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

“That’s a Jaguar?”

He nodded. “XJ6. I’d forgotten this was here. Towed it off the motorway myself years ago. It was busier then, of course. People found you in the phone book instead of whatever they do online these days. I think I got in a Land Rover a few days later and never thought to come back to this.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “You? Forget something? That doesn’t sound like you.”

He shrugged. “Got a lot of classics around here. Just waiting for the right buyer.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Suitable for a rust farmer.”

“You never know.” He looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I ought to set up a website. Get some of the more exotic parts listed on there.”

She nodded. “Good idea.”

“Maybe you can help.”

“I know nothing about computers.”

“You probably do and you don’t even know it.” He sighed. “Bloody computers. We don’t have cars anymore; they’re more like computers in the shapes of cars. Honestly, I miss the old days.”

“Here we go.”

“It’s true,” he said, shooting her a filthy look. “It’s like your old Renault. That’s a proper engine. You can see what’s wrong with it and figure out how to fix it.”

She smiled. She’d been trying to get that thing working for months and Max had tinkered around with it for an hour or two and figured out the problem. “I wonder if that’s it,” she said as they moved through the narrow alleyway between unstable towers of wrecks and car parts. If health and safety ever thought to inspect that place, it’d give them nightmares. “The computers. We haven’t tried the Renault since the power cut and the other cars stopped working.”

Max shook his head. “I never thought to. It’s so far out the back I often forget it’s there.”

“Yeah, but it’s near the back gate. When I get it all fixed up, I’ll be able to take off through the wasteland and get straight on the motorway.”

“You will not. You’re not going on the motorway in that thing.”

“I’ll have to finish it first. But I will.”

“Come on,” he said, putting his notepad in the back pocket of jeans that might once have been blue. “Let’s go have a look. I’d laugh if it did work. That’d be a sight.”

“Of course it’ll work. You had it going the other day.” She froze. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

She shook her head. It was the faintest drone. It sounded like a car engine. A big old V12. She looked at Max and it was obvious from his expression that he’d heard it too.

“The cars are working again then.” She felt lightheaded with relief. “Brilliant. I was starting to get sucked into the panic.” And what panic. She’d walked home late the evening before and been amazed to see queues outside every shop that was still open. Graham had slurred something about lootings, but she never took him seriously, especially not when he’d been drinking. Even Max had been acting strangely, but that was more because of the cars not working and the fact that he didn’t understand why.

The drone was getting louder. Max listened with his good ear turned to the sky. “Maybe they’re coming this way,” he said. “Well, this day is getting better. I’d best get back in and make it look like I’ve been hard at work in the workshop all day.”

She nodded. “I’ll help.”

“Nah, you stay here. Now that we’ve started to go through this place we might as well stick at it. Maybe you’ll find something useful for that old rust bucket of yours.”

She smiled. “Okay, if you’re sure you don’t want me to help.”

“Not at all. To tell you the truth, there’s nothing I hate more than writing lists. I’d rather go have a chat with this bloke about his motor. It sounds like a beast.”

She nodded. It was obvious from the roar in the air that it was getting closer, and it seemed more likely as the seconds ticked past that it was coming towards them—they were the only garage in the industrial estate, which was otherwise full of empty warehouses. “Go ahead. I can do this.”

She took the battered old notepad and pen from him and set to work. She much preferred this to having to deal with people face-to-face. She couldn’t imagine taking charge of the business like Max had said. She was only nineteen. That was good, though. It meant he was planning on sticking around for a good while longer. She smiled at the thought. She’d never met her dad, but now when she thought of him she’d started to picture him as a man like Max. Dependable. Tough, but in your corner.

The engine got closer. She closed her eyes and listened to the growl as it accelerated into straights and shifted down for corners. Max wasn’t the only one who wanted to see that thing.

The engine cut out abruptly and Si heard four doors slam somewhere nearby.

They’re in a hurry , she thought. Good . That made her think of men in suits who were willing to pay a premium for the convenience of a fast turnaround. Good for Max.

She frowned. Those blokes usually came in alone. Maybe it was a guy with his wife and kids along for the ride. Bad. The kids would be grating on their parents’ nerves, meaning they’d be agitated.

Kids don’t slam doors that forcefully.

Si shook her head, telling herself to snap out of it and stop overthinking.

She moved along the row of parts, bending every so often to try and figure out what she was looking at. She’d agreed with Max out of politeness—this place really put the junk in junkyard.

She felt a pang of guilt as soon as she thought that. She loved the garage and everything about it, and she loved Max for giving her a chance and looking out for her.

She thought back to their earlier conversation and cringed as she remembered how dismissive she’d been. Max wanted her to learn more about the business so she might be able to manage it one day, and all she’d done was go on about how much she hated dealing with people.

Filled with self-loathing, she moved on and tried to focus on the task at hand. But she couldn’t concentrate.

She turned and looked in the direction of the garage, though it wasn’t visible over the stacks of car parts. She’d finish this later. There was something else she needed to do first. She’d deal with this customer. She’d let Max know he had nothing to worry about; that she could be the perfect customer service person when she put her mind to it.

She grinned as she hurried out, careful not to trip in one of the muddy puddles. Max would think she’d hit her head when he heard her, but he’d be proud. And happy. And that was the most important thing. She could control her dislike of being around people for his sake.

He’s done enough for me.

Her smile disappeared as she reached the edge of the scrapyard. Here, the piles weren’t as high—maybe to her shoulder, resting against the fence that separated the yard from the garage.

She crouched to her knees, her heart hammering. Even then with her fingers trailing in the mud, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d seen. Instinct had told her to get out of sight. She rose slowly, glad of her sturdy work boots. They helped her steady her feet on the uneven gravel.

Slowly she rose, trying to stay behind the cover of an old chassis.

There were four men. It took a few seconds to figure out what was wrong with what she was seeing; to see what had made her survival instincts send her ducking for cover.

Weirdly, it was Max’s face she noticed first before everything else fell into place. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

He was a calm man. He growled a lot, but she’d never seen him snap. She’d certainly never seen him look like he did now, cornered and terrified.