Fighting Darkness: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller (Fighting to Survive Book 2)

by Alex Knightly

But what? She had to do something.

  She hurried to the wall and knocked on it. Graham was always going on about how the walls here were paper-thin. Maybe she could knock it through and escape into the neighbour’s house.

  She made a face. It didn’t sound hollow, but she didn’t know what else to try. She looked around for something heavy and rolled her eyes when she saw a pair of dumbbells in the corner. As if Graham had ever used them. She squatted down to pick one up and hurled it at the wall.

  She’d been to parties where people had accidentally kicked in plasterboard walls. This wall was stronger. Because even though the weight made an almighty racket, it fell to the ground. All she’d managed to do was chip off the plaster in a few places. There was no way she was getting through that wall.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, moving to the window again. There had to be a way. Her headache-addled brain just couldn’t think of it.

  She held her breath. It had been several seconds since they last knocked. Had they given up? She listened. There wasn’t a sound now. She had never known the place to be so quiet. Even though it was a terraced house there wasn’t a sound from the neighbours on the other side of the bedroom wall, not even after she’d thrown that weight at the shared wall. She sighed. That ruled out trying to get the neighbours to help her over the wall. There was a rope in the back shed she could use, but only if there was someone on the other side of the wall to help her.

  “Si? Are you in there? I need to talk to you.”

  She gasped for breath as if she’d been sucker punched. Her pulse accelerated and all the blood and warmth surged out of her face. What?

  “Si,” the voice said again. She tried to place it. It wasn’t familiar. The accent was neutral. It sounded like a guy off the telly, not anyone she knew.

  She closed her eyes as her mind raced to figure out what was going on. Was she delirious from lack of sleep? Was she imagining all of this?

  “I just need to talk to you, okay? Max sent me.”

  Max, she thought. Max? What the hell is going on?

  By now she was shaky and unsteady on her feet, like she was going to faint at any moment.

  Just stay still, she told herself. He doesn’t know for sure I’m here. He can have no way of knowing. She winced as her eyes landed on the dumbbell lying useless on the ground. What had she been thinking? She should have just stayed quiet and waited for them to go away instead of reacting like a caged animal.

  “Idiot,” she muttered to herself.

  “Please, I know you’re there. I just need to talk to you. He’s in a bad way. He had a run in…” the guy cleared his throat. “He’s in a bad way.”

  Si frowned. This guy said he was a friend of Max’s, but he didn’t sound like any of Max’s friends. She frowned. Wait, no. That wasn’t right. He said Max had sent him. Who was he then? Had Max escaped? Had he gone home? She cursed herself for not checking his house. She hadn’t seen the point.

  Then she thought no. Max knew where she lived. He would have come himself if he was free.

  “Talk to me. Please. I know you’re in there.”

  Si wanted to curl up into a ball. She’d hardly sleep since all this happened and she couldn’t think straight now when she most needed to focus. She sat back down and tried to focus all her attention on her breathing.

  Slowly, she took stock.

  She had a gun.

  Maybe this guy did too. If he had and he knew how to use it then there was no question about it: he had the upper hand over her.

  Unless he was telling the truth and he did know Max. What if it was true and Max needed her?

  She got up and moved towards the stairs.

  Terry

  Dan hadn’t put the wood burner on since the others had left and Terry cursed himself now for not trying to keep it stocked up. Not that he could lift chunks of wood into it. He was still weak; far weaker than he would have liked. Recovery took time, he knew, but he didn’t have time.

  It had struck him a few times now over the last couple of days: how long until they got sick of him not pulling his weight? What had he done for them really? He’d volunteered to do the worst job when they’d lured those men into the service station, but apart from that he’d been nothing but a drag on them.

  He frowned. He could feel his muscles weakening day by day and he didn’t like it. He hadn’t been particularly strong or fit before, but he’d been far better than he was now. And it was only going to get worse unless he did something about it. He was still in so much pain, but he couldn’t just allow himself to waste away. Olivia kept telling him to relax, but how could he?

  He turned away and turned on the gas. Dan was surely due in soon. He’d make up some food and a pot of tea. He had to do something.

  The kitchen door opened just as the kettle was starting to boil. Terry knew because it was one of those whistling ones that irritated the living hell out of him. It was handy, though. It meant they weren’t leaving it on for too long and wasting gas. He hoped they’d be able to get gas from somewhere, but they’d had to move it down the priority list until the others got back. They had no transport except for Dan’s bike, and Dan had promised not to leave Terry and Olivia alone.

  “Good timing,” he said now as he fetched two cups from the draining board. “I’ve just boiled the kettle and made up some spaghetti. Olivia made bread earlier in the pan—we can have some of that.”

  He smiled. Little things were starting to come together. Then he remembered the traps. Those bloody neighbours—so much for looking after the small things and hoping the big things would take care of themselves.

  He looked up to find Dan watching him closely. At least, that was what Terry thought at first. After a few seconds, he realised that Dan was staring and probably wasn’t even aware of him. Sure enough, when Terry patted the guy on the shoulder, he almost leapt out of his skin.

  “Sit down,” Terry said as lightly as he could. “You need to eat.”

  “No, I’ll eat standing up.”

  “It’s cold. Why don’t you light the stove? I would have done it only I still can’t carry anything.”

  Dan nodded absently. The guy had been out there for hours.

  Where was Olivia? Terry had no idea of the signs, but wasn’t there a risk of hypothermia? The man’s lips were the same ghostly shade as the rest of him and he just didn’t seem like himself.

  “Let me help you. Even if it’s just for an hour or two, I can sit out there and keep watch while you take a break.”

  Dan shook his head. “You’re injured.”

  Terry wanted to leave him alone, but his conscience wouldn’t allow it. The guy was on the edge and they had no idea when—or if—the others would come back. “You can’t do this alone.”

  “I don’t have a choice. You’re injured and I can’t ask Olivia to do something like that.”

  “Why don’t you leave it then? They’ve made their point. They won’t try anything for a while.”

  Dan sighed. “We don’t know that.”

  “Please, Dan. What’s going to happen if Annie gets back here and finds you sick?” He tried to force some lightness into his voice. “She’ll blame me and I’m already under the weather without having to fight with Annie!”

  Dan didn’t laugh.

  “Sit down,” Terry said. “I’m going out there. Where is it you watch from?”

  “Just leave it, will you?”

  Terry started awake. He’d just shut his eyes for a minute, but now he realised he’d lost the fight against sleep. He looked around. The kitchen was quiet. It was still bright outside.

  He got up carefully, having felt enough pain already that day to last a lifetime. There was a horrible taste in his mouth. And it wasn’t just a taste. It was a strange, dry sensation. The sort he’d always got when he woke up with a bad hangover and hadn’t drunk enough water the night before.

  He filled a glass of water from the bucket in the sink and wondered whether he should boil it. He shook his head. O
f course not. Dan’s paranoia was getting to him. Boiling it was being too cautious and he was impatient.

  His stomach gurgled. The painkillers had suppressed his appetite. Now that he was off them, it had started to return. He longed for a meal that wasn’t canned beans or chickpeas. In a few months, they’d have fresh vegetables, but that seemed very uncertain now.

  There was a roar from somewhere outside. His first instinct was to stumble to Dan’s room to wake him up and alert him, but when he got there he found the bed was empty and messily made. Of course Dan had ignored him and gone back out.

  He turned around.

  Had that sound come from Dan?

  Heart racing, he hurried back out, ignoring the pain that the impactful movement had on his wound. What was going on?

  When he got to the kitchen, he saw the outside door was open. Dan was standing in the doorway, staring at him.

  Terry’s blood ran cold. His first thought was the man must be having some kind of psychotic episode. It seemed dramatic, but so was the look on Dan’s face. He looked haunted.

  “What is it?” Terry asked, his heart filling with dread. He thought he’d seen the worst, but it turned out there was always something worse. Like this. What could have happened to make Dan react in this way?

  Dan shook his head. He made several attempts to speak, but nothing came out except a low, animalistic moan.

  Terry rushed over to him even though the movement caused stabbing pains in his side. He put an arm around Dan’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you sitting down at the table. I’ll find Olivia. See if she has something you can take.” His mind raced. Where was Annie? With no way of getting in touch with them, he didn’t know what the hell they were going to do if the others didn’t come back soon.

  “No,” Dan said. “I don’t need it.”

  “With all due respect, mate, I think you do. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Come on.” Terry scratched his head, thinking. “Let me make you a cuppa. Or something stronger.” He wondered if that was a good idea; if booze would only make the man’s mental state worse.

  It didn’t matter. Dan didn’t seem to have heard him.

  Terry went to the door and closed it. Dan was staring at the table now. It took Terry a moment to figure out what was falling on the wood and when he did, it chilled him to the bone. Fat tears were dripping from Dan’s eyes at an alarming rate. He went to the living room and picked up a blanket from the nearest chair to drape around Dan’s shoulders. Dan flinched.

  “I’m going to get Olivia,” Terry said solemnly. “She’ll be better with this sort of thing than I am.”

  “No.” Dan grabbed his arm with surprising force. “No. Don’t. Please.”

  “I’ve got to. I’m sorry. You’re in a terrible state and I don’t know what to do to help you.”

  Dan just shook his head. At least he’d stopped crying.

  “What is it, mate? What’s gotten you into this state?” His stomach lurched and he stood up. Dan had come in the back door. Was there something out there? Had he had a confrontation with the neighbours?

  Terry moved to the door, feeling a terrible sense of dread. Whatever was out there had driven a grown man to tears.

  He opened the door and looked around. The rain had stopped and it was fresh and peaceful. Terry looked at the ground. Dan had moved the traps somewhere and there was nothing new in their place. Not that Terry thought a few broken traps were capable of sending a grown man into that sort of state.

  He moved across the yard to the barn. The sheep? No. He could hear them. They were obviously still in the barn.

  He opened the door just enough for him to get inside. It wasn’t a purpose-built animal shed so there were no enclosures. Dan had had a hell of a time getting the sheep in there. Toby had helped, through some instinctive sheepdog ability, but it had still been a mission. Terry wasn’t going to risk undoing all that work.

  The stench of shit was overpowering in the confined space. Terry looked around, confused. He didn’t know exactly how many sheep there were, but it looked like lots. So what was going on? It wasn’t like Dan could have heard from Annie or Clive.

  He glanced to his left as he tried to think of what to check next.

  That was when he saw it.

  Terry doubled over like he’d been punched. Tears came to his eyes and he gasped for air as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

  No. No, it couldn’t be.

  But there was no doubt.

  He stumbled to the door in a state of panic. That he remembered to close it was nothing short of a miracle. He was barely aware of his surroundings.

  “Dan,” he hissed when he got in the house. “Dan, I’m…”

  He didn’t have the words. He doubted anyone would have.

  Max

  Max wasn’t one to startle easily, but the sound of breaking glass was jarring in the silent dusty air of the warehouse. His first instinct was that it was trouble of some sort, seeing as they usually came in the door and they’d been quite cordial ever since he started cooperating.

  The bastards. As if he’d had a choice.

  With that in mind, the first thing he did, before he even looked up, was to crouch behind one of the cars they’d brought in for him to look at, so he was at least shielded from whatever madness was going to happen now.

  Then he looked up.

  And frowned.

  He’d expected it to be one of Harry’s little goons—that’s all he’d seen in recent days. Young lads no older than eighteen or nineteen who threw their weight around as if they were the toughest of the tough. Max might have been amused by them if he wasn’t so wound up.

  But this wasn’t a young wannabe gangster. The bloke outside the window—the one Max assumed had broken the bloody thing—was old. Maybe Max’s age, maybe even older.

  Curiosity got the better of him, though he stayed behind the car in case the bloke was a nutter.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” He had things to do. The little upstarts had unfailingly reminded him what was going to happen if Max didn’t do everything in his power to keep on the right side of Harry.

  He gritted his teeth. He’d been trying his hardest to figure out a way to get back at them. He’d had ideas alright, but everything hinged on the fact that he’d be putting Si in a huge amount of danger seeing as he had no idea where to go to find her. If he broke out of here and they came back before he’d found her, he could only imagine what they’d do. And Max couldn’t bear to even think about that. Harry was a messed up nutjob. Max had no doubt he’d keep his promise—he probably relished the prospect of it.

  Max had instead been playing a long game. Some of the lads were sullen and untalkative, growling at him as if he was some lowlife help there for them to abuse. Some of them, though, were likeable lads who probably had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into. He’d been working on them as subtly as possible. So far, he’d found out that Harry had taken over a large farmhouse and turned it into a sort of commune. No, that wasn’t the right word. It was a workhouse. A hierarchy with Harry at the top.

  Max had to take it slowly and be careful, but he’d find a way. He’d find out where that house was and he’d find out what they were doing to protect it. Then he’d strike. The only thing keeping him going was the promise that Harry would keep her safe. Max didn’t trust that man an inch, but he knew Harry needed her to keep Max working. That was what kept him from losing his mind in those long hours stuck alone in that empty, wretched place.

  Where this bloke outside the window fit into all this, Max didn’t know. But he knew one thing: he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin his plans.

  “What’s your name?” the man asked.

  He didn’t sound like Harry or any of his boys. Max had never seen him before. Still, he bristled at being spoken to like that. “Who’s asking?”

  “I’m Clive. Look, there’s not a lot of time to explain. I’ve been at a farm with Si and some others. A safe place. She left
a few days to find you.”

  Max’s heart froze at the mention of her name. Was this some kind of trap? If it was, it wasn’t clear what Harry stood to benefit from it. All the same, Max reminded himself to be wary. “

  Who the hell are you?” He forgot all about what he’d been doing and moved to the window. The man wasn’t alone. There was a woman out there too. “Well?”

  “We need to find her, Max. It is Max, isn’t it? Long story short, we promised to help her find you. When that didn’t happen, she took off alone.”

  Max tilted his head to one side, trying to take all this in. “What the hell are you talking about? Who sent you?”

  “Please, Max,” the woman said. “No-one sent us. We’re looking for Si.”

  “Harry has her.”

  Their faces dropped—both of them, at the same time. That was his first inkling that something wasn’t right with this. They were surprised. And they seemed to genuinely care about Si, which confused him even more. Because the girl didn’t have anyone to care for her except for Max.

  “Who are you people?”

  “We told you. We’re looking for Si. When… Did she come here? How did Harry get her?”

  Max frowned. How did they know about Harry? He still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a trap of some sort. “I don’t know. Days ago. He came in here crowing about how he’d found her.”

  “No,” Annie said. “Not possible. She was with us.”

  “No,” Max said, shaking his head as he recalled that day Harry had sauntered in and Max had finally given up hope. “No. He has her. He knew things…”

  “Like what?”

  Max shrugged. It seemed so stupid now. “Her hair. That it was purple. Well, not so much that as that she was driving an old Renault when they got her. They couldn’t have known that. She used to tinker about with that old thing at all hours, but she kept it hidden out the back.”

  The other two exchanged looks.

  “What?” Max snapped. He hated not knowing what was going on and he had no idea what was happening now.