Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 3 | Darkness Lifting Read online

  Thinking was how she’d found Bob’s settlement.

  Granted, acting had provided her with plenty of food and medicine to start with.

  But now they needed to make smart decisions.

  “Anna?” Rachel called from Bob and Sue’s patio. “Please tell me those hens laid a few eggs.”

  “Coming,” Anna shouted, then turned back to Rose. “I’d better hurry. Not even lunchtime and I’m already behind schedule. What’s coming up next in Sue’s vegetable garden?”

  Rose sighed. “Potatoes and cabbage. Don’t expect anything but potatoes and cabbage for a while.”

  “And thousands of apples,” Graham added dryly.

  “Better than starving,” Anna said.

  “That’s for sure.” Rose nodded. “I’d better go and help. Tell Sue I’ll be there in a minute. She said something about making fermented cabbage. I suppose I’ll be chopping for hours.”

  “Good luck,” Anna said before carrying the eggs back to the cottage. Oreo followed her like a silent shadow. She glanced at Sue’s telescope as she walked past it. They still didn’t know what had happened, and they’d given up discussing it.

  It was all about survival now, but curiosity was eating away at Anna regardless.

  She wanted to know what silent enemy had crushed their national grid, demolished all electronics and taken away Netflix and hot showers.

  “Here. Have six eggs,” she said to Rachel as she entered the house. “Need any help pickling them?”

  “Sarah was supposed to help according to her own schedule,” Rachel said, taking the eggs. She held one over a lit candle and frowned. “How much longer do you think it’ll take until we find a few fertilised ones?”

  “I don’t know. How can you even tell?” It was in moments like this that Anna really missed the Internet. She’d taken Google for granted and now… “I’ll go and wake up Sarah for you.”

  Rachel gave her a thumbs-up and held the next egg over the flickering flame.

  Before Anna could leave, Sue had walked downstairs and squeezed her sister’s hand before smiling at Anna. “Good morning. Have you seen Rose?”

  “She said she would meet you in the garden. I saw movement over at Pyro Neil’s house last night. Graham saw it, too. He thinks that Neil came back without his wife.”

  Rachel whistled. “The plot thickens.”

  Sue shot her a stern look and Rachel shrugged.

  “What? They disappeared together after setting fire to your house, and now he’s come back alone after two months. That’s a plot, and it’s currently thickening.”

  Anna grinned but quickly turned serious again. “We’ll need to discuss what to do about him.”

  Sue grabbed her gardening gloves and put them on. “What is there to discuss?”

  “We can’t just ignore him,” Rachel said. “We need to know what he’s planning on doing now that he’s back. Is he going to try to burn down our house again or is he going to leave us alone?”

  “Let’s talk about it tonight,” Anna said. “Once Bob is back. I’m off to wake Sarah and get some more sleep.”

  She poured lukewarm instant coffee from the pot into a mug and wrinkled her nose.

  “I thought you’d given up drinking that,” Rachel said.

  “It’s for Luke.”

  She didn’t know what the men had said to Neil when they’d invited him to join them. He was probably just afraid, Luke had said. Had he felt threatened by the three men standing outside his home?

  After handing Luke the mug, Anna headed to the bungalow. She held the gate open, waiting for Oreo to catch up with her. His tongue darted over his nose and mouth. Anna tutted. “Sue snuck you some food, didn’t she?”

  She looked over at Graham and Rose’s house. It was the biggest in the street, and while Luke owned a small bungalow, and Bob and Sue had built a cottage, Graham and Rose’s was an actual house. It had two spare rooms, and the second spare room had been transformed into storage space for all of their food, water and medicine.

  Anna unlocked the door with Luke’s key and let herself inside. “Sarah?”

  The spare room was at the end of the hallway, right next to the bathroom. “Sarah?”

  She knocked on the door before opening it. Sarah was buried under the duvet. She mumbled something then turned, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

  “Rachel is waiting for you. There’s eggs to pickle or something.”

  Sarah poked her head out and grimaced, still half-asleep. “I’m pretty certain I no longer like pickled eggs.”

  “I know. They weren’t good to begin with. And yet you kept gifting them to me for Christmas.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you funny this early in the morning. How was your watch?”

  “I think I saw movement over at Pyro Neil’s house, and apparently Graham saw something as well. It looks like he might have come back without his wife.”

  “What did Bob have to say about that?”

  “He’d already left for his walk.” Anna smiled. Her sister had been reluctant at first, suspicious even of joining the settlement, but even she had accepted Bob as the leader. The man everyone listened to. “But you know Bob. He wants to talk to him, of course. Invite him. He still leaves flyers everywhere, offering people a safe place.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  “Me neither.” Anna yawned. “Luke said that he’d left fresh sheets out for me?”

  Sarah grinned and got out of bed. She smoothed down her hair with her hands. “I’ve already changed them for you. I’ll wake you in a few hours.” Oreo followed her as she left the room.

  Anna took off her shoes, trousers and jumper and crawled into bed.

  Apprehension had settled in her stomach, but she reminded herself of Luke’s words. There was no need to worry. They were armed, and they had Oreo. If everything stayed as it was, surviving winter would be a piece of cake.

  2

  The cacophony of voices inside her mind had died down, leaving behind a dense fog. Chris could still hear them, but they were muffled by the haze filling her head.

  Where was she?

  Thinking felt like wading through treacle. Whenever Chris was awake, she tried to sort through the chaos in her mind, but it was like cleaning out a hoarder’s attic. Clumsy. Chaotic.

  Without her memories, she was lost.

  She didn’t know how many days had passed; she barely knew who she was.

  Christine Hughes.

  Her name was Christine Hughes.

  She was a nurse. She helped people.

  She was a valuable addition to any group of—

  Survivors? What were they surviving?

  And why was she alone?

  Her husband’s voice filtered through her thoughts, and she opened her eyes, her surroundings nothing but a blur.

  “Take this,” Lester said and she smiled, her chest warming at the sight of her husband’s pale eyes, but his voice—

  Not Lester’s.

  Close. But different.

  Tom. Her son came into focus, standing in front of her, his long dark hair curling around his ears and neck.

  “Take this,” he repeated, handing her a white pill.

  She frowned. “What is it?”

  “Just take it, Mum.” His voice was stern. She couldn’t detect any empathy or compassion, but he wasn’t angry either. His stare hardened at her hesitation.

  She sat up, searching his face for any emotions, but his eyes were as cold as ice.

  “Take it.” Frustration laced his words.

  Chris gave a small nod and obediently stretched out her hand, palm up. He handed her the pill and a bottle of water. She pushed it into her mouth, leaving it on her tongue until it tasted bitter.

  Tom scowled. “Swallow.” Then, his features softened. “You need to get better.”

  Where were they?

  And where was Lester?

  Chris took in her surroundings, trying to sort through her thoughts.
<
br />   They were in a…log cabin?

  A sofa stood in one corner, its fabric old and worn, a small kitchen consisting only of a sink and a hotplate in another. It was a cosy place—the kind Lester had always looked at for their holidays. Not much bigger than the converted barn at the—

  The farm. A dog barking. An axe.

  Chris blinked, shook her head.

  Ash and soot had been trodden into the carpet in front of the fireplace. The air smelled of old boots and coal.

  How long had she been there?

  Lines had been etched into the dust on the wooden floor next to her bed. Had she tried to mark the days?

  She remembered waking countless times in a daze, glimpsing the sun filtering in through the only window in the room, but sometimes she’d found herself lying shrouded in darkness, pulling the smothering duvet off herself in a panic.

  Always alone. The voices her only company.

  The farm. A dog barking. An axe.

  Chris narrowed her eyes, focused. What had happened to her?

  A name floated up. A young man. He’d been hurt. “Where is Adam?”

  Tom’s brows furrowed. “Adam?”

  “Yes. Adam. He was…James’ cousin. We went to the farm and he was…did something happen?”

  Tom shook his head. “Nothing happened, Mum.”

  You’re a monster, someone’s voice said in her mind. An older woman with short grey hair jabbed her index finger at Chris. Her hair stuck out in all directions, her eyes wild.

  Chris blinked, confused.

  She was a nurse. She helped people.

  “I’m not a monster,” she mumbled.

  Tom narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Chris shook her head and Tom turned away.

  He shuffled to the cupboard standing next to the sink, retrieved a tin of beans and put it on the only table in the place. He pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down. The wooden chair creaked and wobbled as he shifted his weight.

  Dust tickled her nose, and Chris sneezed. “Tom?”

  “Yes?” he asked around a mouthful of beans.

  “Where are we?”

  “Hatfield Forest.”

  Chris closed her eyes and continued searching her mind for anything that would make sense. The fog hung like a thick curtain between her and her memories.

  You’re a monster.

  Whatever had happened, that voice wasn’t right—couldn’t be right.

  She wasn’t a monster. She’d done nothing but—

  Protect Tom.

  She’d protected Tom.

  She stared up at the ceiling, frowned at the mould growing in the corners where moisture had seeped into the walls before letting her gaze wander over to the table where her son was sitting.

  There had been an accident.

  No.

  Not an accident.

  Chris frowned, rubbing her forehead. The ceiling was made up of arched wooden beams. She spotted a spider weaving a web in a corner. Observing it for a while, she carefully parted the curtain inside her mind.

  She had been working as a nurse at Princess Alexandra Hospital when—

  No.

  She’d been working a night shift on the till at Tesco when the lights had gone out and the cars had stopped working. An EMP, Anna had called it.

  Anna? Who was Anna?

  Anna was her friend. She’d met her that night, and Anna had helped her—had told her to take home as many supplies as she could carry.

  But her manager—

  Mike.

  He’d threatened Tom with a taser, and Chris had been angry at Lester, had told him that they were—

  Sometimes I wish you’d just give up and end it all.

  She’d said that to Lester and he’d—

  Chris hiccupped, muffling a sob with her hand. Tom didn’t look up, as if used to that sort of noise. What son didn’t turn towards his mother to help when she was upset? Chris felt a twinge in her chest at the thought.

  She blinked. Tom was sitting on the small sofa opposite the bed reading a book. She looked at the table, but there was no half-eaten can of beans.

  Had he finished eating and put it away? How could she have missed that? Had she drifted off to sleep?

  She sniffed loudly, trying to elicit a reaction, but Tom quietly turned the page without looking up.

  Did he know what she’d said to his dad? That she was the reason he was dead? Was that why he was ignoring her?

  And then? What had happened after Lester’s death?

  They’d moved in with Anna, but the woman hadn’t trusted her.

  A soldier’s face floated up in her mind, smiled at her, then morphed into a monstrous grimace. Chris gasped.

  John.

  Had that been his name?

  She’d poisoned him.

  A flash of a bloodied cricket bat. Chris remembered the stranger’s skull splitting, bits of brain raining down onto the towpath.

  She’d killed.

  Again.

  And again.

  You’re a monster, the woman with the grey hair screeched in her mind.

  Had she killed her, too?

  Chris dug into the fog, parting the curtain further, looking for a name. Voices greeted her. None of them friendly.

  Look what you did to me. John opened his mouth and blood first trickled then flowed down over his chin, red streaks across pale skin. Convulsing, he crumbled. A gurgle escaped his throat as the coppery liquid reached his lungs.

  You robbed us, stole my son’s food, Chris said to him in her mind. She was pleading now. Exhausted by the accusations flying through her mind.

  Mike raised his taser and sneered. There was no need to kill me.

  The stranger with the dent in his head nodded in agreement. One eye had popped out of its socket. Nor me.

  The face of the woman with the short grey hair filled Chris’ mind once again, as if she were a giant head displayed on a cinema screen and Chris was sitting in the first row. You’re a monster.

  Chris reached for a memory of her husband, searching for safety, strong arms that would protect her, but she couldn’t find him.

  What’s your name? Chris asked the grey-haired woman, wrapping her arms around herself. She clung to her own shoulders, kneading her muscles. Tell me your name.

  Maggie.

  She’d made a mistake. Chris knew it. It had slowly become clear to her over the last few weeks.

  “I shouldn’t have killed Maggie,” she said out loud.

  This time, Tom looked up from his book and frowned. “What did you say?”

  I shouldn’t have killed Maggie. I’m sorry.

  You’re a monster.

  No. I’m not. I made a mistake. Don’t we all make mistakes?

  The woman cackled, dragging her nails down her cheeks, shredding her liver-spotted, weathered skin.

  Forgive me, Chris pleaded.

  Tom got to his feet and approached the bed. “Mum?”

  Chris opened her eyes wide, raised a hand. Fear constricted her chest. She was afraid. Afraid of her son.

  Afraid of Tom.

  Why?

  “Are you going to hurt me?” Her voice broke as a painful lump formed in the back of her throat.

  Tom shook his head. “I’m not going to hurt you. Why would you think that?”

  “You hate me. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “I don’t hate you. I just wish…” He raised a hand, then dropped it limply at his side once again. “I’m worried about you. You’ve not been well.”

  “There’s a…” She hesitated. How was she going to explain the confusion inside her mind? The impenetrable fog. The noise. “There are voices in my head.” Her own voice dropped to a whisper. “They’re yelling. Always yelling.”

  “You need to eat something, Mum.” He handed her a bottle of water. “And you need to drink more. You’re agitated. You’ve lost a lot of weight.”

  There had been—

  An apocaly
ptic event.

  The lights had gone out. Were they running out of food? Tom needed food. He was a teenager. Teenagers needed—

  Why was she in bed? She was a mother. She needed to take care of her son. “Do we have enough food?”

  Tom nodded. “For now.”

  “Where did you say we were?”

  “Hatfield Forest.”

  “Where is James?”

  A shadow crept into Tom’s eyes. “Back at the farm.”

  “Why aren’t we still at the farm? Didn’t you say…didn’t we stay at the farm? With Tony? And Harry? And…”

  Maggie.

  You’re a monster.

  Tom watched her silently, conflicting emotions flitting across his face.

  “Did I…did I kill Maggie?”

  He flinched as if physically struck by her words. Sucking on his bottom lip, he rubbed his eyes. Finally, he whispered, “Yes, Mum. You did.”

  But why? Why had she killed Maggie? It didn’t make sense.

  “I don’t think I should have done that.” Chris spoke slowly, her mind racing.

  Tom scoffed. “That’s a bit of an understatement.” He looked as if he was considering saying something else, and Chris waited. “Do you feel well enough to get up? I can make you some dinner.”

  “How long have we been here?”

  “Almost two months. You’ve been very unwell, and you’ve been asleep a lot.”

  Chris remembered the pill he’d given her and frowned. “How did you know…how did you know what to give me?”

  “We walked for days before I found this place.” Tom brushed a strand of hair from his eyes and gave her a weak smile. “I went out every day, looking for food and medicine. One day, I helped a young couple and their child. The mother had fallen and broken her wrist. Afterwards, they invited me to go with them, and I told them about you. The father was a doctor. I let him look at you.”

  She blinked. A doctor had examined her. Had spoken to her.

  Spotting the worried expression on her face, Tom placed a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Don’t worry. He just wanted to talk. I was there the whole time. He gave me the tablets, and you’ve been getting better ever since.”