“She’s the receptionist from the doctor’s office?” Anna asked, frowning.
Sarah nodded. “I bet she’s been going through the list of diabetes patients at the doctor’s surgery to steal their insulin.” She glowered at Nellie. “Aren’t you?”
Anna blinked. She’d known that something was wrong with Nellie, but she hadn’t expected for her to be this brazen. “How many people have you already robbed?”
Nellie’s demeanour shifted. She dropped her fake smile and straightened her back, giving Sarah a disdainful look. “How is that any of your business?” Her voice had grown cold, calculated. With her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, she took a step towards the bed. “Stop wasting insulin, Sarah. Frank’s a dead man anyway. Unless you can get him to a hospital, of course.” She snickered as if she’d just told an incredibly funny joke.
Anna only had one question: was Gus armed? Her eyes searched for Sarah’s gun, and her heart sank as she remembered how her sister had taken it off after Nellie had fainted and left it on the bedside table in the other room.
She fumbled with the straw in her hands, trying to buy time. “But why stay here? Why not just take the insulin and move on? Why hide it in the kitchen?”
“We needed a place to stay for a few nights,” Gus said with a shrug, stepping into the room. “Nellie told you to drop the pen.”
“Sarah! Jab him again.”
Sarah swiftly jabbed Frank’s belly a second time. Anna watched helplessly as Gus stalked towards them, her gaze darting around the room, looking for something she could use to defend herself.
Gus wasn’t armed, but he was almost six feet tall, and built like a rugby player.
Oreo barked once, and Gus stopped at the foot of the bed. “Give me the FlexPen.”
“No,” Sarah said calmly, refusing to leave their father’s side.
Anna thought of ways this could play out, of ways to get out of the room. She could jump over the bed, run to her old bedroom and grab the pistol.
The second gun was in her sister’s backpack. Anna hadn’t been paying attention when Sarah had put it down upon entering the house and didn’t know where it was.
They’d let their guard down too soon.
She’d fully expected walking into a monster’s lair, but once she’d seen the monster passed out, she’d made the mistake of thinking they were safe.
And they weren’t.
If Anna wanted to survive, she had to remember that they’d never be safe again.
6
Chris shuffled along the path, dragging her feet. Her footing unsteady, she held onto bushes whenever her knees buckled.
It was early afternoon and puffy, white clouds littered the sky overhead. A dark cloud rising like a fortress on the horizon threatened rain.
Tom walked ahead, and she suppressed the urge to grab his hand. He hadn’t said a word in over half an hour.
Her head thumped, and her eyes refused to focus, her surroundings reduced to a blur. Chris hadn’t been sick since she’d woken up, and the headache was easing. She was no longer worried about a brain bleed, but she knew the concussion would slow her down for days, and she was in desperate need of more rest.
Hopefully, James’ family had room for them. It would be disastrous if they didn’t.
She didn’t know where else to take Tom.
There was her brother Stuart, of course. But—
No. She’d have to insist on James’ family making room. Chris didn’t know Tony very well, but she didn’t think James’ father was someone who would turn away people in need of help.
Loneliness overcame her. Chris took a deep breath and wrapped trembling arms around her torso. Lester had been her pillar of strength. The only person who had believed in her, had supported her no matter what she did or said, and he was gone.
A noise startled her, but it was only a duck landing in the water. Her hand found the cricket bat strapped to her backpack. Tom had dunked it into the river, letting the water wash away the blood before returning it to her, but she knew that the stranger’s blood had irreversibly stained it red.
The July sun was unforgiving, and Chris squinted, shielding her eyes with her hand. The blinding light made the concussion worse. She couldn’t wait to close the curtains and pull a duvet over her head.
Chris stopped, retrieved a shirt from her bag and tied it around her head, turning it into a makeshift hat.
At thirty-nine, she was truly alone. She had nowhere to go and depended on Tom’s friends for shelter.
Where had she gone wrong?
Chris sighed. Her parents had died in a car accident when she was five and both her grandmother and her older brother, Stuart, had blamed her for it.
It should have been you. Not Mum and Dad. You. Stuart’s voice sounded particularly cruel in her mind.
It hadn’t been Chris’ fault that she’d emerged from the wreck without a scratch. Or that her father had lost control over the car.
She hadn’t poured his wine at lunch.
And still, they’d blamed her.
Stuart was nine years older than her. After the accident, he’d had no one to blame. No one to shout at. And the grief had eaten away at him like rust through an old car.
Nobody will ever love you, Chris. And she’d believed it. Until she met Lester.
Now he was gone—and her son blamed her for it. Blamed her for his death. Thought she’d killed him.
As if history was somehow repeating itself.
Why did everyone always blame her when things went wrong?
What was it about her that—
Chris stumbled but caught herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth against the searing pain in her head, wishing for it to subside. “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”
Tom didn’t look at her. He stared at his map instead, frowning.
He’d found her covered in Lester’s blood. And then Anna had made him doubt Chris even more.
It didn’t help, of course, that he’d witnessed her killing Mike.
The bloodied cricket bat flashed through her mind.
And the stranger earlier today.
Chris bit her lip. The voices in her head was growing louder.
You’re a monster, and Tom knows it.
No—
Admit that you enjo—
No!
Anger coursed through her, and a sour taste coated her tongue. Chris closed her eyes, taking deep breaths.
“We should be there soon. Do you need more rest? Do you need to sit down?”
Chris shook her head. “I can sleep once we’re there. It’s not safe out here.” She tested her memory as if it were a mantra. The Prime Minister’s name. The current year. The name of her hometown.
Her last name. Lester’s birthday.
Chris followed Tom, dragging herself along and mumbling the answers to herself. At least he’d found some compassion for her and slowed down.
What if—
Chris’ breath hitched. What if James’ family had the room but didn’t actually want them there? What if they didn’t trust them—her?
“Tom?” Chris hesitated, considering her words. She waited for him to turn around and look at her, but he didn’t.
He slowed down but didn’t stop. “Hm?” He didn’t turn his head.
“Don’t tell James about what happened—” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “Don’t tell him about Dad, or about Anna. And you know, just now, that couple…” Her voice trailed off as she stared into the river.
His head whipped around in her direction. “Why not?” He narrowed his eyes, his stare filling her stomach with ice.
“We need them to trust us.”
He scoffed, then sneered at her. “I thought you had done the right thing. Isn’t that what you said?” Conflicting emotions flitted across his face.
Chris nodded. “I did the right thing.”
She had. Hadn’t she?
She caressed the tender lump on the back of her head.
“Then why wouldn’t they trust us? Besides, James will ask after Dad.”
“People are afraid of death. We don’t want them to look at us and think of death.” Chris clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. “I just want a clean slate. A fresh start.”
“I don’t believe you.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why can’t you admit that you made a mistake?”
Tears stung her eyes. “I didn’t.”
“I’m not sure I want you near my friend,” Tom said coldly. “You’re right. Death follows you, but that’s because you go looking for it.”
“That’s not true,” Chris whispered. “Tom, I love you. I did this for us.”
“Don’t tell me you’re killing people for me,” he spat. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt Anna and look what you did. And that woman earlier? I was trying to save her.” He was crying now, and Chris’s stomach dropped as she realised that her son was wracked with guilt.
“I’m sorry, but we have to be prepared to—”
“No. I’m done. I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.” He shouldered his backpack and turned to walk away.
“Tom!” Chris dropped to her knees. “Please don’t do this.”
He hesitated, turned back to look at her.
Spittle dangled from her chin, and she wiped her face. “Please, Tom. I’m sorry. You’re right. No more killing.”
Tom’s stare softened, and he nodded slowly. “Fine.” He offered her his arm, and she took it. “But you have to promise that you won’t meddle. Don’t propose stealing from warehouses. We hunker down and wait. Like you said we would. Before…before Dad.”
Chris smiled at him. “I promise.”
He squeezed her arm, and together they continued along the river.
An hour later, they left the river path and reached a low fence.
“We’re here.” Tom let go of her arm. “Look, there’s the farmhouse over there.”
A public footpath ran along the outside of the fence, and in the distance, Chris could see bushes lining the dirt track leading to the farm. “Shouldn’t we stay on the path?”
“It’ll take us another twenty minutes or so if we take the long way around. Don’t worry. There are only sheep behind this fence.”
The fence came up to her waist, but Chris wasn’t sure she could get over it. The lower rails were made of barbed wire to keep the sheep in.
He helped her take off her bag and threw it over the fence before helping her climb over. Her trousers got caught in the barbed wire and she reached down to free herself.
She dropped to her feet on the other side, the lush grass softening her fall. Her stomach churned at the sudden movement, and she heaved but nothing came up.
Tom followed right behind her and picked up their bags.
A shadow moved in the periphery of her vision. Chris spun, and dizziness washed over her. She stumbled, vomiting bile.
“Mum!”
Chris looked up just in time to see a German Shepherd running towards them, teeth bared in a loud snarl.
Tom dropped the bags and stepped between Chris and the dog, raising his left arm to protect his head and neck like his father had taught him.
Chris trembled, wiping her chin, her eyes never leaving the large dog. Of course a farmhouse would be guarded by dogs. How could she have been so stupid and climbed over somebody’s fence?
The dog darted forward in a mock attack, growling.
“It’s okay, boy,” Tom whispered, his voice shaking. “Are you a boy? You’re doing great. You’re protecting the farm.” Tom moved slowly, backing away towards the fence. “See? I’m not a threat. I’m leaving.”
The dog snarled, his tail pointing at the sky, the hairs on its neck standing on end. It barked loudly, as if telling them to leave.
“Don’t you know the dog?” Chris squeaked. “You basically live here.”
Tom shook his head. “He’s new. Never seen him before. James has a chocolate lab. You must remember Chestnut?”
This wasn’t James’s dog? Chris crawled to her bag and removed the bat, gripping it with both hands. The beast in front of them definitely wasn’t a Labrador. Had strangers taken over the farm?
Drool dripped from the shepherd’s mouth as it circled them, a loud grumble coming from its chest. The dog came to a halt with its lips pulled back, white teeth glinting in the afternoon sun.
“Can you make it back over the fence without my help?” Tom asked without taking his eyes off the dog. “I don’t think it’ll follow us. It just wants us off the property.”
Chris crawled to her feet with the help of the bat. “I don’t think so. I can barely stand.”
“His barking will alert people,” Tom said. “We could wait. If we stand very still—”
She swayed. Fear coursed through her, and the bat trembled in her grip. “Leave your bag, jump over the fence and run as fast as you can. If you’re right, the dog will let you go and you can—”
His eyes were wide with panic. “It’ll take me too long. I have to go all the way around.”
“I don’t see any other way. If you try to cut through the field, it’ll definitely attack.”
The dog continued circling them, and they turned along with it. It barked incessantly, its snarls becoming more and more menacing.
“I can help you climb over the fence, Mum.”
“Go. Now.”
Tom turned and ran towards the fence. The dog let out an urgent bark and lunged. Chris swung her bat but missed, wincing as she heard teeth snap shut. Her heart in her throat, she watched the German Shepherd pull on Tom’s jeans leg. He kicked at it, driving his heel into the dog’s nose.
A surprised yelp was followed by the sound of jeans tearing. Tom managed to clamber over the fence and dropped into the dirt on the other side.
Chris threw a bag at the dog and it turned towards her with its lips pulled back.
She raised the bat.
The dog lunged.
A shrill whistle sounded through the air. Chris’ head snapped towards the noise. A figure emerged from near the farm, holding a shotgun. “Spike! Here!”
The dog came to an abrupt halt and tilted its head in the direction of the farm.
Another whistle.
The dog gave one more bark, then turned and ran back towards the house.
Tom had sprinted along the fence and was already near the dirt track leading to the main house when suddenly he stopped and yelled, “James? James! It’s me.”
“That’s Tom.” Behind the man with the shotgun, a tall, lanky boy with ginger hair emerged, waving and sporting a huge grin.
The dog sat down next to the man with the shotgun.
James had grown since Chris had last seen him a few months back. The boys preferred playing on the farm, preferred the freedom Tony offered his son.
Tom scrambled back over the fence, raced up the grounds past errant sheep and met James halfway, wrapping his arms around his friend. The two boys hugged, not letting go of each other.
Spike let out another bark—more friendly this time, his tail wagging.
Chris’ heart warmed taking in the view. They’d made it.
James turned to the man and shouted something. The man waved at Chris, and as he took a few steps closer, she realised it wasn’t Tony. “Don’t worry, Spike won’t hurt you now. Do you need help with your bags?”
Chris shook her head, and he went back inside. Relieved, she collected the bags from the ground. She’d been foolish for worrying. James was Tom’s best friend. Of course his family would make space for them.
And if they didn’t, she’d simply have to insist.
7
Despite the palpable tension in the room, Frank was drinking now, sucking greedily on the straw. Some of the water trickled down his chin, dripping onto the white sheets, but he swallowed most of it, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“You’re wasting your time.” Gus moved slowly closer like a predator, his eyes glued to his pr
ey.
Sarah stood next to the bed, her hand resting on Frank’s pillow. Her features were relaxed as she watched Gus approach, and only her fingers clutching the fabric next to her father’s grey hair gave away her fear.
“You have four boxes of insulin,” Anna said, fear seeping into her voice. “Take it and leave.”
Gus sneered. Oreo barked at him, but when Gus made a motion as if to kick him, he cowered and whined.
“Don’t you dare kick my dog,” Anna snapped, lowering the bottle she was holding.
Gus reached behind him and pulled a pistol from his belt. Anna’s stomach sank. “Thank you for this lovely gift.” A cold smile played on his lips, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.
Frank groaned, his hand searching the duvet for something. His eyes darted around the room, unfocused. Confusion spread across his face. He licked his lips and moaned, pushing himself up on his elbows in an attempt to sit up. “Wa—”
The sickly smell coming from the bed made Anna gag.
“He needs more insulin,” Sarah pleaded, still holding the pen. “And he needs water.”
Gus raised the firearm and aimed it at Sarah. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. Drop the pen.”
“Wa—” Frank moaned again. Saliva trickled down his chin. “Water…” His voice was so faint, Anna could barely make out the word. A thin film of sweat covered his pale skin.
Anna lifted the bottle, but Gus levelled the gun at her.
“Please,” Sarah pleaded. “At least let her give him some more water.”
Behind Gus, Nellie shook her head, her hands resting on the bed frame. “Stop wasting resources on him.”
“Resources?” Anna scoffed. “How can you be this cold?” But a part of her agreed with Nellie. Frank was dying. Even if they managed to bring his sugar levels under control, it would only be a matter of time before they ran out of insulin.
Why waste precious—
We can’t think like that.
Sarah scowled. “How can you abuse your job like that? You’re bound to data protection. This will—”
“What?” Nellie sneered. “Get me fired?” A huff filled with pure contempt escaped Nellie’s mouth, and the hairs on the back of Anna’s neck rose. The woman was looking down on them, had deemed them worthless. “I’m taking care of my husband. The hospital and surrounding pharmacies are all out of insulin. I refuse to let him die. You would do the same if you were in my situ—”
Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 2 | Darkness Falling Page 6
