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

Keith turned to him and opened his mouth to say something as David buckled himself in. David never got to hear it.

Everything went dark. And quiet too, for a split second before the passengers began to scream.

“What did you do, Keith?”

All the lights on the instrument panel had gone out, but the warning sirens hadn’t come on. They were flying blind.

“Nothing! I didn’t. Is this a joke? It’s not funny if it—”

“Shut up,” David hissed. His stomach was roiling and he worried he was going to vomit. “Jackson, what the hell is this?”

“I don’t know. It’s…”

David had never seen anything like it. It was pitch black in there and they were descending with no engines and no instruments. He lunged for his headset.

“Air traffic control. Come in. Do you read me?”

There was no answer. The radio was dead too. Had they hit a storm? It was a clear night. There had been no warning. Now someone was thumping on the door to the cockpit: he could just about hear it over the screams.

“Talk to them,” he hissed at no-one in particular. “Calm them down. I need to get through to air traffic control.”

He tried again, but it was no use. He couldn’t see a bloody thing. How was he going to land this thing with no power if he had no clue where he was going?

David’s heart hammered in a way that it never had before and there was a sharp pain in his chest that worried him greatly. He’d trained for every eventuality—or so he’d thought—but this?

He swallowed.

“Don’t panic,” he hissed. “I’ve got this. Never done it before, but thirty-five years of flying has to stand for something, doesn’t it?”

“This must be a joke,” Keith croaked, in a voice that was even more strangled than earlier. “It has to be. How—”

“Shut up!” David snapped. “Mayday,” he screamed into the dead microphone at his lips. “Mayday. Flight UK710.”

He sucked in a deep breath, filling his chest and trying to calm himself. He could see a faint silvery reflection far below. Moonlight, he realised. On the Thames.

“What the hell is happening?” Jackson muttered.

David shook his head. That didn’t matter now. “We can find out later. For now, we have to get this thing down.” His mind raced as he tried to perform all sorts of calculations he hadn’t needed to do in twenty years. “Guide me. Look for any landmarks that might help. We can do this. We’ve got to—”

He was thrown violently to the left, so forcefully that his whole body felt like it had been ripped to shreds. It was bright for a moment and the screaming was worse than he could ever have imagined, and he knew for just a fraction of a second that another plane had hit them mid-air.

“Fuck’s sake,” Pete groaned when he picked up his phone and saw it was dead.

He reached down between his bed and bedside table for his charger lead, almost falling out of bed in the process. He jammed the connector into the base of his phone and watched the screen impatiently. Nothing happened. No glowing circle telling him his battery was at zero percent and charging. Nothing.

He sank back against the pillows. This was all he needed. Zane had told him to get up, get dressed and wait for his call. You didn’t mess Zane around. It was just his luck that his phone had died and his alarm hadn’t gone off.

Typical, he thought. Just typical. He’d spent months trying to prove himself and now he’d finally been given a chance, he’d only gone and blown it.

“Mum!”

No answer.

“Mum! Did you forget to pay the power again?”

He stared at the ceiling. Checked his phone again. Sighed. “Mum!”

When there was no sign of her after a few minutes, he stormed out to the landing. The house was silent. Rolling his eyes, he went downstairs to get a drink. The back door opened just as he reached the kitchen.

“Where the hell were you?”

“Sorry, love. I was out checking on the washing and I got chatting to Mrs Ritesh.”

Pete rolled his eyes. Mrs Ritesh was a nosy old bag who seemed to think the world owed her something for having lived past the age of seventy. “What the hell did she want?”

His mother frowned. She didn’t like it when he talked like that about the elderly—not that he cared. “Don’t be like that, love.”

He was about to object when he remembered the reason he’d been looking for her in the first place. “Did you forget to pay the power bill again? It’s out. My phone’s dead.”

“No, of course I didn’t. I learned my lesson last time, didn’t I, when I had to pay for them to come and connect it again. Like I’m made of money.”

The front door slammed shut before he could reply. He was sure it had been closed when he came downstairs.

“You expecting anyone?”

“It’s probably your brother.”

“What’s he doing here?” The two had never seen eye to eye. They didn’t have to these days. Josh worked such long hours at his job in London that Pete rarely saw him.

“I live here,” Josh snapped, waddling into the kitchen with several huge shopping bags, all filled to the brim.

“Yeah, I know. Why aren’t you at work?”

“Because, you absolute waste of space, the whole world’s gone to shit—in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Joshua!” their mother cried, throwing herself down in a chair and reaching for the box of fags that was never far from her yellow-stained fingers. “Don’t say things like that about your brother!”

“Well it’s true,” Josh muttered. “He’s never worked a day in his life. Unless you count robbing and scamming.” He tapped his chin in the same way he always did when he thought he was being clever. “Nope, pretty sure that doesn’t count. When are you going to stop covering for him…” he trailed off and stared at Pete.

“What?” He was used to his brother going off on an endless lecture of words he didn’t understand or want to. It wasn’t like Josh to just give in without first boring the arse off everyone around him. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

Josh glanced at their mother and then shook his head like he was having second thoughts about whatever rant he was about to go on. Unfortunately for him, she happened to be watching.

“What? What’s that all about? Don’t look at me and then decide you can’t say it.” She turned to Pete, breathing a long coil of smoke out her mouth and nose as she did. “What’s going on with you two? Eh?”

Pete shook his head. There was no-one he loved more than his mother, even though she often drove him up the wall.

“Nothing, Mum. It’s nothing. Josh's finally gone mental from reading all his books, or whatever the hell he does all day.”

Josh rolled his eyes and hissed through his teeth. “I don’t have time for your bullshit today, alright?”

“Why? Too busy staring at yourself in the mirror and pretending you’re going to take over the world?” Where did Josh get off? Anyone would think he was someone half important. He was only a junior something or other.

“No, as it happens. Jesus Christ, what did I do to get stuck with you as a brother? The wannabe gangster swaggering around like he’s a hard man?”

“Josh!” their mother yelled. “Stop it!”

“But it’s true.” He turned to Pete. “You think no-one knows what you do?” He frowned. “Anyway, I need to talk to you.”

“What,” Pete snorted. “After that attack? No fucking way.”

Their mother let out an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t use that language in my house.”

“It’s important, Pete.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well say it then. What’s so important?”