“I’ll tell you later.” Chris’ eyes flicked to Tom, but he was still at the bottom of the stairs, awkwardly struggling with his suitcase, banging the wheels against every other step.
“How come that Jeep was still working?” Anna asked. “And how come they let you out? I thought we weren’t supposed to leave the house.”
Chris took off her lanyard and showed Anna the badge. “I work for the NHS. As for the vehicle…I’m not sure. Tom?”
Tom shrugged, dumping Chris’ suitcase by the door. “I don’t know. Perhaps it’s just that old? I’ll get your case, Mum.” Before Chris could reply he ran back down the stairs.
“And you’re staying here?” Anna asked.
“If that’s all right with you?” Chris held one hand up to her face to muffle her voice. “My husband’s dead.”
Anna’s eyes widened.
At that moment, Tom reached the top of the stairs, panting, his face flushed and sweaty. “How much stuff did you bring?”
“Well, this is a two-bedroom flat,” Anna said. “There isn’t much space, but if you don’t mind sleeping in the same room, there’s a sofa in the spare room which converts into a rather comfortable bed.” Anna closed the front door behind them and locked it. “I mostly use the spare room for storage and to hang my washing. I’m afraid it’s a bit messy.
“Don’t worry,” Chris said.
It was getting late. The light was fading.
“I’m going to bed,” Tom announced.
“Don’t you want—”
“I’m going to bed.”
He hadn’t said more than a few words to her since they’d left their home. Tears stung her eyes as she watched him shuffle down the hallway. “Here?” he asked, and Anna nodded.
“Shout if you need anything,” Chris said, but he didn’t reply and instead slammed the door closed behind him.
Anna pointed at another door. “Living room is through there. Make yourself at home. I found half an empty bottle of whisky stashed behind some olive oil and soy sauce earlier today if you fancy a drink?”
Chris sank into the sofa cushions and rubbed her eyes. Whisky sounded just like what she needed. “Thank you.”
Oreo was sitting on a dog bed next to the sofa licking his paws.
“Can I pet him?” Chris asked.
“He’ll come to you once he feels comfortable.” Anna walked into the room, holding the bottle of whisky in one hand and two glasses in the other. “I rarely drink.” She handed Chris one of the glasses. “And I can’t offer any ice for obvious reasons.”
“At least whisky doesn’t go off.” Chris lifted her glass and smiled. “Thank you, Anna.” She took a sip, savouring the smooth drink warming her insides.
“Tell me about your husband,” Anna said, sitting down on the sofa. She flicked a match and lit the three candles on the coffee table.
Oreo looked up from his bed and tilted his head, his black eyes watching Chris.
Chris snorted. “Where do I start?”
“Where is he?”
“Back home.”
Anna clasped her hand over her mouth. “You just…left him there?”
“What was I supposed to do?” Chris shifted.
“Are you and Tom okay?”
Chris sobbed. “I’m to blame.” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. She didn’t know this woman, didn’t know if she could trust her, but she couldn’t keep it together.
“What do you mean?”
“I—” Chris hesitated, rubbing the nape of her neck. “The night I met you…after I got home…” She stared into her drink, swirling the golden liquid around in her glass. “Tom had left to find me in the middle of the night, and I was so angry at Lester for not stopping him. I told him…I told him we’d be better off without him.”
Anna didn’t say anything, silently sipping her whisky.
Chris didn’t know where to start. How much to reveal. After all, she didn’t want the other woman to throw her out.
Nobody will ever love you, Chris. It should have been you. Not Mum and Dad. You.
Stuart’s voice. Chris squeezed her eyes shut. “My family life is…such a mess.” She laughed.
Anna smiled. “Isn’t everyone’s?”
Chris began to talk. She told Anna about Lester’s depression. How he’d struggled to get out of bed, do the little things. How his job performance had deteriorated, and how she’d had to take on a second job to make ends meet. She talked about Tom, about how much teenagers ate, and how her salary hadn’t been enough to pay the bills and the mortgage.
A mortgage they’d taken out based on Lester’s salary.
“What about insurance?” Anna asked.
“We only took out critical illness insurance. We’d prepared for cancer or a stroke. They don’t cover depression. I love my job at the hospital, but it just doesn’t pay enough.” Chris took another sip of her drink. “It should have been me, you know. I should have been the one afflicted with something as awful as depression because Lester would have been able to deal with me. He was kind and supportive and patient.”
The words tumbled freely from her mouth. Chris didn’t stop to think, didn’t filter, just spoke.
“I have no doubt that he’d have lifted me up and carried me through.” She sighed. “But it was him. He was the one who suffered, and I’m not patient, and I wasn’t able to help him. When he told me that Tom had left the house to find me in the middle of the night after the…after what happened, I felt so angry. I told him that I wished he’d kill himself. And he did.” She chuckled dryly. “And he did.”
Anna remained silent, leaning her head back against the sofa cushions.
“Tom saw him. If he ever finds out what I said…if he finds out that I’m the reason his father is dead, he’ll never speak to me again.”
Anna took a sip of her whisky. Her flushed cheeks appeared bright red in the candlelight. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she didn’t drink much. “I haven’t listened to my dad’s last voicemail. He called me the day it happened. I never got the chance to listen.”
Chris furrowed her brows. Where was Anna going with this? If her worst crime was not to have listened to her father’s voicemail, she must have led a very sheltered life.
“He’s diabetic. Without insulin, he’ll die soon. Or perhaps…” Anna shrugged. “That stuff needs refrigerating, doesn’t it?”
Chris nodded.
“He has one of those automatic dispensers. I don’t even know if he still has the equipment to administer insulin without it.”
“Insulin can be kept at room temperature for a few weeks. I could get you some from the hospital. Does he live nearby? We could check in on him if you’d like.” Chris smiled. “Tom said something about perhaps finding working electronics. Perhaps we could look for a small fridge?”
“Even if we find one, we can’t plug it in, can we?”
“We’d also need a generator.”
Chris watched as Anna chewed on the inside of her cheek. A shadow crept into her eyes. Guilt? Anger?
“What happens once we run out of insulin? Or fuel to run the generator?”
“One day at a time, right? You can’t just give up on your father. This whole EMP thing…perhaps they’ll fix it. It might only be temporary. You never know.”
Anna took a deep breath. “I didn’t listen to my father’s last voicemail because his voice makes my blood run cold. He’s a violent drunk.” She wrinkled her nose. “When my mum died of cancer twelve years ago, he insisted on a third of the ashes. My sister and I got the other two thirds. I can’t believe Mum refused to leave him.” Anna scoffed. “Said she’d made a promise to God. And he…he flushed his third down the toilet. He filmed himself doing it and sent us the video. Said she had it coming.”
Chris swallowed. “Or…” she said quietly, “I won’t bring back any insulin from the hospital.”
“I vote you don’t.” Anna giggled. It was obviously an involuntary sound, and she pr
essed her palm against her mouth to suppress the hysterical laughter bubbling up. “Does that make me a horrible person?”
“No.” Chris considered telling Anna about killing Mike and how it had made her feel. Tall. Powerful. Important. As if for one single moment the fate of the universe lay in her hands and she was in charge of both life and death.
At that moment, she’d felt like she could do anything.
Face anyone.
She thought of Tom’s reaction to seeing her covered in blood and how he’d looked at her as if she was a monster and not his mother. He thought she’d hurt Lester.
Had she? Was that even possible?
She’d lost hours, almost an entire day.
Chris opened her mouth, then closed it again. Anna wouldn’t understand.
Letting an estranged father die was different to murdering her boss, even if he had threatened her son.
“You mentioned you had a sister? Sarah?” Chris said instead. “Where does she live?”
“Colchester.”
“Married? Children?”
Anna laughed. “Not yet, but she’s only thirty-two.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“No. Are we the odd ones out for not having come up with a plan for emergencies? Is everybody else prepared?” Anna tilted her head back and emptied her glass.
“I doubt it,” Chris said. “Lester and I didn’t even have wills prepared and we have a son. I wouldn’t know how to get back home if you dropped me five miles from here. Not without a sat nav. Do you think she’ll be coming to Harlow?”
Anna shrugged. “We joked about it one evening over a glass of wine. She said she’d come here, but I’m pretty sure she meant by car.”
“Are you going to look for her?”
“Maybe? But what if she shows up while I’m gone? What if we’re doomed to eternally miss each other and wander around Essex?” Anna reached for the bottle. “More whisky?”
Chris held out her empty glass for a refill. “Thank you.”
Anna stood and poured them both another drink. “How much food did you bring?”
“I brought enough for three months. Maybe four. Ideally, I’d like to have enough for six months. Have you signed up to the food supply scheme?”
“I tried to, but I was worried they might search houses to make sure nobody took more than they needed. What if they found the food I’ve already stashed away?”
Chris traced the edge of her glass with a finger. “You’re right. That’s a risk.”
“Besides, the government will run out of food within a month. There is no way they have enough to feed the entire population for long. Aren’t we pretty much dependent on imports these days?”
“I’m not sure,” Chris said.
“The city centre is blocked off by the army. Any unguarded supermarket has to be empty.”
“What about the Poundland warehouse?” Chris asked.
“I’m guessing that will either be empty or guarded too. Why? What are you thinking?”
“I could try and sneak in…pretend somebody needs medical help. I could take Tom. Attempt a distraction.”
“And get shot?”
Chris laughed. “There’s that risk, of course.”
“Can’t we just stay here? Wait it out?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how long it’ll take for the riots to subside. Right now, the people still believe it’ll all go back to normal. Once they start fighting over scraps, it’ll be impossible to find food. What if we run out of food and…it’s not over?” She sat up. “I need something to eat.”
“I have—”
“No, don’t worry. Relax.” Chris found her suitcase in the hallway and opened it. Retrieving a Tupperware container, she glanced at the door to Anna’s spare room.
Tom. He no longer trusted her. What was she going to do? How was she going to keep him safe?
“Are you all right?” Anna asked.
Chris took the container with her into the living room and removed the lid, offering the contents to Anna. “Homemade peanut butter oatmeal honey bars. Want one?”
Anna shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“The ideal fuel for an apocalypse, and there’s no need to bake them.”
Anna frowned, staring past Chris at her open suitcase.
“What?”
“Is that rat poison?”
Chris shrugged. “I thought it might come in useful. I hate rats, but they’ll probably thrive. Lots of bodies to feast on. Lots of empty houses. And later when we want to grow food—”
“Ewww.” Anna grimaced. She put her glass down and drew the curtains before leaning back into the cushions. “It’s been what…seven days? If Sarah had tried to walk to Harlow from Colchester, she’d have been here by now.”
“How far away is Colchester?”
“Forty miles?”
“That’s a long walk.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“I have to find her. I promised Mum I’d take care of her. How many working vehicles do you think the army has?”
“I can’t imagine they have many. They only helped me because they’re trying to keep the hospital going. I saw quite a few injured soldiers during my shift last night.”
“When’s your next shift?”
“Tomorrow night.” Chris yawned. “Tom and I can look after the flat for you if you want to find your sister. Come straight back. It’s not safe out there.”
Anna sighed. “What about Oreo?”
“Is he a good guard dog?” Chris asked. “Can he protect you?”
“Inside? Yes. He’ll bark whenever someone comes up the stairs. Outside? Not so much. He’s more likely to bark and hide than bite.”
“In that case leave him here where he can help protect our supplies.”
“What do we do in a few months?” Anna asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You said you’re worried that we’ll run out of food before it’s over.”
“I am. I don’t want to have to find food in the middle of a civil war.” Her head felt heavy, and Chris closed her eyes. “If they can’t fix the grid, we’ll have to find a place to grow food, but I’d feel much calmer knowing that won’t be necessary for the next few months.”
“Perhaps trying to get into the Poundland warehouse is worth a thought after all?”
“You find your sister, and I find us some more food?”
Anna smiled. “And when this is all over, we’ll have to find chickens, a cow, a goat…we could learn how to hunt.”
Chris opened one eye. “And then what? Find a community of like-minded people who are willing to live together and work together?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re not joking? And what if nobody takes in strangers by that point?”
“I don’t know, but where would we go now?” Anna asked. “Soldiers are patrolling the streets. I don’t know anyone who owns a farm. We can’t just go knocking on people’s doors. No. We have to wait until the worst is over.”
“Until most people have died, you mean.”
Anna met her eyes. “Yes.” She shrugged and giggled before taking another sip. “Until we’re the only ones left.”
Chris raised her glass in a toast. “Until we’re the only ones left.”
9
Anna hadn’t slept a wink before setting out in the early hours of the morning.
She yawned, pushing thorny branches to the side as she fought her way through the brambles growing along the side of the road. Her legs felt heavy, her calves tight, threatening to cramp.
She’d never walked more than ten miles before, let alone forty, and had no idea how long it would take her to reach Colchester. Could she do it in two days?
Tendrils of black smoke rose over Stansted. Although it had been close to midnight when the EMP had hit, it wasn’t impossible that a plane had crashed.
The pungent smell of smoke seemed to accompany her wherever she went. She�
�d first smelled it in Harlow, faint but distinct. Out here, it grew stronger.
It had been an exceptionally dry June. Without electricity, people had to rely on candles for light and on open fires to cook.
Without engines and water pumps, firefighters couldn’t do their jobs.
It was a recipe for disaster.
Anna crouched down, massaging first her left then her right calf. Running two miles every other day hadn’t prepared her for this.
Not in the slightest.
The road was deserted save for the odd, abandoned car, but Anna felt safer hidden behind the adjacent thicket. She patted her trouser pocket to make sure the can of pepper spray was still there.
Chris had handed it to her the night before. “You never know,” she’d said. “It might be useful.”
How long would the army keep people inside?
How much longer would peace last?
A warm drizzle fell, seeping into her clothes. Retrieving a jacket from her backpack, she yawned again, and a shiver ran down her spine. She’d forgotten to put out a bucket to collect rainwater. Hopefully, Chris would remember.
Pulling her hood up, she continued her hike.
Sleep had eluded her. Tossing and turning in her bed, she’d spent the whole night worrying. Worrying about the strangers in her flat, about leaving Oreo behind and about the long trek to Colchester.
Could she trust Chris? A stranger?
Chris was a nurse. Someone with medical knowledge. Someone who would know which antibiotics to take if Anna happened to come down with pneumonia come winter. That was useful.
She’d even offered to bring back insulin for Anna’s father.
He lived only minutes away from Harlow. Despite having left home at a young age, Anna had never managed to get out of the town she’d been born and raised in.
He was family. They shared blood.
What if Sarah had gone there?
No. Sarah would go to Harlow first.
Anna shook her head and groaned. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rubbed her aching forehead, thankful for the thick clouds shielding her from the summer sun. She was too old to drink more than two glasses of whisky.
Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 1 | Darkness Within Page 8