by Ryan Casey
ESCAPE THE DARKNESS
A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller
RYAN CASEY
CONTENTS
Bonus Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
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CHAPTER ONE
Billy knew something was wrong the moment his glowing night light cut out, and everything went black.
It was pitch black. He hated the dark. He tried to pretend he wasn’t scared of the dark, especially when he was at school. He was eight, so he knew other kids would laugh at him if he said he was scared.
It’d already happened once. He’d had Peter over for a sleepover. And as much as Peter said he wanted the nightlight on too, he’d gone back to school and told the rest of the year about how much of a cry-baby Billy was, and how he’d made his mum and dad keep the big light on all night. Which wasn’t true, but he had to admit he sometimes did turn it on, to keep the monsters hiding under the bed and in the wardrobes away.
And Billy had been teased about it ever since. He was still friends with Peter, but he didn’t really like him anymore. Not after that. He didn’t trust him. And he definitely didn’t invite him round for sleepovers anymore, or anyone else for that matter.
But tonight, alone in the spare room at his grandma’s house, he noticed the night light had gone out.
And he froze.
He stared across the room, into the darkness. He shivered. He felt terrified. So terrified he couldn’t move. He’d just been falling asleep, all happy after Grandma made him his favourite wobbly red jelly and told him he could have an extra present tomorrow, one she’d held back from Christmas.
He wondered what it could be. He really wanted a new Xbox. Could she have kept an Xbox secret from him? Mum was always saying Grandma spoiled him. And he didn’t like that she said that because he didn’t want her to stop buying him nice things.
But now, the thought of tomorrow’s present was well out of his mind.
He looked into the pitch-black dark, and he felt torn. Because on the one hand, he had the covers wrapped right around his body. And he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and stay here. Stay here and wait for morning to come.
But on the other hand…
In the darkness, he saw shapes. Moving shapes.
Scary faces.
Bright white hands.
Big, bulging eyes.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Heart racing. He needed a wee. He didn’t want to wet the bed again. That was something else he still did from time to time that people would tease him about if they knew. He’d done it when he was at his Uncle Alf’s once, and his uncle had been so nasty to him. Said he’d tell everyone about it to stop him doing it.
But it just made Billy more scared. More afraid.
More worried about what might happen if he did it again.
What people might think. Might say.
At least he didn’t have to stay with Uncle Alf anymore. He died last year. And Billy couldn’t help feeling a bit relieved that he’d never give away his secret to anyone, as much as he knew he shouldn’t think that way.
He kept on staring into the dark. And he knew he just had to go over to the night light. Try switching it off and on again. Or trying another plug.
He knew he was brave enough to make it.
Because there were no monsters.
Mum told him that. Dad told him the same.
But it was one thing to be told that and another to believe it.
He felt a tear rolling down his cheek. Outside, he could hear banging. And for a moment, he wasn’t sure what it was. Where it came from.
Until he realised it was New Year, and they were just fireworks.
But there was something else, too.
Weird noises.
Louder bangs.
Like crashing.
And everything just felt more… well, darker than usual.
He thought about calling for his grandma. Grandma was nice. She didn’t mind him having his night light on. She didn’t even tell him off if he turned the big light on.
So that’s what he’d do.
He’d be brave.
He’d walk across the room, and he’d ignore the monsters under the bed and in the wardrobes because they weren’t real.
He’d try the nightlight. And if that didn’t work, he’d turn the big light on.
He held his breath.
Wiped away his tears.
You’re strong, Billy. Stronger than you think.
And then he threw the covers off before he could change his mind and rushed across the room.
He felt the cold carpet against his feet. He felt like the shadows were getting darker. Like someone was chasing him.
He felt his legs seizing up, felt the hair on the back of his neck rising.
But he kept going.
Because he was strong.
He hadn’t been the healthiest kid. He needed insulin injections. Diabetes, they called it. Just a part of his life. He didn’t worry about it. Didn’t let it get to him. It was just how life was for him, and it didn’t bother him. He never knew any different.
The darkness bothered him more.
The monsters bothered him more.
He landed by the nightlight plug.
Put his finger against it, switching it off.
Went to switch it on again, convinced the monsters were closing in.
And that’s when he froze.
The light.
It stayed off.
It stayed dark.
He shivered. Thought he heard someone laughing behind him. Or growling. He wasn’t sure.
He grabbed the night light with his shaking hand.
Yanked it out of the socket.
Struggled to put it in the next one, his hands shaking like mad.
Kept on going.
Kept on trying.
Kept…
The night light slotted into the plug.
He felt happy. Relieved.
It’s okay, Billy. Everything’s gonna be okay.
He went to flick the switch on.
His stomach sank.
It was still dark.
A power cut. That’s what it had to be. A power cut at Grandma’s, which
was even scarier than the power cuts at home. Because Grandma’s house was old. Creaky. Spooky.
And even Dad used to chat about there being ghosts here.
He stood up, shaking. Reached for the light switch. He wanted to know. Wanted to see for himself.
The light didn’t come on.
He stood there in the darkness, and suddenly Billy felt very lost. He felt very alone.
And he felt like he was in danger.
He needed to get back to bed.
He needed to hide beneath the covers.
He needed to—
Outside, he heard another bang.
Then a scream.
He turned around, and he swore he saw something over by the bed.
A dark figure sitting there, staring back at him.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to cry out.
But instead, he just ran away.
Ran out of the bedroom door.
Ran down the dark hallway towards Grandma’s bedroom.
Ran as fast as he could as wee trickled down his leg.
He had to be quick.
He couldn’t look back.
He just had to get to Grandma’s room, and he’d be okay.
He’d be safe.
He ran into Grandma’s bedroom, and he saw her lying there.
The curtains in her room were open. The moon was shining in. And there was something else, too. A weird green light from the sky. Making the room look like aliens were here. Like they were about to abduct everyone.
He looked over at Grandma as she lay there on the bed.
A dark covering over her eyes to keep the light out, something Billy didn’t understand why anyone would want to do.
“Grandma?” he said, shaking. The room smelled of hair spray. Perfume. All around, weird dolls stared back at him with their big, wide eyes. Weird dolls she collected.
He walked further towards her. She didn’t seem to be snoring, which made him worry. Made him scared.
“Grandma?” he said.
He walked right over to her.
Right to the side of the bed.
She was quiet.
So quiet.
He looked around. Swore he saw that figure again in the darkness.
Following him.
Chasing him.
And then he looked back at Grandma, and he knew he needed to help, somehow.
“Grandma, please,” he said, reaching for her eye covering. “Wake up. Wake…”
He pulled her eye covering away, and he froze.
Grandma’s eyes were rolled back.
White and bloodshot.
And they weren’t moving.
She was just lying there.
Not breathing.
Not moving a muscle.
Frozen.
Billy stood there and stared at Grandma as the weird green lights in the sky shone in through the bedroom window.
And then, as wee trickled right down his leg, Billy let out a scream.
CHAPTER TWO
One Day After the Event…
Max opened his eyes and immediately felt a sharp pain down his right side.
He’d been dreaming. Dreaming of Kathryn and David. Dreaming that he was walking along a dark corridor, getting closer and closer to them as they stood in this bright room. He could hear David’s little cheeky laugh, which always put a smile on his face. He could smell Kathryn’s sweet perfume. And he could almost taste the lipstick on her lips. Feel the warmth of her soft palms.
But then he’d felt a shooting pain. Right down his side. And it’d woken him right up.
Woken him up in the middle of a sweat.
He lifted his head. It was dark, still. Then again, it was winter. 2nd January. The second day of the new world. He reached over, tried the lamp, but to no avail. Not that he was surprised. He knew already this blackout event was a bad one. A real biggie. He’d be a fool to expect the power to be back already.
But in this space of day… shit, how much things had changed already.
The loss of power.
The journey back home.
The run-in with Seth…
He heard a sneeze from another room, and immediately, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Because it meant he wasn’t alone. Someone was here. Someone was in his home, and…
Then he remembered.
Aoife.
He hadn’t intended bringing anybody home with him. He certainly hadn’t intended to make any kind of bond with anybody. And that’s something he stood by. Getting close to anybody was dangerous. He’d spent his whole life getting close to people, only to end up losing them. Letting them down in some way. Being unable to save them.
But Aoife. Things were… complicated. He couldn’t exactly leave her behind to fend for herself. She was good. Intuitive. Knew her stuff. Seemed to know a thing or two about survival. About what was going on here.
And he had to admit, there was a small part of him that actually liked her. Enjoyed her company.
Despite the fact that she was Seth’s sister.
The man who murdered his family.
He thought about events yesterday.
How he’d looked Seth in the eye before killing him.
Turned around and walked away because killing him was what Seth had wanted him to do.
And then Aoife turning the gun on her brother and killing him anyway.
It made him shudder. The thought of it all. The memory of the whole thing and how it went down.
He grunted, sat up in bed. He was sweating like mad, even though it was freezing outside. Even though he could see his breath. And that bothered him.
Because the pain in his right side.
He knew it wasn’t good.
He lifted his T-shirt gently.
Saw the blood crusted against the right side of his body, where he’d been stabbed.
It felt hot. And that wasn’t good news. He might be a former army medic, but he didn’t need to be to know it looked like it was infected.
He gritted his teeth. He’d grab some antibiotics from downstairs. Some painkillers. He’d be okay.
He had to be okay.
Because if he weren’t okay… well. There was nobody to help in this world.
Had to assume this wasn’t just local, and it wasn’t just nationwide, because surely someone would’ve been here to help by now if it was.
Global?
The thought made him shiver.
He climbed out of bed and heard panting at his feet.
He looked down.
Rex, the Rottweiler Aoife had adopted, stared up at him, wagging his docked tail.
Max felt torn. On the one hand, he liked this dog. On the other, he didn’t want to get too friendly with him. Because he’d made it pretty clear to himself and to Aoife, he hoped. She could stay here—for now. Both of them could stay here—for now.
But it wasn’t a permanent set-up. He didn’t have the supplies for two people and a dog. Just enough for himself.
Although… hell. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t really true. He could fish. He could hunt. He could make this work if he really wanted to…
No. He couldn’t think that way.
He had to stick to his guns.
Survival. That’s what mattered.
And survival started at home.
He ruffled Rex’s fur, walked past him. Walked out of the darkness of his bedroom, onto the hallway. He didn’t want to admit it, but the pain in his right side was bad. Really bad. Wasn’t one to mope about pain. Didn’t like making a scene or anything.
He walked into the bathroom. Grabbed a match, lit a candle. Shut the door, so Rex couldn’t stare at him judgementally.
And then he moved the candle down to the stab wound on his right.
Immediately, his stomach sank.
The wound was swollen. There was pus around it. And he could feel his glands up under his pits, too.
Shit. It was infected. And pretty badly infected, too,
for that matter.
But what choice did he have?
Going into the city? Seeking out a pharmacy?
No chance. Things were going to be in the shit today. Deep, deep shit.
When people woke up and realised there still wasn’t any power… they were going to go apeshit.
The looting would be in full flow today.
And the police—what was left of them—and military attempts to impose any sort of order were going to be met with violent resistance.
No. He had everything he needed right here, at home.
Food. Water. And enough knowledge of systems and how to build them in order to make it through.
He opened the bathroom cupboard. Pulled out an old tub of antibiotics, a course of which he hadn’t finished a long time ago. Something he’d been given for a tooth abscess or something, which ended up being drained before his course of meds was over. Not the most pleasant memory, that was for sure.