Alex Knightly - Sudden Darkness - A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller

“Aha,” Harry said, folding his arms. “Your brother. The clever one. So he’s the one filling your head with this nonsense.”

Pete started to nod and then stopped. There was something chilling about the way Harry had said it, even though he’d been smiling the whole time. He reminded himself that people didn’t get reputations like Harry’s for no reason.

“Don’t worry, I only ask questions I already know the answer to.” Harry turned and paced to the grimy window. “It makes sense, you know. None of the cars work. The only thing working is an old Jaguar XJS we… found.”

“Yeah.” Pete had lost some of his enthusiasm for his plan. What exactly had he expected? He was way out of his depth with these guys. Why did I come here? Was it even a good idea to tell people like this that the police won’t be bothering them for a while?

“So, Peter,” Harry said slowly, tapping his lip with a gnarled finger. “This came from your brother. Am I right? No offence, but you’re not the type to figure something like this out on your own.”

Pete flushed. This wasn’t how the conversation had played out in his mind.

“No, no,” Harry said, holding his palms up. “I wasn’t having a go. It’s true though, isn’t it? You’re the brawn and—”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Wouldn’t you? Anyway, back to the point. Your brother’s a bit of a brain, isn’t he? Just the type to come up with a theory like that.”

Pete swallowed and looked from one man to the other, panicking. Why were they bringing Josh into this?

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Harry’s smile had vanished.

Pete snapped his head up, hating the way he was acting like a frightened child.

“Go get your brother.”

All the blood drained from his face and Pete’s resolve vanished. “What?”

“You heard me.” That lizard smile again. “Your brother. Go get him. I don’t want to hear it secondhand.”

Pete shook his head numbly. “No. What? No. He’s not…”

“He’s not what?”

Now Pete’s pulse raced in his head. The men watched him intently and he struggled to think of something to say that wouldn’t land him in even more trouble.

“He’s busy, that’s all. With work.”

Harry frowned. “But I thought you said all that was a thing of the past. No computers; no nothing. Were you lying to me?”

Pete shook his head frantically.

“Well then. Go get your brother. I want to hear it from him. Now. Go now.”

Pete turned and walked out, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not letting them see how much he was shaking. Oh god, what have I done , was all he could think.

Josh was the stubbornest person he knew and always had been. There was no way he’d agree to meet Harry, no matter what Pete said. Not even if he told him it was life or death.

Which Pete feared it was.

This time he didn’t notice the people on the green or the fires that were in danger of getting out of control. He saw nothing. He ran all the way back to Crosby Road, not even stopping when he spotted Mo leaving Sam’s house.

Annie couldn’t relax. She had gone to the supermarket and bought as much as she could. There hadn’t been a whole lot left. They’d been sold out of bottled water, so she’d bought all the soda water she could carry. She didn’t like it, but what did that matter? She had bought the last of the energy bars too.

Part of her still refused to believe what was happening; like this was all one big elaborate prank. Everything she’d believed in for thirty-three years up in smoke? It was unfathomable. Not to mention the cruel reality that nothing mattered anymore—leaving Dan for months and coming to London on her own had all been for nothing.

She sighed and opened one of the protein bars. The sweet, fruity mixture was cloying and stuck to her teeth, but it was fuel and that was something she was going to need a lot of. So what if she didn’t like the taste? Gram for gram, they’d give her the most energy compared to anything else that had been left in the shop.

She moved to the window. It was too late to leave now. It was cloudy and dull and it would be dark soon. She had already packed a bag and she had to fight the urge to just leave.

No. It’s too late now.

She wouldn’t get far in two hours; not with that weight on her back. At least here she had somewhere to sleep. Would hotels be open now? She shook her head. She doubted it.

She sat on the sofa and stared at the blank screen of the TV. A few moments later, she was back on her feet, pacing the flat.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t sit around in silence, alone with her thoughts as she came to terms with what she’d lost.

Maybe the trains are working , she thought suddenly, before coming to her senses seconds later. Of course they’re not. Nothing’s working.

Even so, the idea had worked itself into her head now. What did she have to lose by checking? She couldn’t just sit around in the flat until first thing the following morning. She’d lose her mind.

She balled up the wrapper from the bar and threw it in the bin.

Her pack was heavy with all the food and water she’d bought earlier. She had also crammed in her warmest hoodie and tracksuit bottoms so she’d have something dry to sleep in. She chucked out everything except for a bottle of soda water and two bars.

I might as well check the station—it’s only three miles away. It’d be pretty silly not to when I’ve got nothing else to do.

She nodded. That was what she’d do. She fought to silence the voice in her head that told her there was no way the trains were running: deep down she already knew that.

She hurried around the flat one last time looking for anything that might be useful. Her stomach lurched as she looked at the knife block. She’d been kickboxing for fourteen years, but that had never made her feel foolhardy. Especially now that her brain was fuzzy from lack of sleep and her legs felt like they were stuck in treacle.

She was well aware that the city would probably descend into chaos—but would it happen this soon?

Best to be prepared.

The knives were all blunt and old and she wished now that she’d bought a sharpener. But it was too late for that. She took the cheap chef’s knife and put it in the mesh side pocket of her backpack, careful to face the blade towards the front. She put the bag on her back and checked she could reach the handle.

It was better than nothing.

She ignored the voice that insisted she was never getting on a train again. If nothing else, this would be a warmup for the next day.

She hurried to the door, checking the roll of notes in her bra before she opened the door. She locked it behind her, feeling nothing at all for the place.

The bikes were still out the back and she could have kissed them. There were two others there. Expensive road bikes, though they were shabby and rusting in places like they’d been abandoned a long time ago.

Annie hammered the pedals as hard as she could. King’s Cross was three miles away. Not far. It would take her about twenty-five minutes. She wanted to be there and back before dark. Straight down High Street, then right, left, right. Easy.

She squeezed her brakes hard as soon as she got out onto High Street. The footpath was busy with people wandering aimlessly and the street was clogged up with cars, still abandoned. She took a deep breath and moved into the road. She had assumed it would be easier to cycle without the risk of being hit by a bus, but with so many vehicles to dodge, it was more challenging than she expected.