Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 2 | Darkness Falling

by Spencer, Leif

  “Nellie and…who is G? Gus?”

  “Not her brother then,” Anna muttered.

  “You think she’s lying.”

  “Please. Have you not seen all the hand wringing and dramatic sniffling?”

  “And they’re here for what? Dad’s house? He doesn’t have any money.”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think we should trust her,” Anna said. “Can’t we just tie her up and deal with her later?

  “What if Gus comes home while we’re out?” Sarah shook her head. “No. Get me a wet towel.”

  “No water, remember? I don’t want to use bottled wa—”

  “Dad used to collect rainwater in a barrel outside to water his flowers. Take a bucket from the kitchen. We’ll wake her, chuck her out and lock up. Better be safe than sorry.”

  “Right.” Anna grabbed her torch and headed into the bathroom where she took a towel from the small chest of drawers by the door. The mirror cabinet above the sink was slightly ajar. Curious, she rummaged through it.

  Nothing indicated that someone else had moved in here—especially not a woman, but upon closer inspection Anna noticed a razor, deodorant and make-up next to a bottle of cheap perfume on the windowsill, as if they had recently been placed there.

  Anna draped the towel over her shoulder and headed into the kitchen. Everything looked the same as usual. Rice, tinned beans and curries were stacked next to the microwave. Anna counted eleven bottles of wine.

  Frank’s fantastic diet.

  Anna didn’t think a woman like Nellie would put up with a diet like that.

  She placed her torch on the sink and knelt to retrieve a bucket from the cupboard underneath where Frank kept his cleaning supplies. Dust tickled her nose as she opened the cupboard, and she sneezed. She was wiping her face with the back of her hand when her eyes fell onto a stack of cardboard boxes tucked behind a large bottle of bleach at the back of the cupboard.

  FlexPens. Four boxes, each containing five pens. Enough insulin to last four months if properly refrigerated.

  It looked as if they’d been hidden deliberately.

  Anna jumped to her feet. “Sarah?”

  She grabbed the torch and looked down at herself. Dust clung to her trousers. She patted her thighs, then inspected the kitchen floor. Her knees had left marks in the dust.

  It was obvious that nobody had cleaned this place in over a month. Not just since the EMP.

  Another thing that didn’t fit with Nellie’s story.

  Was that woman really living with her father?

  “Sarah?”

  There was no reply, and adrenaline spiked in her stomach. The sudden fear sent her heart racing.

  Who was Nellie? And why was she in her father’s house?

  And why was she claiming that he had run out of insulin?

  Anna grabbed the box of FlexPens and rushed back to the bedroom.

  4

  When Chris came to, she didn’t know where she was. She opened her eyes, blinked, tried to focus. Lost in the dark, panic coursed through her.

  She couldn’t see.

  The back of her head throbbed. Disorientated, she raised her hand to check her head for injuries, but her limbs wouldn’t obey. Her arm felt heavy, as if made of lead.

  Her ears were ringing.

  What—

  Chris blinked again, then inhaled deeply. The air smelled fresh, as if she was near wat—

  The river. They’d crossed the bridge in Roydon.

  Tom and her.

  Chris shifted, rolling onto her side, and nausea washed over her. Fear tightened her chest, and her breath hitched. Nothing came into focus. Black and grey swirls swam in her vision. She blinked again, trying to keep the panic from rising.

  As a nurse, she knew how crucial the first twenty-four hours after a head injury were and—

  Sarah. Anna’s sister had knocked her out with her gun.

  But that had been the previous evening. Hadn’t it?

  Why couldn’t she remember what had happened? Struggling to breathe, she sucked air into her lungs.

  Why couldn’t she see?

  Had she fallen? Or had someone knocked her out?

  Chris blinked, still waiting for her eyes to adjust. Nothing.

  What if she was bleeding? Or worse. She tried to think clearly, logically. She couldn’t see. She didn’t have the strength to lift her arm.

  What if her brain was swelling up inside her head?

  How long before the mounting pressure killed her?

  She needed a CT of the head to check if there was something wrong. Princess Alexandra Hospital was nearest. Lester could look after Tom for a few hours and—

  If only she could get to her feet.

  No. There was no electricity.

  No cars to get to the hospital.

  No Lester.

  Chris closed her eyes again, deliberately slowing her breathing. There was no need to panic. She was a nurse. She knew what to do. Tom would test her eyes with the help of his torch and—

  Where was Tom?

  The hammer inside her head pounded her skull. Blood rushed through her ears. Chris tried sitting up, but her nausea forced her back down.

  They’d crossed the bridge together. Chris remembered the derailed train. The shattered window.

  Tom had to be nearby. Was he hurt too?

  She opened her eyes. Gleaming stars dotted the sky. Or was it her vision? She wasn’t sure. Her mind whirled; the ground rocked beneath her as if—

  Vertigo? Or was she on a boat?

  Voices cut through the silence.

  She turned her head and listened. The voices were loud, like razor blades cutting through her jumbled thoughts, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  It wasn’t Tom’s voice.

  Chris remembered a sudden attack. Something had hit her between the shoulder blades. She tried moving again. This time she managed to lift her hand. A painful lump had formed on the back of her head, above her neck.

  How long had she been out for?

  The sun wasn’t up, but it was getting light.

  Chris brought her hand to her face, looked at it. Her vision swam back into focus, and she counted her fingers.

  Seven.

  No. That couldn’t be right.

  Chris swallowed. Double vision was a sign of a severe concussion. She needed to go to the hospital. She took a deep breath and pushed the panic back down, reminding herself of the Prime Minister’s name. The current year. The name of her hometown.

  She answered each question, then realised testing her memory was pointless. She wouldn’t know if her answers were wrong, and she still struggled to remember what had happened before she’d passed out.

  Over the high-pitched ringing in her ears, she heard the river burble.

  River Lea? River Stort? She wasn’t sure.

  They’d left Anna’s flat the previous evening.

  Anna Greene. The woman who had tried to poison her. The woman who’d called her dangerous. The woman who had claimed that Chris couldn’t be trusted.

  Who had tried to turn her own son against her.

  After everything Chris had done for Anna. She’d gathered supplies. Protected the supplies. Stood up to an invader. Fought. And won.

  “The cheek,” Chris muttered to herself, but the words came out slurred, as if she were drunk. Another sign of a severe concussion. She needed rest, time to let her brain heal.

  Someone else was speaking now. Quietly. Almost a whisper. Chris’ heart skipped a beat. It was Tom’s voice. He sounded calm, his voice determined and strong.

  He sounded grown up.

  Gone was the little boy who’d held onto her apron.

  She strained her ears and caught the fear in his voice. He spoke more slowly than usual, as if considering each word. Turning her head, she spotted him. He stood with his back to the river. His gaze flicked to her, then quickly returned to the two men standing in front of him. They had their backs turned to Chris.

 
“Please don’t do anything else to hurt my mum.” Tom placed his bag and laptop on the ground and turned his pockets inside out. “See? I’m not armed.”

  He was fighting for her life. For his life.

  “We only want your bags. Don’t try to follow us.”

  “We can help you. If you leave us our supplies.” Tom spoke quickly as if worried they’d walk away without listening if he didn’t. “My mum is a nurse. She can clean that gash on your arm. The edges are going red. That means it’s becoming infected. Is it throbbing?”

  The taller of the two men nodded. He winced as he rubbed at the tender flesh. The other man held a cricket bat, ready to swing it at Tom. Ready to knock her son into the river.

  Her heart thrashed in her chest at the sight. A cricket bat could kill, and even if it didn’t kill him, he’d be unconscious by the time he hit the water. Chris wanted to cry out and tell Tom to be careful, but they didn’t know she was awake.

  And they hadn’t tied her up.

  She had to be quiet. She clasped her hand over her mouth and watched Tom speak.

  “I can—”

  “We get it. You think you can help us,” the other person said. “We’ll still have a look at your bags.”

  Chris blinked and dropped her hand to her side. It was a woman who was holding the bat—not a man at all.

  “I’ll figure out how to clean the wound. It can’t be that difficult if a nurse can do it.”

  “He might need stitches,” Tom said. “Infections can travel to the heart and kill you. It’s not like you can ask your doctor to give you antibiotics. Let my mum have a look at it.”

  The man peered over his shoulder at Chris, and she held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she was awake.

  “And you said you might be able to fix my phone?” the man asked after a moment of silence. He reached for Tom’s bag, opened it and rummaged through the contents.

  Was that why they hadn’t hurt Tom? Clever boy. The only problem was that he hadn’t even managed to turn on his own laptop. There was no way he could fix a phone.

  They’d find out he was lying soon enough. And then?

  Chris opened one eye, slowly turned her head.

  Tom’s gaze drifted in her direction, and she wondered if he was buying her time, waiting for her to get them out of this situation.

  If only she could move without feeling nauseous.

  Adrenaline pooled in her stomach, sending jolts down her arms and legs. Her fingers tingled with anticipation. She was unarmed. As strong as she was from lifting patients, she couldn’t possibly overpower a man as tall as the one towering above Tom.

  Chris watched as he put the bag down and handed his phone to Tom. Tom inspected it, then sat down on the edge of the towpath, his back resting against a tree. He pulled his laptop from its sleeve and began to fiddle with a white cable.

  “I can’t promise this will work, but I can try. You’ll at least have access to your photos.” Tom glanced at Chris from under dark eyelashes without lifting his head, his features relaxed, but his eyes were wide.

  He had to be terrified.

  Anger seeped into her at the sight. How dare they threaten her son?

  Tom turned the phone over, stared at the back, frowned, then fumbled through his bag. After a few minutes of muttering under his breath, he pulled out a second cable.

  He was waiting for her to move.

  She had to get up. Now.

  She had promised to protect him. No matter what.

  The woman stood with her legs wide, boots planted firmly on the ground, the bat at the ready, but she’d lowered it somewhat whilst watching Tom fiddle with the phone.

  The man appeared unarmed, but he was much taller than Tom. His shoulders and chest filled out the shirt he was wearing. He appeared massive next to her son, like a giant boulder.

  Immoveable.

  Chris considered her options. If she went for the woman first, the man would see her coming, and he’d be ready. Ready and angry. He’d retaliate, go for Tom.

  And there was no way Tom could take him on.

  No, she needed the element of surprise.

  If she kicked the back of his knee, hoping he’d lose his balance, she might be able to knock him out with the help of a sharp rock. Tom would have to fight the woman.

  Chris winced. Her entire body thrummed with tension, but her headache was growing more painful, radiating along the side of her head, culminating in an ice pick that stabbed her behind her left eye.

  She wasn’t sure she could get up without being sick.

  The woman’s grip on the bat tightened. “What’s taking you so long?”

  Tom smiled at her. It was his sweetest smile. The one he reserved for whenever he needed a favour. “This might take a while. I have to troubleshoot the device before I can connect it to my laptop to update the firmware. If that doesn’t work, I’ll have to reset the phone to its factory settings.”

  He spoke quietly, hiding the tremble in his voice, but Chris heard it. Fury mingled with the adrenaline, and she slowly sat up. They had no right to threaten her son.

  “How are you even able to turn on your laptop?” The man took a step towards Tom and glanced over the laptop screen. If he bent further forward, he’d see that it wasn’t on.

  He’d realise that Tom was lying.

  It was now or never.

  A wave of bile rose in the back of her throat as she moved. She heaved. Nausea rolled through her stomach.

  Tom’s eyes darted to her, then back to his laptop. His mouth tightened into a thin line as he began to talk about the EMP. “Isn’t it funny how that one moment catapulted us straight back to the Middle Ages?”

  The man shrugged.

  “What do you think happened?” Tom asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Well, there are ways you can protect your electronics in future. You could place them in…” His voice droned on.

  Chris fumbled in the dark on all fours until she found a rock the size of her palm. Tom would have to deal with the woman.

  If only she still had her pepper spray, but Anna had kept that and left Chris defenceless. Chris bit back a curse and inspected the rock. It had a sharp edge. It would do. It had to.

  She had the element of surprise on her side. If only she could get to her feet—

  The man took another step towards Tom. “You’re lying. Your screen is off.”

  “The laptop—”

  Chris scrambled to her feet. She retched, acid hitting the back of her throat. Her knees buckled, but she caught herself before she fell.

  Her grip on the rock tightened, and she staggered towards the man. She focused, raised her leg and delivered a kick to the back of his knee. He gasped, lost his balance and stumbled.

  Chris grabbed his shirt by the collar, yanking him towards her and smashed the rock into the back of his head.

  His companion’s scream tore through the air, distracting Chris for a moment. Tom had grabbed the woman’s bat with white-knuckled hands, and they were wrestling with each other.

  The man staggered towards the river, clearly dazed. He tried turning around, but Chris hit him again. This time he crumpled to the ground, hitting the towpath face-first with a loud thud.

  Chris bent over and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the ground.

  A loud splash caught her attention, and she looked up, wiping her mouth.

  Tom was kneeling at the edge of the river, reaching for something in the water. She shuffled over to her son. The woman had fallen into the water, the cricket bat abandoned on the path.

  “Grab my hand,” Tom shouted. Panicked splashing was the only reply as the woman struggled against the river’s current, her face and arms dipping under the water every few seconds.

  Satisfied that Tom was safe, Chris turned her attention back to the unconscious man. Her eyes fell onto the cricket bat lying on the ground. She picked it up, anger bubbling in her gut. She hesitated, glanced
at Tom.

  He had to learn.

  “Tom?”

  But he wasn’t listening, still trying to help the woman.

  Chris used the man’s shoelaces to tie his hands and feet. Cable ties would have been more secure, but shoelaces were better than nothing.

  He groaned as she rolled him over but didn’t wake up. Thick blood dyed the back of his head red, trickling down his neck and seeping into the torn collar of his shirt.

  Satisfied that the man was no longer a threat, she turned to find Tom still on his knees. He had steadied himself with one hand, the other holding onto the woman. Chris frowned. Only a moment ago, he’d been reaching for her, and now he had her in his grasp.

  “What are you doing?” Chris asked.

  Tom ignored her. “Don’t let go.” Despair laced his voice.

  The woman coughed, gasped, swallowed water. Spluttering, she fought against an invisible enemy. Terror had consumed her, and she was no longer thinking clearly. She’d drown, and if Tom didn’t let go, she’d pull him into the water with her.

  Chris scowled. “Let go.” She wrapped her arms around Tom’s torso to keep him from falling in. “Let go,” she repeated softly. “She’ll only pull you in and under.”

  “Please!” Tom cried. “I didn’t mean for her to fall in.” Tears spilled from his eyes. Chris felt his muscles tense as he pulled harder, but the woman slipped from his grip and disappeared under water.

  Bubbles rose.

  Her arms broke through the surface once more, reaching for Tom.

  Then she sank.

  And the bubbles stopped.

  “You can’t help her,” Chris said. She didn’t let go of him, worried he might jump into the river if she did.

  Tom turned, his eyes shining with tears and fell into her embrace. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I know, sweetie, but you did the right thing.” She held him for a long moment before taking a step backwards and reaching for his hands. He looked shaken, scared. Love filled her at the sight, and she kissed his knuckles. He’d protected her, and she’d protected him. It was him and her against the world.