Nathan the hero - Chapter 1

Every morning it was there, waiting for the people of Peterborough as they woke up. A thick marshmallow blanket, tucked deep into the city.

And the snow covered everything: it hugged at the driveways. It clambered over buildings. It spread itself, clear, crisp and relentless across every inch of grass and tarmac in Peterborough until it finally hit the outskirts. Here, the snow turned to ice, crusting up in a fist of sharp blue glass, shutting everyone off from the white world inside.

And from inside its own snow globe, Peterborough would have been beautiful to look at - if it had been snowing.

But it wasn’t.

It most certainly wasn’t.

And that’s what made things a hundred times worse.

At first, strange as it was, there was an upside. Peterborough was famous. News crews from across the country flew in; frenzied reporters abseiled down from helicopters, keen to talk to anyone and everyone about life in what the world had nicknamed ‘the fairytale city.’ By the end of the second day, Peterborough’s Mayor was featured on national television more than the Prime Minister (who so far had failed to comment on the situation). And it was during this time that Mr Chubb, the longest serving driver of the city’s gritting trucks, was employed by the council to clear away the snow.

Mr Chubb was a huge, warm-hearted man, but he was no public speaker. During his first broadcast about the cleanup, Mr Chubb sweated on camera; dropped his notes twice and even managed to get his own name wrong. His mammoth body shook nervously as he explained that the city still had a huge supply of salt and that there was nothing at all to worry about. He and a small team of volunteers would grit the roads up throughout the next few days (and nights, if they needed to). This was his city, and he may not know how to talk on camera, but what he did know – by god- was how much he cared about it. What he did know was that if everyone worked together on this, Peterborough could beat this snow and go back to how it was. You just see if it didn’t.

The following day, as the lorries made their way through Peterborough, people filled the streets, cheering them on. Any time Mr Chubb’s face was spotted in one of the cabs, the cheering increased in volume, causing him to turn a deep shade of red. People piled out of their houses in their gloves and hats, chattering and laughing. Shovels, bin lids and frying pans bit back against the snow.

And it worked. By ten o clock that night the streets were completely cleared, or else turned to slush. The mayor went on national telly again and he explained that schools would be reopening, that life was going to return to normal and that, thanks to Mr Chubb, things would soon be back to normal. You could hear the reporters grumbling in the background as their phones rang, calling them back for newer, bigger stories.

The following morning, as children dragged themselves downstairs to have their breakfast, they lifted the curtain and glanced out of the window.

And stopped.

Because the snow was back.

Crisp, fluffy and untouched.

And deeper than before.

Things got a lot worse from then on. The snow used to be difficult enough to trudge through, but now it was exhausting. The consistency had changed. It seemed to tug at your feet.

And the wind grew stronger. It pummelled itself over Peterborough, making it impossible for anyone to fly in or out. Any reporters trying to leave by car soon found that the icy wall crackled angrier than before.

And worse than that. Worse than anything – was when the children began to go missing. Four days after Mr Chubb had started to clear the snow, two girls from Woodston, Sally and Trudie Gardener, disappeared whilst out playing. There were no tracks left. No signs to help in the search. Half the city went out to trawl the streets, looking everywhere for the girls. By midnight, there was still no sign.

Peterborough slept uneasy that night. Those that couldn’t sleep lay awake, listening to Sally and Trudie’s Mother crying for them in the cold, snowflake-free air.

That was only the beginning. Mr Chubb had started clearing on a Monday. By the following Tuesday over a dozen children had been reported missing. No one dared to touch the snow now. Families huddled in their houses, desperately trying to ignore the white crust that was creeping up against the panes.

As for Mr Chubb, he went from being a hero to being the most hated man in Peterborough. People scowled at him from their windows for the first few days, muttering every time another child got snatched up in the snow. By the end of the week, his family were just as hated.

Their neighbours spat as Mr Chubb’s sons trudged down the street. When the grocer refused to serve Mrs Chubb ‘on behalf of those what her husband had killed’ the other customers in the shop cheered. She stumbled home in tears that day. One afternoon, after a brick went through their window, she had had enough. Mrs Chubb and the boys drove off in her car. Mr Chubb tried to chase after, but as they reached the edge of the city, much to his shock, the icy barrier peeled back, allowing them through. Once they were gone, the ice cracked back into shape, leaving Mr Chubb alone and friendless in the city that hated him.

It was at this time that Dr Petal appeared. Dr Petal was lean and animated. When he talked about how he alone could save the city, he snapped pure confidence. The people believed him. There was something almost hypnotic about his thin smile, his waxy black hair and crisp purple suit. Something that made the people want to follow him.
Dr Petal brought with him a cavalcade of sharp looking black trucks with even sharper looking ploughs on the front – more blades that ploughs, but the people quickly reminded themselves to ignore that. The trucks slid through the streets like mirrored sharks, their drivers hidden behind tinted windows. Nothing slowed them down and no one dared to risk the roads while they were out there.

And it worked. Actually worked this time. Dr Petal’s trucks cleared the snow and seemed to calm it as well. The next day it had shrunk back to how it used to be. Children no longer went missing. Mr Chubb was sacked and sent home, much to the relief of the people. Now, when people saw Mr Chubb on Oundle road, unshaven and red eyed, with a huge bag of salt over his shoulder, they just carried on with their business, perhaps reminding themselves how much they owed to Dr Petal.

In fact the people of Peterborough always tried their best not to think about Mr Chubb and his salt. Or the trucks that had taken over the streets. They ignored the fact that Dr Petal now lived in the mayor’s office and that they hadn’t seen the mayor in weeks. Thinking about those things was tiring and, in all honesty, the people of Peterborough had been feeling...different...since the snow had come. They knew that it wasn’t snowing. They all knew that, they just didn’t want to think about it. They didn’t want to think about why they had got so angry with Mr Chubb. Or why they got so angry with each other. They certainly didn’t want to think about their teeth, and how they felt sharper every day than they did the day before.