“Stop explaining yourself,” Gus snapped, his mouth settling into a grim line. “It’s none of their business.”
Anna frowned, watching the exchange. It was obvious that Gus was the type of man who didn’t mind if other people died because of him.
Anna knew she would meet others like him. This was the world now, and these were the people she’d have to face.
The longer they survived, the worse it would get. People like Gus and Chris who only looked out for themselves would survive—at the cost of other people’s lives.
But he’d told Nellie to stop explaining herself. Was Nellie the type of person who felt guilty? Was she only looking down on them because she needed to quieten her own conscience?
That might explain her constant dramatics.
Had Gus come up with this plan, and she’d been opposed at first? Had she told him as much, and he’d convinced her to go along with it?
Oreo had settled down next to Sarah with his backside pressed against the wall. He was panting.
Anna stared at the bottle of water, wondering if Nellie was the weak spot she could exploit to get herself and Sarah out of this situation.
She had to try. “Nellie? Please don’t do this to us. Look. We’ll—” What was she pleading for? Let us walk away? Let Dad live? Anna felt nauseous at the thought. “We’ll take him with us and leave. You can stay. We’ll leave the remaining insulin with you.”
How? He was barely awake, unable to sit up. They’d have to carry him, and he’d die within a few hours if they didn’t manage to get his sugar levels under control.
Gus scoffed. “And wait for you to come back with reinforcements?”
“What reinforcements?” Anna asked. “Most people are quite busy with their own—”
“I’m not taking any risks,” Gus said. “You might have a brother. An uncle. You might know a police officer. A soldier. You might come back armed. You already had one gun. Do you think I’m an idiot?” Gus laughed. “No. You’re staying here.” He turned to Nellie. “Tie them up.”
Anna swallowed. Gus didn’t have to explain himself. She knew his reasoning only too well. She’d escaped a similar situation with Chris and had been too terrified to tell her to leave her flat, worried she’d come back and take what wasn’t hers to take.
Nobody could afford to trust others in this new world.
Only one thing was certain: people couldn’t hurt you if they were dead.
Anna took in the room. Their father would be of no help. Oreo had retreated even further into the corner behind Sarah, his head hidden behind her sister’s thigh.
Nellie was staring at them with wide eyes, one hand clasped over her mouth as if unsure what to do next.
A few books were strewn across what used to be their mum’s dresser. Dried lilies were rotting in a vase on the bedside table.
The vase. Anna could use it as a weapon. Smash it over Gus’ head.
She didn’t spot anything else she could use and briefly wondered where the flowers had come from. Perhaps one of the nurses had taken pity on him, seeing as he was almost always alone.
Focus!
The vase was on the other side of the bed. How could she distract Gus long enough in order to be able to grab it?
She decided to try once more. “We won’t come back, Nellie. I promise. I understand why you did what you did and you’re right, I would do anything to keep my sister safe.”
Gus released the safety on the gun, his stare hardening. “Stop talking, Anna.” He jerked his chin in Nellie’s direction. “Stand over there next to my wife so she can tie you up.” His patience was audibly wearing thin. He reached into his trouser pocket and threw a packet of cable ties at Nellie’s feet.
Anna obediently placed the half-empty bottle on the floor and stood up. She winced as she straightened her stiff knee. She raised her hands over her head and shuffled to the middle of the room.
Frank shook his head, stammering as if trying to object. Spittle flew from his mouth as he tried to speak. He seemed more alert, albeit still dazed.
“You too,” Gus said to Sarah. “Put down the pen, then raise your hands and join your sister so my wife can tie you up.” He kept his gun aimed at Anna. “Don’t think I won’t shoot. I don’t care if you live or die.”
Sarah put the pen on the bedside table and raised her hands over her head. She joined Anna in the middle of the room.
Anna bit her lip. Gus stood between her and the vase. Movement caught her attention. Frank was pushing himself up behind Gus.
Nellie didn’t notice, too busy fumbling with the cable ties.
“Don’t do this, Nellie,” Anna said, trying to buy time. “We’re just trying to look after our dad. We’re doing the same thing as you. I promise if you let us go, we’ll leave and won’t come back.”
Anna kept her eyes trained on Gus’ weapon, but in the periphery of her vision she was watching her father taking in the situation. She hoped he was alert enough to understand what was going on.
Whether he was strong enough to do anything about it was another question entirely, but anything he did do could cause a moment of confusion and might give her time to reach the vase.
Frank blinked, then gave her a small nod and a hint of a smile.
Anna readied herself.
“Girls! Run!” Gus spun around and Frank launched himself at the weapon in Gus’ hand, gripping it, aiming it away from himself.
A shot rang out, hitting the pillow. Feathers exploded in a cloud of white.
Nellie yelped in surprise and dropped the cable ties.
Sarah didn’t hesitate and kicked the woman in the chest.
Anna considered grabbing the vase but saw another opportunity and instead ran at Gus from behind while he was busy wrestling with Frank. She jumped onto his back, wrapping one arm around his throat, trying to choke him.
Her fingers dug into his throat, her feet dangling in the air as she tried to wrestle him to the ground.
Frank staggered, gripping the barrel of the gun tightly.
“Sarah! The vase!”
Gus spun around with Anna on his back, knocking the pistol into Frank’s jaw. A horrifying crunch made Anna wince, and Frank’s head whipped to the side. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth, staining his lips and teeth red.
Sarah bolted across the room and grabbed the vase, but Gus elbowed her in the nose, sending her to the floor.
Anna was still holding onto his neck, his muscles bulging. He moved through the room as if she were nothing but an annoying mosquito sitting on his back.
Frank was holding his face, stumbling, then collapsed, his head hitting the rug in front of the bed.
Gus paused, assessing the situation.
The tufts of material from the rug Frank’s face was pressed against weren’t moving, and Anna realised he was no longer breathing.
“Dad—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Gus reached over his head and grabbed her by her shoulders. Anna fought back, tightening her grip on his throat, but Gus was stronger. He threw himself backwards, crushing Anna between himself and the wall.
The world went dark.
Anna opened one eye and squinted. Her back ached and every breath felt as if her lungs were on fire.
Oreo was sitting next to her, licking her arm, whining softly.
Pale sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains behind her. How long had she been out?
Anna shifted. Her hands were tied behind her back, cable ties digging into her wrists. She took in her surroundings, taking slow, shallow breaths to keep the panic at bay. She was in her old bedroom, sitting with her back against the radiator. She leaned forward but her hands were tied to the pipe.
“Sarah?” Anna whispered through the pain.
Next to her, her sister was staring at something.
Anna turned her head, trying to follow her sister’s line of sight.
Across the hallway, their father lay sprawled on his stomach on the rug in hi
s bedroom, his head turned towards Anna, his dead eyes staring straight through her.
All the blood had drained from his face, leaving his split lips and skin a pale grey.
Terror was etched into his features, and Anna let her head sink onto her chest.
“They could be valuable one day.” Gus’ voice was hoarse as though he was struggling to speak. “Women, you know…”
Anna blinked, focused. She craned her neck. She could see Nellie but not Gus.
Nellie was sitting on the bathroom floor, her back resting against the bathtub. She frowned, then swatted at what Anna assumed was Gus’ arm. “They’re valuable because they’re women?” She scoffed. “Are you stupid? This isn’t a fertility crisis. There are plenty of women out there. You’re not going to get a good price for them. They’re just mouths to feed.”
Gus muttered something unintelligible, then sighed. “I’m scared,” he whispered, and Anna almost failed to make out his next words. “How long will the insulin last?”
Nellie handed him a bottle of whisky, and he took a long swig before setting the bottle down next to him.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “None of it is refrigerated.” She placed her hand over his. “And every time we move, we’ll have to find new shelter.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“I know.” She soaked a cotton pad with whisky. “Let me clean your wounds.”
Anna gingerly pulled her shoulders back and a jolt of pain shot up her spine. Grey dots danced in her vision. Gus had crushed her between his own massive frame and the wall using his entire weight. She had probably broken a rib or two.
“Sarah?”
Sarah blinked slowly but didn’t turn her head.
Their father was dead.
Deep breaths.
Gone was the man who’d yelled at her, who’d humiliated and hurt her.
And with his dying breath, he’d tried to help them.
Anna heaved, her stomach twisting—but not from grief or guilt but from the physical pain the fight with Gus had caused.
Oreo settled his head in her lap.
Her therapist had asked her once what she expected to feel when her father finally died. She’d considered sadness and relief, feeling guilt gnawing at her because of the latter.
She had imagined a weight being taken off her, like a burden being lifted. A cage opening, offering her freedom.
A life without fear, without obligation and guilt.
But she’d never expected to feel…nothing.
With his dying breath, he’d tried to protect his daughters, and it hadn’t changed a thing.
He was still a monster. Only now, he was dead. And the man who was responsible for her father’s death was holding Sarah and her captive.
Anna set her jaw and vowed that she and her sister would leave that house alive.
8
James waved for Chris to follow them to the house. He kept his arm around Tom’s shoulders as if worried his friend might disappear if he didn’t.
Spike was lying in the sun, ripping apart what looked like a chicken carcass, watching their every movement with small, beady eyes.
Chris had never seen the farm. James’ dad usually picked the boys up from school, and Tom often spent the night.
The spacious house was built from grey brick. Sturdy. Defensible. White wooden frames surrounded the windows, giving it an air of quaintness, not unlike the images from Tom’s childhood picture books.
A tractor stood on a field nearby, and Chris wondered whether it still worked or if it was as dead as her own car.
James opened the door, stepped to the side and motioned for them to enter.
Chris stepped inside and found herself in a large hallway that led to the kitchen. The smell of smoke and ham greeted her. Voices came from all directions, and Chris squeezed her eyes shut. She gritted her teeth against the rising nausea.
She could hear so many people, children’s voices too, and realised with a sinking feeling in her stomach that she was outnumbered.
A woman with short, grey hair emerged from the kitchen. She wore a friendly smile, rubbing her liver-spotted hands dry on her apron. Crow’s feet crinkled at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t worry about the smoke. Nothing is on fire. We’re just preserving meat.”
Tom grinned. “Mum, this is Maggie. She used to be married to James’ uncle.”
Chris nodded, mumbling, “How do you do.” She was trembling now the adrenaline had worn off and wrapped her arms around herself.
She remembered James’ uncle. Well, not the man, but his funeral. He’d killed himself during the boys’ first year at school, and James had stayed with Chris and Lester for a few days afterwards.
What was his name? He’d been depressed. Just like Lester.
Chris swallowed and blinked away the memories of Lester’s blood soaking into her sheets.
Maggie stuck out her hand, and Chris shook it.
“You have such a great son.”
Chris beamed with pride. “Thank you. He’s amazing.”
“Where’s your hus—”
“Adam,” Tom yelled through the door to the left of the kitchen, interrupting Maggie. On purpose, Chris assumed. A young man poked his head through the door and fist-bumped Tom. In his free arm he carried a tiny black kitten that still had its crusted eyes closed.
“This is James’ cousin, Adam. His mum and James’ dad are brother and sister,” Tom explained.
“Mum and Tony have gone out to find supplies,” Adam said. “Hello, Chris.”
Chris remembered hearing about Adam. Sometimes he’d shoot clay pigeons with James and Tom on Sundays. If Chris remembered correctly, he was heading off to university after this summer. Had been, Chris corrected herself. He wouldn’t go anywhere now.
“Nice to finally meet you, Adam,” Chris said. “Tony is out?”
“They’re looking for food and medicine,” Maggie said. “Shops nearby are already empty. He’s worried there won’t be anything left if we wait. We’re not expecting them back for a few days.”
James took off his glasses, wiped them with a cloth. “Let me introduce you to everyone else. We were about to have lunch.” He put them back on and ran his hand through his auburn curls.
He stepped into the doorway of the room to the left of the kitchen and stopped, turning around. “Through here is where we eat. Over there is a bathroom. Bedrooms are upstairs. Living room is near the front door, but most of us prefer to sit here. It’s nearer to the kitchen.” He grinned at Maggie. “Where we can smell Maggie’s cooking.”
Chris followed him into the room. It was such a big house. Did farming pay this well?
A big table with space for at least twelve people stood in the centre, a woman and two young girls already seated. A stone mantelpiece surrounded the open fireplace, a dozen family photographs displayed on top.
This room would be the warmest in winter.
Chestnut lay asleep next to the fireplace, not bothering to even lift his head.
Adam sat down at the head of the table, holding a bottle of warm milk. He cooed at the kitten in his arms.
“The mother died shortly after giving birth. Its littermates were stillborn,” James explained, then turned to a small, burly woman who waved at Chris. “This is Emily. She’s Harry’s wife—he’s the one who called back Spike. Sorry about that. If I’d known you were coming…”
Chris smiled. “Don’t worry. You have to protect the farm.” She turned to Emily. “Nice to meet you. Where is Harry? I’d like to thank him for calling off the dog.”
“He’s cleaning the stables,” James said.
Emily wore her long, brown hair in a ponytail. Her blue nail polish was chipped, the edges of the nails rough as if chewed regularly. “Lovely to meet you, Chris. These are my two daughters, Leslie and Freya.”
Next to her, two girls, both younger than ten, were colouring in a page in a colouring book with thick crayons. They politely looked up and waved.
/> “Hello girls,” Chris said. “Oh wow. Look at those colours. You’re both very creative.”
The younger of the two shyly hid her face behind her tiny hand and giggled.
Chris didn’t remember ever having heard of Emily or Harry before. Was Tony letting in strangers? Or was the family bigger than she’d thought?
The room spun, and Chris swayed, taking a deep breath.
Tom placed a hand on her shoulder. “You should sit down, Mum.” He guided her to a chair. Noticing Emily and Maggie’s concerned looks, he added, “We were attacked walking along the river. They knocked her out with a cricket bat.”
“Oh, love!” Maggie exclaimed. “You should have said something. I’ll fetch you some water.”
“Thank you,” Chris said. “Do you happen to have any paracetamol?”
“Only aspirin, I’m afraid.”
“That’s a blood thinner. You should never take that if there is a risk of bleeding.” She gestured at the back of her head. “I’m a nurse,” she quickly added, seeing Maggie’s frown.
Chris sat down and once Maggie came back with a glass of water, she sipped it slowly. It was cold and fresh.
James sat down next to Tom, and Chris smiled when the two teenagers hugged again.
“I’m so glad to see you,” James said. “I asked Dad to try and find you, but he said it was too dangerous. Our tractor still runs, but the roads are littered with abandoned cars, so I guess we couldn’t have gone far.”
“Mum said the same,” Tom said. “Where is your Mum? Is she not here?”
“I don’t know where she is.” James fell silent, and a shadow crept into his eyes. “She wasn’t here when it happened,” he whispered after a moment of silence. “Where’s your Dad?”
Tom turned to Chris in that moment, avoiding the question for a second time that day. “How’s your head?”
“It hurts,” Chris admitted truthfully. “But it’s okay. It was worse outside in the sunlight.”
Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 2 | Darkness Falling Page 7