Darkness Falling
Darkness Ahead Of Us #2
Leif Spencer
First published in Great Britain in 2021.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Darkness Falling © 2021 Leif Spencer
www.lspencerauthor.com
Cover by Holly Jameson
www.hollyjameson.co.uk
For Susan, who keeps the coffee flowing.
Contents
Also by Leif Spencer
Acknowledgments
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
Note From The Author
Also by Leif Spencer
THE END WE SAW (Novella Series)
Stolen Visions
Chased by Guilt
Misplaced Mercy
Forlorn Redemption
All We Have Left
THE END WE SAW (Omnibus)
The End We Saw (The Complete Series)
EXCLUSIVE FOR NEWSLETTER SUBSCRIBERS
After the Pulse (The End We Saw Prequel Short Story)
DARKNESS AHEAD OF US
Darkness Within
Darkness Falling
Acknowledgments
This whole ‘having to stay at home because of a pandemic’ thing sounds like it should be beneficial to writing books but unfortunately, I find 2020 to be a year filled with anxiety. For anyone who is currently struggling being creative: I see you!
The pandemic has, however, taught me about toilet paper.
Not all of you are cooped up inside. To those of you who are out there, working: thank you!
Thank you, Lauren. Let’s be honest, without you I would be writing zero books and shedding a million tears.
I’d like to thank Isabel, Gemma, Esther, Susan, Stephanie, Misty, Dorene, Dave, John, Colin, Bryan and Anthony. They all play an integral part in my writing journey, and without them there either would be no journey or, at the very least, it would be a lot tougher.
To every reader, I’m eternally grateful.
1
Anna Greene would miss her books the most.
She’d attempted to slip a particularly chunky horror novel into her backpack, but her sister had stopped her with a small shake of her head as if scolding a child who’d stayed up past its bedtime to continue reading under the covers by torchlight.
Sarah shouldered her rucksack and adjusted the waist straps. Oreo stood next to her, his ears pricked, eagerly waiting for what he probably thought was a walk. “Ready?”
No. Anna wasn’t ready to leave her flat. “What about Mum’s ashes?” She picked up the frame sitting next to the urn in the hallway and traced the beloved photo with her index finger. Feeling a pang of sadness at the sight of her sister smiling next to their mum, she looked up.
Sarah was only seventeen when the photo had been taken, but she’d barely changed since then. Faint wrinkles were now visible on her forehead, and her cheekbones jutted out more sharply from her narrow face, but her skin still had the same youthful glow, and her eyes were bright and alert.
Noticeably absent these days, however, was the smile Sarah had sported in the picture all those years ago.
“I don’t think we need to take Mum’s ashes.”
“Please?” Anna removed the photo from the frame and slid it into the pocket of her windbreaker. “I have an idea.” She ran into the kitchen, retrieved a spice jar from the cupboard and tipped the herbs down the sink before filling it with ashes from the urn. Anna screwed the lid back on and tucked the jar into her backpack.
Sarah shrugged and opened the front door. “If it makes you feel better…anything else?”
When their father had insisted on taking home one third of their mother’s ashes after the funeral (She was my wife!) only to send the sisters a video of himself flushing them down the toilet (She had it coming!), Sarah had stopped caring.
Just like that.
Anna knew her sister’s ability to push down emotions was unparalleled.
They made quite the pair, Sarah and her. Anna avoided problems, hoping they’d go away on their own if only she ignored them long enough, while Sarah refused to acknowledge them in the first place.
Her sister closed the door again and sighed. “You said we needed to hurry, and now you’re the one stalling.”
Anna lifted her backpack to check the weight and winced. Her knee would feel the strain. She scowled at Oreo. If he were a stockier breed, she could have trained him to carry supplies in one of those carrier bags made for dogs.
“You’re still stalling.”
“I wish we could stay one more night,” Anna said, but they couldn’t stay in the small flat on Fifth Avenue. Not after the way Chris had left.
Chris wasn’t just dangerous. She was unpredictable. They’d have to sleep with one eye open.
“I only met Chris briefly,” Sarah said. “But what little I saw of her turned out to be more than enough. She had you tied to a chair and threatened to gut you with a massive knife.”
“My best carving knife,” Anna muttered. “What if everything was my fault? Chris was only protecting her son. She’d fled her home, asked for a safe place to stay and then—”
When Chris had asked for a place to stay, she’d brought food and water with her. She’d protected the flat. Risked her life to get them more food from the Poundland warehouse. And she’d spoken of finding a community. Growing food. Working together.
She’d also killed at least two people and shown a scarily unconcerned willingness to kill more.
And she’d pushed Sarah down the stairs.
“It doesn’t matter, Anna.” Sarah reached for her hand and squeezed it. “We’re all doing our best, but not everyone is kind. Some people are ruthless. And even if Chris meant well, you were protecting yourself and your family. As is your right.”
Anna nodded. “But Tom—”
“You offered to help him find his friend.”
In the end, Anna was convinced Chris had been planning to kill her, too, to ensure there was enough food for her son.
“What a mess. I can’t believe I tried to poison her.”
“I can’t believe she caught you,” Sarah replied dryly. “Dad’s house is safe. Chris doesn’t know where it is. We’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep and figure out what to do.”
Anna squeezed her eyes shut. Their father—
“I know you don’t want to hear it but—”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Anna grimaced. “Fine. Let’s get it over with, but if he’s—”
“We can’t just leave again, Anna.” Sarah tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “If Dad’s alive, we’ll need to make sure—”
Anna raised her hand and gestured for Sarah to stop speaking. “I’m not going to take care of him.”
She’d spent her entire childhood checking the temperature of his mood. Searching his face for signs of any simmering anger from the m
oment he walked through the door until she went to bed. The tightening of his lips, the darkening of his eyes, subtle first signs of a night of shouting at Anna. Always at Anna.
The dirty shoes she’d left next to the door, the way she’d placed the steak knife next to his plate—anything could incite his fury.
Sarah frowned. “But—”
“I’m not going to take care of him.”
“He’s family.”
“I agreed to check in on him, but we won’t be staying. At least I won’t be.” Anna sighed. Guilt stirred in her gut, and she pushed it back down. You don’t owe him anything, she reminded herself. You’re allowed to walk away. “Sarah, he never treated us—me—right.”
A fleeting memory flashed through her mind. Her sister hoisted up on their father’s shoulders while he was shouting at Anna. Anna cowering in fear, and Sarah encouraging him like a rider spurring a horse. Why can’t you be like your sister, Anna? The smug smile lighting up the seven-year-old’s face. Yes, Anna. Why can’t you be like me?
“Please?” A frown tugged at Sarah’s lips, a shadow clouding her stare. “Mum would want us to.”
“That’s hardly fair,” Anna muttered. “Besides, she—”
“No, Anna. Mum would want us to because he’s family.”
“Well, Mum was wrong.” Anna gave her sister a long, hard look. “I’ll come with you, but I won’t stay and take care of him.” There was an edge to her voice, and Sarah averted her eyes, studying her feet instead as if they were the most interesting thing in the flat.
Anna didn’t want to fight, but she wasn’t going to give in.
What if—
No. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about these things. The last time she had allowed the what ifs to run wild, she’d convinced herself Chris was trying to kill her.
But what if her sister and her father turned on her? The two of them together? Like they’d always done when her sister was little?
It wasn’t Sarah’s fault, Anna reminded herself.
Sarah had adored their father and failed to see his true nature until after their mother had died. It hadn’t been her fault. Having grown up as the golden child of the family, the one who could do no wrong, Sarah had been gutted when he turned on her and she was forced to face the truth and admit that Anna hadn’t done anything to deserve the way he’d treated her.
His anger had just happened to be directed at Anna.
No. It hadn’t been Sarah’s fault.
Oreo barked once at the closed door, wagging his bushy tail.
“I think he wants us to go,” Sarah said.
Anna took a deep breath and forced a smile. “We’ll need to train him.”
Sarah attached the lead to Oreo’s harness. “To do what? Find food?”
Anna snorted. “To keep quiet and actually bite when necessary. I saw a YouTube video once of a police officer training a German Shepherd with a fake arm.”
“Do you really think you could teach him to bite?”
Anna shrugged, then narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps we can practice on Dad.”
Sarah playfully smacked her arm. “Come on. Let’s go before you change your mind again.” She opened the door and led Oreo into the stairwell.
Anna locked the door behind them out of sheer habit before carrying her suitcase downstairs. The moon was waning, and despite the blanket of gleaming stars visible through the small window, the stairwell was shrouded in darkness.
Anna moved gingerly, fumbling for the next step with her foot before shifting her weight. She felt a twinge in her knee as she reached the second floor and came to a halt. Her sister bumped into her and apologised.
“Should we tell the guy on the ground-floor?” Anna asked.
“Tell him what?”
“That we’re leaving? That the supermarkets are empty?”
“He doesn’t know?”
“When I knocked on his door the other day, he told me he was waiting for things to go back to normal.”
Anna couldn’t see her sister’s face, but she heard her surprised gasp. Then Sarah asked, “Does he live alone?”
“No. He has a wife and a sick toddler.” Anna sighed. “I should knock. It’s the right thing to do.”
Sarah placed her hand on Anna’s shoulder. “What if he asks you if you have any food to spare? What if he wants to come with us?”
“But…” Anna fell silent. Her skin prickled with tension.
The pitter-patter of Oreo’s feet was the only sound in the stairwell as the dog circled them impatiently. He nuzzled Anna’s hand with his nose and whined.
She leaned against the cold bannister and rubbed her face. “Don’t we have a responsibility to help?”
“They’re not dying. They’re not in any immediate danger. I think we’re allowed to just leave. It’s not like you’re friends.”
“But they’ll—”
“We need to look after ourselves, Anna. A sick child would slow us down.”
“You’re heartless.”
“I’m pragmatic.”
Anna bit at a loose shred of skin on her thumb. “But you insist on visiting the diabetic alcoholic.”
“He’s—”
“Yeah, I know. He’s family.” Anna rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.”
They left the block of flats, and Anna pressed her palm against the outside wall, whispering a quiet goodbye to the building before catching up with her sister.
Silence had fallen over Harlow. It wasn’t a particularly hot July night, but the air was still and muggy. Anna turned towards the town centre, searching for light sources. The army had created a roadblock near Sainsbury’s, but it appeared deserted.
Smoke wafted through the air. A fire roared in the distance. They couldn’t hear it from where they stood, but the orange flames flickered visibly in the dark.
Anna turned and looked back at the block of flats she’d lived in for almost four years. Her instincts urged her to go back inside and hide. Wait until the danger had passed.
But the danger would never pass.
This was the world now.
She had to adapt.
Anna took her suitcase and gestured towards Elizabeth Way. “Let’s avoid the town centre. It looks quiet, but the more people we can avoid the better.”
They walked silently, the wheels of Anna’s suitcase wobbling along the pavement. Every step sent a jolt of pain through her leg all the way up to her hip. The torn meniscus had rarely bothered her before, but since she’d hiked to Colchester and back in search of her sister, her knee was swollen and tender to the touch.
Reaching Water Lane, Sarah came to a sudden stop, her hand clasping Anna’s with an icy grip. “Don’t look.”
Anna aimed her torch at her sister’s lower body, careful not to illuminate the street. Sarah’s features appeared haunted in the dim light. “What is it?”
“I just walked into a body.”
“Are you sure?” Anna exhaled slowly. Memories of the bodies she’d found lying in a field near Braintree slammed into her, and she winced. Sarah’s iron grip tightened, and Anna felt her sister shiver.
She found Sarah’s feet with her torch, moving the light along the pavement until it reached something that looked like—
No. She didn’t want to see.
She switched the torch off, suppressing a shudder.
“I told you not to look.”
The moonlight painted everything with a grey brush. Anna waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness until she could see the difference between the pavement and the road.
Two bodies lay entangled on the ground. A man in uniform, of which the name tag had been ripped off, and a middle-aged woman in her fifties. She was lying on her stomach. The handle of a carving knife protruded from between her shoulder blades. Her shirt was soaked with drying blood. The red appeared black in the darkness of the night.
The soldier’s fingers were still clutching a pistol to his chest.
Anna nudged him with the tip of her
foot. He didn’t move.
Oreo sniffed the body and whined softly. He pulled on the lead as if trying to get away.
The soldier’s forehead was dented. Something, or rather someone, had shattered his nose. One of his eyes had popped out from its socket. Red foam covered his mouth and chin. His lips remained slightly open, exposing blood-stained teeth.
He couldn’t have killed the woman. The knife had been plunged into her back and she’d died after falling on top of him.
What had happened here?
“Come on, let’s go.” Sarah’s voice was shaking, and she pulled on Anna’s hand.
Anna studied the scene, searching for the weapon used to kill the soldier. Had there been a third person? His injuries looked like he’d been hit with a heavy object. Perhaps a cricket bat.
Whoever killed him had hit him repeatedly, his face now unrecognisable. Then they’d ripped off his nametag. Perhaps someone he’d known? Why else disfigure him this badly?
We need guns. Remembering Chris’ words, Anna closed her eyes. “Take his gun.”
“Excuse me?”
“It might come in handy. Especially if he still has bullets.”
“Why me?” Sarah’s face was a grim mask in the pale moonlight.
Anna pointed at the weapon her sister was carrying holstered at her hip. “You’ve…you’ve already taken one off a dead soldier.”
Sarah hesitated, and Anna narrowed her eyes. After her sister had used the gun to knock out Chris, she said that she’d found it on a dead soldier near Harlow.
Had Sarah lied to her?
Anna blinked and shook her head. No. She was starting to become paranoid and imagining things. Ulterior motives.
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