Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 1 | Darkness Within

by Spencer, Leif

  It had been a long night.

  Chris clasped her hand over her mouth and stifled a yawn.

  Tom turned his head, spotted her and frowned. “Mum? I didn’t know you were back from the hospital.” There were deep, dark circles around his eyes, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Good morning, sweetie,” she said with a smile.

  “When am I allowed outside again? I want to see James.”

  Chris watched as Tom ran a hand through his thick, tousled hair, pulling on a few strands. She scratched below her ear, considering her next words. Like all nurses, she had some basic understanding of psychology. It wasn’t uncommon for a patient to grow increasingly anxious and sometimes even become aggressive while waiting for treatment.

  But dealing with teenagers and their hormonal mood swings was different.

  Tom and James had been inseparable for almost a decade.

  “Can I come in?”

  Tom nodded, and Chris sat down in his desk chair, careful not to invade his space. He’d used to love hugging and kissing her until he was ten years old, then one day he’d just stopped.

  “It’s weird, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded. Peach fuzz covered his chin and upper lip, and the first few angry spots dotted his jawline. Soon, Lester would have to teach him how to shave, and yet it felt as though it was only yesterday that Tom had been a little baby.

  “How come you’re allowed to go to work, and I’m not allowed outside?” His voice was calm, devoid of anger. It wasn’t an accusation. He was simply trying to understand a world in which soldiers patrolled the streets.

  “I’m an essential worker. The hospital is there to save people’s lives. You just want to visit your mates. One is a priority, and the other isn’t. Does that make sense?”

  He shrugged.

  “They’re expecting riots and looting. There’s only one way to keep us quiet, and it’s by keeping us trapped inside our homes.”

  Tom frowned and placed the book he’d been reading on his pillow. C++. Another programming language. It was all he read these days.

  He scooted closer towards Chris. “They’re expecting riots?”

  Chris realised she’d been wrong to assume Tom would be aware of the seriousness of the situation. When he talked about computers and game development, he seemed all grown up. For a moment, she’d forgotten that he was only thirteen years old.

  “We only have a certain amount of food, water and medicine in the UK,” she explained, wishing she could put an arm around him. “Some of what we use we import from other countries, and the rest we produce ourselves. Production needs machinery. Machinery needs electricity. To import supplies, we need lorries and as you know, cars and lorries no longer work. Besides, if this has happened not just to us but to other countries as well, they can’t produce anything either.”

  “Does that mean we’ll starve?”

  She bit back a yes. Of course that’s what was about to happen, but there was no need to scare Tom. “It’s important right now that everything is being distributed fairly, and that everyone uses only as much as they need. If everyone takes only what they need to survive, we will be able to save more people.”

  “But we have enough money to buy—”

  “Imagine if only people with money were able to stock up on supplies. That wouldn’t be fair, would it? Just because some people are poor doesn’t mean they deserve to starve.”

  “But—”

  She glowered at him, and he stopped talking, pulling his mouth into a defiant pout.

  “Besides,” Chris continued, “with your father having lost his job and being dependent solely on my salary, we’ll run out of money sooner rather than later. If this had happened in another two to three months, we wouldn’t have been able to buy any supplies. Do you think we deserve to starve in three months?”

  “No.”

  “So, why do you believe people deserve to starve today?”

  “Why does the government get to decide who gets what and how much?” He’d avoided her question, but his features had softened. A pensive look had fallen over his face.

  “They’ve been elected. Put in charge of running the country. It’s their job.” Chris smiled. “Why, who would you put in charge?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, somebody has to decide.”

  He reached for his book and flicked through the pages, pressing his lips together. After a moment of silence, he looked up at her. “Mum?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why did Dad lose his job? He won’t talk to me about it.”

  Chris pulled her knees up to her chest, swivelling in the chair and sighed. Her thoughts drifted back to the night the world had gone dark, and what she’d said to Lester before leaving.

  She swallowed.

  Sometimes I wish—

  When they’d come home, Lester had embraced Tom, then placed a kiss on top of her head. She could have sworn he’d looked as if he had aged five years during the few hours she’d been gone.

  They’d all sat down at the kitchen table and discussed what had happened.

  Chris only said that she’d found Tom waiting by her car.

  “The security guard wouldn’t let me inside the shop,” Tom said and left it at that. He didn’t mention to Lester that Chris had killed her manager. In fact, he didn’t mention Mike at all.

  “Why did you come looking for me?” Chris asked, and Tom explained to his parents why he thought it had been an EMP and what that meant. “My iPad, my iPhone and my laptop wouldn’t turn on,” he said.

  They discussed the possibility of an attack either by a foreign nation or terrorists.

  “It could have been the sun,” Lester said. “It’s happened once before. It’s called the Carrington Event. Back then, telegraph systems failed. It would be a lot worse today because the entire world depends on electricity.”

  After Tom had gone to bed, Chris and Lester checked on him. Hand in hand they stood in his doorway and watched his chest rise and fall slowly.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and Lester squeezed her hand. She was the woman who said cruel things, and Lester was the man who always forgave her.

  “Mum?” her son’s voice pulled her back to the present and she sighed.

  “Dad is ill.”

  “I know,” Tom said. “He has depression. James said his uncle killed himself because of depression. Will Dad—”

  “No!” Chris shook her head. “Your dad will get better.”

  “Why wasn’t his boss more understanding?”

  “I don’t know. Depression makes it awfully hard to focus. It drains you, and your dad wasn’t able to do his job.”

  Tom frowned, contemplating her words. “How was your shift? Are you still able to do your job?”

  “It’s hard to work without technology. I’d never realised how much we depend on it. We can’t do any x-rays. No CTs. No proper lighting.”

  “Doesn’t the hospital have generators?” Tom asked.

  “We do. But most of our machinery is toast.”

  His eyes lit up and he straightened, scooting even closer. “Could you smuggle one home?”

  “A generator?” Chris blinked. “What for?”

  “Some of the small appliances might still work. I could recharge my batteries. We could look for working electronics. In a warehouse for example.” In his excitement, the words tumbled from his mouth so fast, she had to concentrate hard to catch them all.

  “Is that even possible?” Chris asked. “Dad said this could have been caused by the sun.”

  “It’s possible.” Tom nodded. “But I think there’d be flashes in the sky. It may have been too cloudy when it happened.

  “Wouldn’t NASA have known about this?”

  “Perhaps they didn’t realise how bad it would be.”

  “Is there any way for us to figure out what’s caused this for certain?”

  “I don’t think so. Not unless someone tel
ls us.”

  Chris pinched the bridge of her nose. “But you believe we can find working electronics?”

  “Your torch still works. So, yes. But without generators, electronics won’t be much use.”

  “Interesting.” Chris smiled. Pride filled her at the sight of her son. He’d always loved technology and had learned how to build and take apart computers with Lester’s help. At eleven, he’d taught himself how to program a simple app.

  “Mum? How are you staying so calm?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie. Living without electricity is bizarre and surreal, but for now it’s okay.”

  “For now,” Tom said softly.

  Chris sighed. “I think it’s going to get a lot worse, and it’ll get a lot worse quickly, but I believe we can deal with it. I believe we can survive this by working together.” A lie for the benefit of her teenage son. Life wasn’t fair. Nobody got what they deserved. Her grandmother had believed that the universe never gave you more than you could handle, but Chris didn’t know how to handle any of this.

  Then again, she remembered Anna’s words: There will be gangs. Mad Max-style. We don’t have the time to sit around and think. Don’t ever hesitate. Act.

  And she’d acted. She’d protected her son. She’d proven that she was strong.

  Chris wondered if she had enough planks of wood in the shed to barricade the windows. They had to protect their home from the inevitable looting once people’s supplies had run out. The biggest danger out there would be desperate people. People she’d once considered neighbours.

  It would be hard to defend the house. You could get in through the backdoor, through the side-door, and through any of the windows on the ground floor.

  A smaller space like Anna’s flat for example was much easier to defend, but Anna didn’t have a garden to plant vegetables.

  She slowly rose to her feet and yawned. She hadn’t slept in over a day. “I’m going to sleep for a few hours.”

  She walked to the door when Tom’s voice stopped her. “Mum?”

  Fear laced his voice, and she swallowed. “Yes?”

  “That man you hurt outside of Tesco…”

  Her stomach dropped. She’d expected this question. She’d dreaded it. “Mike,” she whispered.

  “What happened? Why did he attack us?”

  “Mike was an awful man. A horrible manager. He didn’t care for his employees. I’m sorry he died, but he threatened both you and me.”

  “But why?”

  “I was…” She scratched her head. “I was trying to get things for us. Things we’d need like food and medicine. I just took it. It might have been wrong, but I took it. I told him that I would pay for it the next day. I told him to take the same for his own family. He wouldn’t listen. He said I was trying to steal from Tesco.”

  Tom frowned. “But…”

  “The tills were inoperable, Tom. With no power…we couldn’t scan the items. We couldn’t pay.”

  “Oh.” He smacked his forehead. “Of course.”

  She thought back to Mike’s pale face. The way he’d lain next to her car with his eyes wide open and devoid of life, staring into nothingness.

  “I work there. It’s not like I could have disappeared into thin air, right? He knew the phones weren’t working. He knew something was wrong, but he insisted that I couldn’t take home any supplies. Roland, our security guard, he let me go. Mike tried to attack me, and Roland punched him.”

  “Wow.” Tom grinned in that way boys did when they heard a story involving a fist fight. She smiled, watching his eyes twinkle as he moved his body, punching the air with his fist, imagining the scene.

  “When I came home, Dad told me you’d gone to find me, and I went back for you. Mike was threatening you, and he knew I’d taken home supplies. I couldn’t risk him coming after us. I don’t know if killing him was the right thing to do but he knew where we live, and he was threatening our family.”

  “Thanks for explaining, Mum.” Tom nodded thoughtfully. “Are they going to arrest you?”

  “I don’t think so. There were a lot of injured people at the hospital last night. Some had clashed with patrolling soldiers. Others had been hurt in the fires.” She thought of the old man she’d found collapsed in the street. How many had died in their beds, their pacemakers failing? “I don’t think they’ll be looking for me, and it’s not like they can check CCTV. Do you have any other questions?”

  Tom shook his head and turned his attention back to his programming book. Chris left his room, closing the door behind her.

  It was early still, and grey clouds filled the skies of Harlow with misery. She was exhausted. There was so much to do, but she wouldn’t be able to do anything without a rest. A quick nap, then she’d see if she was able to grow anything in their garden.

  Chris pushed the door to the master bedroom open and stepped inside.

  She froze.

  Lester was lying on top of the covers, the bed untouched from when she’d made it the previous morning. At first glance, it looked as though he was asleep, but she immediately knew something was wrong.

  Fear snaked up her spine.

  His skin was too pale, almost grey.

  Blood trickled from his slashed wrists, soaking the white sheets. A razor blade rested in his right palm, the sharp edge caked with drying blood.

  Chris placed both of her hands over her mouth. She swayed, lost her balance and tumbled to the floor. Tears blurred her eyes, and she blinked.

  Lester’s face was peaceful as though he’d gone to sleep, as though everything was all right now.

  Determined to be quiet because of Tom, she closed the door and rested her back against it.

  Death had always been a part of life for her. Her parents had died when she was just five years old. She’d always been fascinated by it.

  By what came after.

  She’d tried strangling a cat once as a child.

  Its incessant meowing had disrupted her studying. She’d later found out the cat had been ill and in pain, but while she’d been in the middle of preparing for an important exam, she’d felt nothing but hate for the animal.

  She’d poured her frustrations into her grip.

  Her grandmother’s cruelty. Her older brother’s indifference.

  Her parents’ death.

  Her first boyfriend’s rejection and mocking of her after she’d asked him to the school dance.

  She’d wrapped her hands around the cat’s neck, and she’d squeezed.

  Its eyes had bulged with terror.

  “Stop interrupting me,” she’d hissed through gritted teeth. She still remembered the way she’d flinched upon realising that she hadn’t recognised her own voice.

  She’d let go and dropped the cat.

  It had run off, but she’d never forget the look on its face.

  So unlike the look on Lester’s face right now.

  She’d been thirteen at the time. Tom’s age.

  She’d felt that urge over and over again. The urge to squeeze the life out of people.

  Not regularly, but enough times to have had to step out of patients’ rooms occasionally.

  She’d never harm a person, of course, but she’d always wondered if other people felt this urge.

  Had Tom ever felt it?

  She blinked. Were Lester’s eyelids fluttering?

  No. It had to be her imagination. There was too much blood for him to be alive. The coppery smell of it had filled the room. Pungent and sweet.

  Chris swallowed.

  She crawled to the bed on all fours. She’d told him to kill himself. She’d told him they’d be better off without him.

  She’d done this.

  This was on her.

  His grey lips formed a small o as if forever accusing her of what she’d done.

  Of what she’d said.

  She pressed two fingers against the side of his neck. No pulse. Lester—the man who’d always forgiven her—had finally stopped forgiving.

&nbs
p; And Tom was down the hallway. In his room. Unaware.

  Grey dots danced across her vision, her ears ringing.

  Could she get Lester’s body out of the house? Without Tom knowing?

  She’d moved to Harlow from Waltham Abbey to be closer to the hospital for work. She had no family in Harlow. No friends. Nowhere to go.

  She’d cut off all contact with her grandmother and her brother a long time ago, and her shifts hadn’t permitted her to find close friends.

  The only person she knew in Harlow was Anna.

  Chris placed her hands against the windowsill and steadied herself.

  What was she going to do?

  It had taken the government a few days to mobilise the army. With only makeshift communications in place, it must have been difficult to deploy the soldiers in an organised manner.

  But they were here now. Patrolling the streets.

  Guarding the supermarkets.

  Dropping off care packages.

  She frowned, pulling up her inventory in her mind and doing some calculations. With Lester gone, Chris and her son could survive for three months.

  And if she was able to plant tomatoes and potatoes…

  But what about Lester’s body? His parents had died a few years ago, and he’d been an only child.

  What was she supposed to do? Hand him over to the army? Would they investigate his death? Would they find out about Mike?

  Would they think she was to blame and arrest her?

  She considered burying Lester in her garden. Perhaps while Tom was sleeping.

  But what would she say to her son?

  What if Tom found out what she’d said to Lester?

  If she left with Tom, how long would it take for someone to find the body?

  A loud knock on the door made her flinch.

  Tom.

  “Mum?”

  She took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn’t shake. “I’ll be right outside, sweetie.”

  He’d never forgive her if he found out that she was responsible for his father’s death, if he found out what she’d said.

  Chris braced herself, opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.