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

Could I do it, if it came down to it?

He shook his head. Thoughts like that had never even crossed his mind before, but now he couldn’t stop them. Was there something to be said for simply ending it before the fear and terror became too much? He had his handgun, of course, but that was unthinkable. He couldn’t…

He opened his mouth and wailed into the darkness. How had it come to this; to the point where he was thinking about turning his weapon on the woman he loved more than life itself?

He closed the cabinet and stared at his own dark form in the mirror.

No.

He clenched his jaw.

No.

He moved back to the bedroom as quietly as possible.

He pulled back the curtains and looked out. It was disorienting to see. He’d lived in London for forty years and had gotten used to the orange glow that hung over the city at all hours of the night. Now it was pitch black. Without streetlights or traffic, it was impossible to tell what time it was. It could have been ten or it could have been four in the morning. It was so dark he couldn’t even see what was going on out on the street two hundred yards away, though the moon was bright so he could see some shadowy figures moving around out there and the glint of moonlight on useless car windscreens.

He was wide awake now.

How could he sleep? Unseen people screamed and roared to the constant backdrop of shattering glass. And it was only going to get worse. Those weren’t delinquent youths out there, but normal people driven to the point of desperation by lack of food and total silence from the people who were supposed to be in charge. He had always thought of London as sprawling and chaotic, but it had been ordered in its way. Not anymore.

Eight million people.

No food.

No means of growing food.

No transport.

Calm down. You’ll find a way through this.

He looked behind him. He couldn’t see her, but he knew from her steady breathing that her mind was at peace. The drugs he hated had temporarily eased her frantic mind in a way no words ever could.

He turned back to the window. She didn’t even know the half of it. He’d coaxed her into taking a nap when the neighbours called and afterwards he had told her just enough to try and make her see that leaving was the best option. Even that little glimpse of the truth had been enough to terrify her.

The screaming and shouting intensified and seemed to move closer to them all of a sudden. He sighed and rested his forehead on the sweating glass.

He was starting to believe Annie about the army. It made sense to move people together. That way, they could at least try and control the supply of food and keep people safe from each other.

But Livvy in that situation? No, it was out of the question. He’d explain that to them if they came. She couldn’t cope in that environment. It’d be hell on earth for most people, but even worse for her.

He frowned. Something had flickered in his field of vision. He blinked and tried to focus on the dark driveway that looped around the green.

Perhaps I’m imagining things.

Who was going to target a rundown block like this? But he knew from many years of experience that thieves often targeted what was on their own doorstep, however modest, and wouldn’t that be even truer now that they had no way of getting around?

Clive froze as something moved in the lower left edge of his peripheral vision. There was someone there, almost directly beneath him which put them a few yards from the front wall of the building.

His heart hammered as he watched, trying hard to make his eyes see better in the darkness.

Then something flashed in the moonlight and the part of his brain that had absorbed all those years of training and experience leapt into action.

Moonlight on metal. Dark metal.

“Damn it,” he muttered, seconds before he heard the sound of glass shattering directly beneath him, so close he imagined he could feel the vibrations through the old building.

The sound of breaking glass invaded Terry’s dream, which was strange because up to that point it had been about a steakhouse in the West End he hadn’t been to in years. It took another few seconds of bleariness before the urgency got through to his sleeping mind.

This wasn’t part of the dream.

He opened his eyes—or tried to. They were gritty and sore. He’d stayed awake far too long wondering what he should do. After the fifth or sixth drink, things had started to make even less sense than before.

It wasn’t as simple as that woman had made out. How could they just leave? The council had been trying to move him for years because he was single and taking up a flat that could be used by a single mum and her kids. He wouldn’t put it past them to change the locks if they found out he’d left for a few days.

He closed his eyes and rolled onto his side. It was still dark. So what if people were smashing the place up? They’d been doing that since the power went out. Some people didn’t even need that as an excuse. He’d be alright—he was on the first floor.

More glass shattered and Terry’s eyes flew open. It sounded far too close; almost like it was within the building.

He stumbled out of bed to the window to see what was going on, but he couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

“Oh well.” He sat on his bed and rubbed his face. There was no chance he was getting back to sleep now—his heart was beating too fast.

Even if they get inside, they’ll still have to get through my front door .

He lay back down and stared at the ceiling, though he wasn’t able to rest for very long. Not two minutes later, someone started banging on his door. If he hadn’t been rattled before, he certainly was now.

He leapt off the bed and hurried to the door, hesitating halfway along the hall when it dawned on him that he was empty-handed and whoever was out there might have a knife.

“Shit.” He turned back. His pulse was pounding so hard in his temples that he couldn’t think straight. What did they want? He had nothing except for some tins of food. He wasn’t going to let anyone take them. Not after what had happened with the water and the shame that had plagued him since then.

The knocking continued.

“Terry, it’s me. Clive.”

He stumbled forward, giddy with relief. “Coming. Sorry, I thought you were a burglar. Someone’s trying to break in downstairs I think and…”

“I know,” Clive said as soon as Terry had removed the chain and opened the door. “I heard. And saw. Come on. That woman is downstairs alone.”

“What? What do you want me to do about it?”

“Help me,” Clive muttered. “Now. I’ll tell you what to do.”

“But… they could have knives.”

“It’s likely. They have at least one handgun.”

Terry’s heart skipped a beat. A gun? He didn’t even know the woman. “I… what am I supposed to do? You’re the policeman.”

“Yes, I am. And I’m asking for your help. I’ll go alone if I have to, but it’ll be better if there’s two of us.”

Terry sighed. Clive seemed like a good bloke. Was he really going to let him face them alone? “Okay, fine. Let me find something to use as a weapon.”

“There’s no time for that. Come on. Stay behind me and watch your step.”

Terry’s stomach churned as they moved down the stairs. Clive had his gun, which calmed his nerves somewhat.

But it was so dark. They couldn’t see a thing. There could have been anything down there and they wouldn’t know until they walked right into it.

“What are you doing?”

“Keep your voice down,” Clive whispered. “And move as quietly as you can.”