Chris’ anger spiked, filling her to the brim. It coursed through her veins, and she pushed past Maggie to retrieve the axe. It shook in her grip and she shouted, “Why does no one understand?”
Maggie flinched, taking two steps back.
“Why does no one understand that it’s us or them? There isn’t enough food for everyone. I thought you knew that. There isn’t enough medicine. Adam will die without these tablets, and if it’s between Adam and a random stranger in a pharmacy, I will always choose Adam. I will always choose my own family.” Chris panted, her heart pounding in her chest. “Is that so hard to understand? Are you going to tell Adam that you valued Liam’s life more than his?”
“It’s not about valuing one life over another,” Maggie said. “You could have asked him to go in the back and bring out the antibiotics if you were so worried that he was going to attack me. You could have asked him to open his suitcase and checked it yourself. You could have used your pepper spray instead of your axe.”
Chris had to admit that Maggie had a point there. She lowered her axe, inhaling deeply. People like Liam had to die. “You don’t know what it’s like out there. You’ve been safe at the farm. Tom and I…we’ve been attacked. People like Liam are dangerous. They—”
Maggie’s face flushed. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? It’s not about Liam or Adam. It’s about you. You decided he needed punishing. You wanted to be his executioner.” Maggie backed away, retreating towards the front of the pharmacy. “Tom’s words suddenly make a lot more sense.”
“Tom’s words? What did he say?”
“That you’re dangerous. That you would do anything to keep yourself safe. We’re good enough right now, me and my family, but not for long. We’ll never know when you decide that it’s us or you. And frankly, I don’t want someone like you in my home.”
Chris swallowed. How dare Tom turn on her like that? She lifted her free hand in a deescalating gesture. “I would never do that. I’m just trying to save Adam.”
“You’re trying to save yourself, and you’re trying to make yourself look good because you need a place to stay.”
No. No. Not again. She’d promised Tom. She’d promised Tom that she would try to fit in. That there would be no more deaths.
A pang of loneliness seized her chest. Why did nobody understand that she only did what she had to do?
Mike had to die. John had to die. And so did Liam.
Frustration choked her, and she let out a scream, hoping the anger would drain out of her, hoping she would deflate and appear less threatening.
Hoping Maggie would understand. Would understand that Chris was just trying to help.
But Maggie didn’t understand. “Is that why Tom blames you for his father’s death? Did you kill Lester like you killed Liam?”
Chris stared at Maggie for a long moment before whispering, “No.”
“Tom is welcome to stay, of course, but I don’t think—”
“Look,” Chris pleaded. “These are the antibiotics Adam needs. We came here for him. You knew about the risks. That’s why you carry a carving knife in your backpack.”
Maggie scrambled over the remains of the shopfront window to get outside.
“I’m Tom’s mother. You have to let me stay. I’m a nurse and—” Chris stopped, her stomach sinking. Maggie wasn’t stopping. She’d go home and tell everyone about Liam.
Remember what you promised.
They wouldn’t let her stay. They’d throw her out.
Chris raised her hand. “Wait.”
But Maggie broke into a run. Strands of grey hair blew in the wind. She sprinted as fast as she could, but she wasn’t fast. She was approaching sixty and she ran a farm, not marathons.
Chris caught up with her and grabbed her elbow. “Maggie!” Maggie yelped, pulling back her arm, but Chris’ grip was strong. “Maggie, please listen to me.”
“Let go of me.” Maggie screamed. “Help!”
The woman screeched and flailed her arms to free herself. Chris dropped her hand. Spittle flew from Maggie’s mouth, her eyes wide with fear.
Chris raised the axe, but something held her back.
Tom.
No more killing. She’d promised her son.
Maggie dropped to her knees, panting. She clutched at her chest and sobbed. “Please don’t hurt me. They need me at the farm.”
“Tom has told you that I’m dangerous.”
“He’s riddled with grief. We can sort this out. We can talk about this.”
But Chris knew that Maggie didn’t mean it. The words tumbling from her mouth were lies. Lies to save her life.
“Please stop,” Chris mumbled. “You’re leaving me no other choice.” She smashed the blunt end of the axe over the back of Maggie’s head, swinging the blade like an executioner.
Maggie collapsed immediately.
The axe clattered to the ground.
Promise.
How could she keep her promise if nobody understood what needed to be done?
Chris sank to her knees, the anger leaving her. She placed her fingers below Maggie’s nose and waited.
Nothing.
She’d killed for the second time that day. Snuffed out another life. Just like that. Only hours after the woman had held her hand, hugged her, told her everything would be all right.
But nothing was all right.
The voices inside her mind were right.
She was a monster.
She slowly stood, brushing the dirt from her trousers. The streets were empty, nobody had rushed to Maggie’s aid.
Chris wondered if the village had been abandoned, or if people simply cowered at home in fear. She walked back to the pharmacy and stepped over the remains of the window. She needed to come up with a story, one that people back at the farm would believe.
Especially Tom.
Taking deep breaths, she considered her options. She was a nurse and helped people. She could still save Adam and be the hero. Whatever it took, she’d make them believe her, make them see her for the good person she was.
She had to wreck the pharmacy and make it look as if it had been burgled, and she and Maggie had been caught in the middle of a violent robbery. Chris opened every drawer, ripped packaging, scattered it across the floor. She littered the ground with rubbish.
She’d wait until the late afternoon before returning to the farm and tell them she’d been knocked out cold.
Now came the hardest part.
Her story had to be convincing.
Chris bent over and picked up a piece of broken glass. Closing her eyes, she firmly pressed the shard against her cheek. She grimaced as she cut herself, warm blood trickling down her face. Dropping the glass, she approached the counter.
A cut wasn’t enough.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she smashed her head against the corner. Her nose crunched. Pain exploded in her face, blood spurting from her nose, but Chris laughed.
Now that the anger had gone, all she was left with was pain.
But pain was better than losing Tom.
She smeared the blood across her face, then wiped her hands on her trousers.
Thinking quickly, she filled two bags with medicine and stashed them in the recycling bin outside. They were hidden away in an alley that led to a car park—unlikely to be used. Hopefully, she could come back for them when supplies ran low.
By the time she’d covered the bags with cardboard and returned to the pharmacy, the blood on her face was beginning to crust.
She pocketed one box of antibiotics, enough for a week-long course. It had to be enough. The robbery wouldn’t be believable if she brought home a copious amount of medicine.
Satisfied that the place looked convincingly looted, she sat down with her back against the counter. Her nose was rapidly swelling up. She wet her lips and tasted copper.
The sun was high in the sky; it couldn’t be much later than noon. She turned to Liam’s body and smiled. “Looks like I’ll
be keeping you company for a few hours.”
Was Tom worried about her? Would he come looking for her if she didn’t return soon?
Chris opened a bottle of water and sipped it slowly. She couldn’t leave it too late and risk the walk back in total darkness. Leaning her head against the counter, she closed her eyes and waited.
By the time she got to her feet, the sky had turned a vivid purple, but the sun was still warm. She slowly stretched her stiff knees before leaving the pharmacy. Her cheek throbbed and she held her face, making her way along the street, back towards the farm.
Her limp was real as the dirt track came into view. She took a right and flinched when she saw a man jogging towards her. Reaching for her pepper spray, she stopped, waiting for him to approach.
“Chris? Is that you?”
Chris squinted, confused. Who was he? Why did he know her name?
“It’s Harry? From the farm. Are you all right?”
She let out a relieved sob. “Harry! Thank God. We were—” Chris brought her hands to her face. This was it. If she lied now, she’d become what Tom already thought she was.
A monster. There’d be no turning back.
And if her son ever found out what had happened to Maggie, he’d never believe that she hadn’t hurt Lester as well.
This was it. The moment she’d choose her future.
The moment that decided who she was. “We were…we were attacked.”
“Where’s Maggie?”
“She’s—” Chris took a deep breath. “We were attacked by a group of thugs. Ron was helping me find antibiotics when—” She sniffled. “They killed him, and then they killed Maggie. I tried to help her, but one of them knocked me out. When I woke up, they were gone. They must have thought I was dead as well. I tried to find the farm, but I kept getting lost and…”
Harry placed his hands on her shoulders. “Take deep breaths, Chris. You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
“I don’t like this world. I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.” Chris sobbed. “I should have gone alone, but Maggie insisted. She said I’d get lost. If she hadn’t come, she’d still be—”
Harry awkwardly patted her arm. “And you’d be dead instead, and that would mean Adam would die. Did you…I’m sorry to sound insensitive, but did you find any antibiotics?”
Chris nodded. “I put a box into my pocket before they attacked.”
“Do you need help walking?” Harry asked, offering her his arm.
Chris took it and gave a small smile. “Thank you.”
The farmhouse appeared in the distance, and the tension fell from Chris’ shoulders. Relieved, she hobbled along. The hardest part was over. Harry had believed her.
Spike ran towards them and growled, his hackles raised.
“Good boy, Spike,” Harry said, scratching behind his ear. “But it’s just us.”
The door burst open. “Chris! Thank God! Adam’s worse.” Emily rushed outside. “You have to look in on—” Noticing Chris’ dishevelled state, Emily gasped. She turned, peering over Harry’s shoulder into the distance. “Is Maggie…” she trailed off, her gaze flicking back to Chris. “Oh no. You’re hurt.” She sank onto the doorstep as it dawned on her that the news couldn’t possibly be good, all colour draining from her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands.
“You’re back. We were getting worried,” Tom said, appearing behind Emily. Noticing her wounds, he frowned. “Are you all right? What’s happened? Where’s Maggie?” He pushed past Emily and gingerly touched Chris’ face.
She felt a wave of love surge through her at his touch. “We were attacked,” she whispered, allowing her voice to crack. She held Tom’s gaze, didn’t blink. He had to believe her.
“I found her down the path completely beaten up and shaking,” Harry explained. “Let’s get her inside.”
“I’m so sorry,” Chris whispered, her voice breaking. She handed Tom the antibiotics. “Give Adam two tablets every six hours.”
Without questioning anything she’d said, Tom took them and raced back inside.
Harry helped Emily back to her feet and kissed the top of her head. “It’ll be okay.” He helped Chris into the kitchen. Emily handed her a cup of lukewarm tea and gestured for her to sit down.
Chris closed her eyes and, for a moment, enjoyed everybody fussing over her. They handed her towels, disinfectant wipes, helped her clean her cuts and wounds.
She sipped her cup of tea.
Emily even helped her untangle the knots in her hair.
“Mrs. Hughes?” James interrupted, stepping into the kitchen. “Tom has given Adam the first tablet like you said, but he’s getting worse. He doesn’t recognise me. Tom is trying to cool him down.”
Chris didn’t want to move. She was warm, comfortable and her pain was easing. But she had to. She got to her feet with difficulty and followed James upstairs.
She entered the room and hobbled to Adam’s bed. He grabbed Chris’ hand, his skin hot to the touch, his eyes darting around the room. “Mum?”
“It’s Chris,” she replied, patting the back of his hand. She turned to Harry who had followed her upstairs. “Any word from Charlotte?”
“No.”
Adam was burning up, his face red and hot, his eyes glassy. They rolled back into his head and he twitched, seizing.
Chris covered his forehead with a wet towel. “He needs a doctor. A surgeon. His appendix is about to burst. He needs surgery.”
“What can you do?” Harry asked.
“Nothing,” Chris said. “I’m just a nurse.”
Tom scowled. “But couldn’t you try—”
“No.” Chris shook her head, her eyes pleading with her son. “You don’t understand. He’ll die if I cut him open. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
But Tom wasn’t listening. “Mum, please. You said he’d die if you didn’t.”
James poked out his bottom lip. “Mrs. Hughes?”
Chris swayed, feeling dizzy. There were too many people in the room. Everyone was expecting her to help. They didn’t understand that she couldn’t. That she wasn’t a doctor.
“We understand that Adam might not make it, Chris,” Emily said. “But you’re the only one who knows what’s going on. Even if you’re not a surgeon, you know more than we do. Please. You have to try.”
Chris swallowed. They didn’t understand. There was no trying. Adam wouldn’t make it. No matter what she did, Chris wouldn’t be a hero.
It had all been for nothing.
Adam would die either way.
15
Anna pedalled as fast as she could. She didn’t want to stop until they were several miles away from their father’s house, until she’d put as much distance between herself and her father’s body as her wounds would allow her.
Her sister rode alongside her, a weak smile on her lips. Anna’s heart was pounding, sweat running down her back. Every breath was a struggle.
“Slow down.”
“What…if they’re…following us?” Anna panted.
Sarah reached out and briefly touched her sister’s arm. “Anna? It’s over. You can slow down.”
But she couldn’t slow down.
It was as if the horror of the last twenty-four hours had turned into a monstrous creature mercilessly hunting her. She could almost feel its breath hitting her neck, could almost taste its hunger, and she knew that if she slowed down or turned around, it would devour her whole.
She pedalled harder, dodging abandoned cars and the piles of rubbish littering the street. There was no trace of the army, and the hamlet seemed deserted.
Someone had used mattresses, wardrobes and desks to build a makeshift barricade along a row of houses. Pans dangled from strings; a rudimentary attempt at making a basic intruder alarm system.
A woman peered around one of the mattresses, a bow and arrow at the ready. Behind her, a man in uniform was smoking a cigarette.
The woman lifted her hand as if to wave, but Anna didn’t allow herse
lf to slow down.
Oreo ran beside her and perked up his ears.
“I thought you hated running,” Anna muttered. Oreo loved chasing his ball for hours at a time, but whenever Anna put on running shoes, he slinked off to sleep.
Sarah flashed her a grin. “That’s because you run too slowly.”
Anna ignored her and pedalled even faster. Her heart pounded like a hammer against her ribcage, and she felt her bruised back twinge with every pedal stroke.
“Anna?” Sarah’s face was flushed.
Anna peered back over her shoulder.
There was no one there. Only the empty road.
There is no monster, she told herself. She was safe. Their father was dead—he could no longer hurt her, could no longer turn her sister against her.
I’m safe.
Anna slowed down, then stopped. Inhaling deeply, she wiped the sweat from her face. Sarah pulled up next to her and silently placed her hand on Anna’s shoulder.
“I’m not sad that he’s dead,” Anna said after a moment of silence.
“I didn’t think you’d be.”
“Isn’t that awful?”
Sarah shook her head.
Half an hour later, they were cycling along the M11, peering into abandoned cars as they rode past. Most of the windscreens had been shattered, and the boots stood open.
It was noon by the time they decided to have a proper rest. Anna touched the tarmac with her hand and winced. “It’s too hot for Oreo’s paws.”
They sat down at the edge of the road, finding shade behind a large truck. Anna opened a tin of baked beans for Sarah and herself before giving Oreo his kibble.
Sarah ate a mouthful of cold beans and grimaced. “Do you know Bob’s address?”
“I met him on the A120. He said he walked the same twenty miles every day, setting traps for rabbits. We’ll have to wait for him.”
“I’m still not convinced—”
“He’s not a psychopath. You’ll see.”
It took them another hour to reach the spot where Anna had come off the road and tried to cut through the fields. She remembered the dead bodies she’d stumbled over and winced. Smoke billowed from a farmhouse chimney in the distance.
Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 2 | Darkness Falling Page 13
