The Green Fog~7

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We stayed for a while longer because it was warm and we didn’t fancy getting back into the cold, almost windowless Land Rover very much.

Angel

 



Chapter 7

Previously…

‘Look,’ I said, ‘let’s find a place in the village–hopefully without people in it–and then we can plan our next move, which has to include a new vehicle, preferably bigger, as there are more of us now.’

Adam looked up. ‘So I can come with you, can’t I?’

‘Of course.’

‘But I thought that you were going to find your parents.’

‘Is that a problem?’ Jeanie asked.

‘No, I don’t blame you. I just hope you don’t find them–well, you know––’

Thinking back, I realised that we hadn’t discussed what Adam was going to do after finding his parents.

‘Look Adam, we aren’t forcing you. If you want to go off by yourself, that’s fair enough, but I think that safety in numbers is a good thing. I said this to Nicola and now I’m saying it to you. With the world the way it is, there’s only going to be a few people around and it seems to me that if we can, we should all stick together, as a sort of family.’

‘That’s right,’ said Jeanie. ‘Nicola is our sister now and we want you to be our sister too.’

‘But I’m a b–’ She stopped for a moment and looked down at herself. Her breasts were just buds like Jeanie’s and mine, but they were noticeable. She was wearing girls’ clothes and she had to keep brushing her now longer hair away from her eyes.

She looked at us and grimaced. ‘I am a girl, aren’t I?’

We all nodded,

‘’Course you are, silly,’ said Nicola in a matter of fact way. ‘You can’t be Adam any more. I went to Sunday school, last week and Miss Tranter told us about Adam and Eve. You look more like an Eve than an Adam.’

‘Very clever for six, aren’t you?’ said Adam, ruefully.

‘I am six and nearly three quarters and that’s very nearly seven and Miss Tranter said I was pre—preco–’ she paused, frowning while she thought–‘precotus–that means clever.’

We all smiled but didn’t laugh at, or try to correct her.

‘I suppose Eve is as good a name as any, but as soon as I can I’m going to be a boy again.’

‘Yes, Eve,’ we replied in unison. Well, we had to humour her, didn’t we––?

And now the story continues…

Fenny Compton to Kings Bromley

We stayed for a while longer because it was warm and we didn’t fancy getting back into the cold, almost windowless Land Rover very much. We had an early lunch comprising of cans of bully beef and tins of potatoes and baked beans, using the stove in the small back kitchen next to the toilet at the back of the shop. There was some orangeade in bottles too and we drank that to wash our meal down.

Jeanie was the un-elected quartermaster but we didn’t mind beause she was good at organising that sort of thing. After lunch she made a list from memory of what we had in the car and what we might need on the long journey up to sunny bonny Scotland. We ex-boys just got in the way and made a nuisance of ourselves until Jeanie got cross.

‘Look, you lot, instead of larking about, how about making yourselves useful? Load up everything I put in on the floor into the car and then we can get out of this place and find somewhere a bit more comfortable.’

‘Yes, Miss.’ We all giggled, making Jeanie stick out her tongue in a ladylike manner and then giggle like the rest of us.

Ben kept sniffing in one of the corners and wagging his tail. Then he barked and went behind a pile of boxes. He barked again and I went over. Looking behind the box was a dead, half eaten rat.

‘Leave it, Ben, you don’t want that. It will give you a tummy ache and make you sick in the car. Look, fancy a biscuit?’

I swear that dog could understand me as he came out immediately and came to me with an expectant look on his face.

I gave him a rich tea biscuit and then continued to help the others load the car. We had very little room now, and we really need to find a ten ton truck or something, the way Jeanie was pulling stuff off the shelves with gay abandon!

Eventually, after what seemed like ages, but really was only about an hour, we were ready to go. I was lucky, because the others had boxes, tins and bottles on or around them, while I, being the driver, didn’t have to suffer like that. But we needed to find somewhere fast as we did not want to be out any later than we needed.

After going along the High Street we found a pub on the corner of Brook Street, called The Merrie Lion. It had a car park at the side and we sort of decided without saying anything that we would have a look in it as it was not only a pub, but a sort of bed and breakfast-cum-hotel too.

We parked the car and went in via the kitchen at the back. The kitchen was quite large and had couple of ovens, cookers and other things that you would expect in a kitchen that caters for lots of people. We carried on through the swing doors and into the pub.

It was a typical village pub with low beams and a huge fireplace. Luckily, there was no one around, but before we settled in, I wanted to find out if we had any “residents”. We left Eve with Nicola and Ben as Jeanie and I went upstairs to the first floor. There were several bedrooms up there, and one door marked private. After looking in the bedrooms, we found one couple in bed at the end and just shut the door on them.

Then Jeanie opened the door marked private and that led up a short flight of stairs with another door at the end of a corridor. She knocked on the door for some unaccountable reason and waited for a moment. Then opened it.

We went into what was obviously a sitting room with the usual three piece suite and a very modern and polished, wooden cased television in the corner. Our noses were twitching as we could smell the usual stench coming from a closed door in the corner. I didn’t want to open the door as I had seen enough death to last a lifetime, but Jeanie went in, stayed for a moment and then came out looking more than a bit green about the gills as she gently closed the door behind her, as if the occupants would wake up if she was too noisy.

‘Let’s go down,’ she said rather shakily.

The others were sitting in the snug. Eve was staring outside at the gathering clouds and Nicola and Ben were just having a cuddle.

‘Well?’ said Eve, looking around.

‘There are a few people up there, but as there are several rooms, we could go up and sleep in one or two of the unoccupied ones.’ I said.

‘I vote that we do stay here in the pub, but sleep down here in the snug or public bar. The long seats are quite comfortable and we could get the fire going,’ said Jeanie. ‘I noticed some logs outside. What do you think, Eve?’

‘I don’t mind either way,’ she said in a sort of a dead voice. We would have to keep an eye on her, I thought.

‘Nicola?’

‘Am I allowed to stay here?’

‘Why, honey?’ I asked.

‘I’m under age for pubs. Daddy always said that children weren’t allowed.’

‘Well, we are all under age, but things have changed a bit and I don’t think that we will get told off by anybody.’

‘All right then. It’s all a bit of a ’venture, isn’t it?’

I wished I was six. It was all black and white at that age and the full horror of what was happening wasn’t affecting Nicola as much as the rest of us. If she wanted it to be a ’venture–as she called it–who was I or anyone else for that matter to spoil it for her.

‘Yes,’ I replied gently, not looking at the others, ‘I suppose that it is a bit of an adventure, really. All right the vote is yes by three with one abstention. Let’s get everything out of the car.’

‘Not again,’ whined Nicola.

‘Yes,’ Jeanie agreed firmly, ‘we can’t go any further in the car and there are the oxygen cylinders. Thank goodness we brought a couple of spares or we would be up the creek without a paddle–’

~ §~

Before long we were all settled and had the fire going. It was getting darker outside and rain started to pitter-patter against the windows. We agreed that one of us should keep lookout for the fog, and Eve said that she would do it first. She was upstairs at that point looking out of the various windows that commanded a reasonable view of the village and surrounding areas.

Nicola, was asleep lying on the carpet, near the fire with her head resting on Ben who was in the same comatose state.

Jeanie and I sat by the window overlooking the garden and spoke quietly about things. ‘I’m worried about Eve,’ Jeanie said.

‘I know. She’s finding it hard to adapt and take everything in. Losing her parents like that was a big blow.’

‘We may have lost ours too,’ she reminded me.

‘I know,’ I replied, ‘But until we know for sure, I want to keep hoping.’

‘If only the fog would go away. It’s bad enough having to fight for our lives with all these mad people we come across, without having to contend with that too.’

‘Come on Jeanie, you’re the strong one normally, don’t go all weak on me now.’

She looked at me with a quizzical smile. ‘I think you’ve become a lot stronger now you’re a girl.’

‘Me? No, I‘m still the six stone weakling I’ve always been.’

‘I’m not so sure. We girls are a lot stronger than boys in many ways.’

‘Don’t let Eve hear you. She’d start going on about boys being all superior and everything. I still think that she’s got a long way to go before she accepts who and what she is.’

‘You’re probably right. Anyway, I wonder how long it’s going to take us to reach Scotland?’

‘At the rate we’re going, we might get there in say–seven years?’

‘We’ll have to get a move on. I’m worried that things are going to get worse before they get better,’ said Jeanie.

‘We’ll go as early as possible tomorrow and see if we can’t get as many miles in as we can. We’ll look at the map later, I brought it in from the car. Talking about cars, before we go anywhere, we’ll have to find some new transport–with some petrol in the tank too.’

‘Well that’s your department, go and see if you can find something suitable first thing tomorrow. Take Eve with you, it'll take her mind off of things.’

‘Good idea.’

~ §~

The afternoon turned into evening and then night time. None of us felt like doing much and I suppose that it was a good idea to have some quiet time, when we could just relax and take time off from our frantic lives. The weather outside was a bit grim–it was raining cats and dogs.

We spent some time studying the map to see where we were and where we were going. We had at least four hundred miles to go to reach Dunoon, and I wondered what else we would come across on the way; also if the fog had finally gone for good. Jeanie, who’s turn for lookout it was, kept popping off and checking things out, leaving Eve and I by ourselves for a while. Nicola was standing on a chair and playing bar skittles and Shove Ha'penny giggling to herself, while Ben was by the side of her looking up, wagging his tail and looking a bit puzzled.

I carried on studying the map; the problem was that we wanted to avoid large towns and cities. We had no idea if the rotting bodies would carry disease, but had to assume that they would. Also the water supply would be very suspect, so we could only drink bottled drinks. Transport was an important thing to consider now that the Landy was U.S.

‘What do you think, Eve?’

‘I don’t know; you decide; I’m in a muddle at the moment. Knowing that my parents are dead has knocked me for six. I sort of knew that they couldn’t survive, but I sort of hoped that they would, like I did. Now I feel guilty ‘cos they didn’t make it and I did. On top of that, I loved my Auntie. She was smashing, and I’ll never taste her jam again!’

She started crying then and I gave her a big cuddle. The thought of doing that just a few short days ago would have made me feel rather queer, but now–as a girl–it came as naturally to me as breathing.

By eight o’clock we were all feeling tired and decided to camp out in the snug bar, where the fire was lovely and warm and there were some padded seats that would do as beds. Eve volunteered for the first watch of ninety minutes, and although we were worried about her, Jeanie and I agreed that she should do her bit, like the rest of us. We made ourselves comfortable after tucking in Nicola and her teddy.

As I shut my eyes, feeling really tired now–the stress and strain catching up on me–I hoped that we would have a peaceful night. Jeanie was next up as watch person and then me, so I had to make the most of my three hours rest before it was time to do my stint.

~ §~

‘…wake up, Alex!’

Starting, I opened my eyes to see Jeanie standing there. It was beginning to get light outside and I wondered why I hadn’t been woken earlier.

‘What?’

‘It’s Eve, you must come–’ she whispered.

I glanced over at Nicola and Ben. They were still fast asleep with Nicola using Ben’s body as a sort of pillow, but I had little time to hang about as Jeanie hissed at me again.

‘Come on!

She ran out of the room and into the public bar with me following on her heels.

As I went through the doorway, I couldn’t see what the fuss was all about, but Jeanie ran over to the bar and went behind. I wondered what had happened to Eve and then I saw––

She was lying propped up against the back of the bar. A bottle of whisky was on its side next to her, half the contents spilt in a puddle by the side of the prone girl. She had been sick all down the front of her blouse and she was asleep with her mouth open. She looked a mess, and it didn’t take a genius to work out that she had been drinking–a lot.

‘Oh no,’ I cried.

Jeanie leaned down and shook her.

‘Eve, Eve, wake up!

She groaned and then one eye opened.

‘Where am I?’ she whispered.

‘In the pub, you ’nana,’ Jeanie retorted.

‘Don’t shout.’

‘I’m not shouting, but I want to. You’ve been drinking.’

‘So?’

‘So you shouldn’t. You’re under age.’

‘No one’s under age for anything now. Didn’t you notice everyone is dead…ooh my head hurts.’

‘Serves you right, you silly moo.’ I said.

She held on to her head and rocked backwards and forwards.

‘Right, up you get. You need several cups of strong tea; don’t groan like that. If the fog had come, we could have all been killed!

~ §~

She sat at the kitchen table clutching a hot cup and kept taking sips. She looked really sorry for herself, and I wasn’t feeling very charitable. Jeanie was banging pots and pans around and I knew that she was annoyed too.

‘Please stop banging,’ Eve pleaded.

‘I have to make breakfast. Alex, will you wake Nicola and get her to wash her face in that water we boiled up last night?’

‘All right,’ I replied standing up and leaving the other two girls alone.

Nicola was still fast asleep and I didn’t want to wake her. Ben was awake though and gave me a thump of his tail to say that he was pleased to see me.

Glancing through the window, I could see that it was getting brighter outside. I could hear raised voices coming from the kitchen, and being a coward, I didn’t fancy going into World War Three. Turning back to the window again, I could see that the rain had gone and the sky was clear. I went upstairs and had a look out of several windows, steering clear of the rooms with occupants, natch. There was no sign of the fog and the sun was just coming up over the trees to the east.

When I returned downstairs, Nicola was wakening and stretching. ‘Hello, Jeanie,’ she said.

‘I’m Alex,’ I replied, smiling.

‘Sorry, where are the others?’

‘In the kitchen. Come on, let’s wash you then we can have some brekky. I think there’s porridge.’

‘Yummy!’

~ §~

When we entered the kitchen, only Jeanie was there. I raised my eyebrows.

‘Eve is having a wash and change in the Ladies. She said sorry.’

‘What for?’ asked Nicola.

‘Never mind. How would you like your porridge, Nikki; stiff, very stiff or “cor I can’t get my spoon in”?’

She giggled as she stroked Ben, who looked like he would have preferred sausages to porridge any day.

‘Stiff, please.’

‘Wise choice, one stiff porridge coming up. What about you, young Alex?’

‘I’m not younger than you!’

‘Yes you are, ten minutes younger.’

‘Mmm, that’s not much.’

‘Enough, young sis; come on what would you like?’

‘Same as Nicola, old girl.’

‘Enough of the old or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you with this spurtle!’1

We all giggled at that and then went quiet as Eve came in. she had obviously been crying again. She had changed her blouse and skirt and had washed herself and brushed her hair. She had made the effort to look nice, but the dark circles under her eyes told their own story.

She patted Ben and then sat down next to Nicola.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Nicola, ‘you look sad.’

Eve smiled slightly. ‘I am sad. I have been a stupid bo–girl.’

‘Why?’

‘I let everybody down and drank some horrible stuff to help me forget,’

‘Forget what,’ asked a puzzled Nicola blowing on her hot porridge.

‘Don’t ask so many questions, Nikki,’ I said.

‘No, it’s all right,’ Eve said, looking first at me and then the others. ‘I—I want to apologise. My Uncle Philip drank a lot when Auntie Phyllis died. He said that it helped take the pain away–he was wrong, it just makes you feel rotten and gives you a headache and a foul taste in your mouth. It just puts off the awfulness for a short time. It comes back again when you are sober. I should have looked out properly, instead I drank myself asleep. If you want I’ll go. I wouldn’t blame you. I’m a horrible person––’

Tears started flowing again and we all went and gave her a big hug.

After we had all blown our noses and settled down again I replied to Eve’s question. ‘I said the other day, we’re family now and we have to stick together. We all do stupid things sometimes. You won’t do it again, I’m sure, so forget it; let’s have our porridge and go and find another car.’

~ §~

Eve and I left Jeanie, Nicola and Ben to sort out what we were going to take with us when we finally found a car and went to the Landy. We were muffled up against the weather, but it was one of those winters days that felt like spring, so it wasn’t very cold. We would use the Land Rover to save time. It might be cold with no windscreen, but it would be quicker.

The car started first time and I crashed the gears as we moved off slowly down the road. There were a number of cars parked up outside houses, but nothing like what we were looking for, which would be something big enough for all for of us, Ben and all the things that we wanted to take with us.

We saw a few people lying by the side of the road, but didn’t pay much attention as we had other things to think of at the moment. Looking in a few of the larger cars, I didn’t see any keys left in the ignition and neither of us had any idea how to start a car without a key. I somehow think that our education had been lacking in that respect. After about twenty minutes of fruitless searching, we turned into the High Street and screeched to a halt. There in front of us was a small charabanc.

‘Ooh,’ said Eve.

We stopped behind it and went round to the front. It was one of the familiar single decker Bedford coaches, dark red with white window surrounds and roof, a maroon stripe along each side and matching maroon mudguards.

LXL90_02.jpg
Bedford OB Coach

Eve reached up and opened the driver’s side door and we both jumped back and screamed as the bloated body of a man fell out and landed on the road with a rather sickening, sloshy ker-plopp! We both squealed ‘Eeeewww!’ and pushed the body away with our feet as best we could while we pinched our noses tightly shut with our thumbs and forefingers, trying to ignore the fact that the man was bloated and grotesque-looking after laying rotting in the coach for some days.

The smell inside was truly revolting, but looking in through the door, I could see the key was still in the ignition. Eve went around to the other side and got in that way. Luckily, when tragedy struck, the door was partly open and the smell, such as it was, could have been much worse. There was a decidedly disgusting stain on the driver’s seat, but the man’s coat was hung over the back of the seat. I cleaned things up and then spread a copy of The Daily Sketch newspaper on the seat and then used the man’s coat as extra protection: problem solved.

‘According to the notice, we are licenced to carry twenty-nine passengers,’ Eve explained.

‘Let’s see if she starts up,’ I said, thinking that she was enormous compared to the Landy, and anyway, how could I drive this monster?

I was almost hoping that she wouldn’t start, but blow me, she did–first time, and according to the gauge–if it was accurate–she had nearly a full tank of fuel!

‘Gosh,’ said Eve, ‘shall we take it?’

I gazed at her and said doubtfully, ‘She’s a bit big––’

‘–You can drive her, Alex, I’m sure–with a bit of practic.e and anyway. we’d have heaps of room.’ Eve’s voice sounded more enthusiastic than I had heard her since the time she discovered she had changed into a girl.

‘Oh blow it,’ I exclaimed recklessly, ‘if I can’t drive her, we’ll just have to find something else; let’s go!’

The gears, funnily enough, were slightly easier than the Land Rover, and apart from a minor crunch–that made both of us wince–I managed to get the little Bedford–well she was smaller than most other buses–moving.

It was strange being higher up compared to the Landy, and the steering wheel seemed huge. The seat adjustment was up and down, so by winding the handle at the side I was able to set it low enough for my feet to reach the pedals–just. It was a good job that I had reasonably long legs for my age.

In next to no time we were heading back towards the pub and apart from a few initial problems mounting the kerb occasionally as I negotiated corners, I managed quite well, considering!

As we pulled up at the pub, I beeped the horn. Jeanie, Nicola and Ben came out of the pub and both Eve and I laughed at the site of their gobsmacked expressions–even Ben looked somewhat surprised.

Eve slid open the door. ‘All aboard that’s coming aboard. This is the Scottish Express, stopping in lots of places. Form an orderly queue, dogs are half fare.’

We all laughed fit to bust at that, and I was so pleased that Eve had got back some of her wit and joie de vivre. I didn’t think things could be boring with her around.

Forty minutes later we were moving off down the road. We had lots of space now. All our things were piled up in the back, and the girls and Ben had any number of seats to chose from, although Jeanie and Eve sat on the double front seat next to me with the road map. I soon got the hang of things and was lucky, because my father had taught me the rudiments of double declutching on one of the old cars back at home. Yes, I crunched sometimes, but no one is perfect, and anyway, if you do it right and match the revs, you don’t always need to use the clutch.

~ §~

I drove along Station Road and on to Wharf Road by the side of the Oxford Canal and we soon found ourselves back on the main Banbury Road heading north. We kept a watch out for the fog, but it was a lovely morning, not a cloud in the sky and no sign of anything that could cause us harm. The Bedford turned out to be quite easy to drive, and the suspension helped make the ride much smoother than the rather harsh Landy.

As we bowled along we all sang Ten Green Bottles, There Were Three In The Bed, the Quartermaster’s Stores, The Wheels of the Bus Go Round and Around, and other songs, so it was all very jolly for a while.

We wanted to get some miles under our belts before stopping for the night. We went through Ladbroke, then the large town of Southam–we couldn’t go round it, but luckily, the road took us to the side, and so, thankfully, not many houses and few bodies were in sight. Then on to Long Itchington, along the Oxford Road through Marton, and on to Princethorpe. We stopped just outside Princethorpe and had a bite to eat and a loo break. As we drank our orangeade and munched at some biscuits we had a look at the map.

‘I vote that we turn off up the B4455 and head up towards Watling Street. That means we would be able to avoid Coventry and Birmingham and head up roughly where we want to go without too many big towns, except maybe Tamworth.’

‘Sounds all right to me,’ Jeanie replied.

‘Me too,’ Eve added. ‘Where will we stop though? We don’t want to leave it too late to find a place to stay for the night.’

‘Not sure, let’s see how far we can get. Do we all agree?’

‘Yes!’

‘Woof!’ agreed Ben.

~ §~

So we set off again and were soon bowling along at a fair lick. We kept a sharp lookout for people, and of course the fog, but it seemed as if we were the only people alive, which wasn’t the case because we had been shot at and then there was the person flying that ’plane; I would have loved to have found out where it was going,. The only thing I did remember was that it was heading north, as we were.

As I drove, I wondered how many people were alive now. If the first dose of fog didn’t get you, subsequent ones would. Then I wondered about my parents, and I felt a lump in my throat at the thought of going four hundred miles through goodness knows how many perils, only to find them dead.

I pulled myself together. That sort of thing wouldn’t do. I had to get a grip on myself–stiff upper lip and all that–and try my best to make things work. The sun was high in the sky now and we had reached Watling Street in pretty good time. I had hopes of reaching Kings Bromley before too long.

We passed Hinkley on the left and then drove through Atherstone. There wasn’t much there, except more signs of human remains and cars that had crashed or stopped suddenly. We had to thread our way through several crashes, but luckily didn’t have to stop.

We were right to avoid any large towns, seeing what even small towns looked like. The various horrors we saw would stay with me forever; Avoiding towns where possible, also reduced the chances of our coming a cropper somewhere.

~ §~

At Tamworth, we joined the A513 Comberford Road. Tamworth was larger than Atherstone, and we could see many signs of devastation. More cars vans and lorries meant more smash ups. It appeared that the fog caught the town during daylight, and there were lots of bodies lying around in the usual rag-doll attitude. Dogs, cats and even foxes seemed to be roving around and on more than one occasion we saw some feeding…

We didn’t stop for anything, and it was a relief to get out into the countryside again, away from the oppressive, and frankly, stinking towns where rubbish was being blown across the streets, there being nobody to collect it: animals roamed around looking for whatever food they could find, and above all, the oppressiveness and lack of human life made places like that less than desirable.

We travelled through Comberford, skirted Elford and Croxall, went through a couple of other small places, heading towards Kings Bromley, where I hoped to find a place to stay, as I was pretty tired with driving the bus by now.

It was amazing when we were driving along some of the country roads. It was as if there was nothing wrong and the world was not in the grip of a deadly force that had–as far as we knew–wiped out nearly all the human race.

We passed fields with cows or sheep or even horses in them. Some of the animals were lying down, and I wasn’t sure if that was because they were asleep or dead. Did the fog affect them as much as us? Was it because there wasn’t anyone around to feed them? We didn’t know and we certainly didn’t have time to stop and investigate.

We were about three miles from Kings Bromley; Jeanie and Eve were asleep in the back and Nicola was playing with Ben on the front passenger seat when she suddenly spoke.

‘It’s very green isn’t it?’

Casting an eye towards the green fields and pastures, I had to agree.

‘Yes, Nikki, it won’t be long to spring now.’

‘No, I don’t mean the fields; the sun’s looking green, and look at those birds.’

I took a quick glance westwards and my heart missed a beat. The sun was much lower in the sky than before, and had a strange, eerie green tinge to it. What was even more startling was that there appeared to be thousands of birds coming our way. The sky was full of them as they passed over and continued eastwards as fast as their wings could carry them.

I stopped the bus with a screech and then had a proper look. The others had woken up now and I could hear gasps as they realised as I did, what was causing the sun to look like that and the birds to fly away from it.

In seconds, it started to grow noticeably darker and the wind got up. I felt a chill in the air and could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

‘Oh no, not again,’ choked Eve as we saw the impenetrable green fog come up over the horizon like a great high wall, advancing slowly, closer and closer. Only it wasn’t slow because it was just an illusion caused by the distance. It was coming quicker and quicker, and I knew for certain that we couldn’t outrun it, as the road we were on had a bend that, near enough,would take us straight towards it – and there were no other turn offs.

Everyone was shouting and I couldn’t think much about anything other than we had nowhere to go before the green fog would overtake us––

_______________________
1      Spurtle: a Scots word denoting kitchen utensil made of wood used for stirring porridge. Being Scots, both Jeanie and Alex would know the word.


 
To be continued…

 

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Comments

Well, at least

The kids still have the oxygen, right? Right?

And how fast does the fog travel anyway?

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

They do have the oxygen, but

They do have the oxygen, but do they have enough masks? Also, a bus takes much more fuel, and diesel probably - they will have to keep topping up or they could run out.

Briar

Briar

In the Fifties…

…the Bedford OB was powered by a 3.5-litre 6-cylinder Vauxhall petrol engine, and while the children had to rely on hand-operated petrol pumps—there being no electric power—they were far more numerous in those days than diesel pumps. This story is set at around the time I was learning to drive, and I cannot remember many filling stations that boasted a DERV pump.

Also,I have many memories of riding in Bedford OBs as well as the war-time "utilities" the OWBs with slatted wooden seats which, on a longish journey imprinted corrugations on one’s bum and the backs of one's thighs. Ooh nasty.

I'm sure you remember them, Briar.

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

My time too.

I started my motor powered career with a 1953 Excelsior 98cc 2 speed motorcycle in 1956. Certainly diesel powered cars were rare (almost non-existent I suspect) so DERV pumps were equally scarce though I feel bigger commercial vehicles often had diesel power. I'm surprised the bus had such a small petrol engine. 3.5 litres isn't very big for such a heavy vehicle so I guess it wasn't very sprightly. Even agricultural tractors often ran on paraffin (kerosene in $) after starting on petrol.

Where I lived most of the buses were electrically powered double decker trollies with overhead power lines but there were also a few diesels. I remember the slatted seats but they weren't all that common.

I'd been wondering how they children were getting fuel. As you say the electric pumps would be out of order and I don't recall any hand-operated petrol pumps. I was thinking they would need to resort to syphoning petrol from abandoned cars. I remember the taste well from 'stealing' the odd gallon from my Dad's car to fill up my motor bike :)

I like the concept of Sue's story quite apart from the transgender aspects. It would make a good young adults scifi/adventure novel.

Thanks Sue

Robi

The Green Fog~7

Sue Brown sure does know how to tell and end a story so that you MUST return for the next installment.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Good Job Sue

littlerocksilver's picture

Continues to be very entertaining.

Portia

Portia

Thanks Sue

A great installment. Are the children ever going to be able to escape the Green Fog, and will we ever learn the whys and wherefores of it?

Pestilent Smog


Bike Archive

Sentient?

The fog has shown itself to be sentient, deliberately targeting people and only people (although it appears from this episode that birds aren't very keen on it either), which makes me suspect it's a botched experiment of some form. If it was a 'proper' lifeform then it wouldn't kill willy-nilly, it would feed on the dead. But it doesn't, despite being incredibly persistent, having come and gone for the best part of a week now.

Of course, the fact they've now upgraded to a bus means there's the possibility in future episodes of picking up more passengers en-route to Scotland. And presumably at some point in time they'll have to have a pit stop at a hospital to stock up on O2.

It's fun plotting the route they're taking - bearing in mind that 90% of bypasses and motorways don't yet exist! One way of following their journey is to use a site called www.maptasm.com It starts off centred in London, but you can zoom in / out and drag your way around the country using modern maps, then click the + at the right hand side to switch to the NPE Maps (New Popular Edition - published in the 1950s)

So once they've survived this bought of fog, they'll probably take the A515 towards Ashbourne and Buxton, then eventually (on various classified roads) skirt around Oldham and Rochdale in what is now the Manchester conurbation.
 


There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

Can't Wait.

This Story gets better and better. Can't wait..It's kinda like a drug, Need More And More And Even More.....GREAT STORY...

Let's think for a minute

Humans are affected; animals don't appear to be - but why are the birds trying to evade it?

Jeanie and Alex had breathing problems and therefore were on oxygen. But what about Nikki and Eve? They just changed sex. Interesting that we've not yet seen any FtM yet.

We've already maybe deduced that the fog has some intelligence.

So far, I'm still a little confused - which presumeably is Sue's plan.

You're right, Stan. I'll have to keep returning to the story in order to get some answers.

Susie

Interesting point about

Jeanie and Alex having oxygen when the green fog arrived, Yet Nikki and Eve not seeming to need it.....Could that not that the green fog does not always kill?

Kirri(+1 vote)

P.S.
Great story Sue, As ever you always manage to keep us so wonderfully entertained, Thank you.

I'm sorry Kirri

Nicholas was also saved by the oxygen, as was said in the first part:

‘Nicholas, did you have an asthma attack last night?’
She looked at me and nodded.
‘Did you have to have a mask on?’
‘Yes, I hated it but Mummy said I must, as the pill didn’t work. I hate the mask and those horrible pills.’
In all the fuss, I hadn’t notice the cylinder on the floor by the bed and the mask with its tube attached lying next to it.

See? So I rather agree more on it being a reaction with the mucous membranes on the insides of the mouth or something.

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

The Green Fog needs a nemesis

errr, maybe a Yellow fog? Hmmm, I guess I've been reading too many comic books. And in this case the green fog is the bad guy(?).

Funny thing, is we still don't know if it is sentient or is it running on instinct. At this point I would lean to instinctual. The children do not seem to be actively hunted but as usual, we end with a cliffhanger and hope the children get those oxygen masks on in time. Fortunately they have the space now to lie down in this huge bus. I wonder how many more children they will pick up?

I think it will wind up to be an all children story until with any luck they get to Alex and Jeannie's parents.

Cross fingers.

Kim

Or maybe a Red fog and a Blue fog

"maybe a Yellow fog?"

Or maybe a Red fog and a Blue fog? When they all clashed they'd form a Grey (or Gray, if you prefer) fog.

Then it would look just like normal old England again. :-)

Kris

Kris

{I leave a trail of Kudos as I browse the site. Be careful where you step!}

Pardon the nerdy comic book reference

... for fans of the Green Lantern, it is well known that the Green Lantern has a weakness against Sinestro, a yellow lantern. We now return to what a REAL writer is capable of!

Kim

This Yellow Fog?

This Yellow Fog? BTW, if you follow the link to the author, it will appear that he wrote about 'the evil that consumes itself'... And one another Yellow Fog I met (in a continuation of a book written using Baum's Oz stories as an inspiration) was heavily sight restricting, and prolonged exposure was detrimental to eyesight and making it impossible to raise crops.

Oh, right, so how does everyone think, is it possible that the fog was designed as a method of acclimatizing to foreign environment, but got loose?

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Bloody Fingernails

That's what happens when I'm hanging off a cliff! Please, don't leave us out here too long. :-)

We have a tree here in South

We have a tree here in South East Queensland called the Myrtle it has a good dense grain well suited to woodturning.
So if you go in the local craft stores, you can buy - you guessed it - Myrtle Spurtles.

I'm enjoying this story - I hope they get a slower bus - so the story can last all the longer.

I reckon the rain stops the fog - so all they need is a sprinkler system fitted to the bus!

Too much, the Magic Bus

Gas or diesel? You didn't say.
Must be a local transit bus and not a road coach (no toilet)
The you attack us again with the, "Bloody Green Fog!"
Is it alive? Dose it think? When will you answer these questions?
Is there an answer? Are there questions annoying? :) I could go on BUT, why bother...
Guess I'll have to wait 4 the next chapter.

HUGGELS
ChrisW

The Coach runs on Petrol…

…or gas as you would say in the US. Remember that this story is set in the 1950s, and coaches (or charabancs as they were often called in those days) did not have toilets—at least here in Britain—so you just had to keep your legs crossed until a loo stop was reached. I travelled many miles in little Bedford OB coaches in the fifties, for anything from a school trip, or visit to the swimming baths, or for a Saturday outing with Granny to visit some beauty spot or place of interest.

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Priscilla, Queen Of The Road

joannebarbarella's picture

An episode brimming with interesting antiquated insights.

Charabanc.....I haven't heard a coach described as that in I don't know how many years. It's what my mum used to call them.

The best use of The Daily Sketch that I've ever heard of. It certainly wasn't worth reading. Thankyou! Thankyou! Green Fog (can we call it Greenie?) for annihilating the Mirror and The News of The World (we used to call it News Of The Screws) as well.

Spurtle......dad used to have one to stir his porridge. He wouldn't let mum do it because she was a sassenach and she could burn water anyway, let alone his porridge (eaten with salt, not sugar, yuk!).

I wonder if the oxy bottles can be used as weapons? Spurting poison gas at the fog (poor Greenie. nobody loves it),

Joanne

*inhales deeply*

This might seem a little harsh, but I'm kinda an idiot when it comes to this stuff... so, um... yeah. I don't really know though, I'm bad at judging reactions.

First things first - to be honest, the TG element seems a bit forced. This seems like it would work better as a mainstream horror novel, and it's just a little strange to be switching between "OMG THE FOG IS GONNA KILL US" to "hey look a dress that I can wear". It's written very seriously, but the mood whiplash is a little offputting.

Second - either the fog is screwing with their brains, or they're gonna be hoping like hell at least one of the survivors is an endocrinologist. Contrary to what most stories on this site believe, gender identity is kinda built into us. Somehow, the fog has altered how they think... and if it can do that, why is it stopping at just that?

Third... The fog is an entity of some kind that is killing for no discernable reason, but for some reason, a simple gag protected Adam from the fog. Why do they need to bother with the oxygen tanks when it seems that a hankerchief would do (other than the asthma)? And why - when people saw a sickly green fog coming towards them - did NO-ONE actually follow smoke safety guidelines and save themselves with it?

Fourth... I kinda dislike it when things like that happen. People in these stories always grow used to it, but that can't happen... if so, then transsexual people wouldn't exist, would they? They'd just be happy with who they are.

Um, sorry... just things like this set me off and I'm in a ranty/attention-seeky mood at the moment.

~ Compulsive online gamer, supernerd, and geek at your service ~

This is Science Fiction

Taveena, I think you are trying to compare chalk and cheese: The Green Fog is a science fiction story set in the 1950s along the lines of some of John Wyndham’s stories such as The Day of the Triffids* and The Midwich Cuckoos, possibly combined with an element of Edid Blyton’s Famous Five series which featured four children and a dog.

The Fog is lethal when inhaled by human beings, but it seems that of those who survive, boy children are changed into girls, although the few adult male survivors we have seen have retained their birth sex. Alex, Jeannie and Nikki all survived because as asthmatics they were breathing oxygen, and (although the authoress has not confirmed it) Adam/Eve was heavily gagged and in a small room into which the fog did not penetrate fully, but it still changed his gender. This is the only reason this could possibly be considered as a transgender story, and sure the fem is forced because the fog has only two options – death or a sex change. The story certainly does not fall into the general “run of the mill” TG story format.

In UK in the 1950s there were no smoke safety guidelines laid down by the government or anyone else, and the first Clean Air Act did not appear until 1956, and that only dealt with smoke emitted by coal fires in cities and some towns, where “smokeless coal” (which was also much more expensive than “ordinary” coal) had to be burned.

The other point I would make to you is tht there is no compulsion for you to read it if you do not like it.

Mise le meas,**

Morag NicLeoìd

*     See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Day_of_the_Triffids
**     Mise le meas: Scots Gaelic meaning With respect

The Famous Five…TG?

Enid Blyton’s Famous Five series could almost be described as having a transgendered element: After all, does not Georgina insist she's a boy and that everyone calls her George, poor misguided child, but that was quite common among a minority of girls in the 1940s I'm told.

Now why could not Ms Blyton have gone one step further and had Julian wanting to be a girl called Julie-Anne. Now that would have made the FF books truly TG and really set the cat among the 1940's pigeons. Shock Horror! :)

Hilary

Fiction

I would think, Taveena, if you were going to pick hairs to split, you might choose the most obvious one. This story seems to be set in our past, yet any glance at a history book, or population statistics, tells you that the world was not wiped out back then. So, by your logic, the story shouldn't exist.

Reading fiction is a form of entertainment that allows us a bit of indulgence. Did you have similar troubles reading "Gulliver's Travels" or "Peter Pan" or "Little Red Riding Hood"? Or, "The Three Little Pigs" or any of Aesop's Fables? None of these stories follows real-world logic. They have their own internal reality, sort of, and we join it for the length of the story because it's amusing, or appalling, or otherwise interesting and/or educational in some way. Looking at impossible creatures, or people in impossible settings allows us to distill some essence of relationships or truth that isn't quite so obvious in a mundane setting with mundane characters.

Let your hair down a little, it's strangling your spirit.

*sigh* Sorry. Like I said,

*sigh* Sorry. Like I said, I'm kinda an idiot when it comes to this - thanks for explaining all that. I'm just a bit of an idiot sometimes, and I was kinda in a ranty mood, hence the post. Thank you for your explanations, and sorry to waste your time.

... also, I am enjoying the story, I just can't help nitpicking. >.<

~ Compulsive online gamer, supernerd, and geek at your service ~

Don't worry

Not wishing to provoke a war here but to be fair Taveena is entitled to her opinion - admittedly she was not aware of how things were back in the fifties and so made some assumptions which were perhaps a little foolish to make but so what?

I am wondering about the TG element of this too - for instance why does it only do MtF? and why only boys of about 12 or less? Have we established whether or not Eve is Asthmatic? maybe that is more of a factor than we think? Personally I am delighted it didn't turn Jeannie into a boy but that is my own personal kink.

Oh and by weird coincidence - I had a Great Auntie Jeannie and an great Uncle Alex - but they were not twins and were adults by the fifties - well one had died in the War :(. Point being they were and are popular Scots names.

The nature of Monkey is - Irrepressible!!!

The nature of Monkey is - Irrepressible!!!

The Fog's From Iceland

joannebarbarella's picture

They ran out of money and they caught all the cod and whales, so they stirred up one of their multi-syllabic volcanoes to start spewing ash mixed with all these ancient hormones embedded in the glacier on top.

When the Fog has done its work there will only be young maidens left for them to rape and pillage,

Joanne

That makes sense

Those pesky gender bending Vikings!
So far this story is amazing - I love Wyndham and Enid Blyton was my fave author when I was a bairn, plus the protagonists are Luchd Albanach (Folk of Scotland) too. (See Morag - Cha'n 'eil thu nad aonarach an drasda :D). I believe that with this and The Chosen Sue is fast becoming my TG author of choice.

The nature of Monkey is - Irrepressible!!!

The nature of Monkey is - Irrepressible!!!

Bedford OB Coach

I want a Bedford OB Coach to make a house in, now that traveling.......
Love and Hugs Hanna
girl_and_her_coffee3.jpg

Love And Hugs Hanna
((((((((♥)))))))((((((((♥)))))))((((((((♥)))))))((((((((♥)))))))((((((((♥)))))))
Blessed Be
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