When Darkness Falls: An EMP Thriller Page 6

  There was something else that struck me too. And that something was behind the counter.

  There was a shopkeeper lying back against the wall. His face was so covered in blood that it was barely recognisable. I could smell him already, and that smell was so ghastly that it made me throw up a little in my mouth. Flies were buzzing around him. The poor guy looked barely out of his teens.

  “Shit,” Paul said. “Seen some crazy crap already in this world. And can’t help but feel it’s only gonna get crazier, huh?”

  I nodded. It was about all I could manage.

  As I got closer to the cashier, I realised what’d happened. The cash register looked like it’d been affected by the event and blown up in his face. There were fragments of metal ingrained in his skin. His skull was cracked, and his body was twitching. There was a look in his eyes that might’ve tricked a few people, enough to convince them he was still alive.

  But make no mistake about it. This man was dead.

  I swallowed a sickly lump in my throat and turned away. I had to get a bag and get to gathering supplies once again. The black bags had all gone, so I had to settle for a dark green one, which wasn’t ideal. All the water had gone already, so I went around to the canned food, got a few kidney beans, baked beans, rice, nuts, that kind of thing. Oh, and a can opener this time. That was something important that I’d forgotten last time around. Can openers are bloody handy when you’ve got, y’know, a lot of cans.

  “So, Alex,” Paul said, as he gathered supplies of his own.

  “So.”

  “You never did tell me your story.”

  I sighed. “It’s really not as interesting as you’re hoping.”

  “I’ve been on my own for the best part of the day. You’re the first fully decent person I’ve run into. And hey. Not got much else in the way of entertainment. Might as well tell me a bit about yourself.”

  I figured what harm could talking to Paul do? I mean, he seemed a decent enough guy, and he had told me a bit about himself.

  “I was in an interview for a higher position at work.”

  “Where d’you work?”

  “I work… worked… at a newspaper. The Chester Post.”

  Paul’s eyes widened. “The Post? Wait… You aren’t Alex Glover are you?”

  I lowered my head. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

  “Woah. That’s crazy. You’re like my favourite one of the writers. I mean I don’t read the Post but… you have your blog, right? The music stuff? Real wizard with the words. Seriously. Wow. I just can’t believe I’m meeting you right now.”

  I had to admit it was a little weird witnessing Paul’s reaction. I was just a writer for a local paper, after all. I didn’t write anything vastly creative, although I did try and sneak in something fancy in every piece. A touch of the artist’s brush, so to speak.

  “You ever thought about writing a book?”

  I tilted my head. “Well. I kinda got started on one already.”

  “You did? Can I… I mean, am I allowed to ask what it is?”

  I smiled, appreciative of the interest as I gathered more supplies. “Sure. It’s about a detective called Brian McDone. It’s set in Preston. All about this girl who is found dead and nobody knows who she is. But really, the story’s about this detective. Complex guy.”

  “Sounds fascinating. But you do need to work on your elevator pitches.”

  I chuckled a little. “So I’ve been told.”

  “You know, I always fancied writing.”

  “What stopped you?”

  Paul shrugged. “Time, mostly. Met the wife, had a kid. Don’t get a whole lot of time for myself. You got family?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my stomach knotting as I realised I needed to get on with things. “Yeah I do. And I really need to get back to them.”

  Paul nodded. “Sure. Sure. I er… Well, whatever happens, it’s been good meeting you. Hopefully we stay on the same path for a while. Who knows? Maybe I’ll have you round for dinner when the power comes back. That’s how Misery started, right?”

  I heard the way he said “when the power comes back” and I could see right through the fallacy of it. And judging by the way he’d said it, he could too.

  But it was a nice fantasy, anyway.

  “That’d be good,” I said.

  And then I heard something.

  Voices.

  I froze. Paul hadn’t moved a muscle.

  “What do you mean you can’t be arsed nicking more? This place is a frigging goldmine.”

  I crouched down and hid behind one of the shelves. Paul was right by my side, also laying low.

  I heard the footsteps right by the door. My heart began to race.

  I peeked around because I knew I had to see what I was up against.

  When I saw who was at the door, my fears were realised.

  The four-strong group of hoodies who we’d watched leave this place were back for more.

  And this time, they’d brought a few friends along.

  Knives.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I crouched down and listened as the gang of thugs barged their way into the shop.

  I held my breath. My heart raced. I could hear their footsteps banging against the shop floor. I gripped tightly onto my rucksack, not wanting to let it go for anything. I’d already lost my supplies at the first supermarket I’d been to. I hadn’t got anywhere near the amount I’d got at that place here. But still, it was something. It was mine.

  I wasn’t giving it up. I wasn’t losing it. Not again.

  No matter what some jumped up thugs might try to do to me if I didn’t comply.

  “I swear some stuff’s gone,” one of the men said. And when he said it, my stomach sank. How long before they realised someone had been here? How long before they realised someone was still here?

  I looked at Paul. His eyes were wide, and his face looked paler than it already had before.

  “What do we do?” I mouthed.

  I figured he had the same question on his lips.

  I looked around. There had to be a way out—an escape that didn’t involve taking the front, which was blocked off by one of these men. There were warehouses in all these places, right? Staff rooms with fire doors. That kind of thing.

  I looked over my shoulder and past the counter where the cashier rested, blood still pasted on his broken face.

  The door beside him.

  We could make it there.

  We had to make it there.

  If we didn’t…

  I didn’t want to think about what might happen to us at the hands of these knife-wielding guys.

  “In fact, yeah,” one of the men said, just a few shelves away. “Some shit’s definitely gone. More baked beans than this before.”

  “Who gives a shit about baked beans?”

  “Hey. Baked beans are the food of the next world. Gonna take us far.”

  “Yeah well I hope I’m far away from you after you’ve eaten um. I’ve smelled what your farts’re like already and I don’t fancy smellin’ um again.”

  A few laughs and snorts from his peers. All they did was make the hairs on my arms stand on end.

  I put a hand on Paul’s shoulder, leaned in to whisper in his ear.

  “The door beside the checkout. Reckon we can make it?”

  Paul studied it intently for just a few seconds. “I don’t see us having a better option. Do you?”

  I nodded. Fair point.

  We moved slowly towards the edge of the shelf we were hiding behind. The men’s footsteps continued to bang their way around the shop floor. I knew we were in a precarious situation. If just one of those men walked by this way—which they would, eventually—then they’d find us and it’d be game over.

  We couldn’t risk that happening.

  We couldn’t—

  “Check on the tools, too. If they’re gone then we know summat’s definitely up.”

  My body froze when the man said those words.

  Th
e tools were down this aisle.

  I went totally still as I listened to the footsteps march up the aisle beside us.

  I knew we needed to act fast. We couldn’t just wait around. We had to do something.

  So I grabbed a spanner from the shelf beside me and I threw it across the shop.

  I heard it clang against the shelf at the other side.

  The man’s footsteps stopped.

  He was so close that I could hear his breathing.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  Nobody answered him.

  He started walking slowly back the way he’d come from. And now he was preoccupied, I knew I couldn’t miss this opportunity to get to that door.

  I turned around to Paul and nodded.

  Then I took a deep breath and I moved as quickly and quietly as I could to the other side of the store.

  Then I heard something chink beneath me.

  I looked down.

  A penny. A damned pointless penny had dropped out of my pocket onto the floor below.

  I waited for the men to turn their attention to me again, to look around.

  But they hadn’t.

  Not yet.

  I kept on going. I reached the door. I went to open it, to push it aside. I knew I was close to getting away. I knew I just had to get out of here and then everything would be—

  “Stop!”

  As soon as I heard the voice, my instinct was to freeze.

  But I wasn’t listening to my instincts anymore.

  I pushed through the door.

  “Don’t move another damned muscle.”

  I turned around.

  Paul was standing in the middle of the aisle.

  Two of the men were just metres from him.

  I saw the look on his face. A look of defeat, as he limply held on to his bag of supplies.

  And I saw two options opening up in front of me, too.

  I could try to help him somehow.

  Fight with him.

  Or I could keep on going and get out of here, supplies still with me.

  I didn’t want to make the decision in this millisecond of time. I didn’t want to because I knew that deep down, I was selfish. I knew that deep down, I’d take the decision to leave every time. Wouldn’t everybody, if it was their own family at stake?

  I prepared myself to keep on going, eyes on Paul. To keep on running. I wanted to apologise to him. I wanted to tell him that I was grateful for his help, and that everything was going to be okay.

  I wanted to do anything but make the decision that I knew would haunt me for a long time.

  In the end, that decision was taken out of my hands.

  It was taken out of my hands because I heard something.

  I wasn’t sure what it was at first. In fact, I didn’t even register it as anything abnormal.

  But I saw the changing look on Paul’s face, on the face of the thugs.

  I saw them all turning around and looking out the glass windows at the front of the shop, out towards whatever it was.

  Because hearing it, there was no doubt about what it could be.

  It was an engine.

  A working engine.

  “Is that…”

  When the vehicle came into view, my momentary amazement at hearing a working engine—of wondering whether the power was back after all—froze.

  Because this wasn’t any normal vehicle.

  In fact, it wasn’t just one vehicle.

  There was an army convoy outside.

  And the soldiers on the back of the first van were looking right through the shop window.

  Rifles raised.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I watched the military convoy pull up outside the shop, all of their guns raised, and I realised the looters didn’t seem all that interested in Paul and I all of a sudden.

  It was sunny outside, the light reflecting off the windows of the military vehicles that were stacking up. There was a good number of them, five that I could see, a few of them with gunmen atop them. Others were bigger vehicles that looked like they were holding things inside. Hearing the engines was jarring enough in itself. It might only be earlier today the power had gone out, but that silence… that silence of a lack of power and electricity couldn’t be underestimated.

  And yet here power was again, back and in full strength.

  Only there was something strange about all this.

  Something that made me feel distinctly uneasy.

  Paul crept over to my side, something that the thugs didn’t seem bothered about now they had bigger matters at hand.

  “The hell they looking at?” one of the men—bald and pasted in tattoos—said.

  “Don’t give a shit what they’re looking at, mate. They’re not taking this place. This isn’t their stuff. Doesn’t belong to them.”

  I almost made a sly passing comment about how this wasn’t their stuff either, but I figured it was probably for the best if I kept quiet right now, at least until I’d figured out what to do about this situation.

  Then I saw one of the soldiers hop off the side of the vehicle closest to the shop and start walking towards the window glass.

  He stopped just feet away from the glass. He looked in, scanning the shop from left to right, then examining the thugs closely.

  “You’re going to want to come with us,” the soldier said.

  The looters muttered amongst themselves. The urge to get away built up inside me. I didn’t trust anyone but myself to get back to my family. If I went along with these troops—or if they thought I was a looter too—then there was a chance I’d never get back to my family. Besides, what did all of this mean? Martial law? And who was pulling the strings? How were the vehicles all still working? They must’ve had some kind of defence against whatever had happened. A Faraday cage style contraption—an enclosure resistant to electromagnetic fields through the covering by conductive material— holding the vehicles within. I wouldn’t mind asking. But these didn’t seem like the ideal circumstances to ask any questions right now.

  “And why the hell would we do that?” one of the thugs asked.

  The soldier looked at him and his eyes narrowed. “The supermarkets and stores of the country are the property of the military now. We have been assigned to seize all stores, all production lines, and gather what we can. All supplies are needed for the good of the world. If you come with us, you can be there for the redistribution of these supplies.”

  “Redistribution?” one of the thugs spat. “Why the hell should I give a shit about redistribution when I’ve got a bulk load of supplies for myself anyway?”

  The soldier looked over his shoulder at a colleague of his, who was perched atop an armoured vehicle. He too had a rifle. Then he looked back at the thug in the shop. “Because that’s the law now. And I’d strongly, strongly advise you respect the law.”

  The thug shook his head.

  “Aiden, maybe we should just—”

  “No,” the lead thug—Aiden—said. “No. These bastards have no right to just storm in and take what we’ve got for ourselves.”

  “Actually, you’ll find we have every right.”

  “Well you can try that bullshit on someone else. It ain’t working on me. This place is ours. If you want it, you’re gonna have to take it.”

  There was a pause, then. And at that moment, as the thug looked into the the eyes of the soldier and the soldier back at him, I thought there was going to be some kind of common ground reached. I thought there was going to be some kind of truce.

  But then the soldier lowered his rifle.

  “Very well,” he said.

  He lifted a hand.

  I couldn’t even comprehend what happened next.

  A noisy blast of gunfire shattered the window of the shop.

  I watched as Aiden’s body was peppered with gunfire.

  I watched as he fell to the ground, blood spurting out of his neck and his chest and his stomach, and as he fell face flat against the f
loor.

  I watched as the bullets slammed repeatedly into his body.

  Then the gunfire stopped.

  Nothing but silence. Echoes. Stillness.

  It was the soldier who broke that silence, seizing the opportunity for himself.

  “Now,” the soldier said, readjusting his rifle. “Does anyone else want to challenge what I just told you?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I stared at Aiden’s fallen, blood soaked body and I knew right then that everything had changed—forever.

  A stunned silence had filled the shop. A breeze blew in through the smashed window. The thugs looked down at their fallen friend, eyes wide, knives loose in their grip. And I found myself staring with them, too.

  Because this marked a monumental shift.

  Just hours into the end and already the military was willing to kill to enact a new form of law?

  They were willing to kill in order to gather the supplies from this shop—and many other shops—to “redistribute” around the country?

  Sure. The idea of redistribution itself seemed like a good one. A noble one, even.

  But at the same time, it showed just how much panic the powerful were in if killing really was an extent they were willing to go to in order to cling hold of whatever disintegrating order they had left.

  And if that’s what they were willing to do, I definitely didn’t want to spend too much time around these people.

  “So what’s it going to be?” the soldier said, looking at each of the looters… and at Paul and I. “Are you going to resist further? Or are you going to take heed from what happened to your friend here and step away from the supplies and out of this shop, slowly. Because if you do that, we can promise you safe haven. Security. A terrible event has occurred. Everyone needs to come together.”

  I looked at the supply bag draped over my shoulder. Then I looked at Paul. Stepping out of this shop and joining the army surely meant giving up what we’d gathered. And I wasn’t willing to do that. Not again. Not after all I’d given up already.

  “Five seconds,” the soldier said.

  “Get ready,” I muttered under my breath.