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

Terry nodded. He didn’t say anything else.

They got to the bottom of the stairs. Terry struggled to hear anything over the din in his own head.

Clive tapped his arm and pushed him towards the woman’s flat. “Quickly. Get her out of there. Go upstairs to my flat. I’ll stay outside this one and keep watch. Go.”

Clive turned away. His hands were at a forty-five-degree angle to the ground, arms fully extended. Ready.

Terry took a deep breath and tiptoed to the door on the other side of the hall. He tapped on the door.

There was no response.

He started to knock again but was interrupted when the door suddenly swung open.

Terry took a step back on shaky legs. Had Clive got it wrong? Were the thieves in the other flat? He waited, frozen. He wished he’d insisted on getting a weapon even if it was just a screwdriver or penknife. He blinked into the darkness.

“What do you want?”

“Jesus,” he muttered, almost giddy with relief when he realised it was a woman’s voice. “I thought you were the men who broke in.”

“Get inside. Quick, in case they come.”

“No,” he said. “Clive sent me to get you. He’s got a gun.”

“What?”

“Get a move on,” Clive hissed from the other end of the corridor.

“Come on,” Terry said, turning to go. “He knows what he’s doing.”

She didn’t budge. “No.” To his alarm, she actually started to close the door.

“Come on! It’s not safe.”

“I’ll take my chances. I need to get out of here. I’m not leaving my bike and my bag.”

“Bring them with you then.”

“And go upstairs? What if they burn the place down?”

“Now, I said!” Clive hissed. “Get upstairs now.”

“He’s got a gun,” Terry said, his stomach churning. He’d obeyed Clive without question, but now he was wondering if that had been the wisest thing to do. “He can protect us.”

“Hang on.”

She turned away and he thought she was locking the door again, but it stayed open. A moment later, she emerged with the bicycle awkwardly tucked under an arm and a backpack on her back. “Okay, come on.”

Clive jerked his head around when they crept closer to him and let out a frustrated sigh when he saw what she was carrying. “There’s no need to bring your things. Just hurry.”

“I’m not going to risk it being stolen. I need it. I hope you have a plan in case they try and smoke us out.”

Terry’s stomach muscles clenched in alarm. “Do we?” The building was old, built before developers stopped building flats with high ceilings in favour of squeezing in as many pokey flats as possible. He was only one floor up from the ground, but it was still too high to jump without breaking an ankle.

“Get upstairs now. Go,” Clive muttered.

They were halfway up the stairs by the time Terry realised Clive wasn’t with them. He turned back to see what was happening.

“Are you deaf? Go to my flat and wait. I won’t tell you again.”

“What the hell is he doing?” Annie whispered once she’d lugged the bike and backpack into Clive’s flat. “Can you hear anything?”

“No. I have no idea.”

She sighed. Her breathing was still laboured from carrying her things up the stairs.

Terry put his head to the door and strained to hear anything from downstairs. “He has a gun. I’m sure it’ll—”

He was silenced by a deafening bang. The door jolted in its hinges. It was even louder than the ones he’d heard outside and he was in no doubt as to where it had come from. Sweat prickled under his arms and the blood rushed from his face.

“Was that a gunshot?”

There was another bang before she’d even finished speaking. And another. They echoed through the building. Then another. And another.

Terry’s heart pounded. It was dark in the narrow hallway of the flat. It had never bothered him before—it was the same in his flat—but now it felt hellish and claustrophobic.

“Clive, is that you?”

Terry nearly jumped out of his skin. It was too dark in there to see.

“Clive?” It was a woman’s voice, filled with fear and anxiety.

Terry bit his lip. Clive had talked about a wife, but Terry had never seen her. Was his mind playing tricks?

But it couldn’t have been, because Annie responded. “I’m Annie from downstairs. Clive told us to wait here.”

“Who…. What? Where’s Clive?”

“We’ve got to do something,” Annie hissed. “We can’t just wait for them to come to us.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“What’s going on?” the woman’s voice cut in. “Where’s Clive? Why’s it so dark?”

“We have to go down there and help him. Not hide here like sitting ducks.”

“They have guns, for Christ’s sake.”

“So? They’ll have guns in five minutes’ time when they come up here.”

The other woman had started wailing now—great frightful shrieks. Terry gritted his teeth. They’d hear her downstairs. What then? “We’ve got to hide.”

“No,” Annie snapped. “I’m going down there. There’s no point in hiding. They’ll find us.”

“What? You can’t. What the hell are you going to…” The door slammed against the wall and he realised she had already left.

He held his breath. He couldn’t hear a thing over the woman’s cries. “Please,” he whispered. “It’s going to be alright. Just calm down.”

He froze. He’d heard a shuffling sound outside. It was only then that he realised Annie hadn’t closed the door behind her.

He hurried forward, but it was too late. He knew that as soon as he pushed the door and it thudded against something soft.

“No. No, please.” It wasn’t just the fact that there was someone in the doorway, he was rattled by the metallic clink he’d heard when he shoved the door. He pushed as hard as he could. He didn’t have much, but he had weight. He couldn’t die a coward.

Clive gasped for breath. They’d been coming back into the flat when the wind was knocked out of him without warning. By the door, he now realised.

“It’s me. Clive. Get away from there.”

The pressure disappeared and Clive stumbled forward into the flat. He was alarmed when he heard his wife’s anguished sobs over the loud ringing in his ears.

“Sorry. I thought you were…” Terry grunted. “What the hell happened? I thought I heard gunshots.”

“Of course you heard gunshots,” Clive muttered moving past his neighbour and feeling his way along the narrow hallway. “What else could they be? Olivia darling, where are you? It’s me. Clive. There’s no need to be frightened. Everything’s under control.”

She collapsed into his arms. “Clive… I…”

“It’s okay, Livvy. I know you’re frightened, but it’s safe now. I promise.”

For the present, at least, he thought.

He turned briefly towards the others. “Give me a moment. I need to speak to my wife. Lock the door and go wait for me in the living room.”

“Now then,” he said, as he entered the living room and closed the door quietly behind him. He’d never seen Olivia so bad. He wasn’t feeling so great himself.

He sat down on the couch opposite them. “We have a long night ahead of us, but I think we need to have a chat first.”

“What the hell happened down there, Clive? You said those were gunshots.”

“Yes, that’s right.” He shook his head. His ears still rang from the boom in such close confinement. He’d been around live fire without earmuffs before, but it wasn’t the same. Perhaps it was the circumstances that made it seem worse. It had been drummed into him for years that you didn’t ever point your weapon at someone unless you wanted to wade into months of IPCC reviews, much less fire it. And to take a life… Three lives.