Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 3 | Darkness Lifting

by Spencer, Leif

  She was greeted by nothing but silence.

  She had to prove that Graham’s inventory wasn’t correct. If she could somehow prove that there were supplies missing, they’d have to search the houses across the street.

  Graham may not have wanted to count every single potato, but she was willing to do so.

  The door to the office stood open. Graham kept the room locked. Why was it open?

  She crept inside. Her hand found the torch, but she didn’t dare switch it on. Someone could see the light through the office window. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before pulling on one of the crates.

  Hesitating, she sniffed the air. The office had smelled of old potatoes and onions when they’d been in here earlier that evening.

  Now—

  She frowned. Her heart skipped a beat. The crate was empty. She angled it against the window so she could read the label, then reached for the inventory list.

  It should have been filled with vitamins. Chris frowned, taking in the columns of crates on either side of her. She thumbed through the inventory and checked the crates near the door. They were all filled with the correct supplies.

  She scanned the inventory for something Graham hadn’t shown them. There. Crate twenty-three was supposed to be filled with pasta. Squinting to see, she made her way to the back of the room and checked crate twenty-three.

  It was empty.

  Checking crate after crate, it dawned on her that Graham had known that Bob wouldn’t ask him to count every potato. She bit back a curse.

  This was her proof. Her heart in her throat, she made her way back to the door. She had to show this to the others. Would they even listen? They’d locked her up.

  Anna.

  Anna would listen. And Anna was on watch.

  All she needed was to dash across the front gardens and reach the oak tree before Graham had a chance to spot her.

  Chris had one hand on the door handle when a muffled moan echoed from the back corner of the room. She turned around. Clutching the pepper spray tightly, she pushed the crates out of the way, making a gap so she could move between them more easily.

  Her hands came away wet. She frowned, sniffed them.

  It reeked of—

  Petrol.

  Chris scowled, pulled out her torch and switched it on to inspect the crates she’d just moved. They’d all been doused with petrol. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Another moan came from the back corner.

  She angled the torch towards the back wall, took another step forward and gasped.

  Tom was lying on the floor, an old rag stuffed into his mouth. His hands and legs were tied together with rope. He squirmed weakly, eyes unfocused. A bruise was forming around his left eye.

  She was about to rush to his side when a voice stopped her cold. “Not so fast.”

  Graham.

  Pure rage bubbled up inside her, and she squared her jaw as she turned around to face him. Her grip around the pepper spray tightened, but Graham waved his index finger at her. “Whatever it is you’re about to do, I wouldn’t do it.” He took out a box of matches from his pocket and opened it. “Don’t make any sudden movements or this room goes up in flames with Tom inside.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Me?” He sneered. “I’m not doing anything. You are. You’re the sociopath. You’re burning down my house. Maybe then those fools out there will finally listen to me. We can’t trust anyone. We shouldn’t be taking in more people. We should be defending ourselves.”

  Graham was holding a match, ready to light it. The pepper spray shook in her grip. “You’re insane.”

  Graham shook his head. “On the contrary. I’m the only sane person in this settlement. Bob just wants to help everyone. As if we were a charity.” He scoffed.

  Chris considered screaming. With a bit of luck someone would hear her.

  But if she did that, Graham would light the match, and she wouldn’t be able to untie Tom in time. By the time anyone got there, the house would be on fire. Her eyes dropped to the pistol at his belt.

  She didn’t stand a chance against him.

  Especially not with the entire room doused in petrol.

  She had to try and talk her way out of this. She was trained to handle aggressive patients. He couldn’t possibly want to burn down his own house. “I’ll leave now. Let me pack our bags. We’ll leave straight away.”

  He smiled, studied her face.

  “You can light your match once we’re gone and blame us, but please…let me untie my son.”

  “I’m sorry about Tom. I never wanted to hurt him. I wasn’t even going to hurt you. No one was going to believe you anyway. Not after tonight. But Tom barged in here as I was working on the crates and accused me of all sorts of things. He left me no choice.”

  “He’s a child.” Tears streamed down Chris’ cheeks as she glanced at the corner where Tom was wriggling, now fully awake. “I promise we’ll leave. You’ll never see us again.”

  Graham narrowed his eyes, rubbing his chin with his knuckles. “Luke has a point, you know. What if you do come back?”

  She sank to her knees, looking at Tom. Their eyes locked. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you. I’m sorry I upset you.”

  His jaw moved as he tried to speak, but the rag rendered the words unintelligible.

  “I love you, Tom.” She turned back to Graham and lifted her chin defiantly. “Let him go then. I’ll stay here.”

  Graham smiled. “A mother’s love. Very touching. But…”

  A flicker of hope was ignited inside her as he hesitated. Perhaps he would—

  The sound of the front door opening startled them both.

  “I’m sorry.” He lifted the match, but his eyes darted to the door for a fraction of a second.

  Chris jumped up, unloading the pepper spray into his eyes. He screamed, hands clutching at his face, and the matchbox clattered to the ground.

  She grabbed the gun from his belt and aimed it at him. His face was a mask of fury. She released the safety, resting her finger on the trigger.

  “Stop right there!” Anna’s voice cut through the tension. A torch flickered, the light blinding Chris momentarily.

  “Anna, no there’s petr—”

  A shot rang out.

  17

  Anna stood in the doorway, the pistol shaking in her grip.

  The gunshot was still reverberating throughout the room. It had been much louder than she’d ever imagined. She could feel her heartbeat in her neck as the blood rushed through her ears.

  Chris’ torch had fallen to the floor, the light streaming towards the wall.

  “Anna! You came just in time,” Graham exclaimed after a moment of shocked silence. “Chris was threatening to set my house on fire. There’s petrol everywhere. We need to get out of here, wake the others and…” He was blinking rapidly as he spoke, tears spilling from his bloodshot eyes.

  His voice sounded distorted to Anna. She swayed, trying to understand what was going on.

  Chris had threatened to set Graham and Rose’s house on fire? Had doused the office and all their supplies in petrol?

  Bile rose in her throat, and she forced herself to look at Chris’ body.

  Forced herself to face what she had done.

  The blonde woman lay in a pool of her own blood. It spread like a blooming flower, seeping into the cream-coloured carpet. The expression on her face was one of shock, her eyes looking at nothing.

  “I’m sorry…” Anna lowered her still trembling hand. “I was on watch when I saw that you weren’t with Rose, and there was a light burning in the office window. All of this is my fault. I can’t believe she attacked you.” She sank to her knees and let out a strangled sob. Wrinkling her nose at the stench of petrol, her eyes darted from one crate to the next. “All our supplies…”

  “We need to wake the others and empty this room. It’s not safe in here.”

  She could hear his determined tone,
but her mind wouldn’t process the words. “I should never…I should never have allowed her to stay.” Anna looked at Graham and swallowed. “What are we going to do—”

  A pained moan interrupted her and for a moment, Anna thought Chris was still alive.

  That’s impossible. Look at her eyes!

  She let go of her gun and crawled over to Chris’ body. Putting her fingers underneath Chris’ nose, she sobbed.

  She wasn’t breathing. The light had gone out of her eyes.

  I did this.

  I shot her.

  Anna refused to acknowledge the guilt stirring in her gut.

  Someone had to do it.

  Killing Chris had been the only option after everything she’d done. She’d dreaded this decision, had dreaded it ever since Bob had told her that they’d all talk about Chris’ future with them over dinner.

  Over dinner. Anna scoffed. So casual, as if the topic at hand hadn’t been somebody’s entire future.

  “Anna!”

  Anna brushed Chris’ hair away from her face. How had someone so small been so threatening?

  Part of Anna had hoped someone—perhaps even Luke—would simply grab Chris and wring her neck.

  Get it over with.

  She’d never wanted to be a part of the decision.

  I’ve killed her.

  Another moan. Anna turned her head to look for the source of the sound. Spotting a narrow gap between the crates, she lifted her torch and aimed it at the back wall. “There’s someone there.”

  “We’re alone,” Graham replied. “Why don’t you go and wake Bob before—”

  “I’ve killed her,” Anna said softly.

  What was she going to say to Tom? He’d trusted her. Please don’t kill her, he’d said.

  Anna stood up, swayed and held onto a tower of crates for support. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  Graham grabbed her elbow, pulled her towards the door, but Anna shook him off. Stumbled towards the gap between the crates. Angled her torch so that she could see what was hidden back there.

  Someone was lying on the floor, wrists and ankles bound. “Tom?” Anna gasped, recognising his dark hair. An old piece of cloth had been shoved in his mouth. A dark bruise coloured his left cheek. “Graham! Tom’s tied up over here.” Her eyes darted to Chris’ body. She couldn’t believe the woman was going to burn down the house with her own son still inside.

  She’d heard of it happening, of course. Parents who were so desperate they killed their own children.

  You know me. You know all I care about is Tom’s survival.

  Ignoring the memory of Chris’ words, she knelt down next to Tom and removed the rag from his mouth. He coughed and retched.

  Stroking his hair she asked, “Can you move?”

  He shook his head, and a groan escaped his lips. “My…head. It hurts.”

  Anna placed her torch on the floor so it illuminated Tom and pulled on the rope around his wrists. Fumbling with the knot, she asked, “Do you think you can get up? We need to get you out of here. It’s not safe.”

  Graham looked at Tom over Anna’s shoulder and scowled. “Chris must have knocked him out. Do you think he was trying to stop her?”

  “Mum?” Tom lifted his head and winced. “Where is she? Is she hurt?”

  “I’m sorry,” Anna whispered.

  He craned his neck to look past her and his eyes widened. Before Anna could stop him, he sat up, holding his head with one hand. “Mum!”

  He pushed past Anna and crawled to his mother, his ankles still tied together. Wrapping his arms around her lifeless body, he lifted her up and pulled her head onto his chest. His whole body was wracked by silent sobs.

  Anna didn’t move, didn’t know what to say.

  After a long moment he let go and slowly stood up, stumbled, then fell to his knees. His hands and shirt were dark with blood. “She wouldn’t…Mum would never…” He looked at Anna with hatred in his eyes. “You promised you wouldn’t kill her.”

  You know me. You know all I care about is Tom’s survival.

  Chris’ words had been insistent. Anna couldn’t believe the woman would—

  “I’m going to wake Bob. We need to secure this room.” Graham headed to the door, but Tom grabbed him by his trousers and held him back.

  “You…you hurt my mother.” Tom rubbed his head and groaned in pain, his hand smearing blood over the side of his face.

  Graham twisted away from Tom. “Let go of me.” When Tom didn’t let go, Graham kicked him in the chest. “You’re as bad as her.”

  Tom wheezed as he fell into the crates behind him.

  “Tom!” Anna rushed towards him. “What are you doing?” she asked Graham.

  “Mum would never…she didn’t do this. It was—”

  “You stupid—” Graham grabbed a match and lit it.

  A light flickered above Tom’s head, rapidly growing in size. Graham had tossed the match into one of the crates. Frozen and confused, Anna watched as the door shut behind him.

  She dashed across the room, tried to open it.

  It was locked.

  She pulled on the handle, then pounded on the door with both fists. “Graham! Help!”

  Tom was kneeling next to his mother’s body, rocking back and forth. “He killed her.”

  “Tom! There’s a fire. We need to get out of here.” Frantic, she yanked on the rope around his ankles, but the knot tightened the more she fumbled with it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flames spreading from crate to crate, inching towards the petrol-soaked supplies underneath.

  “What about Mum?” Tom cried, holding onto Chris.

  “We don’t have time.”

  The flames hissed as they snaked their way down the crates. With a woosh, the petrol caught alight as Tom’s eyes widened in panic. Finally letting go of his mother’s body, he pulled off his shoes and pushed on the rope, wriggling his feet to free himself.

  Smoke was rapidly filling the small room, and Anna started coughing. Pressing the sleeve of her top against her mouth and nose, she stood up. Tom also tried to stand but staggered and fell. Anna grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him to his feet. “The window’s our only way out.”

  Heat slapped Anna’s face, and she clambered up onto an empty crate and tried to open the window with her elbow. It didn’t budge. Gritting her teeth, she pushed against it with renewed force.

  It finally opened, the momentum sending her tumbling outside and onto the damp grass.

  She tried calling Tom’s name, but smoke had filled her lungs and she couldn’t speak. Blinded by the fire, she felt tears spilling from her eyes. She coughed and spat onto the grass.

  Tom fell onto the grass next to her, his trousers on fire. Anna scrambled to her feet and used the last of her strength to roll him over, extinguishing the fire.

  Once it was out, she dropped to the ground, coughing. Desperate for air, she inhaled sharply. Tom’s eyes were open wide, the whites clearly visible and standing in stark contrast to his blood-soaked clothes and the soot darkening his face.

  Anna blinked. Inside the office, the fire continued to roar. Flames licked the open window, as if reaching for her.

  She was bombarded by countless different thoughts all at once. Too much had happened for her to make sense of them all.

  Chris. Tom. Graham.

  Where was Graham?

  Hands pulled at her, lifted her to her feet. She looked up, her vision blurry with tears. “Sue?” Anna wasn’t sure if the person dragging her away from the burning building was Sue or Rachel. Something licked her face and whined. Oreo.

  Blinking, she saw more faces. Someone was helping Tom. Luke or Bob. Their voices sounded dull as if she were underwater. Bob’s mouth moved, but his words were swallowed by the noise of the roaring fire.

  Shaking her head to clear her mind, Anna staggered towards him, legs burning with every step.

  “We heard a gunshot! Where’s Graham?”

  Anna coughed. Her mouth ta
sted of petrol and soot. She ran a finger along her lips. They’d cracked in the heat.

  It had all happened so fast.

  She’d killed Chris.

  You know me. You know all I care about is Tom’s survival.

  Something wasn’t right. Chris would never put her son’s life in danger, and it had been Graham who—

  Graham came running around the corner. He pointed at Tom from afar. “His mum set our house on fire. Grab him!”

  Anna frowned. Chris had already been dead when the fire started. Graham had lit—

  Next to her, Tom sat in the grass, his cheeks streaked with tears. “It wasn’t…wasn’t Mum.” He wheezed, then retched.

  “Someone grab him,” Graham shouted, taking the gun from his belt.

  “It wasn’t—” Tom froze as Graham aimed the pistol straight at him. He lowered his eyes, whispered, “It was Graham.”

  Anna swallowed. Graham had abandoned them inside the office, left—locked the door.

  Graham had lit the match.

  “What was Graham?” Bob encouraged Tom to speak with a grim nod and a tilt of his head.

  “Don’t listen to him, Bob. He’s working with her!” Graham had his index finger on the trigger.

  “For goodness’ sake, put the gun down, Graham! He’s just a boy.”

  Graham’s mouth tightened.

  Graham had started the fire with Tom and her still inside the office.

  “Oreo! Grab him!” Anna yelled.

  The Border Collie shot forward, a flash of black and white. He lunged at Graham and bit down on his arm. Graham’s knees buckled and he screamed. Dropping the pistol, he punched Oreo’s nose with his free hand, but the dog refused to let go.

  Oreo pulled his lips back in a loud snarl, his jaw clamped shut around Graham’s arm. Graham readied his fist for another punch when Luke grabbed him from behind, wrapping both of his arms around Graham’s neck.

  “Oreo, drop it!” Luke said to the dog. Oreo whined, wagging his tail slowly.

  “Let go! You’re hurting him.” Rose’s eyes went from the burning house to her husband and back again. All the blood had drained from her face.