Nuclear Midnight by Robert Cole Read Free Book Online

pointed to a group of lights at the bottom of the hill. ‘That's it,’ he announced. ‘Probably no more than a kilometre away.’
    It took another twenty minutes of hard walking to reach the complex, which, as they approached through defoliated trees, had a strangely forlorn appearance. Like a row of dimly lit street lamps, it stretched for several hundred metres in both directions, finally terminating in a large sprawling car park. It wasn't until they reached the perimeter of the car park that the now familiar smashed windows and blown in doors became evident.
    They entered the reception area only to find it deserted. Tables and chairs had been overturned, debris lay about and patches of what looked like frozen blood stained the floor. The party wandered around the mess in silence, hesitating in front of two large swinging doors. Beneath the doors a shaft of neon light stretched across the floor. The signs above the doors read. ‘Through to wards 1, 2 and 3’.
    Alex walked over to the reception desk. Most of the drawers had been pulled out in some previous frantic and probably quite pointless search. Its contents lay strewn around. The computer screen had also been smashed and now lay bent and twisted against a nearby wall. He picked through the rubbish with a sinking heart, then noticed a large book bearing the word 'REGISTER', written in bold black letters on the cover. With rising hope, he fumbled through the pages. It contained lists of admissions dating from the seventh of July, the day of the holocaust. He ran his fingers down one page, then another, then another until, scrawled in almost illegible handwriting he read: ‘Jason Carhill, age 24, suspected fractured skull, Ward 3.’ With a sigh of relief, he called the rest of the group over. Soon they were all eagerly gathered round the register. Alex pushed his way to the back and found Tina near the reception entrance.
    ‘Is he there?’ she asked anxiously.
    He smiled at her. ‘He's here all right, ward 3.’
    Taking Tina's hand, he turned towards the swinging doors. But the distant crack of heavy boots stopped him in his tracks. The sound grew quickly, stifling even the excited sounds of the company. Suddenly the doors swung open and at least a dozen armed men, dressed in military uniform, burst in.
    One of them carried a large kerosene lamp, which he placed on the floor between
    the two groups. The leader was not hard to distinguish; he towered over his companions, both in height and physique. His large, blunt features and flattened nose gave him the appearance of a prize-fighter, more than a soldier. His thick, meaty hands rested near the trigger of an automatic rifle   he didn’t look too friendly.
    In spite of the warlike posture, however, Alex could hardly repress a smile; his uniform was several sizes too small for him. His companions also wore dirty, ill-fitting clothes and several of them looked sick and weak.
    The leader spoke in a rough, abrasive voice. ‘There's no room for you here. This hospital has been taken over by the military for its own personnel.’
    ‘We don't want medical attention,’ Hugh answered. ‘Over a week ago some road accident victims were admitted, we just want to visit them.’
    The man shook his head. ‘We don't have any road accident victims here, only military personnel.’
    A voice from the group which Alex, to his dismay, recognised as that of Ted Richards, spoke up. ‘So, what have you done with them?’ The tone was unfortunate.
    The leader of the soldiers glared at him. ‘All patients who were not bedridden were asked to leave when we commandeered this hospital.’
    ‘But these people were too sick to leave,’ Ted replied.
    The leader shifted his weight from one leg to another, frowning. ‘When we arrived a few days ago,’ he said flatly, ‘there were no car accident victims here. I would advise you to leave.’
    The uneasiness of his soldiers standing behind him was by now clearly evident.
    ‘This