When Darkness Falls, Book 2

by Ryan Casey

  But I had enough clarity now to see that recklessly going after my wife, Suzy’s son, Ellie and Kaileigh without any kind of plan was only going to get all of us in deep shit.

  So we had to try something different.

  We had to be prepared.

  I looked at the town ahead of us. It was nice, in a way, to be outside the suffocating woods and in the open—even if the towns were still dangerous places to be avoided, right to this day. It’d taken us a day to get here, and it was late afternoon already; the sky was dimming. We didn’t have much light left to search this place, and then we were going to have to find somewhere to rest for the night.

  It pained me to admit it. But at least now I was seeing clearly that there were more important matters than rushing into conflict.

  I had to bide my time.

  I had to make sure we had everything we needed.

  And then we made our move.

  The town was dead, no doubt about that. It was the same eerie sight that I’d seen in so many towns since the EMP event. Cars abandoned on the side of the road, their windows smashed, and their tires popped by vandals. Windows of houses boarded up, many of the pieces of wood torn down. Graffiti covered every wall. Skinny, stray animals like dogs and cats ran around the streets, returning to their primal natures. Rotting old rubbish lined the pavements, most of which the rats had feasted on.

  And above anything, it was the silence that got to me.

  The swinging of loose signposts in the wind.

  The echoing of footsteps.

  The emptiness of the shops.

  There was no doubt this place was once a thriving community. Even if town centres had seen a downturn with the advent of the internet and retail parks, there was still no denying the livelihood of the places.

  Not anymore.

  All of that was gone.

  I looked around at each and every shop. I hadn’t said much to Suzy and Peter, and they hadn’t said much to me. We had to be on guard when we were in places like this. Although most survivors would surely have made their way into the rural areas by now, there was always going to be the occasional nutcase still in the towns, scrounging off whatever supplies they had left.

  Or waiting for someone to step through the town, ready to fall into the trap…

  “I don’t like this place,” Suzy said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well. It isn’t about whether we like it or not, really. It’s about whether this place has what we need.”

  “And what do we need, again?”

  I remembered when I’d visited this town on the job. I might only have been working local news, but I’d been asked to stand in on the crime desk. It was a dream, really. I’d always wanted to be crime editor, so to get an opportunity to head such a big story was an opportunity I took with both hands.

  I remembered what I’d found when I was here. I remembered what I’d seen, and my amazement that it had been allowed to simply exist, the authorities turning a blind eye to it for whatever nefarious reasons.

  I’d gone back to the office feeling like I’d taken a glimpse at a side of the world—of Britain—I didn’t even know existed.

  And here I was, back again.

  “Just trust me,” I said. “If what I’m looking for is still here, it’s going to be good news for all of us.”

  “And if it isn’t?” Suzy said.

  I looked back at her. “Just have a little faith, okay?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll ‘have a little faith’ when I see results. It’s how I am. How I’ve always been.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said. “Probably need to work on those trust issues before they drag you down completely.”

  I kept on walking down the main street, then took a turn at a boarded up Dominos. I could see that something had been etched on the metal shutters in red, but I couldn’t make it out properly. Wasn’t sure I wanted to because the red writing definitely didn’t look like paint.

  I took a turn down an alleyway a little further down the road and my memories of this place came flooding back. The claustrophobia I’d felt as I made my way down here. The homeless man on my left, glaring up at me. He might be gone now, but his little sleeping bag wasn’t, and neither was his hat, still upturned, still full of change.

  I wondered when he’d taken off. When he’d realised that money had no worth anymore.

  And then I saw it.

  The steps down towards the basement weren’t anything remarkable. Just like any basement flat, really.

  But I knew this place was different.

  I looked up at the sky. It was getting dark, which made this all the more eerie. At the bottom end of the alleyway, I saw movement—a stray dog, which paid some attention to us before running off.

  Then I looked back at those steps.

  “Wherever you’re taking us, I just hope this isn’t you losing your mind and that there’s actually something of worth here.”

  I clenched my fists. “I hope there is,” I said.

  I walked down the concrete steps, one at a time. A whiff of piss hit me, and it worried me for a second because that could be a sign that there was still somebody around here. But then I remembered that I’d got that smell last time. It was a smell that lingered.

  I hoped.

  I reached the door. And as I stood outside it, looking at the number on the padlock, I wondered if it was possible. I wondered if somehow, by some possibility, if they’d kept that number combination the same. After all, I’d seen the people who owned this place key it in without them realising. I’d made a mental note of it. Remembered it, just in case I ever needed to come back here—just in case I needed a juicy story out of it.

  Wasn’t quite the case right now. But it was something more important than a juicy story.

  I reached for the padlock and I felt the nerves shoot through my body.

  “Hope you know what you’re doing here,” Peter said.

  I closed my eyes.

  Remembered those numbers.

  And then I inputted them.

  4-4-2-7-8-9-4.

  Nothing happened.

  I tutted. Looked around. Suzy and Peter were studying me, waiting for something to happen.

  So I looked back at the padlock, tried that combination again.

  4-4-2-7-8-9-4.

  Again, nothing happened.

  “Shit,” I said.

  “No luck?”

  I’d been stupid. Of course they would’ve changed the combination. They’d let a journalist in to speak to them. And although they were kept anonymous, I knew their location. They weren’t going to risk me bringing anyone back here. They…

  Then it struck me.

  A conversation I’d had with these people. The leader of the group. The one wearing the green hat over his face, tiny eyeholes cut out of it.

  “What happens if someone breaks in here? If they raid the place?”

  He’d looked at me as if he was expecting that question all along.

  “We have our ways in and our ways out.”

  I rushed up the steps then. I looked around the road, looked for a manhole cover, for anything that might give me what I was looking for.

  “Alex, what’re you doing?” Suzy asked.

  “Looking,” I said, as I kept on searching, kept on scanning everywhere. There had to be something near here. There had to be another way. There had to…

  Then I stopped.

  I looked at the spot where the homeless man used to sit.

  Could it be?

  Could it really be?

  I walked over to it. I stopped above the sleeping bag. Then I reached down for it with my shaking hand.

  And when I saw it, a smile crossed my face.

  “What is it?” Peter asked.

  I looked down at the little manhole cover that the homeless man had been sitting atop.

  “It’s our way in,” I said.

  I lifted off the cover, which was heavy and needed some assistance from the others. I soo
n realised why—there was a massive dumbbell dangling from it, designed to keep it from being opened.

  We cast it aside, and I looked down into the darkness. Rain was starting to fall.

  “What is this place?” Peter asked, looking uncertain.

  “Come down and I’ll show you.”

  I dangled my legs over the hole.

  I took a few deep breaths.

  Then, I dropped.

  My feet echoed when I landed. I smelled damp. I heard scuttling, and although I was initially wary, I knew it was probably just rats.

  As we walked through the total darkness, I made my way towards the doorway, under the alleyway, Suzy and Peter trailing closely behind. And the more I walked, the more I believed. The more I realised that it was possible. That I was really onto something.

  I bumped into something.

  It took me a few seconds to realise it was a door.

  My heart raced. My hands were clammy.

  I reached down for the rusty handle, went to turn it.

  “Please,” I muttered under my breath. “Please.”

  And then I turned the handle and opened the door.

  It was dark. And although I couldn’t see much in the darkness, I could tell from the faint shapes I could make out that this was it.

  This was it.

  And the things I’d been looking for were still here.

  “What is this place?” Peter asked, coughing on some dust as he stepped past me.

  I couldn’t contain the smile breaking across my face. “This is an armoury,” I said.

  “A what?”

  “A gang armoury. Got all sorts of weapons holed up here. They claim they’re the first people who’ve been able to replicate pistols using 3D printers. I did a story on them a few weeks before the EMP.”

  Silence followed.

  “What does this mean?” Peter asked.

  I looked at him and smiled. “It means we’re going to be armed to the tee. And that we’re going to take Jon down and get everyone back. Shall we get started?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It wasn’t long before we were all stocked up and ready to go.

  The armoury really had been quite a find. We all had three pistols between us, just in case, as well as plenty of ammunition. We hadn’t had the chance to test any of them yet. And there might’ve been reservations about how well we could use guns in the first place.

  But there was no doubting just how much more confident I felt with a gun in hand.

  We had a few other things with us, too. Knives. Batons. Even some pepper spray, which would no doubt come in handy along the line. We’d taken a gamble by coming here. I’d put everything on the line, playing a long game.

  But now we had what we needed. Now we were ready.

  I started to walk out of the room where the armoury was, back towards the manhole cover.

  I felt a hand touch my arm.

  When I turned, I saw it was Suzy.

  She wasn’t looking right into my eyes. More down at the floor.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She glanced up at me, just for a second, as Peter carried on gathering what he needed. “I owe you an apology.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no—”

  “What I said. About your son. What Peter and I both said. We didn’t mean it. I was just… I miss Will, Alex. I miss him so much. And I can’t help but think about those people he’s with. I can’t help but worry about what he’s going through. And it just tears me apart.”

  I put a hand on Suzy’s shoulder, then. Pulled her closer. “Hey,” I said. “Will is going to be okay. We’re going to get him back. That’s my promise to you, okay? And I stick by my promises.”

  I hugged her. Peter looked at me. And for a moment, I swore I saw a half-smile on his face, like he was happy to see we were all coming together right when we needed to.

  “And you were right,” I said.

  Suzy pulled away. “What do you mean?”

  “Both of you. What you said. About my lack of forgiveness being the problem.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “No,” I said. “You were right to say it. And you were right about it. I can see now that it’s been the problem all along. But it isn’t going to be that way. Not for much longer. Not when we get out of here. Not once we’ve got our people back. Not once I’ve…”

  I was going to say “once I’ve taken out Jon.” But I could see the hypocrisy of preaching about how I was a more forgiving man and in the next breath talking about hunting down the man who’d killed my son.

  But that was different.

  That was vengeance that needed to be carried out.

  There were no two ways about it.

  I looked at Peter. Then I looked at Suzy. All of us carrying supplies. All of us in a far better position than we’d been just minutes ago.

  “Are you ready?” I asked.

  Peter nodded.

  Suzy nodded.

  “Good,” I said. “Then let’s get on our—”

  I was about to finish speaking when I heard a clatter.

  Then, I heard voices.

  “Shit, Matt,” a voice said. “The manhole cover’s off. You reckon someone’s down here.”

  I stumbled back into the armoury, Suzy and Peter by my side.

  Someone was coming into the armoury.

  Someone was here.

  We were trapped.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I listened to the footsteps get closer and I knew there was no running away from this.

  All of a sudden, the armoury we were trapped inside seemed to get darker. Listening to those footsteps as they marched nearer, it was like something from a nightmare, where you’d sneaked into somewhere you weren’t supposed to be only to hear the floorboards creaking close behind. That undiluted terror, usually only cured by waking up, and the sense of relief that came with that.

  But there was no waking up from this.

  This was reality.

  And it was marching right towards us.

  I looked over at Peter and at Suzy. Because at the end of the day, there was only one thing we could do here. Only one way we could play this.

  We had guns.

  So as much as I wanted to conserve our ammo for the real battle ahead, I knew for a fact that there was no way I was dying or getting trapped down here.

  So I lifted my gun.

  I watched as Suzy did the same.

  Then Peter, reluctantly.

  We all looked at the doorway as the footsteps got closer towards it, like a monster honing in on its prey, nervous tension creeping its way all through my body.

  The footsteps stopped.

  Right outside the door.

  My heart raced in my skull. My chest felt like it was going to explode. If another second dragged on—another second of this silence—then I felt like I was going to have to open the door myself just to see what was going on.

  Then I heard a voice.

  “Anybody in there?”

  I didn’t want to say anything in return. I didn’t know what to say, in all truth. These people suspected someone was in here because they’d seen the manhole cover had been removed. So they’re naturally going to be cautious of whoever was in this room—and if they were armed.

  I didn’t say anything. Peter didn’t say anything. Suzy didn’t say anything.

  “Just if there is,” the voice said with a tremble, “you should know that we’re gonna blast the hell out of this door, just to be sure, okay? We’re gonna fire right through it. So if there’s anyone in there, you might wanna give yourself up right now.”

  Dread filled my body. Shit. I knew there was a slim chance that they were going to just open that door and walk directly into our line of fire, but that had slipped away dramatically.

  “Okay? Well I’m gonna start counting down. No one shows, you know how it’s gonna play out. Ten…”

  I looked at Peter and Suzy. They looked back at me. Alth
ough it was dark, I could see the panic in their eyes.

  “Nine… eight…”

  “What do we do?” Suzy whispered.

  “Seven…”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. Steadied my pistol.

  “Six… five… four…”

  I tightened my grip on the trigger. If we could shoot first then that would put us at a severe advantage.

  “Three…”

  But there was a risk.

  “Two…”

  And it was too great a risk to take.

  “One…”

  “Okay,” I said.

  I wasn’t sure where that word had come from. Somewhere deep and unexpected inside. Peter and Suzy looked just as surprised.

  But when I spoke it, the countdown stopped. The silence returned. And the more worried and paranoid I began to grow that perhaps this was the plan all along. Perhaps they were going to just shoot anyway.

  But then I saw the door handle begin to turn. “Good. You made the right move—”

  “We’ve got guns,” I said. “And they’re pointing right at that door.”

  “Well, no shit,” one of the voices said. “If you didn’t have guns when you’re in a room like that, I’d be pretty bloody surprised.”

  “I’ll tell you how this is going to work out—”

  “No I’ll tell you how this is gonna work out. You’re gonna put them guns down. You’re gonna put your hands behind your head. And you’re gonna step out of this room. Right now.”

  More of a silence followed. Our guns weren’t lowered.

  “See, even if I do lower my gun. Even if I put it to the ground. How will you know I’ve really done that when I’m behind a door?”

  Silence from the other side. A few mumbles and whispers of discontent. “You’ll really want to put your guns down. Especially if you knew what we had pointing at you.”

  “And how do I know what you’ve got—”

  A blast. Deafening. Echoing and bouncing against the walls. Ringing in my ears.

  “That’s how,” the voice said.

  The tension began to grow then. Because this wasn’t a game anymore. This was a standoff. A standoff where no side really knew what the other had, or whether they were lying.

  I thought about all the things we could do. How we could just start firing, try and blast our way out of here.