We found the woman just in time. Snow was falling, covering her where she lay. We’d looked here before; a graveyard—its occupants now beneath a thin layer of white as if several feet of earth weren’t enough to keep them in. She must have been visiting when she fell asleep. She had no ID but we took the details of the grave on which we found her. It must have been someone close.
“If she’s dead, she’s in the right place,” Randolph said, nudging at her with his foot.
“Careful,” I said, “you know what will happen if you wake her.”
But we couldn’t be careful; I knew that as well as he did. We had to lift her roughly and carry her over to the trailer. I skidded several times in the snow and wished I was somewhere warm. I tried to place her gently in the back but bodies are heavy, even when there are two of you, and we didn’t protect her head as much as we should have done.
“You drive,” said Randolph. He was the better driver in these conditions but I didn’t know how to argue with him. I was tense for the whole journey even though I knew there hadn’t been time for ice to form beneath the snow. We couldn’t come to any harm but I was terrified of sliding off the road and wished we still had gritters.
Everything natural around us was white; only the stone and brick and concrete seemed to burst through. When I was a child I used to love the snow, as was proper. Even back then it made me feel nostalgic for a time I could never have known. Now I knew only the problems it caused, and once the hibernation started, I grew to hate the season.
Sheena looked tired at the hostel, although there wasn’t much for her to do before we arrived. She had given up wearing the nurse’s uniform and instead wore warm clothing—a polo neck and jeans with a lined jacket.
“Pulse?” she said.
“No,” said Randolph.
“We couldn’t find one anyway,” I said, feeling he’d written her off too soon.
The fire had been lit and we carried the woman in, Randolph being more careful this time. We placed her on a bed and Sheena felt behind her neck.
“One about every two minutes,” she said at last. “She’s not dead.”
“Thank God.” I hadn’t noticed that I was still tense from the drive and I deliberately tried to relax.
“No obvious injuries,” she added. “There’s nothing more we can do for her. She’ll be safe here.”
I looked at Randolph, who had a satisfied smile on his face. “We’d better get back out there,” I said. The snow seemed to have held off but the sky was white and I knew more was on its way.
“Not me. I’ve done my good deed for the day.”
“But you’ve seen what it’s like. Hibernation won’t protect anyone. If there’s anyone out in the open, they’ll die of exposure.”
“No point risking it myself,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He waved at the inert body in the bed and left without another word.
“Don’t be too hard on him,” said Sheena. “He saved your life.”
“I suppose so.”
It started snowing again that afternoon, settling on the ground a few inches thick. I decided to search on foot rather than risk driving. I’d checked this neighbourhood carefully and couldn’t think of anywhere else to look—people would be harder to find in the snow. When it started to get dark I went back to the hostel to say goodbye to Sheena. I went back to my own home and to Elisabeth. Outside was the silver birch where I had first been found, stripped now, its wood exposed. There was nothing special about it, but I saw it as nature erupting from the earth, to look upon and judge its children. I had a horror of touching it, as if I would instantly fall to the ground again, unconscious until the winter months had passed.
I unlocked the door—I didn’t take risks anymore—and checked on Elisabeth. She lay in bed as if she just couldn’t face the weather. She wasn’t breathing but she wasn’t pale enough to be dead. It was her eyes that made her seem so—no matter how long I watched, they were still. There was no rapid movement and therefore, no dreaming. I remembered no dreams from my own hibernation. As far as I could tell she had fallen into oblivion. I wished that I could join her.
I went downstairs and put on the battery heater. She would wake up, I told myself. In the spring. She would return. They all would. In the meantime, I could keep busy. I wasn’t completely alone.
Randolph had saved my life, as far as I knew. Either that or he’d tried to kill me.
Horsford was something between a town and a village; large enough that I didn’t know everyone by name or by sight. The woman we had found worried me. Hibernation had started at the beginning of winter and was largely complete two weeks later. I was sure she hadn’t been lying outdoors since then. Our patrols weren’t as thorough as they could be—we spent most of our time feeding the dogs rather than looking for people—but we’d been in the graveyard before.
She must have gone into hibernation in the last couple of days. That was new. Last year when we hadn’t known what was happening, the few who remained awake stayed that way until spring. I had been one of the first to go. I was told I was curled up under the tree just a few yards from my home and was nearly run over by a reversing delivery van. The driver thought I was dead but when he arrived at the hospital, he discovered a pandemic of sleep. Elisabeth collected me, placed me in bed and lay down next to me. She realised what was coming more quickly than most.
When we awoke four months later the streets were full of foreign soldiers. It wasn’t an invasion; they were desperate to get home and knew that they’d quickly need us to return the favour. They were here again now, the result of a hasty mutual-aid treaty but they kept to the cities and major towns. This far into winter, there wasn’t much for them to do.
This year we were ready for it and I was one of the first to go again. I was already in bed and went into hibernation in perfect safety. The few who had stayed awake last year made their preparations to look after us as the temperature started to drop.
Two weeks later, Randolph said he heard shouts from a nearby house and broke in to find me gasping for breath, grey-skinned and unable to move, awakened prematurely.
There are two ways to end hibernation; alive or dead. You achieve the former by sleeping through it naturally, coming out at the other side. If you wake up in the middle of it your metabolism doesn’t catch up with you. Your heart doesn’t send the blood to your brain that it needs to become conscious. Your lungs don’t work hard enough to give you the oxygen you need. You use up your reserves and die. Randolph took me to the hostel, hoping Sheena would make the arrangements to bury me. Instead, she stabbed at me with EpiPens and pounded at my heart—somehow pulling me through. I woke up and I wished I hadn’t. I wished I was still sleeping peacefully next to Elisabeth, with no need for food or air or water until the spring.
My other theory about Randolph is that he woke me up deliberately.
Tonight, it was Randolph’s turn for the night shift. There wasn’t really a shift to take; no harm could befall our charges and I knew he turned in at the first opportunity. I wasn’t sure he even bothered to stay all night but I suppose he had nowhere better to be. I always checked over the patients once or twice a night; ensuring they were keeping up with their slow breathing, adjusting the bedclothes to make sure they were still comfortable, wiping away the saliva that sometimes gathered around their mouths. We usually left the personal care to Sheena—there wasn’t much—only their hair and nails were still growing.
Both Randolph and Sheena were already at the hostel when I arrived in the morning and I gratefully took the third mug of coffee that had already been brewed.
“You need to be more careful,” Sheena said. I looked up, already feeling guilty. “I can’t tell without a full scan but I think you broke a couple of her ribs yesterday.”
“The woman we found? I’m sorry.”
“They won’t heal until she wakes up.”
Randolph spoke up. “She’d have got a lot worse if we hadn’t moved her.”
“He’s got a point,” I said. “She was pretty exposed.”
“Just the same, you don’t have to throw them around like that. They’re not corpses.”
I was ashamed and decided to apologise personally when she woke up.
“You’re too soft,” Randolph said as we walked to the truck. “Rough as fuck, that one. Can’t stand girls with tattoos.”
“I didn’t see a tattoo.”
“You wouldn’t.” He climbed into the passenger seat before I had a chance to suggest that he should drive. “She’ll be grateful when she wakes up. You rescued her; you didn’t put her to sleep.”
I noticed he seemed to be blaming me when we’d both moved her.
“I wonder what did,” I replied.
“We know why it happens. It’s a virus. The only question is whether it was the Americans or the Russians.”
“Not the Chinese?”
The snow had turned to rain and I had to drive carefully to avoid skidding in the slush. There was no chance of finding any more sleepers in this. Instead, we were on a pet run. Fortunately, the dogs were still friendly, even the stray ones.
“No, they learnt their lesson after Covid. This one was probably the Americans. They’ll have let it loose by accident, unless the Russians attacked them and didn’t realise it would hit them as well.”
There hadn’t been a lot of time after the first hibernation to figure out why it had happened. The only thing that had been established beyond all doubt was that it wasn’t a virus. I considered pointing this out but I’d tried arguing with him before. “Whatever it is, we’re stuck with it,” I said, knowing this was unlikely to kill the conversation.
“What’s your theory then?” he asked as if he wanted to know but I wasn’t fooled. I dropped a gear, not liking the feel of the tires on the road. Then I thought, fuck it, it doesn’t make any difference to him if I answer or not.
“I think it’s just conserving resources.”
It was what he was waiting for. “Humans don’t need to conserve resources.”
“Not us. Nature. It’s a final defence mechanism, putting us to sleep over winter. It’s nature taking three months off. It stops us turning up the heating, putting on the streetlights, getting in the car because it’s too cold to walk. A winter break gives the planet time to heal, time to recover before we wake up in spring.”
“Fucking hippy.”
I was glad that we’d arrived. We’d spent the morning in people’s houses—those who had registered and given permission in advance. We’d fed the pets or rather, I had while Randolph looked around. I always suspected him of looting but I’d never seen him take anything. It’s possible he came back afterwards, but I hadn’t noticed anything missing.
Now we were touring the parks, sticking to usual places so that the animals could keep to a routine. About a dozen dogs of all sizes joined us. Most of them came straight to us as we jumped out of the truck and allowed me to stroke and fuss over them. A few more kept at a distance, constantly eyeing us with suspicion. We filled several dishes with food and stayed long enough to make sure no one had gone without. I noticed a multi-coloured cat sitting and watching but the cats could look after themselves.
“I hate dogs,” said Randolph as we got back in the truck. I finally lost my patience.
“Then why do you come on these rounds?”
“It’s something to do.”
I drove back to the hostel without trying to make further conversation but slowly I began to feel sympathy for him. He would have hated to say it but he must have been feeling the same way as I did. We could no longer choose our company but we could choose to have company or none—and we chose the former.
In the spring I would have nothing to do with him. But now everyone I had ever known and loved and drunk with and laughed with were as good as dead. Until they came back I would always feel a sense of loss when Randolph jumped out of the truck and left me alone.
He seemed less keen on Sheena but I would have gone mad without her. She had a down-to-earth practical attitude which was supposed to be the preserve of men and I looked to her to organise us and decide what needed to be done. She understood my need for contact and indulged it for twenty minutes or so at the end of the day.
Sheena wasn’t in the reception area where she usually waited for me, although the lights were still on. I lit the portable gas heater on the counter to make some coffee. We had thought of taking over a building with solar panels but we were worried they’d be unreliable. Once the water had boiled I went to look for her. She wasn’t in the kitchen so I looked in the dormitory.
At first, I didn’t even see her. It was only when I was leaving that I noticed the extra body. She must have felt it coming; must have felt herself slowing down and managed to get herself somewhere safe before she stopped altogether. She obviously hadn’t had time to get under the covers as she lay on top of the bed, utterly still. I couldn’t detect any breathing and felt at her neck for a pulse. It felt intimate and like an invasion of her privacy, but I had to be sure. After a minute a single pulse came to tell me she was still alive. She would return in a month, maybe two. I put a hand out to brush her hair away from her face but even this seemed too intrusive and I left it where it was.
I went back to Elisabeth feeling as if part of my soul had been torn out.
The next day it snowed heavily. I could see that I’d never get the truck on the road and anyway Randolph didn’t show up. I wondered if he, too, had gone into hibernation. I checked everyone was okay in the hostel then went on patrol on foot. I could cover much less ground but it made me feel useful. There were a few animal tracks but no footprints, and it wasn’t long before my own were covered up. I wore a face mask for warmth rather than medical reasons. After an hour I realised the snow had got into my boots but I kept going, doubting I’d fall victim to frostbite that quickly.
By lunchtime the snowfall had stopped and the sky had cleared to reveal a bright sun and a cloudless summer sky, a contrast with the white earth that struck me as almost sarcastic. The sun did nothing to thaw the snow. I trudged back to the hostel, grateful for the warmth of the heater and a hot drink. I looked in on Sheena, not asleep but frozen in time. Part of me wanted to shake her, wake her up and bring her back, but I knew that the best I could hope for was no effect. I almost started talking to her but felt too self-conscious and went back to the reception area, wondering what needed doing in the afternoon.
I was surprised when Randolph walked in, even though it was technically his job. “Sheena’s gone into hibernation,” I blurted out, relieved that I actually had someone to tell.
“I know. I was here last night.”
“What’s going on? Last year, people either hibernated or they didn’t. It shouldn’t be taking them this late.”
He pulled out a chair and sat down. I set some more water to boil and he nodded at me in thanks. He seemed to be taking the question seriously, for which I was grateful. He was all I had left.
“Something’s changing. Maybe the virus has mutated.”
I said nothing to this, but he nodded as if I had.
“Or maybe nature is enjoying having us out of the way and is coming for the rest of us.”
“Do you think it will get us?”
He rubbed at his forehead with his middle finger, as if he were trying to iron out a frown. “I hope not. I don’t want to go. It’s like being dead.”
“It’s not. It’s just a sleep. Everyone wakes up.”
“But what if they don’t? Like I just said...something’s changed.”
He’s scared, I thought. Underneath all the bluster he was terrified of dying.
“I want to go,” I said.
He looked at me as if he were paying his last respects. “Why?” he said quietly.
“Because...” I gestured at the dormitory room where everyone was at peace, all together. “Everyone,” I said, “they’re all there, all together, and we, we’re...” Randolph had recovered himself, a dismissive smile on his face. “...we’re alone,” I finished uselessly.
“You go to sleep if you want,” he said, standing up. “I’m not finished.”
“Randolph,” I called out as he reached the door. He turned around, waiting in fake politeness. “What were you doing here last night? It wasn’t your shift.”
“Relax. I didn’t lay a finger on her.”
I watched as he left, closing the door slowly behind him. When it was just an inch away he called through it again. “Not a finger,” he said. I felt sick to the very pit of my stomach.
Randolph was playing head games with me. Reason told me he was making some kind of sick joke, winding me up. I went home and checked on Elisabeth, making sure the bedroom door was firmly locked. I had not had a night away from her since she started hibernating and I didn’t want to do so now. The best I could do was make sure the locks were in place before heading back to the hostel.
There was a lock on the hostel door as well, but Randolph had a key. I put a chair against the door and found the last remaining bed in the dormitory. I was opposite Sheena. I saw no signs that she had been interfered with in any way. Either he had covered his tracks or I was worrying about nothing.
I didn’t sleep much. I kept waking from immediately forgotten dreams, certain Randolph was there, but every time I picked the torch up and shone it around I found no one. A couple of times I got out of bed and checked the reception area but the chair was still in place.
What had woken me when I was supposed to be hibernating? Waking up a hibernating human was next to impossible and usually fatal. Randolph and I had handled several sleepers in the last couple of weeks—always roughly; once or twice dropping them altogether. The truck needed a service and the journey to the hostel would have been enough to wake up a corpse.
I thought Randolph had tried to kill me by waking me up while I was hibernating, but I’d awoken without any bruises and without a feeling of being manhandled. He wasn’t a strong man; I didn’t see what he could have done to bring me round.
Restlessly I patrolled the hostel ward. Everyone looked so peaceful. I envied them. I stopped by the woman we had rescued. She was on her back; Sheena would have left her in that position rather than risk damaging the ribs further by rolling her into the recovery position. It wouldn’t become an issue until she was ready to wake up. Her hair was parted on either side of her face. I didn’t know if there was a word for its colour—somewhere between blonde and brown. Her t-shirt wasn’t tucked into her jeans. I felt bile at the back of my throat, knowing that what I was about to do was unforgivable. I slowly rolled the shirt up and exposed the skin beneath.
It was a wolf howling at the moon. The tattoo took up most of her stomach; I didn’t uncover the top of it. I only needed to know it was there. I covered her up again, knowing I had a second apology to make.
How had Randolph seen it? He must have been there when Sheena checked her for injuries. But Sheena wouldn’t have allowed it and he’d left as soon as we’d dropped her off. Had she told him about it? I doubted it; she’d see it as a matter of patient privacy.
He wouldn’t come here now, knowing I was on shift. He’d be elsewhere. With a sick feeling, I realised I was guarding the wrong person. I moved the chair and went out to the car park, finding no trace of footprints.. I went to the truck and found a tyre-wrench in the back about a foot long. It was a ridiculous idea but I’d been thinking of violence all night, trying to suppress the thought only to have it resurge in another corner of my brain. I gripped it hard, and headed for home and Elisabeth.
The world was frozen but peaceful. I couldn’t believe anyone else was awake. I stood back, staring up at the window behind which Elisabeth slept for a season.
It was if nature had tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped forward immediately and turned to face my assailant. It was the tree where I had first slumped into unconsciousness. I slammed the wrench into the trunk; a few pieces of bark fell off and even in the moonlight I could see that I’d left a satisfying dent.
I took the weapon back to the truck and started the engine. It was time to sort this.
I found him after a few hours. Of all the stupid places to be, he was in the park, feeding the dogs. I walked towards him gripping the wrench tightly. He didn’t look up, almost as if he wasn’t interested in what I was going to do.
“What did you do to her?” I called.
He straightened up. “Bloody hell, where did you sleep last night?”
I expected him to run and realised I was hoping he would I wouldn’t have to go through with it. “I always thought you woke me up, but you didn’t, did you? You couldn’t have done it if you’d tried. There’s only one thing that would have pulled me out hibernation that quickly.”
He looked at me wearily. “Put that away. It’s been a hard winter—it would be enough to drive anyone mad.”
I advanced on him. The wrench was heavy in my hand and seemed to want to point downwards to the ground, where it wouldn’t do any harm. I fought and held it up. “I woke up because of what you were doing to Elisabeth. What were you doing?!”
A spaniel was nuzzling at his hand. I felt sick. I couldn’t kill someone in front of a dog. “You’re deluded,” he said. “It’s got to you. You said so yourself.” He looked down at the ground.
“Good God, were you trying to wake her up? Trying to kill her? Was it just for kicks, or did she know about something you’d done?”
“You can’t believe that. The strain’s got to you.”
“Admit it.” I needed one last thing from him, one last act of provocation that could push me into dealing the blow. Instead, he kept his eyes to the ground, saying nothing.
Finally, he looked up, his eyes unfocussed. “Do it then,” he said. “Anything’s better than this.”
I understood then. He was slouching, mouth slightly open, arms limp by his sides. I let my own arm drop as I studied him. “Sit down,” I said at last. “You’ll injure yourself if you fall.”
“I won’t go,” he said. “I won’t go.” But he did—dropping into a sitting position, heavily but not hard enough to break bones. He sat, swaying, then slumped forwards and over onto his side. I could have helped, could have made sure he didn’t hurt himself, but I just stood and watched. The spaniel licked at his face and a couple of other curious dogs came to look.
When I eventually checked him, he seemed as good as dead.
I made a jail for him. Just a locked room but he won’t be able to get out when he wakes up. Frankly, I don’t know what I should do with him. The obvious thing to do is to wake him up, see how he fares without the adrenaline shots and medical care, but I don’t have it in me anymore. And anyway, he was right. My judgement was impaired and it hasn’t got any less impaired since.
It’s hard to think straight when you’re on your own. They didn’t wake up—the others—in spring. They just slept through to the next winter and I don’t know what’s going to happen this time. I talk to them sometimes. I talk to Elisabeth, so serene, sleeping without breathing. I talk to Sheena, lying with her patients, those fortunate ones who we found and rescued—if we really rescued them. And I talk to Randolph. Not about much. The weather, mostly. There isn’t anything else.
Sometimes I talk to the dogs. They’re not so friendly anymore but they don’t seem to be dangerous yet. More and more they seem to be feeding themselves.
And I talk to the tree. It too seems to be hibernating, as silent and motionless as Elisabeth in the house behind us. I touch it, feel the black cracks in its rough silvery bark. As if my voice transmits through my fingers, I speak in a whisper.
“You’ll give them back, won’t you?” I say. “When you’ve healed. You’ll let them come back again.”
But I don’t get a reply. Only the wind that blows the sleet against my face, a coldness that can go through the skin and fill the bloodstream with slush, turn the bones to brittle ice and break them, freeze a heart.