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

But he couldn’t look away. His eyes had landed on the logo that was just visible and he couldn’t stop thinking of the many times he’d flown with them. They weren’t some fly-by-night operation—they were the national carrier for heaven’s sake. It was appalling.

Olivia was still staring at the scene in front of them with a look on her face that filled him with dread.

“Hey, Olivia, do you want a breakfast bar?” He’d been so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed Annie circle back around to join his wife.

Olivia barely seemed to have heard her.

“It’s fine,” Clive said. “We have some food.”

“Maybe we should move; look for a way through the backstreets. Better than…” she gestured ahead.

“It might not be safe. I don’t know this area.”

She shrugged. “Me neither. But…” she jerked her head towards Olivia. There was no need for such subtlety, though, because his wife gave no sign of having even heard them. “We can move fast.”

“Fast or not,” he said, looking around, “it’s still unknown. At least here we’re out in the open.”

He pointed to the side streets to their right. They were so narrow that you’d need to be almost directly in front of them to see more than a few yards down. He had no way of knowing in advance if they were straight roads or if they meandered around and spat them out further back down the street they’d just ridden along. Anyone could be hanging around back there waiting for unsuspecting targets to wander into their territory.

“No,” he said again, even though no-one had questioned him. “It’s too risky. We’ve got to continue this way. It’s safer. Try not to look.”

“It’s pretty hard to look at anything else,” Terry muttered.

Clive nodded. He was right. And they were still half a mile away. It would get worse—a hell of a lot worse.

“We’ve got to get to them,” Olivia said, taking off with surprising speed towards the distant wreckage.

At first he was glad she wasn’t letting the sight get to her. It was only when she was already two hundred yards away that he realised. She wanted to go in there. Some part of her training had kicked in and propelled her to help. His heart sank. He couldn’t let her face that. Besides, it was too late to do anything.

“No, darling, stop. Wait!”

Terry was barely paying attention to the others. It had taken all his energy to just keep pedalling and the shocking sight of the plane wreck had knocked the last bit of fight out of him.

“Terry!”

He looked up absently, annoyed at the tone of Annie’s voice. “What?”

Annie pointed. Clive was speeding off after Olivia who was some way ahead of him. He winced as he caught sight of the wreckage again.

“I don’t need reminding, thanks.”

“I’m not talking about that. Olivia thinks she’s going to help. Come on. We need to get away. It’s not good to just stand around and look at something like that. Not now.”

He shrugged. “Says who? Maybe I want to look at it. Someone has to.”

She turned away and a moment later she was taking off down the road after the older couple.

“Where are you going?” he called.

“Home.”

“Fine.” Terry stood where he was, staring at the mess of what had once been home to hundreds of people. It had been a big anonymous block just like thousands of others like it across the city. They probably had no warning at all of what was going to happen. He shivered. It could have been him in there if the council had had its way and moved him. And it seemed like he was the only one who cared.

When the others were the size of ants in the distance, Terry started to worry.

What was he going to do, exactly? He’d been following Clive without really thinking about what they were doing. What if he couldn’t catch them? He couldn’t go back home, not when he’d be alone in the block. He wasn’t sure he knew the way back there. He recognised that building—what was left of it—but everything else was unfamiliar.

“Stop,” he shouted hoarsely. “Wait.”

They were too far away to hear him.

He glanced behind him. There wasn’t a familiar face in the steady trickle of people moving walking towards him. Most had their attention focused on the ruined block in the distance. He knew none of them. None of them knew him. Of the handful of people he knew in London, how many of them would he be able to find now? He’d be all alone.

As that possibility gripped him, Terry started cycling as hard as he could. He tried not to look at the wreckage.

It was only luck that made Terry look to his right as he cycled through a junction. He saw Clive’s red jacket far away in the distance. It annoyed him to no end. Was he that disposable that they’d happily left him behind? Not to mention the fact that they were now further away than ever despite his best efforts to catch them.

He’d been going as fast as he could. It felt like every bump in the road was a blow to his spine. And he was going to have to do this again tomorrow? Forget it.

The knowledge that there was no alternative kept him moving forward, even though the gap between him and the others didn’t feel like it was closing at all. If anything, it seemed to increase.

“Stop!” he shouted, knowing it was pointless. They were too far away to hear him.

What if they changed their minds and decided to take the back streets? From this distance back, he’d never be able to track them. The thought of being all alone made his blood run cold.

There was a big bunch of lads hanging around on one side of the street. Terry tried not to look at them as he pedalled towards them. There wasn’t an obvious hill on the street—it was only noticeable when you were trying to pedal fast. He changed gears and groaned as he put in maximum effort to get a few more yards.

By now, sweat was pumping from his forehead and he felt faint. How long had it been? The bag on his back weighed a ton.

“Give us your bike, grandad.”

At first it was background noise. Then he realised they were talking to him.

“Me?” He snapped his head around. “I’m forty-five.”

Now that he looked at them properly, he understood why they’d said that. They couldn’t have been more than sixteen. They were rough looking kids—and not just because the power was out. He knew the kind—they were always hanging around the shop intimidating customers and giving the staff a hard time. They were just like the boys he’d met the day before—full of bravado and aggression.

“So?”

He ignored them and tried to focus on pedalling as fast as he could. His hands were pumping sweat and his heart was racing. He gritted his teeth. They were keeping pace with him despite him working harder than he’d ever worked.

“What’s in the bag?”

He stared straight ahead. He was no closer to the others despite all his efforts. Now sweat was dripping in his eyes and making them sting. His knees ached.

“I said what’s in the bag?”

He wondered if it’d be faster to just get off and push the bike.

Maybe I should just give it to the little bastards.

No. He wasn’t about to give them everything he had, no matter how much it was weighing him down. Where did it end? When would he stop looking like an easy target to these little brats?

“Nothing.”

“Looks heavy.”

The ridiculous thing was the whole gang was keeping pace with him on the footpath. He had nowhere to go, not unless the road miraculously started to slope downhill—which he could see wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. The only other way he could breeze out of there was if he got a sudden burst of strength. And that wasn’t going to happen either. Not when he was close to passing out from the effort.