Survive The Darkness | Book 2 | Escape The Darkness

by Ryan Casey

  Aoife looked into James’ eyes. Her instincts screamed at her to beg. To plead for him to let her go.

  But then she just spat in his face.

  “If this is what you’ve become just two days into the blackout, then God help us all. But the rest of you. You still have a chance to do something different. You don’t have to stand by. You don’t have to let him control you. Not anymore.”

  She saw the glances of people over in her direction. The shellshocked gazes. A few people vomiting. Throwing up. Like they were realising. Like they were waking up.

  But they had to wake up fast.

  Because time was running out.

  James looked right into Aoife’s eyes. Blood still dripping from the blade and his hand. “The difference between you and me?”

  “A lot of differences, I’d fucking hope.”

  He smirked. “You’re a fighter. I’ll give you that.”

  And then he stepped right up to her as the bloke behind her kept that knife pressed right against her throat.

  “The difference is our people are willing to get our hands dirty when it comes to justice. And that’s why we’re gonna be just fine. No matter how long the power’s out, we’re gonna be just fine. All of us.”

  He pushed his knife against her Adam’s apple.

  “Any last words?”

  She opened her mouth. Her heart raced. Her body shook. She wanted to say so much. So many things.

  But then she just closed her mouth, took a deep breath, gritted her teeth.

  “Fuck you,” she said.

  James smiled.

  Shook his head.

  “You really are something, aren’t you?”

  Then he pulled back his knife and rammed it towards Aoife’s throat.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Max saw James pull back the knife and swing it at Aoife’s throat, and everything stood still.

  He was pinned down. Pressed against the road. It’d be hard enough breaking free of these meatheads at the best of times. But right now, feeling as fucking lousy as he did, it was nigh on impossible.

  But seeing James pull back that knife.

  Seeing him swing it at Aoife’s throat.

  It woke something up inside him that he didn’t even know was there.

  He swung his head back, right into the skull of one of the blokes behind him.

  And then he turned around, and he punched the other guy in the throat.

  Hard.

  And as the pair of them staggered back, one of them coughing, the other clutching his bleeding nose, Max heard a shout from Aoife’s direction.

  He looked around and expected the worst. All kinds of images filling his mind. Aoife clutching her throat. Blood spurting out all over the place. A desperate look in her eyes.

  Staring over at him.

  Eager for help.

  But for him to be incapable of doing a thing.

  But when he looked around, what he saw took him by surprise.

  James didn’t have his blade in Aoife’s throat.

  In fact, Aoife was okay.

  She was still standing.

  She wasn’t bleeding at all. Wounded at all. At least not as far as Max could see.

  But James…

  A man was standing in front of Aoife. Between her and James.

  The man who was holding Aoife.

  Standing up to James.

  Looking him in the eyes.

  Staring at him.

  “Enough, James,” he said. “Might’ve been on board before, but after Frank… enough.”

  James stood there, stunned. Max could tell he was surprised he’d had his back turned on him by one of his people.

  “Carl, don’t be a fucking idiot,” James said. “Step out of my way—”

  “You’ve done enough,” someone else shouted. “Caused enough shit.”

  And Max could hear more voices picking up.

  More of them shouting.

  Some arguing, sure.

  But the silent majority was silent no more.

  And it was Max who stood there, knees shaking, right in the middle of them, as James looked around and realised his people—the people he thought were his, anyway—were turning their backs on him.

  That they’d had enough of him.

  He looked around at them all. Wide-eyed. And it was the most vulnerable Max had ever seen him. Like a rabbit in the headlights. His whole world collapsing, right before his eyes.

  “Is Cody nothing to you? Are your children nothing to you?”

  “My wife was something to me,” one bloke said, stepping up. Bald guy. Tattooed.

  James smiled. Like he’d found one ally amidst all this chaos. “Harry. This bitch killed your wife. They killed our people. Speak some sense into the rest of ’em.”

  This man, Harry, stood there. Eyes wide. Focused. “She killed my wife. And I hate her for that. I fucking detest her for that. But this… all this. The killing. This ain’t us, James. She should pay. In her own way. And she will. But this ain’t us.”

  And then more people stepped up. More people started shouting, making their voices heard. And arguing kicked off. Conflict. And as Max stood there, he knew things were going to get a bit crazy. He knew there were two sides to this argument. And he knew emotions were high. Really high.

  “We never wanted any trouble,” Max said.

  He wasn’t sure where it came from. Didn’t even think he had the strength left in him to speak so assertively, so clearly.

  And yet he spoke.

  People looked around at him.

  James looked around at him.

  And the men behind him, the ones he’d punched himself free of just moments ago, they were on him again. Holding him. Pinning him down.

  James looked over at him. Narrow-eyed. “What was that?”

  Max swallowed a thick, bloody lump in his throat. He took a few deep breaths. Looked up again, right at James, then at everyone else standing around in the middle of this street. “We… What happened. What happened up in the hills. It was horrible. It should never have happened. And something like that should never happen again.”

  He coughed, cleared his throat.

  “But we should learn from it. We shouldn’t… we shouldn’t resort to more violence because of it. Because believe me, if the power stays out, which it looks like it is gonna do, things are gonna get a whole lot more violent, a whole lot quicker.”

  He looked over at Moira, then. And at Aoife.

  “Someone once told me we were gonna have to work together if we wanted to make it out of this. I didn’t… I didn’t believe her at the time. After all, I thought it’d be better to try it on my own. But right now… now, I’m starting to see I was wrong about that.”

  He looked between Moira and Aoife. Moira lying there, holding on to her boy’s brutalised body. Aoife staring on, right at Max.

  He looked into Aoife’s eyes, and he smiled.

  “Truth is… I wouldn’t have made it this far if it wasn’t for the people around me. People I owe a lot to. People I’ll probably never be able to repay.”

  And then he looked at Nathan’s body. At Frank’s body.

  “Don’t you think there’s been enough killing? Enough death?”

  He saw some people nodding. Heard some cheering like they agreed with him. A few other people shaking their heads, cursing under their breaths.

  And all this time, James just staring on at him. Eyes growing wider. Frustration growing clearer.

  “Drop your weapons. Take me, Aoife, and Moira in if you have to. But end this. End it all. Right this second. It’s not too late to try another way. It’s not too late to start again.”

  He saw the nods of agreement. Saw the people covering their faces. Saw the crying. The trauma. All of the heightened stress and emotion of this conflict, all bubbling over.

  And he knew he’d struck a nerve. He’d struck a frigging nerve.

  And that’s all he needed.

  James cleared his throat
. Rubbed his fingers through his hair. And then he looked around as everyone looked at him. Max could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew he wasn’t the boss anymore. He knew he wasn’t in charge.

  And he didn’t like it.

  He walked over towards Max. Walked to Moira. Stood by her side.

  And as the rest of his people looked on, all of them waiting for him to speak, he looked right at Max.

  “That’s sweet and all,” he said.

  And then, out of nowhere, he grabbed Moira.

  Buried a knife into her throat.

  “No!” Max shouted.

  A series of gasps.

  Of cries.

  But nobody stepping up.

  Nobody stepping in.

  Nobody doing a thing to help.

  Everyone just in shock.

  James held the blade into Moira’s throat. She shook. Twitched a few times as blood oozed out of her neck, out of her mouth. Eyes rolling back into her head.

  Behind her, Max heard Aoife shouting out. Then he saw her running forward, over towards James, towards Moira.

  Saw James turn around.

  Grab her.

  And then swing her to the road.

  “My boy died,” James said, standing over Aoife. “He died because of these savages. And it’s about fucking time someone taught them that we do justice differently now.”

  Max felt the hands of the man holding onto him loosen.

  Just for a second, they loosened.

  And he knew he had to step up.

  He knew this was his only chance.

  He punched back.

  Kicked the man between the legs.

  And then, even though he didn’t have the strength, he surged forward.

  Ran towards James.

  Towards Moira.

  And towards Aoife, who lay there on the road.

  James standing over her.

  “No!” Max shouted.

  He ran faster.

  He ran, and he felt himself back in his home again, three years ago.

  Kathryn.

  David.

  Trying to get to David’s bedroom on time.

  Trying to get there before anything happened to him.

  Trying, but running out of time…

  James looked right at him. Smirk on his face again. Blood all around him. Moira on the road now, gargling, twitching, barely any life left in her.

  And Aoife, lying there in the blood.

  James lifted his knife.

  “Too late,” he said.

  He swung the knife down towards Aoife.

  And then someone stopped him.

  A man.

  A man, right behind him.

  The same man whose wife died. The bald guy. Harry.

  He held on to James’ arm.

  “Leave her,” he shouted. “She ain’t even yours to get revenge on. Leave her!”

  And then he dragged James back.

  The knife dropped from James’ hand.

  “Let go!”

  It all happened so fast.

  Aoife kicked him in the throat.

  And then she grabbed his knife.

  Stood up, knife in hand.

  Knife to James’ throat.

  “No,” Max said. “No.”

  He reached her. Stood there, panting. Vision blurring. Barely anything left in the tank.

  And he saw Aoife standing over James with this rabid look in her eyes.

  A look like she was going to kill him.

  And it scared Max.

  “Aoife,” Max said. “I know you want to do this. And I get it. I felt it about Seth, yesterday, remember? But remember what you said to me. Remember how you stepped in. Remember how you told me it wouldn’t get me anywhere. You were right. Give me the knife. Please.”

  James laughed. He spat on the floor, right beside Nathan and Moira’s bodies. “She doesn’t have it in her anyway. None of you do.”

  “I should fucking kill you for what you’ve done,” Aoife shouted. “And your neighbours… the ones who’ve stood by you… they should be fucking ashamed of themselves, too. Because this isn’t how we survive. This is how we destroy ourselves. Is that what you want?”

  James looked up at her. Still smiling. He was all out of jokes. All out of quips. Sounded like he had nothing left. Especially now most of his people had clearly realised what a monster he was after what he’d done to Moira.

  “Aoife,” Max said.

  “I should fucking kill you,” she said, voice quivering, tearful.

  She looked at Moira. Looked at her body lying there, totally still.

  “Give me the knife, Aoife. Now.”

  And then she looked around at Max.

  Looked at him like she was scared.

  Like she was afraid.

  “The knife,” Max said. “Now.”

  She lowered her head. Lowered it as behind, two men restrained James, kept him rooted to the spot.

  And then she sighed, and she walked over to Max, handed him the knife. “I should have killed him.”

  Max put a shaking hand on her shoulder.

  Then he walked over to James.

  Looked down at him.

  James stared up at him. Smirked. “How very fucking noble of you,” he said. “Is this the part where you let me off? Where you tell me I’m gonna just be a prisoner? Where you tell me you fucking forgive me? Just to prove you’re so much fucking better than me?”

  Max looked right down at him, and he smiled. “No,” he said.

  And then he pulled back the knife.

  Buried it deep into James’ chest.

  James eyes widened.

  Blood oozed out down his shirt.

  And Max kept his eyes on his at all times.

  “This is the part where I kill you, you son of a bitch.”

  He pulled the knife away.

  Threw it to one side.

  “Max?” Aoife said. “What…”

  He looked up at her. Half-smiled. “We’re even now,” he said. “You didn’t deserve that one on your conscience, too. You’re… you’re free now.”

  He turned around and looked back at James again.

  Blood trickling down his chin.

  Hands clutching his stabbed chest.

  He looked right into his tearful, bloodshot eyes, and he smiled.

  “You did this. Not anybody else. You. Remember that.”

  James opened his mouth. Tried to speak. But more blood just spurted out. Depriving him of any words.

  He held on to his chest, and he slumped down to the road.

  And Max stood there, shaking. He could hear people muttering about him. Hear them talking about him. Hearing them saying all kinds of things about him.

  But he didn’t care.

  He didn’t care what came next at all.

  Because he’d done the right thing.

  At this moment, he’d done the right thing.

  And he’d face the consequences, however they came to him.

  He looked around at Aoife again. Went to walk over to her.

  And then his knees collapsed beneath him.

  “Max?” Aoife said. “Max!”

  He lay there on the road.

  Lay there in the blood of Nathan. The blood of Moira.

  And the blood of James.

  “Max,” Aoife said, grabbing him, shaking him. “Fuck, you’re… We need some help here. Please! We need some…”

  He didn’t hear the rest of Aoife’s words.

  He heard mumbling.

  Heard footsteps.

  But mostly, he just heard the ringing in his ears.

  And laughter.

  The laughter of his son, David.

  He turned around, and he saw those two doors again.

  Only the door on the left was closed, now.

  The one on the right was open.

  Kathryn in there, smiling.

  David by her side, laughing.

  The pair of them looking at him.

  Holding
their hands out.

  Waving.

  “Max!” Aoife screamed. “Max!”

  But the voice drifted away.

  And Max’s only focus was on Kathryn and David, now.

  “Have you done everything you can now?” Kathryn asked. Her voice so soft. The smile on her face so gorgeous. The scent of her sweet perfume in the air, getting closer and closer.

  Max swallowed a lump in his throat.

  Looked at the door beside Kathryn and David’s room.

  He saw it was closed.

  Locked.

  And then he looked at Kathryn and David again.

  “Well?” she said.

  In his mind’s eye, he saw Aoife.

  Rex.

  And he knew deep down they were going to be okay.

  One way or another, they were going to be okay.

  He tightened his fists, and he smiled.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Kathryn smiled.

  David laughed, clapped his little hands.

  “Then come on then,” Kathryn said.

  Max stood at the door to the threshold that led to his wife and son.

  He saw a warm light behind them.

  So bright and warm and so inviting.

  He took a deep breath.

  Felt a warm, salty tear roll down his cheek.

  And he smiled.

  Then, he stepped over the void, over the threshold, and into the room where his wife and son waited.

  And he felt peace.

  He was home now.

  END OF BOOK 2

  Resist the Darkness, the third book in the Survive the Darkness series, is now available to pre-order on Amazon.

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  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any reference to real locations is only for atmospheric effect, and in no way truly represents those locations.

  Copyright © 2021 by Ryan Casey

  Cover design by Miblart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Higher Bank Books