The Winterlong

Note: this story contains mentioning of firearms, mild descriptions of police violence, public hysteria, and violence towards children

Dad prodded Toby awake to watch the final sunrise. Red light glowed through the slit of the curtain, making the walls bleed, and their shadows stretch across the ceiling. James, Toby’s older brother, shuffled in the room to join them. 

The sun was so small it struggled under the weight of the dark. Snow blanketed every house the window could see, glimmering gold in the dying light. It seemed their neighbours had the same idea watching the sun rise for the very last time, some poking their heads out of windows and others huddling outdoors in dressing gowns and slippers. Steam flowed from hot beverages and billowed in the bitter air. Only one pigeon cooed in an oak by the local park. 

‘Is Mum coming to see the sunrise?’ Toby asked Dad. 

Dad’s lips thinned before answering. ‘Your mum isn’t feeling well at the moment. She’s sleeping in.’ Before Toby could say anything else, Dad ruffled his hair. ‘Come on. Get dressed, you two. I need a hand with the last minute shop before the sun goes down for good. We would be buggered if we don’t store enough food for the Winterlong.’

The Winterlong was a term coined by researchers at Cambridge University studying this new phenomena, and climate scientists took it to news broadcasts and it became mainstream. Long story short, the sun was dying. Each day was a winter solstice shorter than the last until the planet completely submerged into darkness. 

Nobody knew why it was happening. Some folks believed it was a punishment by God, and others a new phase in astrology (‘The earth is entering Capricorn now,’ one of the girls in Toby’s class said one time. After Toby asked her what she meant, she replied: ‘Capricorn is ruled under Saturn. Basically, we’re all screwed.’ Toby didn’t understand any of it beside the last part). Scientists entered news panels to explain, but Toby still couldn’t grasp it. All he knew was this wasn’t normal, and the world around him was falling apart.

Both Toby and James dressed in layers of jumpers, padding under their coats. Toby wore his jeans over his pyjama bottoms along with two pairs of socks, and two pairs of gloves that stiffened his fingers. A bundle of hiking boots cluttered the hallway. Dad waited for them outside the gate. Snow crunched under their boots to the shop.

Pedestrians stormed the petrol station adjacent to the supermarket, flailing bottles and cans in the air, and tugging petroleum pumps back and forth, fighting to heat their homes for the weeks ahead. Police cars and ambulances circled the store; two paramedics carried a woman on a stretcher, who sobbed hysterically while cradling tins against her chest; three women screamed at each other as one hoarded meats from the frozen section; and a throng of officers tackled a man with packets falling out of his coat and wrestled him in the car. Toby hid behind Dad as they waded toward the store, passing armed guards at the entrance.

Bodies frazzled through the aisles. Trollies clashed against each other. Limbs tangled as two shoppers wrestled to the floor, and more officers pounced in to separate and arrest them. Food packets and toiletries piled high. A pot noodle tumbled over the edge of a woman’s trolley, and a man swooped in and snatched it for himself.

Dad grabbed a basket from the rack and clamped it in the crook of his elbow.

‘Go and grab as much as you can,’ he told his sons. ‘If there’s something we need that you can’t find on the shelves, pinch it off someone’s basket. Just don’t tell your mum.’

James and Toby scarpered. James shot off toward the toiletries section while Toby made a beeline for the chocolates and biscuits. Toby skidded on his heels, halting before empty shelves. Threads of dust dangled inside.

A corner of a trolley jabbed him in the back and he jumped out the way. 

The woman who nudged him hoarded a life’s supply of pasta and bread and potatoes, combined with towers of toilet paper. A packet of Hobnobs peeked behind the stack.

Toby shadowed her to the home section, dodging trollies and shoppers shoving each other to get to the matchbox display, and lingered until she stopped to scoop a bunch of candles off the shelf. With the sun dying, solar and wind energy became scarce, limiting electricity for everybody. In the early days of the catastrophe, people fought for solar powered chargers and lights. But the need for them dwindled as the days become shorter. Candles, matches and batteries became new necessities for light and warmth.

Candles clattered in a pile, and she went on her merry way again. 

She shoved another little boy in her path. He screeched as though stabbed with a hot knife. The boy’s parents swerved round, blocked her path, and a new argument ensued.

Now was Toby’s chance. 

Like an assassin, Toby snuck beside the woman’s trolley and plucked out the Hobnobs. He took a candle too, thinking he needed it more than her, and dashed. 

The woman glanced at the sound of candles clanking, and saw Toby run between shoppers still scrambling for matchboxes.

‘Oi! That’s mine!’ she bellowed after him. She screamed in the thick crowd, ‘Somebody get the police. He stole my candle!’

Toby disappeared in the throng, giggling to himself, and stuffed the items in his coat. He ventured to the dairy aisle for semi-skimmed milk and a net of Babybels, but dust was all the shelves had to offer.

He ran into James, who carried cans of deodorant and hairspray under one arm and a whole chicken and a pork belly in the other. A red mark formed on his left cheek. 

‘What happened to you?’ Toby asked.

James turned away to hide the bruise, and shrugged casually. ‘I took some bloke’s deodorant. He had all of them in his trolley and everyone was going out of their minds persuading him to share. Honestly, I don’t know why he needs so many of them. How many people does he live with to keep warm? Anyway, I eventually had enough and just took it, and then this happened. I can feel this is going to leave a bruise.’ Then James peered at the bulges under Toby’s coat. ‘So what have you got?’

Toby showed him the candle and the Hobnobs. They weren’t impressive finds compared to James’, but James nodded with approval.

‘Nice. Let’s go and find Dad.’

More officers faced the tills, watching the shoppers queue up to pay. Dad waited for them on till sixteen, now pushing a trolley of tinned goods, vegetables, pastas, breads, milk, candles, matches and batteries. He beamed at them arriving. He rubbed their heads and paid for their finds. 

The sky burned orange when they returned home. Sunlight blinked behind the clouds as though fighting to stay awake.

They entered the hallway, submerged in the television garbling from the living room. Mum sat on the edge of the couch – squeezing a cushion against her chest – bathed in the flickering lights. Live footage of the sun played in a news broadcast while a climate expert described the catastrophic effects of the sun’s absence: global cooling, no plant growth, scarce electricity, animals dying out, declining food source. 

Dad crept in the living room. He stroked her shoulders. 

‘Turn the telly off, babe. You’re going to make yourself ill.’

She looked up at him. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but she forced a smile. She turned the television off. Shadows plunged over them. 

She asked, ‘Did you manage to get anything from the shop? I was worried you’d get caught up in the chaos.’

Dad grinned. ‘Take a look for yourself. I don’t think we need to go back to the store anytime soon.’

He showed her the full shopping bags on the kitchen counter, and proudly presented the chicken and pork belly James found. She stared at him intensely. 

‘Are you sure this would be enough?’

Dad’s smile dropped. ‘Well honey, that is the best we got. Have you seen how packed the shop is? Have you seen how many empty shelves there are? Everyone is fighting each other left and right just to get some batteries! The world’s going mad!’ 

‘The earth is moving into Capricorn, Dad,’ Toby said, trying to be helpful.

His parents stared at him, perplexed. James rolled his eyes and shook his head at him. Toby’s cheeks burned. 

His parents looked back to each other. Mum’s gaze drifted to the carrier bags bulging with tins. She took one out, turned it round and round, studying the illustration of butter beans. 

‘Do you think we’re going to be okay after this?’ she asked. 

At first, Toby thought she asked about the butter beans, but it dawned on him she meant if they would make it after the sun went down forever. 

If they had what it took to survive. 

Knots tightened in his gut. He felt too sick to think about eating.

Dad wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Her head fell on his chest; a tear dropped on his coat.

The two brothers played Snakes and Ladders in James’s room. With dwindling electricity and icy weather, television and Wi-Fi became limited at home. At first it didn’t bother James and Toby as they’d go to the park and kicked a ball to each other, but as the temperature fell and the cold deepened, they couldn’t play outside anymore. After returning from the shop the chill sank its teeth in Toby’s bones, and he and James huddled over the gas stove.

After the park completely snowed over, Toby and James were so bored and so irritated they could kill each other. Video games were a solace for James and watching YouTube videos on the iPad was Toby’s. One day Dad stumbled home – snow powdering his shoulders – carrying a bunch of board games and books he found in a now derelict library. But James hated board games (bored games, he’d call them), and Toby hated reading. But that was all they had left to entertain themselves. 

Snowdrops pattered on the windowpane, snowflakes like toffees in the candlelight. The boys still wore woolly hats and gloves indoors, and they cocooned in duvets. 

James’s hand trembled as he rolled the dice and moved his counter across the board, landing on one square adjacent to a snake’s head. He tightened the duvet around his shoulders and sniffled. His breath fogged over his face.

‘Your turn.’

Toby rolled the dice. He moved his counter. It slid down the snake’s body back to the beginning.

‘This is stupid,’ Toby snapped.

James snickered. ‘What’s the matter, Toby? Hate being a sore loser?’

Toby shot him an evil look. James laughed at him, puffing steam between them.

‘Oh chill out, will you. It’s only a game. Even I’m losing. See.’ James’s counter fell to the end of a snake’s tail, positioning it next to Toby’s. ‘There, now we’re both back to square one. Just like where we are now.’

The air thickened between them. The snow tapped on the window. A flame on the windowsill lowered, dragging the dark with it. It needed replacing.

James said suddenly, ‘You know, I was thinking maybe once the lake has frozen over we should take up ice hockey.’

‘But we don’t know how to play ice hockey.’

James scowled at him. ‘We’ll learn.’

‘How?’

James opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. They no longer had the internet to quickly search it up. He glanced at his desk. His monitor stared back, the screen reflecting his and his brother’s gaunt faces. James sighed deeply, sagging his shoulders.

‘I don’t know, Toby. Maybe there’s a book or something we can use.’

‘But they’re burning all the books from the library to keep warm,’ Toby pointed out. He saw a story on the local newspaper of librarians donating unwanted books to burn as an alternative for heating. There were photographs of civilians huddling around a bonfire. A paperback flew spreadeagled to the flames.

‘Oh great,’ James mumbled. He shook his head in dismissal. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter. We’ll make up our own rules. It’s only the two of us that’ll be playing, anyway.’

Toby nodded, and he looked down at their counters on the beginning of the board, both fallen down the same nasty snake. It no longer mattered what he and James did for entertainment as long as they were together for however long they had left.

Toby nodded. ‘Okay. That’ll be cool.’

There was a knock on the door and Dad entered without invitation. ‘I hear you boys are making plans.’ 

‘Yeah. We were just thinking about playing ice hockey,’ James said.

‘Good, good, good,’ Dad said hurriedly. 

The mattress squeaked when he sat on the edge of the bed. The boys froze. It was time for a talk.

‘Now boys, you know that we’re falling on hard times, right?’

They nodded.

Dad sighed. His knee jerked up and down, and his hands fidgeted. He took a breath. ‘And you know that we’re not going to see the end of this?’

The boys nodded again. Toby leaned forward to prompt him to keep going.

Dad took another breath and blinked away the tears prickling his eyes. James’s eyes watered too. Toby became worried. He never saw Dad or James cry before. 

Finally, after a moment collecting his composure, Dad said, ‘No matter what happens or how long we have left, we must stick together and be there for each other, no matter how hard it’s going to be. From now on, waking up to a new day is a privilege because there are dozens out there who won’t.’ 

The boys said nothing. What could they say? Toby never heard Dad speak this way before. This was it. It was becoming real now. His heart didn’t just beat: it ticktocked.

‘So I decided,’ Dad started and, for the first time, a smile cracked between his lips, ‘I’m going to start a barbecue.’

Puzzled, James tilted his head. ‘A barbecue?’

Dad laughed as if it just hit him how bizarre the idea was given their circumstance. ‘I know it’s far out of left field, but let me explain. Tonight is going to be our last sunset ever, and I want us to treasure that moment before we’re completely in the dark. And if tomorrow is going to be our last, at least we spent one more night together, and why not we make it special?’

‘But wouldn’t it be cold?’ Toby asked.

Dad still grinned at them. ‘I have it all taken care of. I’ve got a burn bin in the shed with some wood left. I just need to put in some newspapers and torch it with that deodorant James found. I just need to pull out the grill and the deck chairs and we’ll be all set.’

James and Toby paused, letting the idea sink in. 

‘That’d be a cool idea,’ James said finally.

‘Great,’ Dad said. ‘I’ll ask the neighbours if they want to join us.’

Fire stretched above the burn bin after Dad dropped a match and sprayed deodorant on the flames. Their back garden lit up like a star on the ground, and the snow saturated like lava. The gully opened wide for the street, and neighbours poured in with deck chairs, blankets and Tupperwares of food. Other dads brought their own grills to cook for their families. 

Someone brought a guitar and sang the latest pop songs. Chairs and silhouettes surrounded the fire. Mum greeted everyone and fussed the children wrapped in puffy coats, their noses red and runny from the chill. 

A spark flickered between Dad’s fingers and he lit the grill. Beside him were the pork belly and the chicken, along with corn on the cob from the freezer. Other grills sparkled on the premises, and children chanted requests to cook their favourite meals first.

Toby only had one friend, and his name was Noah. Noah brought a pack of game cards for them to play, and they hunched over laying out decks, transporting them to a fantasyland of epic landscapes, complex magic systems and mystical creatures.

For a while that felt like a blink, Mum handed Toby and Noah plates of pork belly and chicken wings slavered in barbecue sauce, and a cob each. They took their gloves off and wolfed them down, and sucked the sauce off their fingers to savour the taste. Several feet away, James pointed at the corner of his mouth to Toby, indicating he still had sauce on his lip. Toby wiped it clean.

Warm and merry, the families snuggled around the fire. The snow melted, and Toby smiled to see the grass again. It reminded him of the sweltering days of him and James kicking a ball back and forth, and when James’s competitive streak set in, he’d swerve the ball and ran off with it, and Toby chased after him to get it back. 

Toby wondered how they’d play ice hockey. What would they use as a puck? What would they use as a stick? He would ask Dad if they could borrow his golf clubs. He was sure he wouldn’t mind, as long as they were together and having fun.

Mum squeezed her boys as sunlight trickled down like sand through an hourglass. Toby closed his eyes and hid his face on her shoulder, not wanting to witness the sun leaving them to die. 

Toby sobbed when the night closed in.