Nights of Fire: An EMP Survival Thriller (Blackout & Burn Book 2)

by Rebecca Fernfield

  As he steps out of the bathroom and into the narrow hallway he stops. Clarissa.

  “Sorry,” he says as she smiles up at him.

  “No, it’s OK. You didn’t startle me and you’re not in the way. I thought …” she looks down at the pile of fabric in her arms. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice that … well, we all need to freshen up, so I thought that perhaps you’d appreciate these,” she finishes and holds up a pile of neatly folded clothes.

  Bill looks down – jeans and a check shirt, a pair of clean socks and some underpants.

  He reaches to take them.

  “They were my husband’s.”

  “Oh,” he says and withdraws his hand.

  “No, it’s OK. He would want you to have them. I want you to have them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Bill,” she says with a smile that speaks of untold sadness. “Reece, my husband, is no longer with us, but he was a good man, and he’d want you to have them, I know he would.”

  “Then, thank you.”

  Chapter 21

  Bill looks at himself in the jeans and blue and red check shirt. They’re a little big for him, but other than that they fit well. A knock comes on the bathroom door.

  “Everything alright in there?”

  Clarissa.

  “Yes,” he replies and opens the door.

  Her eyes widen as she takes him in.

  “I … you look so …”

  “Sorry, I’ll take them off—if they’re upsetting you!”

  “No, no. Don’t take them off. You look good,” she says with a smile and looks him up and down. “I couldn’t tell that you’d trimmed your beard when you were in the hallway—it was dark.”

  “Oh.”

  She nods and her eyes sparkle. He wants to reach forward and kiss her. He will.

  “Clarissa,” he says and catches her hand. She stares back at him and places her hand on his waist. A thrill runs through his body and burns deep. He sighs and pulls her to him. She tilts her chin. He waits, savouring the moment, enjoying the feel of her back beneath his fingers. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted, she waits. He lowers his lips to hers and pulls her to him. Her lips are soft. She pulls him to her with passion. Is this really happening? He feels alive for the first time in months, long hard months where he’d thought his life was over, where he thought he’d lost himself forever.

  A door downstairs opens. “Clarissa!”

  Andy!

  He pulls back, irked by the man’s voice, not wanting their moment to be discovered, but she holds him, urges him back and pushes her lips to his.

  “Clarissa!” the man shouts.

  “Bill, I-”

  “You’ve been summoned,” Bill says as he pulls away. He can’t keep the annoyance from his voice.

  “He can wait a moment.”

  “I thought you two had a thing going on.”

  “Well, kind of-”

  “Clarissa!”

  “You’d better go.”

  “Clarissa!” he calls again, this time louder.

  “Yes, I had, or he’ll never shut up.”

  He reaches for her hand as she turns away. She holds his for a second, nods, smiles then steps to him and tilts her chin. He bends to her lips and loses himself there for another moment. They promise an ecstasy that he can’t resist and he pulls her to him with passion, feeling himself harden. If she doesn’t go now … And then she’s gone and he’s left with a yearning that burns so intensely that it hurts. He stares after her as she walks down the corridor to the top of the stairs then disappears to the rooms below. What just happened? You were blown away, that’s what. He takes a moment to recover, for his passion to ebb, then follows Clarissa downstairs and into the kitchen.

  “Wow!” Clare says as he steps into the room.

  “Oh!” Jessie says as she turns to look.

  All eyes on him, he’s self-consciousness, but decides to brazen it out.

  “Thor!” Jessie exclaims.

  “Bit random!” Bill retorts trying to keep a straight face.

  “You look great, Bill,” Clare continues.

  “He looks like-”

  “Thor!”

  “Chris-”

  “Hemsworth!”

  Stella giggles and nudges Clare.

  He grasps his chin and rubs at what remains of his beard. “I scrub up well, I guess,” he says with a laugh.

  “You sure do,” Clarissa replies.

  He gives her an appreciative smile and his heart thuds a little harder.

  Andy shuffles next to her and Bill catches the scowl that flits across his face before he smirks. “Well, it’s certainly an improvement and at least you’ll not stink the place out now.”

  “Andy!” Clarissa chides.

  Bill laughs. If Andy had said that before he’d taken a bath he’d have lamped him and then felt embarrassed. As it was—after that kiss with Clarissa—he couldn’t care less. Nothing was going to pull him down from his cloud.

  A groan from the living room breaks through the chatter.

  “I’ll go,” offers Clare and disappears to tend to Michael.

  Perhaps she’d found her vocation? A navy medic perhaps. He’d talk to her later.

  Alex turns from the counter, tin opener in hand. “Soup’ll be ready in a minute.” On the table is an array of crackers and empty soup bowls. In the centre is a bowl with dried fruits and nuts. Bill is suddenly ravenous.

  “Sorry, it’s only tinned,” Jessie apologises. “They’re just the emergency rations I have for when the shit hits the fan. We don’t have any fresh vegetables or meat.”

  “It is a feast, Jessie,” Viktoria adds.

  “Sure is,” Bill replies as he pulls up a chair.

  Late afternoon sun streams in through the window and dust dances in the air, eddying in the warm current and he sits mesmerised, enjoying the warmth in the kitchen that has nothing to do with the sun or the logs burning in the stove.

  Uri steps into the room and Bill sits up, suddenly alert. He’d almost forgotten about him.

  The huge blond stands next to his wife, strokes his daughter’s hair and chatters to her in Russian. Viktoria passes her across and he takes the child in his arms, cradling her as she clings to him. They look like the perfect family – handsome husband, gorgeous wife, beautiful daughter. Bill isn’t fooled.

  “Uri.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re going into town after the meal. I want you to come with us.”

  “Certainly. I’ll come.”

  “Good.”

  Bill makes no explanation as to why he wants Uri to be there and no one questions his decision. He looks at Uri without smiling and nods. They both know, however, exactly why Uri has to come along—it is the only way Bill has to be sure that Clarissa is safe.

  Chapter 22

  It irked Uri that Bill didn’t trust him, but then why should he. It was only a day ago that he’d tried to kill Clarissa. What he’d never be able to make them understand was that it was only a job—not quite a contract, not so cut and dried as the exchange of monies, but a job all the same. He had no moral qualms as to whether it was right or not and certainly no compulsion to kill—he wasn’t that kind of monster. But now that he’d met Clarissa it wasn’t so simple, although if he had to kill her he would—there, that was God’s honest truth. However, and this was what Bill couldn’t, or wouldn’t, realise, the blackout had changed everything.

  “It’s getting late,” he says turning to Viktoria. “She should be in bed.”

  “Yes, Uri, but I don’t think she’ll sleep on her own.”

  “We need to try—make everything normal. Take her to bed and I will come to tell her a story—after I’ve checked outside.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Andy calls to Uri’s retreating back. The Russian stops for a moment then nods and continues. Following him, the cool breeze hits Andy and he shivers. The surrounding woodland has an edge to it. He’s not as keen as the others to
go exploring and he doesn’t share Clarissa’s enthusiasm for nature and ‘roughing it’ as she calls it. No, he likes his creature comforts; a nice pub with a real fire, dining out in fine restaurants with an attractive friend - preferably one with benefits - skiing in the Alps, trips to the Algarve, casinos. The usual things a man of his station and background should enjoy. It cost money though—the nice cars, suits, watches, holidays and restaurants, but why shouldn’t he spend it on himself? He had no one else to spend it on. His stomach clenches as he remembers his bank balance. He was in the red—again, and this time for tens of thousands and if he couldn’t come through for Bolstovsky he’d never clear the debt. The man had made it abundantly clear that he’d renege on their deal if the ‘problem’ as he’d referred to Clarissa, wasn’t ‘sorted’. Uri was supposed to deal with her. Bolstovsky had sent him, but now he was in the ludicrous situation of having to pretend that he didn’t know the man and share food with him at the table. The blackout was buying them time he guessed, but the electricity would be back on soon and then Bolstovsky would be expecting results.

  He clenches his jaws as he looks at Uri’s broad back. He was showing no evidence of getting on with the ‘job’ though surely he was plotting it.

  “So,” Andy says as he sidles up to the Russian as he makes a pretence of looking at the perimeter of the property.

  “This place is large. We can’t possibly hope to protect the perimeter.”

  “Why should we have to protect it?”

  “Well-”

  “Don’t be dumb. The lights will come back on tomorrow. This is just a blip.”

  Uri rounds on him and scowls.

  “No one calls me dumb.”

  “Oh, really. So why the hell is that woman still walking around alive, Uri?” Andy hisses with his best ‘I think you’re a loser’ voice.

  Uri’s jaw clenches as he scowls down and his fists tighten but Andy knows he’s got the upper hand. “Huh? Does Bolstovsky know that you’ve failed?”

  Uri looks away.

  “I thought not. Well … you’ve still got the chance to make amends and prove you can do this job—before it’s too late.”

  A massive hand grabs Andy’s shirt and he’s lifted up to the angry and scowling face of Uri. The man’s breath is hot on his cheek.

  “You …” Uri yanks Andy forward, “had better watch your tongue.”

  “It’s a job you have to do. You know that. Ugh!” Uri drops Andy to the ground but he continues undeterred. “Or have you lost your touch?”

  “I told you-”

  “Told me what, Uri? That you’ve failed? Huh? Listen! That woman has information that will bring your boss down if the authorities get it. So far we’ve got lucky. This blackout stopped her uploading the information so me, Bolstovsky, and Clarissa are the only ones who know about it.”

  “I can get her laptop.”

  “That’s not enough and you know it. The knowledge is in her head and she’ll talk—hell, she sees it as a way to get a promotion, as the pinnacle of her career!”

  “I’ll sort it.”

  “Good. If you don’t-”

  “If I don’t?”

  “Then Bolstovsky won’t be happy and you know what that means.

  The look that flits across Uri’s face confirms the threat. Bolstovsky’s cruelty and relentless pursuit of those who’d crossed him was legendary. If word got back that Uri had denied an order then his life wouldn’t be worth living and Andy, for one, was going to make sure Uri didn’t forget that.

  “Do you remember what happened to Van der Pole?”

  “Da.”

  “Do you remember what happened to his son?”

  “Shut up, Andy!”

  “Do you remember how they made his wife watch.”

  The anger in Uri’s eyes makes Andy smirk but his hands tremble. Uri’s power is undeniable and he didn’t want to push him too far—he could see he was on the point of rage and that was a place Andy was smart enough not to push him.

  “I said shut up!”

  “Sure, Uri. Sure.” Andy turns to go back into the house. “Just so we’re clear. The cleaning needs doing—tonight.”

  He smiles into Uri’s scowling face and walks back into the house.

  “Anything wrong?” Clarissa asks as she stands in the doorway. How long had she been standing there? Andy had been distracted—afraid if he was honest at the anger flowing through Uri.

  “No,” he says with a smile and pushes past her. He pats her bottom as he passes. She flinches and pulls away. He grits his teeth at her rejection but laughs. “You’re cold. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she replies. He knows it’s a lie. She’d have to be sorted—tonight. He’d enjoyed their ‘dalliance’. She’d been fun to chase—had played hard to get, which he liked, and he couldn’t deny that making love to her was … also fun, but he’d bored of her quickly. She was too … nice, but also too resilient to his demands. He liked his women with a bit of kick—someone who’d put up a fight, but then they had to acquiesce—understand their place—it was a game, and one Clarissa didn’t play too well. Still, if he had an urge later on he’d see about giving her one for the road. He snorts as he steps along the corridor and swings round the bannister. He’d give her a good seeing to before Uri sorted her for good—a final farewell if you like. Jesus he was tired of this shit! He strides to the end of the corridor and opens the door. A narrow bed sits tight against the window of the small room. A single wardrobe and a small chest of drawers are all that it contains but at least the bed is comfortable. He pushes off his shoes and lies on top of the bed. Best to get some shut-eye before this evening. Things were going to kick-off big time later on and he’d need his wits about him if he was to play the part of distressed then grieving boyfriend.

  Chapter 23

  Uri lies silent on the bed as footsteps grow louder. He waits for them to pass staring out at the canopy of trees, at peace for the moment, despite his ‘conversation’ with Andy, knowing that Anna is asleep in the room next door. The door handle pushes down and Viktoria steps into the room, a towel wrapped as a turban around her freshly washed hair. Another towel is pulled around her body. It covers her breasts but only just skims her bottom. She smiles in greeting as their eyes meet and closes the door.

  “Turn around.”

  “Huh?” she grins feigning ignorance. This was one of the games he loved.

  “Turn around,” he repeats.

  “Uri, no!”

  “Turn around.”

  She fakes submission.

  “Like this?” she asks turning on her toes, hands on hips.

  “Now bend.”

  “Like this?” she asks bending a little, throwing her hair over her shoulder and looking him straight in the eye. She knew just how to please him.

  The roundness of her buttocks is naked to the room but he can see little else. He thirsts to see into the hidden place. “No. More.”

  He takes her with a fierce passion, each thrust claiming her as his own.

  Afterwards the sun sinks and casts long shadows in the room.

  “Uri,” she says as she lays against him, stroking at his chest, her finger following the tattoo marked there – the brand of the Boltovskys.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  “We can’t anyway—our apartment has burned down.”

  “No, I don’t mean to go back to our home.”

  He sighs. He knows what’s coming.

  “I mean I don’t want to go back ever. It’s so peaceful here.”

  “It’s not our home though, darling.”

  “I know, but if it was … just think how happy we’d be here.”

  Uri thinks about the surrounding woodland, the seclusion of the cottage, the log burner in the living room and the beams in the ceiling—original beams, just like the house of his dreams.”

  “Sure, but-”

  “Listen,” she says more animated now. “Let them think w
e died.”

  “What?”

  “Yes! Let them think we died in the fire. If we don’t go back they’ll just assume that we died—Bolstovsky will think that we all died and we’ll be free.”

  “But-”

  “If we’re free of them then we can live here—not in this house—but one like it. You know we’ve got enough money …”

  The idea is seductive. To live a life free of Bolstovsky and his demands. To not have to kill Clarissa. To be free of dealing out death and instead live his life in the countryside with his wife and daughter … but Andy, the money-laundering Mr Andrew Carfax, would still know.

  “Anna would love it around here. There are open fields and woodlands. There’ll be a school she can go to and make friends with, have a normal life. Her English is already good.”

  “Yes, you’ve done a good job of teaching her.

  “I’ll have a normal life too, Uri. I’ll be able to have friends too, not just those women.”

  “I thought you liked them! I thought Katya and Magda were your friends.”

  “They are—were, but they were only my friends because they were part of the Family. I couldn’t have other friends—remember!”

  “Shh!” he says stroking her hand. One of the rules of the Family was that no outsiders were allowed in the inner circle and that meant no friends from the ‘outside’. It was a tight-knit group. The men could only mix with other Family members and their wives could only be friends with the other wives. The children were not encouraged to bring playmates home from school.

  She quiets for a moment and lays her head again on his chest. She was right though. They would be free. Could they simply just not go back? He thinks about the practicalities. Yes, they had enough money in the bank to buy a home and live albeit frugally for a number of years. He could find another job. He had skills. He knew someone who could give them the paperwork they needed. They could never return to Russia, but here, here in England—perhaps.

  “We would be poor.”