Into the Dark (Book 8): The Next World

by Casey, Ryan

But it was Romesh who beat him to it.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “It’s Emilia’s funeral. It’s in memory of her, goddamn it. Is this what she would’ve wanted? People arguing? People tearing each other apart? No. She’d have wanted to be buried in peace.”

  Silence followed. A calming of tensions.

  “What happens with the election doesn’t matter. Not today. That decision is for someone else to make. What happens now is that we stick together. Because conflict is what Emilia’s killer would’ve wanted. That’s what he would’ve been working towards.”

  “And why do you know so much about what Emilia’s killer wanted, you Paki bastard?”

  The words made the hairs on Mike’s arms stand on end. They came from somewhere deep in the crowd. And he saw from the look on Romesh’s face that they’d got to him, too. Because they changed things. They made it “us vs them.” But the “us” and the “them” weren’t defined, not yet.

  There was looking out for this place. There was paranoia about outsiders coming in—natural, of course.

  But that was just outright prejudice.

  And that couldn’t happen.

  He watched as Romesh stepped back. As Sarah took his hand.

  He watched as the two groups stood over the grave, at a standstill.

  He felt a speck of rain hit his forehead as the clouds began to crawl over.

  And across the group from him, he swore he saw a smile tug at the corners of Graham’s face…

  Chapter Eight

  They decided not to go ahead with the election on the day of Emilia’s murder.

  Three weeks passed since Emilia’s death, and tensions didn’t seem to be disintegrating. Quite the opposite. People who had arrived at the hospital in recent months were treated with scepticism and suspicion, which in turn made them more judgemental of those around them. And the new arrivals… well, they were received with even more of a backlash. People questioned every single one of them—their motives, where they’d come from, their values, the whole lot.

  And while scepticism was always a good approach to have when bringing new people into a valued community… the scepticism was growing into something else. An ugly paranoid beast.

  It could be forgiven. An innocent woman had died at the hands of someone who hadn’t been here for long.

  But that paranoid beast was growing. It was making people fear the unknown in all its forms.

  And slowly, as the re-scheduled election day approached… that ugly beast was beginning to draw whispers in the streets.

  Graham sat inside his room and looked out the window at the hospital grounds. They were so beautiful. This place, it needed protecting, but in a way that most of the people here didn’t realise. In a way that their naive minds just didn’t seem to understand.

  Because people couldn’t be trusted. People had to stand up and take what was theirs if they valued enough.

  And the leadership in this place was falling.

  He looked outside at the crops, withering as autumn progressed. He knew winter was coming. And he’d been working hard. Working hard on making sure people knew exactly how careful they had to be when winter did arrive. Their supplies weren’t what they used to be, after all. The cattle… a few of them had died, got people worried about what might happen if they all died off.

  And sure. He might’ve had a hand in that. He might’ve had something to do with it.

  But it was for the greater good.

  In the long run, it was going to make this place stronger.

  Because this place would be stronger when he was in control.

  He took a sip of whisky. Felt its warmth creep down his oesophagus, into his body. He drank too much. He knew that. His wife, Wendy, she’d always said as much. He missed her. Missed her a lot. And the way she’d died… it haunted him. An old place he used to live at. A camp, before the beauty of this place. They’d been surviving together there. Only the camp started to build ideas above its station. It began to invite people in. Outsiders.

  Only one of those dirty outsiders had been carrying something. A nasty strain of flu.

  A strain of flu that Wendy had caught.

  That she’d ultimately died from.

  He took another sip of whisky as his tears began to build.

  He wasn’t paranoid. Far from it. It was right to question outsiders. And sure, he was an outsider to this place once. Plenty of people here now doing good, honest work were, too.

  But there came a point where you had to shut the doors. You had to stop people coming in. This whole process of “vetting” people that Vincent was supposedly doing… it just wasn’t good enough.

  Because there was no way of knowing what one of those outsiders might be capable of.

  This place was better before it expanded, anyway. It was better when the numbers were half what they were now.

  And Graham, when he was elected—which he would be, through a sequence of events that would continue to follow, like dominoes falling—would continue to push those dominoes further down and make damned sure those numbers got controllable again.

  That only people they absolutely needed were here.

  No outsiders.

  Nobody suspect.

  And nobody with ill-discipline.

  A bitter taste filled his mouth when he thought about Kelsie and some of those others. Feral. That’s what they were. Wild. They might think they were adapting. They might be convinced that they could fit in, one way or another.

  But they couldn’t.

  And Graham would make sure he dealt with them in the only way he could.

  He sipped his whisky again, then he turned around. But just as he did, he saw Grant out there, sitting by his wife’s grave like he had been for the last three weeks.

  And Graham felt guilty for Grant. He felt sad that he’d lost at the hands of one of those vicious outsiders. That he’d lost someone so close, so innocent, to an interceptor like Paulo.

  Graham would make sure nobody died like that again.

  But then his jaw tensed.

  He saw a flash in his mind.

  Just a momentary flash.

  Emilia.

  Going to scream.

  Then lifting that knife and stabbing her in her stomach.

  And he remembered the words as she’d fallen to the ground. As his heart raced. As he realised the significance of what he’d done, even if it was all part of the plan.

  He remembered the way she’d stared up at him, terror in her eyes and mumbled, “My baby. Not my baby. Please.”

  He remembered looking at her hand as it rested across her belly.

  Then taking a deep breath, standing up, and turning away.

  Making sure that knife got into the hands of Paulo.

  And he’d live with that guilt forever.

  He’d live with the horror of what he’d done for the rest of his life.

  He finished off the whisky then poured some more.

  And then when his head began to go fuzzy, he took another breath, and he smiled.

  It was worth it.

  In the name of the greater good, every sacrifice was worth it.

  And he’d better be damned ready.

  Because he was only just getting started.

  Chapter Nine

  When the day of the election came, there was a lot more uncertainty around it than there should’ve been.

  A month had passed since the original election date. In that month, Mike couldn’t deny the change he’d observed in the attitude of the place. Paranoia had increased. Uncertainty around new citizens had grown. Eyes rolled whenever people arrived, and they suffered something of a cold shoulder. Mike knew it was only natural. After all, one of their own had fallen.

  But this was going beyond mere suspicion.

  It was getting to a point where it felt like if something else happened… things were going to flip for good.

  Something drastic was going to occur.

  Mike sat in the bar. The election results
were being totalled up. Polls had closed a few hours ago. Fifty, sixty people were working on counting up the results. There had been some debate over how things were going to be unbiased, so it was decided that Vincent and Graham—still the only two people running—could have a few representatives each watching over the counting, making sure everything was by the book.

  It seemed highly likely Vincent was going to win re-election. Maybe not as much of a landslide as it would’ve been a month ago, but it still seemed like the general consensus was with him. Anything greater than 10% of the vote for Graham would still have to be considered a major victory for him—but it was a progression on where he’d been at a matter of weeks ago.

  Yet still… even the bulk of the people who had issues with Vincent’s “open border” policy, as they saw it, were still mostly grateful towards his cause.

  But Mike couldn’t help wondering just how things might go. He’d seen political upsets in the world before the collapse—things he never expected to happen; whether he wanted them to happen or not was beyond the point.

  There was no predicting how things were going to go. That’s one thing he’d learned, over time.

  Now it was just a case of waiting.

  “You okay?”

  Mike looked to his right. Saw Alison staring at him, smile on her face.

  “Yeah,” he said, sipping some of his water. He wasn’t feeling boozy tonight. Wait until there was something to celebrate about first. “Why?”

  “Just wondered why you’ve not got a beer in your hand.”

  “You’re making me sound like an alcoholic or something.”

  “Well…”

  Mike tutted. “I guess I’m just waiting for the results. Waiting to see how things go. Don’t want to get too hasty, you know?”

  Alison nodded. Looked around the bar, which was even more packed than usual. Counting results were expected any time now.

  “I’m just looking forward to things being set in stone again,” Mike said. “For the people to speak, well and truly. And when they have, we can put all this nonsense to bed. We can get on with life how it used to be, properly. And our differences… well. We can work on them. We can hear what people are saying. What their concerns are. But we can move forward. All of us. Together.”

  Alison smiled. Looked away.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, what was that look?”

  “I dunno. I guess I just thought you sounded really leader right then. And I like it when you’re sounding really leader.”

  Mike tutted, shook his head. “Not for me.”

  “Why? You always did a good job running things when it was just us.”

  “Did I really?”

  Alison sighed. “Mike. You can’t keep telling yourself you weren’t a good leader. You can’t keep losing yourself down this abyss of self-doubt and self-loathing. You did good. Especially considering the circumstances. You should hold your head high and be proud of that.”

  Mike looked away. Because as much as he knew Alison had a point… he couldn’t believe her. Not truly.

  Because Holly died.

  His daughter died.

  That was a sign of failure. The ultimate sign of failure.

  He took another sip of his water, which had gone warm it had been sitting there for so long.

  “I guess we’ll just have to leave it to the experts to run this place for now—”

  At that moment, the doors to the bar slammed open.

  A couple of people stepped inside. People Mike recognised. Graham’s people. Then following them, Vincent’s people.

  And then, following all of them… Vincent and Graham themselves.

  He tried to get a read on them both. A read on their expressions. But there was nothing revealing. Silence. Stern, serious expressions.

  The bar was in silence. Everyone watching. Everyone, waiting.

  “Well?” someone called.

  Graham looked at Vincent, half-smiled.

  Then Vincent cleared his throat and looked around the bar. “The votes are counted. I… I received 73% of the vote—”

  A few cheers around the bar. A few whoops.

  But a few mumbled groans, too.

  “And Graham scored 27% of the vote.”

  Graham tilted his head, a half-smile on his face. Almost like he was accepting his fate.

  And Mike felt relieved. Majorly relieved. At least they could put all this to bed. At least they could move forward now.

  But there was a surprise that came with that. A sense of shock. Because 27%… that was far, far higher than Mike—or anyone—had been expecting.

  It was over one in four people.

  How was that possible?

  How had things come to that?

  How had things come so close?

  “However,” Vincent said.

  Mike frowned. He didn’t like the way Vincent said that. He feared where this was going next.

  Vincent cleared his throat again. “I have decided to appoint Graham as my deputy,” he said.

  Mike frowned. As too did a lot of others.

  “We have to respect the vote,” Vincent said. “And even if I did secure the most votes, Graham here received a considerable share. Which means I need to listen to democracy. Because that’s what we’re all about, isn’t it?”

  A few sighs. But a few claps. A few smiles. Encouragement.

  “And as much as Graham and I disagree on a few important matters… I have to hear him out. I have to listen to him. Together, we have to find a middle ground.”

  He looked at Graham, and at that moment, he shot him a smile. A genuine, warm smile.

  Graham returned one. Then he looked at the people in the bar.

  “I’ll always appreciate Vincent’s generous appointment,” Graham said. “And I applaud his extension of democracy to me. It’s time to put our differences aside. But it’s time to move forward. To tackle the real problems threatening our home. And we’ll find a compromise. One way or another, we will work through this. Together.”

  A few claps. A few cheers. Graham’s finest moment.

  And as they sat there, together, Mike couldn’t deny that this could be a force for good. One way or another, this could be a turning point.

  He was about to say something when the lights flickered out.

  When the sound of electricity died.

  And when everything went black.

  Chapter Ten

  When the lights went out, everyone went silent.

  It was eerie. This level of silence was unheard of. As Mike had noted before to so many others, you take the sound of electricity and power for granted when you’re so used to it. And that had taken some time to adapt to again, to grow into normality.

  But now it had gone.

  It had almost certainly gone out.

  He could tell from that sheer absence in the air.

  And he knew from the looks on everyone’s faces, barely lit in the darkness but from a little moonlight, that they felt the same way.

  Vincent looked around, frown on his forehead. Graham looked even more concerned, even more worried. “Everyone… everyone keep calm. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for this.”

  Mike looked at Alison, saw her concern, too. “What do you think’s happening?” she asked.

  And Mike didn’t want to say what he was thinking. He didn’t want to say exactly what was on his mind.

  Because he felt deja vu.

  A shattering sense of deja vu that called right back to the day the power had collapsed.

  Only he knew, this time, that things would be different, were it true.

  He knew this group would struggle to accept a moment like this. Especially after the tensions building so recently.

  “Let me go speak to Vincent,” Mike said.

  He got up. Walked over to Vincent. Graham was speaking to people, trying to keep them calm. Vincent just looked… well, lost.

  “Vincent?” Mike said.<
br />
  Vincent looked at him as if he’d caught him by surprise. “Mike. I don’t… I’m not exactly sure what’s happening here.”

  “Best case scenario, it’s just some kind of power outage,” Mike said. “Something temporary.”

  “And worst case,” Vincent said.

  Mike nodded. He didn’t want to say it. Neither of them wanted to say it.

  But they were both thinking it.

  Something drastic. Something permanent.

  “Someone should go investigate the source of the hydroelectricity,” Mike said. “At least figure out whether it’s something that can be sorted at the source.”

  Vincent nodded. He put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You should get a group together and do that. I need to be here right now. I’m sure you understand.”

  Mike wasn’t expecting Vincent to react like that. He wasn’t exactly nominating himself. The idea of leading any kind of mission filled him with a dread that just felt so unlike him.

  But it was already too late. Because Vincent was turning around, walking away.

  And Mike knew this mission was on his shoulders now.

  “Mike?”

  He looked around. Saw Harrison standing there, a nervous look on his face, which was mostly masked by the darkness.

  “Harrison,” Mike said. “I need… I need your help with something.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “We think it might be something at the source. A connection fault, a watermill blockage, something like that. But the least we can do is establish exactly the problem. We need to go out there. Check it out. Are you with me?”

  Harrison looked over his shoulder at Gina. Saw the way she looked back at him, nervously. “Mike, I don’t—”

  “I need you right now. All of us need you. It’s just a simple run out there to establish what’s going on here. To figure out whether it’s reversible or not.”

  “You know I’m not so good with things like this.”

  “Don’t talk yourself down. I mean, I’m sure you’ll be fine. As long as there aren’t any horses involved, of course.”

  He smiled at Harrison, then. And he saw Harrison smile back, too. Like he saw the humour. The funny side in this literal dark situation.