Cold

By Terrence Aubrey

It was the year 2100 and John was cold, cold to the bone, but that was all he'd ever known. Had the sky not been full of low cloud he would have seen the Atlantic Ocean below him to the east and not so far away. Not so long ago the ocean would have been a distant view, but the ice melt had raised the ocean levels worldwide. He had moved to the Appalachian Hills in South Carolina, two years earlier. Together with his family, he lived within a small community of fellow survivors that had moved south firstly from New York and more recently from North Carolina. They had been forced to keep moving south due to the plunging temperatures and it now seemed that they would soon need to move again! Whilst their first year in South Carolina had been a marked improvement, during this the second year, the temperatures had begun to plummet, just as they had in North Carolina.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terrence Aubrey
• Release date: Apr 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386850342

Book preview

About the Author

Terrence Aubrey was born in Bristol, England, the only son of a Ballet dancer mother and composer father. Rebellious of nature and from an early age, he abandoned his education at the earliest possible moment, fifteen. He showed no inclination of following in the artistic footsteps of his parents during his formative years.

Preferring a self enlightening process, he set off upon an adventure that led him to experiment with understanding the mind and the development of self awareness. During that period he enjoyed extensive World travel across the countries of Europe, the America’s, north and south and the FSU. He found those travels, enriching, mind opening and educational and in equal measure. He discovered both a passion and love of writing by chance, while establishing a blog site. Through writing and publishing a host of blogs upon topical World issues his passion for writing grew. His primary passion was environmental and mankind’s seemingly total disregard for the very planet we each depend upon. Rightly or wrongly he found mankind’s lack of care for the very planet we depend upon certifiable, insane. The leap from blogging to writing full length novels was a gradual process.

That the path the human race has followed for the past two thousand years is fundamentally flawed seems clear. While on one level we have progressed in leaps and bounds materially, the cost of that one dimensional progress becomes ever clearer. If you can imagine planet earth as a tree we have been cutting the very branch we sit upon, depend upon since as a species we learnt to walk on two legs.

Has anything of importance changed during the past two thousand years of our evolution? Oh yes, and very much so, we are now able to cut through that branch far more efficiently.

The majority of his novels reflect his environmental concern for the way we, the human race have chosen to live and the consequences that path has led us towards. Whilst many of his novels are dramatic, even apocalyptic, they also show a way forward. Whether you believe that way to be better or worse than the current status quo is for you to decide. Terrence Aubrey currently lives on a farm in southern Spain and cultivates Avocados. He has four sons, three dogs, two ex wives and writes. He has now published several works of fiction and they can be found on all of the best online eBook publishers and will soon be available in print.

Acknowledgments

For authors how we come to writing is I am sure a very individual process. For me it was initially through a combination of blogging and reading. I devour novels like some people devour coffee, alcohol, or food. During my leisure time and no I do not regard writing as leisure time, I am often reading. Below I list those authors that have most captured my imagination and drawn me into whatever World, or situation they have created. While these authors do not share a theme, they do share the ability and imagination to draw the reader into whatever tale they have written, irrespective of the genre they have chosen and for that reason alone have contributed in inspiring me to become a story teller.

JRR Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings trilogy is a majestic piece of work made both real and tangible through the author’s skill and passion. The Hobbit too makes it into my top ten.

C.S Lewis. The Chronicles of Narnia. Much like JRR Tolkien C S Lewis created a World of fantasy that was as tangible as Middle Earth within Lord of the Rings. His work, much like Tolkien’s shares a timeless relevance that remains as valid now as when he penned it.

Aldous Huxley. Another great Author that was able to create his own Worlds and flesh them out as he chose. Island was the last book he wrote and was a utopian paradise. Was it perhaps the World in which he would have chosen to live within?

The common theme among the above authors is that they each had the ability and vision to create entire World’s from their imagination formidable minds and intellects.

Franz Kafka, was the creator of the Castle, amongst many other books. If you ever become frustrated with faceless bureaucracy try this tale. It could be worse, far, far worse, as Franz Kafka skilfully portrays. A positive quote of his is:- Youth is happy because it has the ability to see beauty. Only I would question the limitation to youth for the appreciation of this God given gift. Another quote of his that I love and that seems to contradict the one above is  anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old, Franz Kafka

I must include here Dan Brown and solely for the Da Vinci Code. In my opinion it is a book that must belong amongst the most skilfully and intriguing books ever written.

Luke Rhinehart is the author and creator of many tales, but I choose Long Voyage Back. It is a tale set within a Post nuclear war World and for me within its bleakness lays its beauty. The grit and determination to survive on the part of the main characters is as uplifting as it is bleak and hopeless.

Tom Clancy. I must include this author having enjoyed both his skill and the readability of the numerous books he wrote within his chosen genre.

Sophie Kinsella stands out within this list if only for her delightfully light hearted way with words. If you are feeling down, or troubled try one of her tales, the perfect pick me up.

Robert Ludlum. Another author of great talent, though for me the brilliantly conceived and written series of books following the trials and tribulations of Jason Bourne reflects his best work.

I must include also Larry Niven for the Ring World series and the books he wrote in collaboration with Jerry Pournelle. Both Lucifer’s Hammer and The Mote in God’s Eye are well crafted books of considerable depth and intrigue. The post apocalyptical Lucifer’s Hammer is a nail biting tale of surviving the affects of a comets collision with earth until literally the last page.

Steven King is arguably the World’s most successful author of all time at in terms of books sold, so why is he at the bottom of my list? The Shining and Carrie were books that were difficult to put down, but many of his subsequent books were for me the opposite. Sorry Stephen if you read these words, but I doubt you will be bothered by them if you do. Opinions are something we all suffer from, right, or wrong.Somehow and from the varied list of influences that I have listed above my style of story-telling has evolved. Watching as we voluntarily and almost Zombie like destroy the very planet we depend upon,  live upon forms the backbone of many of the tale’s I weave. If my stories in any way draw you into the Worlds of concerns and fears that I have created then I will feel I have succeeded. Y’all have a nice day.

Chapter One

The Frozen Planet

It was the year 2100 and John was cold, cold to the bone, but that was all he’d ever known. Had the sky not been full of low cloud he would have seen the Atlantic Ocean below him to the east and not so far away. Not so long ago the ocean would have been a distant view, but the ice melt had raised the ocean levels worldwide. He had moved to the Appalachian Hills in South Carolina, two years earlier. Together with his family, he lived within a small community of fellow survivors that had moved south firstly from New York and more recently from North Carolina. They had been forced to keep moving south due to the plunging temperatures and it now seemed that they would soon need to move again! Whilst their first year in South Carolina had been a marked improvement, during this the second year, the temperatures had begun to plummet, just as they had in North Carolina.

John’s ancestors had lived in New York for generations, but had been forced to move ever further south, as climate change began to take hold. He remembered the tales of his father, tales that had passed on from his father and his father’s father, before he passed on, aged forty five. The so called experts back then had apparently predicted ever rising temperatures as climate change began to manifest itself across the planet. How wrong they’d been, the exactly the opposite had taken place. Much of the northern and southern hemispheres were now uninhabitable, way too cold and ice covered. Even worse, it was a process that showed no indication of either slowing or stopping, hence the need to constantly migrate south.

The tales had become folk lore, tales of how life had been, before the cold and the ice came. While the tales were difficult to believe, they gave John hope that perhaps one day the sun would find a way through the low lying and dark clouds somewhere, but clearly not where they were currently living. John was twenty two, his wife Mary, was nineteen and their ten month old son, James, was sick, very sick, but had been from birth. Whilst the tales he’d heard of the warmer weather further south lifted his spirit and gave him hope, he was finding it increasingly difficult to believe they were true. He felt cold, cold to the bone, cold and dispirited. They were tales of warmth, cloudless skies and lush vegetation, lush vegetation that stretched way to the north and way south. He still had an old and treasured map of how the World had once been and he took great care of it. The map was now wildly inaccurate the Worlds coastlines had changed and dramatically so as the ice at the north and south poles had melted. It was the only map he had, the only map within their small community of survivors. He hoped to eventually pass the map to his son James, as his father had done to him and took great care of it. He was currently on his third roll of sellotape, but it was the only map they had and was he knew important, very important. Whether his son would survive to receive it was still in the balance, he was not well, not well at all. James was their third child, all boys. Christopher, his first, had only survived for three months. Peter, his second, managed eight, so he felt hope, James had out now out lived both.

The old tales told of the environmental catastrophe that had slowly swept the planet. From what he’d understood, the people that lived hundreds of years earlier together with their governments and leaders were to blame. Seemingly a minority, a small minority, had tried to share their fears and concerns of the consequences of mankind’s chosen way of life a long time ago. While John found it difficult to believe, they had apparently been ignored, marginalised and ultimately regarded as weirdoes, extremists.

Those were tales of long, long ago and life on earth had changed and dramatically. John had kept a record of the passing years and almost religiously. It was now the year two thousand one hundred and John together with those within their small community formed a small part of those that had survived. Just what percentage of the human race had survived was something he would never know, worldwide communication had gone down long before he was born.

John realised that he was now shivering uncontrollably and that the sky was fast darkening. He’d strayed far from home, almost a mile and at this time of day, that was foolhardy, the night time temperatures impossible to survive.

Shit, he could no longer see his small log built home or that of his neighbours. The snow was now falling fast and furiously was already knee deep, as he set off in what he was sure was the right direction. What had he been thinking, apart from too much, he knew that it was dangerous to be out in such conditions, particularly at night. John tried to ensure that he continued in a straight line, frequently looking back to check his passage. The snow storm was now a blizzard, the bitterly cold wind increasing in intensity, his foot prints quickly vanishing behind him, was he stupid or what!

John now seriously worried, tried to up his pace, he knew that at these temperatures, now way, way below freezing, he needed shelter and soon. If anything his progress slowed, the snow already thigh deep, he couldn’t die, couldn’t, his wife, his son needed him. Now seriously worried, John concentrated his fast failing energy in moving forward. He hit an obstruction, visibility now zero, the falling snow blinding. Extending his now numb hands he felt logs, thank God, it was a wall of logs; he’d made it. From feel alone, he followed the wall, but was fast losing all feeling from his heavily bandaged hands. He came to a corner and followed the new direction, afraid to lose contact with the log wall and knew he was close to passing out. He found an indentation, a door, hammering on it with his now numb hands. The door was opened and he fell through, it was his neighbour Frank’s house.

My God John, what are you doing outside? Frank exclaimed, shocked and kneeling at his side. John uttered words, but they were unintelligible and lost consciousness before Liz, Frank’s wife, rushed into the living room. Liz was the best their small community had as a doctor and soon took over. That John was in a bad way was clear. With Frank’s help, they carried him closer to the blazing log fire, closer, but not too close. The pain was excruciating as the blood began to flow to his extremities. Liz could do nothing about that, more worried that he’d lose fingers or toes. John was lucky, almost unbelievably so, but wouldn’t appreciate that fact, until the intense pain diminished.

I need to tell Mary that John is safe and well, Frank said, once it seemed that John was going to recover intact, that she would be worried half to death was a certainty.

Stay with her, comfort her, until John is in a fit state to get home. Liz told him, forcing some home brewed liquor down John’s throat. John’s cabin was but six yards from Frank and Liz’s, but not visible, Frank knew the direction. Wrapping up warmly, Frank fastened a rope to the peg near the front door then donned his home made snow shoes. Frank counted his steps, visibility effectively zero and was pleased to walk into the log wall. He knocked then entered once he found the door, now was not a time for niceties.

John, where is he? Mary said, rushing towards him in near panic.

He’s okay, he’s okay, Frank reassured her, holding her tightly, he’s with Liz and I’ll stay with you until he’s well enough to come over. Frank had tied the rope to the peg next to Mary’s door and the journey between the two cabins was now relatively safe.

How is he, will he pull through? John’s been in a strange mood for days now. I tried to talk him out of going out, when he told me he needed to think, but he wouldn’t listen, you know John.

Yes I know John and he’s been lucky, very lucky. Hopefully he’ll learn something when he recovers; that he’s lost no fingers or toes is a near miracle. A few more minutes outside and he would have frozen to death. Mary, overwhelmed, hugged Frank tightly and he held her until she’d cried herself out, her tears a mix of joy and fear. She and their young son James would not survive alone, that she knew. It was hours later that John and Liz made the short journey between the cabins. John was looking remarkably okay. Yes John had learnt a lesson that night, but perhaps not the lesson that Frank was expecting. Mary rushed to hug him, once John arrived with Liz, but pulled back, once John flinched in pain.

I’ve been worried sick," Mary chastised him, before she could stop her words of worry from bursting forth. Liz shook her head subtly and Mary calmed, beginning to realise that she was lucky to see John at all.

John won’t be up for much for a couple of days, Liz pointed out. He’s lucky to have survived at all; he was caught out in the blizzard. Liz would leave John to explain why he was out in the first place; he’d clammed up whenever she tried to broach the subject. Come on Frank, we should get back, its late, Liz told him, that Mary and John needed some time alone was more than clear to her. That something had driven John to behave so stupidly was obvious; she’d leave Mary to drag it out of him.

Thanks Liz and you Frank, I owe you one. John told them, as they set off along the guide rope, the blizzard still raging and visibility still next to zero.

John, what got into you, are you trying to kill yourself, you know it’s not safe out there after dark? Mary said, once the door was shut and they were alone.

Sorry but I needed space to think, assess the situation, our situation, I just needed some time to myself, needed to gather my thoughts. He said, as Mary poured him a half beaker of their home made spirit. It was as rough as fuck, but as potent as hell and the only booze they’d ever known.

John knew exactly why he’d behaved so; he’d needed to somehow distance himself, both physically and mentally from what he, they, now thought of as home. The fact was now even more than clear to him t, they needed to again move on, a realisation that his reckless sojourn had only reinforced.I’ll try and defend my actions in the morning, and sorry, I’ve caused you undue worry I know, but I’ feel exhausted. Mary again put her arms around him, this time gently and led him closer to the fire. Whatever had driven John to behave the way he had, he was alive and that was the most important thing. She’d wait until the morning to hear John’s story, but hear it she would, she needed to know what had driven him to risk his life so.

The heat emanating from the roaring log fire felt so good, the perfect remedy for the cold he still felt within his bones. Had he been crazy, straying so far from home and so late in the day? Actually he knew exactly why he had acted so rashly, his near disaster only reinforcing his fears. It was again time to move south, as his father and his forefathers had done before him and in search of warmer temperatures.

How is James doing? John asked her, feeling better by the minute?

Good, he seems to be recovering  by the day, he’s eating more and will, I hope, start to gain some weight, some resistance against whatever seems to weaken him. Mary was pleased to tell him. John and his family formed part of a small community of twenty families, all immigrants from the frozen north and two years earlier it had been warmer, much warmer in South Carolina. He’d miscalculated, he, together with his nearby neighbours. The cold had followed them and had now, only two years later, caught up with them. He’d read of seasons, in one of the few old books he owned. There used to be seasons each distinct from the other. He struggled to imagine how life must have been with such certainties. Perhaps if he could figure out what season they were now experiencing, he could better decide on what they should do. He made a mental note to visit his neighbour, Frank during what now passed as morning. If any of them knew what season it now was, it would be Frank. His thoughts, worries and concerns occupied but a brief moment, though Mary could sense his preoccupation, as he held her in a tight hug and John absorbed her body heat.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, but I needed to be alone with my thoughts, he again explained, holding her tightly. Life didn’t used to be like this and I guess I needed to ponder why.

I know, I’ve heard the stories too, but this is how it is and we need to accept it and make the most of it. Mary pointed out, as practical as ever.

Supper smells good, what is it? John said, trying to ignore his worries and his physical discomfort and placate his wife at the same time. John actually knew, more or less what supper would be, much the same as they eat every day. It was a mixture of vegetables from their vegetable patch. Perhaps and if lucky, there would be some meat, but only if one of their rat traps had worked. So James is better today. He eventually said, filing away his concerns, at least for the moment.

Yes, he’s good, or at least relatively so, Mary told him, holding her crossed fingers before him. It’s four days now since he’s suffered a coughing fit, four days, she emphasised. The news was good, no wonderful, four days, was like forever. Perhaps at last he’d gather some strength, some resistance from whatever had been ailing him for the past months.

John poured over his worn and sellotape covered map after supper, though he knew that since the sea levels had risen, it was widely inaccurate. The coastlines worldwide had, he knew changed, though to what extent he did not know. He, his family and their neighbours effectively lived above and next to the sea. From his map, he knew that only eighty years earlier, the Appalachian hills had been far from the sea and inland, but that was before the ice began to melt. To head further south would, he realised, on studying the map, involve an enormous and time consuming journey, even with their wagons. Before they could seriously head south, they would need to first head west to Texas a distance of at least one thousand miles. That the journey would be gruelling was beyond doubt, it was, a very long way, but the only option. There was now little of America to their south, of that he was sure, the Atlantic Ocean would have reclaimed much of it as the poles had melted.

Unknown to him that was a fact, barring a few small islands in what had been Florida, the state was no more. The Gulf of Mexico had effectively merged with the Atlantic Ocean and much of Louisiana too was now under water. Despite the huge journey involved Mexico, was the only feasible direction in which to head, but once there, they could then continue as far south as they thought necessary. John knew that somewhere to the south of them the ice and snow must stop, had to. Only twenty years earlier South Carolina had been a warm and sunny state. No, once the blizzard stopped, even if only for a while, he’d call a meeting and sound out the views of his fellow survivors.

John recalled settling in the hills only two years earlier and remembered the warmth and feeling of the sun upon his back, just two years ago! He was sure that at least four months had passed, since he’d last seen the sun. Perhaps this was what had once been called winter time, perhaps the freezing temperatures would soon begin to rise, if they did, that would be the time to set off. Given the rapid drop in temperatures since they’d arrived, he doubted they would survive another winter where they were. Mary drew him out of his thoughtful and introspective mood and as she drew closer and wrapped her arms around him and showered his bearded face with sweet kisses. John offered no resistance, as she led him to their well covered and warm bed. James was not only sleeping soundly, but seemed comfortable and content. John felt hope, if he could recover from the latest bug that had smitten him, perhaps he could gain some strength, some resistance, to the bugs that he’d been so susceptible to from birth.

Mary was both loving and affectionate once they climbed into bed and soon had his complete attention. She even removed her clothes, a rare event, before removing his. John realised that it had been, what, two weeks, or more, since he’d enjoyed more than a quick fumble with his wife. It must have been half an hour, before they each dressed, ready for sleep and John felt wonderful. For the first time in an age, his worries, concerns and fears had evaporated and completely and he eventually enjoyed the deepest sleep he’d enjoyed in quite a while.

John knew the story, had heard it over and over, but still struggled to believe it. Seemingly, the fact that the human race and their chosen way of life were changing the World’s climate was ignored. What he found impossible to believe, was that despite the warnings and the eventual predictions of dangerous weather changes, people remained indifferent. From what he understood, any serious deviation from the path that the human race was following would involve a major change of life style. Cleary, at that time the general consensus was that that was a price not worth paying. Looking at that attitude and living with the consequences of that lack of concern one hundred years later, it was something that was difficult to comprehend. From his understanding, people had chosen to live in huge urbanisations, his forefathers also, New York, a city of millions. Seemingly the everyday gadgets that had made life easier were far more important than the wellbeing of the very planet that they and everything, depended upon. John suffered more from the puzzlement of not understanding people’s blindness to the danger they were precipitating, than anger. What was the value of such creature comforts, if they indirectly endangered human life? What were the World’s leaders thinking of during that time, again, for John, it was difficult to even understand their mentality?

Chapter Two

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The stories had been passed down through the generations and John was smart enough to realise that they may well have become embellished, even adulterated during that time, but not so much. Seemingly the Worlds changing climate was something that was only seriously debated towards the end of the last millennium, but there had been many sceptics and many in denial. During the early years of the new millennium the evidence of the planets changing climate became ever harder to dismiss. Even the fact that the ice was fast melting upon both the north and south polls, a fact that became increasingly indisputable, failed to alarm many. The Worlds leaders began to hold a series of meetings, the solution not complicated, the human race needed to reduce, or stop pouring harmful gasses and pollutants into the atmosphere, the oceans and the rivers and urgently. As incredible as it now seemed one hundred years later those meetings proved futile. Not only was the eradication of pouring such gasses into the skies regarded as impractical, so was any reduction. In fact the volume of gasses pumped into the atmosphere continued to increase, their eradication regarded as politically and economically impossible. The situation had deteriorated and rapidly during the early years of the new millennium. Despite the increasing evidence of mankind’s reckless disregard for its actions, next to nothing, was done. Despite fact that the ice caps at the north and south poles were now fast disappearing was becoming increasingly undeniable still nothing was done. The same was true of the fast deteriorating weathers patterns that begun to sweep the planet. Even despite that evidence, still no meaningful changes to mankind’s way of life were considered either feasible, or doable. Typhoons, Hurricanes, Tsunami’s and other extreme weather conditions became the norm and worldwide and this was the part that John really struggled to believe. Logically and looking back, the World’s leaders should have gathered together to thrash out ways to at least slow down these life threatening changes. It didn’t happen, there were other more important issues that needed addressing and the economy was seemingly their priority. One of the World’s major ideological systems, Communism, had it seemed, imploded towards the end of the previous millennium, then much the same happened to the other system, Capitalism. That too suffered much the same fate as Communism early in the new millennium, though for different reasons and that system also imploded economically. Those concerned about mankind’s environmentally destructive ways became as voices in the wilderness. As one famous American President had correctly pointed out, ‘the only thing of importance was The economy-stupid’ the majority of the inhabits upon planet earth were interested in little beyond the economy and how it affected them personally! Climate change, global warming and it’s potentially devastating consequences had become old news, an irrelevance, a side issue. Despite the increasingly unpredictable and devastating weather patterns and the subsequent loss of life, progressing materially continued to be the only game in town. For John, living one hundred years later and trying to survive that gross irresponsibility, it was very difficult to imagine quite what people had been thinking back then!

By the year two thousand and twenty the affects of that gross irresponsibility had become impossible to ignore and ever more devastating, in equal measure, but it was too late, even if mankind could have flipped a switch and changed its way of life overnight, the changes had already become irreversible. One of the many changes that began to affect the entire planet was as unexpected, as it was devastating. By the time ice at the north and south poles had more or less