Dark Days

by Ryan Casey

  It felt like a ghost town. A town on the brink.

  And the worst part about it all?

  It felt like it was going to get worse before it got better.

  He went to take a turn towards Lake Windermere, where he hoped things would be a little quieter, when he saw a police officer.

  People were gathered around him. Barking questions at him. Begging him for information about what was happening and when all this was going to end.

  And all he could do was hold his ground and tell people that things were going to be okay. That power would be restored soon. That supplies would be delivered. Because that’s just what happened, wasn’t it? That’s just the way the world went. Nobody would be left behind. Nobody would be left stranded.

  Right?

  Martin looked down at the road, and he saw something beneath his foot.

  A brand new iPhone, lying on the street, like it was trash.

  A man quickly crept up to it. Picked it up. Glanced up at Martin, then disappeared into the distance.

  He looked like he was still just clinging to the hope that phone would be worth something.

  But Martin knew already that hope was in vain.

  He looked at this town in disarray. He looked at the boarded buildings. At the smashed glass. The frozen cars. The telegraph poles lying across the streets, broken and charred. He listened to the shouting around the police officer, who desperately tried to maintain order. But Martin knew he would have a breaking point, too. He would have a point where he realised there was no benefit to his survival by staying here.

  Because that’s what it looked like now.

  Survival.

  Martin had no idea how long this was going to last. And clearly, nobody did.

  Not the police.

  Nobody.

  “Hey,” Ella said.

  Martin glanced around at her. Saw her looking back at him, pale-faced.

  “What do we do now?” she asked. “What does this mean?”

  Martin looked back around at the decaying town as the sun glowed orange, and he swallowed a lump in his throat as he faced a reality he couldn’t bear looking at.

  “There’s no hope for this place,” he said. “There’s no hope anywhere. This... this is just how it is now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Martin looked at the supermarket in the distance, and he knew things weren’t going to be easy.

  He’d walked just outside of Ambleside. There was no use staying there. The town was only going to get worse the more time passed. When people woke up tomorrow, a third day without power, or even any knowledge of what was happening, tensions were going to spill over even further.

  Martin didn’t want to be there when that happened. He didn’t want Ella to be there, either.

  But now he looked at this supermarket, and he knew he needed to act fast. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he needed to gather some supplies for himself and Ella. He had an idea of the sort of thing he needed to gather. There were supplies like peanut butter, which were going to go a long way. Cans. Portable stoves. Medical supplies. All kinds of things that people wouldn’t even think of.

  More importantly, he needed a good way to carry them. A bug out bag. Something he could carry everything around in with him.

  At least until he figured his next step.

  “You sure about this?”

  Martin looked to his right. Saw Ella sitting there on the side of this sloped grassy hill leading right down towards the supermarket car park. Seeing the supermarket with all its lights out was eerie. Especially because he could still see a flurry of activity around it.

  He just hoped that the bulk of people wouldn’t have thought about the kinds of supplies he was going for.

  Hell, he knew it sounded a damned awful thing to say.

  But this was survival now. It might only be the second day, but the sooner he adapted that survival mindset and the sooner he came to terms with the reality, the more chance he had of riding out this whole shitstorm, however long it lasted.

  He smiled at his daughter as reassuringly as he could. He knew right away he’d done a shitty job of looking reassuring, but whatever. “We’re gonna need a few supplies for however long this lasts. It’s our only choice.”

  “Our choice?” Ella said.

  Martin looked down then. The more time he spent with Ella, the more he was starting to realise that his whole idea of getting her back to her grandma—as noble as his intentions were—was dangerous. Especially if everywhere was going the same way as this place.

  Regardless. He didn’t want to think about what happened after he’d got his supplies. The time for planning that was when he had those supplies.

  Supplies that would come in handy on the road.

  And supplies that he could take back to Cynthia’s cabin.

  “Let’s just go shopping, hmm? Then we’ll think about what happens next.”

  Ella smiled. “My dad taking me shopping. I remember when you used to wheel me around sitting in the trolley chair like I was in a racing car.”

  Martin smiled at the memory. Ella’s little laugh getting louder as he whizzed her down the aisles, his daughter begging him to go faster. “It’s not exactly gonna be quite as exciting a shopping trip, I’m afraid. I—”

  And then he heard a shout in the distance. Saw a few young lads in black hoodies cycling around the car park, smashing windows on the cars stacked up in front of the store. It brought him crashing right back to reality.

  “Come on,” Martin said. “Let’s get this done with as quickly as possible.”

  He clambered down the muddy slope, onto the car park. He kept his head down. He knew he had to keep a low profile. He didn’t feel comfortable bringing Ella along with him. But at the same time, he didn’t want to leave her waiting either. It wasn’t safe for her out here. She was safest with him.

  Wow. He was actually admitting his daughter was safe with him. For the first time he could remember.

  He supposed that was progress.

  He reached the door to the supermarket. The automatic doors were at a halt, but the glass had been smashed. There was glass everywhere.

  And inside the dark supermarket, Martin heard echoes. Shouts. Footsteps squeaking against the floor.

  He looked at Ella. Swallowed a lump in his throat. “You stay close. You don’t leave my side. Okay?”

  She looked like she was going to make a smart comment for a moment.

  But then she just half-smiled. Nodded. Like she was realising the severity of the situation, too. Like she knew it wasn’t a joke.

  They looked back into the darkness of this store.

  Martin took a deep breath.

  Then he stepped inside.

  There was something eerie as hell about walking through a supermarket that was closed. He’d done it before a few years ago. He used to be a security guard in another lifetime, and that sometimes meant guarding empty properties over Christmas and other off-seasons.

  There was a ghostly feel to these places, that were usually so full of artificial light and life. A sense that someone could be looming around a corner, ready to jump out at any moment.

  But being in a supermarket in the dark at night and knowing there were other people in here?

  People who were growing agitated? People who were already growing desperate?

  That was a whole different matter altogether.

  “Stay close,” Martin whispered. “I know exactly what we need.”

  He moved past the aisles quickly. His and Ella’s shoes squeaked against the hard floor. He heard more people down the aisles he passed. Saw a few figures, all with their heads down, all grabbing whatever they could.

  The first thing he needed was a more appropriate rucksack. His and Ella’s bag would carry a few things, sure. But the problem was, Ella’s rucksack was too bright. Too garish. She needed something black. Something that wouldn’t stand out too much. And something sturdier, too.

  He stopped by t
he rucksacks. Heard feet shuffling beside him. Urgency building. “Take your pick.”

  Ella turned her nose up. “What? One of these? What’s wrong with my bag?”

  “It stands out too much,” Martin said. “Trust me. As much as I’m sure you want to show the world how much you love JPEGMAFIA or whoever the hell he or she is, you’re a walking advert for looters.”

  Ella sighed. She didn’t look impressed. But with a little pressure, she settled on a dark green bag, the nearest compromise.

  He grabbed some of the warmest, most insulated blankets—but ones that didn’t take up too much space. There were a few decent ones back at the cabin, but he needed some for the road, too. He didn’t know how long his journey with Ella was going to be. They needed to be prepared.

  He rushed on to the toiletries aisle, then. Grabbed a few essentials like baby wipes, dental floss, toothpaste, hand sanitiser, and toothbrushes. Couldn’t forget hygiene in the panic.

  The food was more simple. He needed a three-day supply for now, and then to find more along the way. It was important to go for high protein stuff that would provide them both with energy. Protein bars, granola, tinned tuna, peanut butter, and chicken. Ready meals. Stuff that he could throw on top of a fire and warm up if he had to. He knew how to start fires, at least. That part wasn’t a problem.

  But the classic? Rice and beans. Add cheese, and you’ve got a complete meal. Boring, but complete.

  Water was more interesting. The average person could survive weeks without food, but only three days without water. As handy as bottles were—and he’d grabbed a few—most people didn’t think about adequate filtration, turning any source into drinkable water. He grabbed a few purification tablets, but he knew a few methods for filtering in the wild. Boiling was the most obvious, but the water had to be clear for it to be effective.

  Another method was sedimentation. Particularly useful if faced with murky water. Leave your water for a while and let the particles drift to the bottom. Then, scoop the clean water from the top and boil. Not foolproof. But a method most overlooked.

  Hell. Most overlooked every method.

  He noticed more people scrambling down the aisle. Some of them scrambling for the wrong kinds of foods. Foods that wouldn’t last. Foods that wouldn’t provide enough nourishment.

  He pitied them. When the bulk of the supplies ran out, and they were forced to hunt for their food, they barely stood a chance.

  There were a few other things he grabbed. Some gloves, for when it got cold. A few painkillers, and some sun cream, because as shitty as the weather was in this country, you never knew when you might need it. He gathered some other medical stuff: burn gel, antibiotic ointment, antibacterial wipes. So many of these things still on the shelves.

  And although supplies were dwindling, he couldn’t believe how much of the true essentials—of the things that would come in handy long term—were still on the shelves.

  It was a relief that he could get them for himself, of course.

  But it was also scary.

  He rushed around to the next aisle. Grabbed some duct tape for if he needed to make any emergency repairs to clothing or whatever. And then a crowbar, which would double as a useful tool and a self-defence weapon.

  He remembered reading something about how quickly people would die in event of an EMP. Take away all the airlines collapsing from the sky. Take away all the people relying urgent medical attention. Take away everyone on critical care. The people in car accidents. Already a sky-high death toll.

  But then there was the impact of the lack of sanitation. There was the starvation. The dehydration. The fires. The looting. But worst of all, there was the lack of knowledge of those who did make it through the early days—if this indeed was what it damned well looked like.

  People weren’t prepared for a world where they didn’t have their animals chopped up and frozen for them. They didn’t know how to hunt. They didn’t know how to cook in the wild. They didn’t know a thing.

  Hell. Martin knew a thing or two, but even he didn’t know whether he’d cope. Reality was different to fiction.

  He stuffed a pack of cards into his rucksack and looked at Ella.

  She looked back at him. Smiling. Like there was a novelty to this. An enjoyment.

  Making up for lost years.

  “Pack of cards?” she said. “Really?”

  Martin shrugged. “You don’t know when you’re gonna get bored. Now come on. Let’s get...”

  He saw something up ahead, then.

  Three lads were standing there. All of them hooded. Looked late teens, maybe a little older.

  The three kids from the bikes outside.

  One of them holding a knife.

  “What you got there, mate?” the guy leading the group asked, taking a step towards him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Looks like you’ve got quite a bit of stuff there, mate. Why don’t you let me take a look?”

  Martin held on to his stuffed bug-out bag in the darkness of the supermarket and felt his heart sink. He’d been so close to gathering all the supplies he needed to survive for at least a little while. So close to getting out of here, Ella by his side.

  He should’ve known things wouldn’t be quite so simple. It was never bloody simple.

  “Hey,” the lad said. He perched on a bicycle, two other guys flanking him. It was hard to see their faces in the darkness and with the hoods pulled up over their heads. Those smarmy grins just about visible.

  But above anything, Martin could only focus on the knife clenched in the hand of that lad leading the way.

  And all he could feel was a sense of protectiveness building. For Ella more than for himself.

  “Are you listening, or are you deaf?”

  “You’re not having our stuff,” Martin said.

  The guy holding the knife took a few steps forward. His eyes became a little more visible in the changing light. Dark circles underneath. Narrow cheekbones. He looked like trouble. Like the sort of little shit who hung around the car park near Martin’s block of flats.

  That sparked an immediate dislike. He knew there was all that shit about not judging people on their appearances, etcetera, etcetera. But Martin knew shits like this. And he knew the only way to deal with them was to stand his ground.

  Because if he gave any ground to them, they’d only try and take more for their greedy, idiot selves.

  “We’re not having it, are we?” the lad said. He walked closer. His feet squeaked against the shop floor. It sounded sticky underfoot like something had spilled. “You know what that makes me think, pal?”

  “I don’t care what it makes you think,” Martin said. “You’re not having our stuff. There’s plenty here to go around. Find your own. Come on, Ella.”

  He tightened his grip on her cold, solid hand. Went to turn around to walk down the other side of the dark aisle. He had to be ready to bolt at any moment. He tried to mentally picture the way he’d come in here, the easiest way he could get out. There had to be a warehouse exit they could use if they had to. They had to be ready for anything.

  He went to walk down this aisle when he saw two more lads on bikes appear right at the end of the aisle.

  Blocking both ways.

  Martin stood still. He looked over his shoulder. The lad with the knife’s smile widened. Somewhere over to the right, Martin heard a shout—the sound of another scuffle. Every now and then, he wondered whether this could be real. How things could go so south so fast.

  But then people were being deprived of information. They were being deprived of any sort of order.

  It didn’t take much to send things tumbling out of control.

  “You can try and run as much as you want, mate,” the lad with the knife said. “There’s only one way this is ending right now. You let us have a look at what you’ve got there. And you tell us why it’s so precious.”

  Martin wanted to fight. If it were just him, maybe he would. Hell, he knew how to
. Bit rusty, but sure he could get back into it in no time.

  But then he looked at Ella. Saw the fear in her wide eyes. Whether he was comfortable with this or not, he had responsibilities to her. Responsibilities to look after her.

  He was her dad, after all.

  He looked back at the lad with the knife. His bike lay flat behind him, his two mates flanking it, smirks on their arsey, spoiled-brat little faces.

  Then he looked into the eyes of the lad with the knife.

  “Okay,” he said. “Take a look. Do whatever you’ve got to do.”

  The lad frowned. He lowered his knife, just a little. It was like he sensed something was wrong. Sensed this was a trap of some kind.

  Martin just had to keep himself steady. He had to maintain his cool.

  The lad lifted the knife, then. Pressed it right to Martin’s chin. Held it there so hard that Martin felt it cutting him, making him bleed.

  “Drop the bag,” he said.

  And then he did something that made Martin’s skin crawl.

  He turned his attention to Ella.

  Smiled at her, those smelly yellow teeth on show.

  “Don’t worry, babe. This’ll all be over soon. We’ll get along real well, too. We’ll look after you better than this guy—”

  It happened so quickly.

  Martin pulled back his head and smacked the guy in the nose with the full force of his forehead.

  The guy tumbled back, clearly caught off guard. Fell back, slammed against the hard floor of the supermarket with a crack.

  He lay there for a few seconds. Eyes wide. Twitching. Frothing at the mouth. Shaking violently. Blood pooled around the back of his head. Martin must’ve hit him really hard. Hell, he knew he had. His forehead ached like mad for a start.

  He looked at the lad as he lay there. The knife had fallen from his grip. He wanted to do something for him. Help him. ’Cause as much as a shit as he was, no one deserved to die.

  But then he saw one of the lad’s friends lunge for that knife.