After the Darkness: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (Survive the Darkness Book 5)

by Ryan Casey

  She looked up at the stars, and she took a deep breath of the warm summer air. Sometimes, she slept outside. It was warm enough. Just her, a garden, or a park bench somewhere, and Rex curled up by her side. It was nice. Felt a bit hesitant doing it at first. After all, there were plenty of people about who might see someone like her sleeping out in public and get some nasty ideas.

  But over time, she’d come to realise the chances of actually running into someone were slim—and getting slimmer all the time. People had settled into their own communities, their own little cliques. There were very few people on the road, so to speak.

  And besides. If anyone got near her, Rex would be the first to let her know.

  He might be soft as shit, but he had a hell of a bark. Came in handy. Nobody had to know he was a soft-arse.

  She looked up at those stars, and she thought back to the nights in winter where she’d stand outside, wrapped up in her parka, Max by her side. They’d always meet at night, back at the estate, after a day of whatever work they’d done. It was a routine they’d kept right from the very start. Even if it was only for five minutes, they always checked in with one another. Talked about their day. And weirdly, it felt to Aoife like it was a way of processing her day.

  She never felt quite right until she’d spoken to Max. She could have some little, minor problem bugging her, and talking to Max would just extinguish it right off the bat.

  She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

  “You know how cringe I find doing this,” Aoife said.

  Just speaking out loud made a weight lift off her shoulders right away. She felt like he was right here, beside her, then. And that’s the way it’d always been. She spoke to him. Spoke to him like he was right here.

  And at first, it was hard. At first, she’d just break down into tears and not be able to finish.

  But over time… over time she’d grown used to it.

  Over time, she’d grown to enjoy it.

  As cringe as she knew it was… she felt like he really was here with her.

  And that helped her.

  “Today’s been… Well. It’s not been great.”

  She listened to the silence. Imagined he was right there, listening.

  “Today, I saw… I saw smoke. And I don’t know. There’s no smoke without fire, and there’s no fire without people. So I guess… Well. I had to go check. Had to go investigate. Because if there’s the smallest chance of a group out there—a group I can settle into, a group I can be with—then I have to take that chance.

  “And I know what you’ll say. I’m an idiot for following smoke. But... anyway. You don’t have to worry. There was nobody there. Nobody at all. Trail of destruction, that’s all. And I’m not exactly keen on finding the people who caused that fire, that’s for sure.”

  She opened her eyes, just a crack. Just so the light of the moon and stars peeked in, as she lay there on the soft, spongy grass.

  She felt Rex breathing against her. Felt the warmth of his body.

  And she imagined, just for a moment, that it was Max.

  “Sometimes, I feel like giving up. Sometimes, I feel like… like it’s pointless. Like it’s no use. It’s been six months, Max. Six months, and I’ve not found a single group who’ll take me, or a single group who I’d want to join.

  “And don’t you dare say I’m just being stubborn. Trust me. You wouldn’t go anywhere near these groups, either.”

  She opened her mouth. Went to say something else. Then she stopped herself. What was she doing, lying here in the darkness? Staring up into the star-filled sky and chatting to Max?

  She didn’t care how it made her look.

  It made her feel better.

  “Look at us. I’m alone, and you’re dead. Not ideal, right?”

  She felt that warmth inside. Heard his laugh in her ears. And she felt that love for him. An undeniable love, a love she’d never be able to express.

  “You knew,” Aoife said. “I know you knew how much I love you. And I… I know you love me too.”

  She closed her tearful eyes again.

  Lay there on the grass, stroking Rex’s fur.

  “Goodnight, Max. Hopefully tomorrow’s a better day.”

  She swore she heard him whisper “goodnight” right back at her and felt a smile stretch across her face.

  “Goodnight.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Oliver Matterson opened his eyes and right away knew he was in deep, deep shit.

  It was pitch black. Or maybe he was blindfolded. He didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. His head ached like mad. But then was that surprising? He’d had the shit kicked out of him not long ago. Or was it a while ago? He didn’t have a damned clue.

  All he knew was he’d tried to fight back; he’d tried to save his people… but it was all for nothing. All in vain.

  He felt that pain hit him all over again the second he remembered what he’d witnessed. The arrival of that group, out of nowhere. Making all of them kneel and “convert” to whatever bullshit they were peddling. Convert to their leader, Robert, whoever the hell he was.

  The way they’d refused.

  And the way so many of them paid with their lives for it.

  He looked around this room. Realised he was definitely blindfolded now. He could hear muffled voices somewhere nearby. He could smell and taste blood. But then again, that might just be his. His nose was completely blocked up. He’d lost a few teeth, that was for sure.

  But hell. He’d got off better than the rest of his people, so he couldn’t exactly complain, could he?

  He was still here.

  He was still alive.

  For now.

  He tried to move, but he was tied around the wrists and around the ankles. He wasn’t sitting in a chair or anything. He was on the floor. A cold, hard floor. He tried to shuffle around, tried to stand up… but it was no use. If he could just get to his feet, maybe he could get the hell out of here. Maybe he could make some kind of escape, slim a chance as it may be.

  Come on, Oliver. You’re a tough lad. Always have been a tough lad. You can get out of here. You can make it.

  And he believed that. Truly believed it. Always had been a tough guy—well, since he was younger, anyway. Used to do boxing, back in the world before. Did it from a teenager. Won a few competitions.

  Course, he started because his older brother Reggie used to be a right shit with him. His punches a little too hard. His chokeholds lasting a little too long. And the cigarette burns… yeah, that’s when Oliver knew it wasn’t all just fun and games.

  So he’d started boxing. And he’d got himself stronger. Trained himself up and gradually gained confidence in himself.

  He still took his beatings from Reggie. A psychological hurdle he hadn’t quite conquered.

  But when he saw Reggie punching Mum… yeah, that’s the shit that awoke something inside him.

  He beat him hard. Beat him to within an inch of his life. Left him whining and begging on the kitchen floor, Mum screaming behind about all the blood.

  One thing was for sure. Reggie never bullied nobody after that.

  He tensed up, tried his best to turn over, tried to shuffle up onto his knees…

  But it was just too damned hard. Just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t frigging make it.

  He lay there in a sweaty heap and wondered what exactly these people had planned for him when he suddenly became aware that he wasn’t alone.

  He wasn’t sure what made him realise. Wasn’t sure what made him think that way at all. Just that he became aware of a presence in the room—a presence other than him.

  He lay there. Heart pounding so fast it made his body twitch.

  “I know someone’s in here,” he muttered.

  Silence followed. Total silence.

  And then, footsteps.

  Walking across the solid ground.

  Walking right around him until they stopped, right in front of him.

  He could smell
aftershave. Strong aftershave. Smelled nice. Expensive. Premium.

  And he could hear the man breathing. Not heavily. But audible enough, in this total silence.

  He lay there on the ground and waited for whatever this man—if it were a man—was going to do to him, when he felt himself being lifted all of a sudden from his armpits.

  His instincts were to shake. To try and break himself free and make a dash for it.

  But there was… a weird sense of comfort he got from this man’s hands. Hard to explain. But he wasn’t lifting him with any kind of aggression.

  And was he trying to calm him?

  Was he saying “ssh” to try and settle him?

  His blindfold came away, and finally, Oliver could see again.

  It took him a moment to adjust to the light. Or rather, the darkness that was slightly lighter than the interior world underneath his blindfold.

  But when he saw him, he didn’t feel fear.

  He didn’t feel anything other than… as if he was seeing someone he knew. Someone he knew from a long time ago. Something familiar about him.

  “Hello,” the man said. “I’m sorry for your hospitality so far. And I’m sorry for what happened to your people, too. Or rather… how it happened. My people. They can be heavy-handed at times. I try to avoid it where I can. But the least I can do for you is offer you the dignity you deserve.”

  He spoke with this calmness. This composure. A calmness and composure that, again, didn’t fill Oliver with fear. It made him feel strangely… relaxed. Reassured.

  “What—what you did to my people—”

  “What my people did to some of your people,” the man said. With that same calmness, that same composure, as before.

  Oliver frowned. What the hell was he talking about? “My people. Your people butchered ’em—”

  “Not all of them,” the man said. A smile on his face. His skin was weathered. His hair was thick and curly. And he just didn’t look… well… bothered by any of this shit.

  “We let some of them live,” the man said. “Because we wanted to give you a chance.”

  “A chance to what?”

  “A second chance to kneel.”

  Oliver felt the words like a punch to his gut. He wasn’t no kneeler. He didn’t kneel for nobody.

  But the way this guy was speaking…

  Pained him to admit it, but he didn’t sound menacing or anything like that.

  He sounded weirdly… I dunno, convincing.

  “Where are the rest of my people?”

  The man smiled. “Agree to talk about kneeling, and you can see them.”

  “I don’t just kneel for anybody—”

  “And you’d be a fool to. But we’re not just anybody. We’re believers, my friend. Believers that the light is returning. That the day is close. Believers that it’ll fall from the sky, just as I dreamed. Believers that the day is close. Very, very close. And if you kneel… you will be saved.”

  Oliver looked into this man’s wide eyes, and he realised he’d got this shit desperately wrong.

  This man wasn’t calm or composed or convincing or any of that shit.

  He was a lunatic.

  “Come on,” the man said. “Let me take you outside to see your people, as their leader. Then we can see whether you’re willing to kneel.”

  Before he knew it, Oliver was being dragged outside. Actually, no. Dragged was too hard a word, again. More… eased.

  And that’s what struck him about this dude more than anything. He might be a bit mental, might be a bit deranged. But he wasn’t heavy-handed.

  He was kind of reassuring.

  And that scared Oliver more than anything.

  He eased Oliver over to the door.

  Stopped and turned around.

  “Now, when you see them, please don’t be alarmed. One decision can make all the difference.”

  Oliver frowned. Didn’t know what to say. What was that supposed to mean?

  “Please,” the man said. “Oh, and how rude of me not to introduce myself. I’m Robert.”

  The hairs on Oliver’s arms and neck stood on end.

  Robert.

  The dude they worshipped.

  The dude they did everything for.

  He could barely recollect his thoughts when the door opened, and he saw what was outside.

  There were three of them. Three of them standing higher than the rest of this crowd, who were all standing around in a circle. About thirty of them, maybe more, hard to tell.

  But lots of them.

  The three people standing above were his people.

  Gregg.

  Hailey

  Ulrich.

  All of them were hanging from crosses.

  Nails through their hands.

  Bleeding out.

  Gagged and crying. Clearly in agony.

  The moonlight beaming down, casting a glow on them all.

  A hand on Oliver’s back, gentle. Robert.

  “You kneel,” he said. “You kneel, and we let them down. You kneel, and they no longer have to suffer. You kneel, and you promise to serve us… and we let them go, and the rest of your people will be free.”

  Oliver stood and stared at them.

  Shaking his head.

  Unable to say a damned word.

  He wasn’t a kneeler.

  He wasn’t a quitter.

  He wasn’t one for giving up.

  But these were his people.

  He couldn’t see them suffering.

  Couldn’t see them in pain.

  “Go on, my friend,” Robert said. “Kneel. Sacrifice your ego for your people. Free them.”

  Oliver looked up into their eyes.

  He shook his head, as fear kicked in, took over.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. Not entirely sure who he was even saying sorry to. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

  He went to kneel when he heard something above.

  A whirring, screeching sound.

  He looked up.

  Everyone looked up.

  And above, hovering above them all, he saw it.

  Something in the sky.

  Something burning.

  Something…

  “The light!” someone shouted.

  He heard the voices pick up as this fireball crossed the sky.

  He saw them all gazing up there. Then laughing. Then celebrating. Then crying hysterically, losing their minds.

  “The light! The light! The light!”

  Oliver stood there and watched as this burning ball of fire flew past.

  Before it disappeared, before the sound of a crash filled the air.

  And he could barely hear a thing over the laughter.

  Over the cries.

  Over the joy.

  All he knew was that something was happening.

  Something very, very big was happening.

  And he had a front-row seat.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Aoife jolted awake with a gasp.

  It was pitch black. Took her a few seconds to figure out where she was. And then it clicked. She was outside. Outside, lying on the grass, staring up at the stars. She must’ve stayed out here. Must’ve dozed off before she’d gone inside. Which didn’t matter so much because she was in a garden somewhere. Relatively safe. Relatively secure.

  But something had woken her up. A sound, somewhere. The sound of movement. The sound of voices. The sound of footsteps.

  She rolled over from staring up at the dark sky. Saw Rex lying there beside her, head on his paws, undisturbed. That relaxed her a little bit. Rex was notorious for being jumpy about the smallest thing. An asset, really. Certainly came in handy at times.

  But at night, when there was nothing at all moving, no threats to worry about at all… Rex’s twitchiness about the smallest of things could be a bit of a hindrance, especially when you were trying to sleep.

  But still… there was something about this that felt different to Aoife. Something that felt… off somehow.r />
  Because Rex hadn’t alerted her to anything, but she was pretty certain she’d heard something. Pretty certain something had woken her up.

  She leaned forward, a little dizzy, that horrible groggy feeling from being woken up in the middle of a deep sleep hanging over her.

  Rubbed her hands through her greasy hair.

  “We’d better go inside, Rex. This grass might be comfy for you, but it’s doing my frigging back in.”

  She pushed herself to her feet. Wiped down her jeans. Cleared her throat. Felt like she had a bit of a cold hanging over her. Hopefully just a cold. Hopefully nothing more sinister. She wouldn’t be the first person to die of a typically treatable infection since the power had gone out, that was for sure. And she wouldn’t be the last.

  She stood there for a few seconds, looking at the house, still convinced she’d heard something. That something had woken her up. She was a fairly light sleeper. You couldn’t afford to be a deep sleeper these days.

  But something just felt… off.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  She looked around, up at the sky. Because somewhere deep in her consciousness, she got a strange sense that the sound came from above.

  Even though that was impossible.

  Even though that was totally beyond the realms of possibility.

  Then, she shook her head.

  Took a deep breath.

  It wasn’t exactly abnormal to hear something in your sleep. Something that wasn’t really there.

  And besides. She had past form for imagining things. For seeing things that weren’t there.

  A long, long time ago, perhaps. But history, nonetheless.

  She took another deep breath. She had no idea why this was bothering her so much. Why she couldn’t let it drop like usual. Maybe she was just getting lonely. Maybe she’d spent too long away from others that she was hearing things in the night, now.

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose and walked towards the back door of the house when she saw something, right by the door.

  It was a football. And Aoife didn’t know if she was losing her mind, going insane, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t there before.

  A shiver ran down her spine. Suddenly, the silence became very loud. Loud with the possibility that someone else was there. The wind whispered. The branches of the trees rustling against one another sounded like footsteps. Like… voices.