath the distant rumbling and whirring of machinery. Could she hear soothing voices coming through the bolthole's heavy door? She held her breath and listened harder as a gentle gust of ice-cold air rolled over her cheek. Shuddering, more from fear than cold, she forced them out of her head. Monsters lurked in the void; sly little creatures only seen out of the corner of her eye. Creatures that lived under her bed or in the far corner of her wardrobe where light never quite seemed to reach. Creatures lurked in the shadows between the small glowing yellow globes, that hung like fat lazy fireflies, in lines along the bunker’s corridors.

She slammed her fist to the ground.