“I don’t think that’ll be possible.”
“But—”
“We have to take care of ourselves, Tom.”
“You know James’ dad owns a farm, don’t you?”
Chris nodded. “Yes, but his dad lives half an hour away by car. The only reason those soldiers drove us here was because I work at the hospital. Besides, how do you know James is with his dad? He might be with his mum. And even if he is on the farm, don’t his grandparents still live there? Does he have aunts and uncles? Cousins? How many people are potentially crammed into that house? What if they don’t have space for us as well?”
“So…what’s the plan?” Tom asked. “We just wait for people to die? Because to me it sounds like you want to swoop in right after they’ve died and take their stuff. You’re scaring me.”
“Tom?” She waited for him to look at her.
“Yes?”
“I’m trying to keep us safe. I’ll have to make some tough decisions in the coming weeks, and I need you to trust me, okay? Everything I do is to keep us safe.”
He nodded.
“Now, if you really want to help me, let’s take stock of what we have and then we need to plan a supply run.”
Chris didn’t doubt for a second that dozens of soldiers were patrolling the shops in the town centre. Even if she managed to create a diversion and grab some supplies, she wouldn’t be able to get away.
The Poundland warehouse, on the other hand, stood isolated on the edge of town. If the army had already emptied it, they probably wouldn’t even bother guarding it.
With a bit of luck, they’d missed a crate or two filled with food among all the stationery and cleaning products.
Chris filled her first aid bag with cardboard. She eyed it, unconvinced. “Does this look as if I’m carrying important medical equipment?”
“Yes.” Tom said, carrying the empty bucket from the bathroom to the balcony where it stood to collect rainwater. “I’m sorry, you can’t use the loo until this has filled up again or you’ll need to use bottled water to flush.”
Chris rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the warning.”
Ninety bottles of water stood along the walls of Anna’s spare room. Enough drinking water for three months, especially if they continued to harvest and boil rainwater.
Food worried her a lot more. What they had wouldn’t even last them four months. Not if Sarah joined them. And with Tom’s appetite…
Anna had said that she’d hidden her food in little packages and not to worry about her, but Chris didn’t trust anyone else with her sons’ life and had searched the flat.
Anna hadn’t been lying. She’d meticulously divided her supplies into neat packets which she’d stashed away in her wardrobe behind her clothes.
“Are you sure about going to Poundland, Mum?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know…” Chris rubbed her face. “If we could hide for six months…”
“But what if we could hide for seven months…” Tom’s voice trailed off as he stared at her.
“Exactly!”
“No. You don’t understand what I’m saying. When will you be happy? You’ll always want more. Eight months are better than seven and so on. It’s dangerous out there. You said so yourself.”
“It’s now or never. If we don’t go now, it’ll be too late. Everything will be gone.” She slapped her palm against the wall.
He took a step back. “Mum?”
“It’ll be okay.” She rubbed her burning hand. “Let’s get ready.”
Tom changed into black trousers and a white shirt, and Chris put on her scrubs.
“Good enough?” Tom asked, spinning once in front of her.
Pride filled her at the sight of her little baby looking all grown up. “Perfect.” Chris smiled. “You were supposed to work as a porter at the hospital over the summer and decided to stay on and help because we’re short-staffed.”
“Won’t they think I’m too young?”
“Act like you belong. Don’t worry. They won’t look too closely.” Chris tied her hair back in a ponytail. “A soldier asked us to come to the warehouse. They said it was an emergency and to hurry.” She shouldered the first aid bag. “We’ll play it by ear.”
Tom nodded, his cheeks flushed. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and Chris patted his arm. “We’ll be fine. Follow my lead.”
She hung her lanyard with her NHS badge around her neck and adjusted her orange armband. There was nobody to be seen in the street when they left the block of flats.
“Where are the soldiers?” Tom whispered.
“Further up the road,” Chris replied, pointing towards Sainsbury’s. “They can’t patrol every street. It wouldn’t surprise me if they abandoned Harlow once they’re done retrieving the food.”
“I’m scared,” he said so softly she almost couldn’t make out the words.
“I know. Me too.”
The walk took half an hour. It was warm despite the rain. Chris led them through the woods behind the hospital, bushes encroaching on the paths, and they had to step over thorny twigs to avoid tripping.
Emerging from the trees Chris stopped, looking up and down Fourth Avenue.
Without lorries thundering past, it was quiet, almost eerie. As if the world had suddenly ended, and they were left fighting to survive.
There was a smokehouse five minutes down the road that she’d often ordered ribs and wings from, and her stomach grumbled.
If they didn’t find more food, hunger would be something she’d soon feel all the time.
“Let’s go.”
The industrial estate was quiet—birdsong and rain the only sound accompanying their footsteps.
Chris straightened her scrubs as they approached the warehouse. The metal gates stood open. Two young soldiers were leaning against it, smoking.
A tall, female soldier stepped forward. Chris’ head barely reached the soldier’s chest and she had to crane her neck to look into her eyes. “This is a restricted area.”
“Bloody cheek to come here and beg for food,” one of the soldiers muttered. Smoke streamed from his nostrils. “Join the queue like everybody else.”
Chris’ heart leapt into her throat. She bit back a curse. This was where they prepared the food crates for Harlow.
The warehouse had to be crawling with soldiers. But she couldn’t give up now. Grabbing her badge, she shoved it in the female soldier’s line of sight. “I was told that someone here is in need of assistance?”
The soldier groaned and waved for a colleague standing by one of the warehouse doors to come over. “Back to work,” she barked at the two men still smoking.
A tall man shuffled over. He moved with a slight limp, one hand pressed against his lower back.
“Take the nurse inside. Find out who is injured and report back.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned to Chris and Tom. “Follow me.”
Several buttons were missing on his uniform, and Chris could smell alcohol on his breath. He scratched his dark stubble, ambling into the warehouse. Chris frowned at the lack of discipline and wondered how long it would be before they abandoned their posts.
The air inside the warehouse was sticky and warm. A foul stench of rotting food clung to everything. Chris pulled the collar of her blouse over her mouth and nose.
Behind her, Tom retched.
“Breathe through your mouth,” she hissed.
A group of soldiers stood in a corner, loading cardboard boxes with biscuits and tins of food. Chris had been right. This was no longer a warehouse. This was a distribution centre for the government.
And it was almost empty.
Chris swallowed, her gaze drifting over the dozens of empty shelves. “Just between you and me,” she whispered to the limping soldier. “How many days before the food runs out?”
He snorted, then turned away from her. “Who here has called for a medic?”
Nobody replied.
Chris looked to Tom. She’d expected
a few guards, not a warehouse full of soldiers. “Do you happen to remember the name of the injured man?” she asked, trying to buy herself some time.
Everyone was armed. She had to create a diversion somehow.
Tom shook his head. “I don’t think they gave a name,” he whispered, his eyes darting to the soldier’s gun. “We should leave,” he mouthed.
“No one?” the soldier yelled.
Chris flashed him her most cheerful smile and shrugged. “That’s odd. Perhaps we misheard, and they meant for us to go somewhere else.”
Tom darted forward and knocked his shoulder into one of the shelves, sending boxes flying. He took one and bolted.
“Stop him!” the soldier yelled, and everyone scrambled to their feet. Shouts filled the warehouse.
Tom raced off. Chris wanted to grab him and keep him safe, explain that it had all been a mistake, but he’d created the diversion she needed. She suddenly found herself alone and didn’t know what to do.
After a moment’s hesitation, she took action. She opened her bag, quickly discarded the cardboard and filled it with tins of spaghetti hoops—the nearest thing to hand.
That silly boy was risking his life. For them. For her.
Chris reached towards the shelf below. Soup—
Shots rang out. Somebody screamed.
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she fought down a surge of panic.
It wasn’t Tom.
Her bag was bursting with heavy tins, but she forced it closed and darted back to the entrance. Act like you belong. Don’t hesitate. She spotted the soldier with the limp and took a deep breath. “Excuse me?”
He jabbed his index finger in her direction. “You!” He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “You can’t just—”
“I’m so sorry.” She wrung her hands. “I didn’t know he’d do that. Have you…have you caught him?”
“No.”
She gritted her teeth to keep the expression on her face neutral. “I’ll have to report this to the hospital, of course. We can’t work with people like him. Would you like me to find out his address for you?”
The soldier nodded. “Please.”
Dizziness overcame her as she spoke. “Everything is electronic nowadays, but as he’s an intern he would have filled in a paper form. I’ll check our archives and send you a report.”
“Did you find the person who needed help?”
Chris shook her head. “Somebody must have thought it was funny to send a nurse on a fool’s errand. Or we’ve come to the wrong place.” She forced a laugh and patted her bag. “Right. I better bring this equipment back to the hospital.”
“Do any of your machines still work?” the soldier asked, taking a step closer.
“No. What about yours?”
“A handful of vehicles. Mostly older ones. I don’t know why. Perhaps something about where they’d been parked. Apart from that—” He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Thank you.” Chris tried to look past him to see where Tom had run off to.
Another shot rang out.
The soldier laughed. “Oh, don’t look so worried. He’s the third one to try something like that this week. They’ll get him.”
Every fibre of her being wanted to break into a run and follow her son, but she forced herself to nod and smile. When he didn’t say anything else, she walked away. Tears stung her eyes as she muttered prayers to herself.
Tom was fast. He was almost always reading these days, but football had kept him fit.
Once she was out of sight of the warehouse, Chris ran back to the flat. She tried not to slip in the puddles the rain had left behind, the strap of her heavy bag digging into her shoulder.
Were they chasing her?
She stopped and looked over her shoulder.
The road was empty.
She hurried the rest of the way back to the house. Once inside, she took the stairs two at a time and knocked, panting. “It’s me.” He had the keys. She wouldn’t get inside without him.
Please be here. Please be here.
The door opened, and Tom’s flushed face appeared. His expression was awash with relief the moment he saw her.
Chris hurried inside, dropped her bag and sank to her knees. Oreo licked her face, blissfully unaware of how close they’d come to losing everything.
Tom shut the door and exhaled.
Chris stroked Oreo’s soft fur, the dog’s warmth soothing her. Her arm throbbed where the bag had dug into her skin. “We can’t ever do that again.”
She’d almost lost Tom. She’d almost lost everything.
But she’d bought them another month.
11
Anna stood frozen in place, her heart hammering in her chest. The sound of her blood pumping in her ears was louder than the birds chirping in the surrounding trees, louder even than the crickets in the field.
It was all she could hear.
She pulled out her pepper spray and held it in front of her as if warding off vampires with a crucifix.
Without taking her eyes off the man in front of her, she scanned her environment. Horses grazed in the vast field beyond the road. A line of trees visible on the horizon.
She should have paid better attention to her surroundings, but the sight of the bodies had left her panicking.
Her grip on the pepper spray tightened, the blood draining from her hands. “Don’t come any closer.” Her voice came out raspy and small and she sounded more pleading than demanding. “What do you want?” Anna asked again. She pulled her shoulders back, lifting her chin to appear taller.
Less weak.
Less like prey.
The man smiled. He didn’t move and kept his hands in the air where she could see them. “I’m not a threat.”
He didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons. “Where are you going?” he asked when she didn’t reply.
Anna hesitated and bit her lip. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s best you avoid Braintree. The town is crawling with soldiers. One area attempted to defy martial law and stormed the streets.”
Anna raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Beats me. They were gunned down without mercy. The soldiers hung the bodies from road signs all over town. Some form of morbid warning to the rest of us to stay inside.”
Anna shuddered. “Surely, that’s a…that can’t…have they gone rogue?”
“Possibly.” She met his warm, brown eyes and he nodded. “Avoid Braintree.”
He appeared to be in his mid-forties with a trimmed beard that was streaked with grey. His weathered skin was tanned, and he wore his brown hair in a messy bun.
A wave of nausea washed over Anna at his words. It hadn’t even been two weeks and already—
“I’m on my way to Colchester.” Anna didn’t lower the pepper spray, her eyes never leaving the stranger.
“I can be your guide if you’d like. I know my way around this area.”
Her chest tightened. How could she say no without offending him? What if he insisted on following her? “Why?”
“I live here.”
“I’d assumed as much, but why would you want to be my guide, and what makes you think that I would willingly follow a stranger?”
“I’m Bob. Nice to meet you.” He laughed and a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. “There you go. I’m no longer a stranger.”
Anna scowled. “I don’t think that’s a very funny joke, Bob.”
He shrugged. “My wife says that a lot.”
“Look, if I stay on the A120—”
“You don’t want to stay on the A120. There’s a roadblock just before the Braintree exit.” He tucked a strand of brown hair behind his ear. “I can guide you through these fields until you can safely get back onto the road. What do you have to lose?”
A whole lot. But her heartbeat was slowly returning to normal and she lowered her pepper spray. “I don’t know, Bob. What do I have to lose? It’s not even been two weeks and soldiers i
n Braintree are stringing citizens from road signs. I fully expect to find some people have bypassed the food supply scheme entirely and gone straight to cannibalism.”
He snorted. “You read a lot of fiction, don’t you?”
Anna blushed and shrugged. “I mean…”
“I get it. You need to be careful. But not everyone you come across can possibly be a villain, right?” He brushed some dried grass from his trouser legs. “No cannibalism here. I promise. I like to keep fit and walk twenty miles a day. I’m out here a lot, and I know the fields like the back of my hand. Keeps me on my toes, keeps me healthy and keeps me fed.” He opened his bag and tilted it so she could see its contents. “I lay traps to catch rabbits. My wife cooks them over an open fire in our garden.”
“How do you know how to do that?” Anna asked, staring at the dead rabbit in Bob’s bag. She shuddered.
“My grandfather used to hunt. He taught me.”
“What are you and your wife going to do?”
“We’ll grow food and hunt. Apart from that, we’ll keep fit and wait. If Braintree is any indication most people will be dead within the first six months.”
“You reckon?”
“I’m still hoping the government can fix the national grid, but it’s been over a week. They’ll kill each other over basic supplies before starving. Disease will mop up the rest.”
“And then?”
Bob pointed east. “How about we walk while we talk? I don’t like staying in the same place for long. You never know.” He set out without checking to see if she was following him.
She frowned, spotting the big knife tucked into his belt.
Anna scratched her head. She could run away now that he wasn’t looking, but if he really wanted to hurt her, she wouldn’t get far anyway. Her feet screamed in agony—her knee nothing but a painful knot.
Bob’s calves on the other hand, were almost the circumference of her thighs.
He’d catch her in no time.
She decided she might as well follow the man and quickened her steps to catch up with him. He was muttering to himself. His voice sounded oddly calming.
“…gather other people together. Build something.”
Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 1 | Darkness Within Page 10