“Okay then,” Jackson smiled, feeling proud of his son for what Mike was doing for the rebel faction. He hoped that his son knew that, aware that he’d never been very good at showing emotion. That was the area where his wife had excelled, Jackson more comfortable keeping his loved ones at arm’s length. “Good luck out there, Mike. I’ll see you again soon.”
“Thanks,” Mike replied awkwardly, unsure whether to hug his father or not. They were not usually overly affectionate with one another, but in that moment, Mike felt like he needed a real goodbye. Telling himself that he didn’t know when he’d see the old man again, Mike threw caution to the wind and lurched forward, wrapping his arms around his father and hugging him goodbye. After a brief second, Mike felt Jackson’s arms snaking around his body in return and he closed his eyes, basking in the moment before it was gone forever and he was alone in a cold, dark cell again. No less than ten minutes later, he was halfway there.
Houston was scary alone. Mike hadn’t been out into the city since the day everyone had ended up at P. J. Wilson Construction, loading supplies into a truck for Chase and Riley to take back to their farmhouse. Thinking of them again, Mike willed them all to be safe and sound at the farmhouse, the roof fixed up and better than ever from the gear they’d collected. His current predicament was far from that—safe and sound two words no longer fit for Mike’s vocabulary.
The cold front had crept into every corner of the city, accompanying the darkness like a newlywed couple. They were never apart, the icy chill resting on the crevices of every wall or building, the frost unnoticeable until it was too late. Mike wore a remedial breathing mask over his face, aware that the Authority would confiscate it from him as soon as he handed himself over to them. It protected him to an extent from the haze in the air, though the particles which he had become so accustomed to as a result of the ash cloud had lessened, floating higher above his head than he remembered.
As the effects of the eruption wore on and evolved, the Earth was forced to adapt to them, with its population not far behind. Mike scurried from one alleyway to the next, getting as far from the office facility as possible before turning and starting his route toward the pit. It was all part of the plan, making sure no one could trace him back to the rebel faction. Jackson was fairly certain the Authority knew where they were based, a full-scale upheaval planned for as soon as they found a satisfactory replacement building.
By the time Mike finally got near to the pit and the increased security levels of the Authority, he had been outside walking for almost an hour and his body showed the effects. He was freezing, his teeth chattering together and his skin pale, his breath coming out in gasps even through the mask he wore. Just as his father had planned, he definitely didn’t look like he’d come from a safe and secure rebel environment. Seeing a member of the Authority standing on a street corner up ahead, Mike prepared himself for the next stage of their plan and started to approach.
“Hey, mister,” he called out, coughing at the end of his sentence. “Mister? Are you with those people? The Authority? Can you help me? Please?”
Chapter 7
“You see, my friend,” Vic smiled at Riley, happy to teach the young girl what he knew and impressed by how eager she was to learn. “It’s not that difficult. We’ll have your room back in one piece in no time.”
Riley beamed up at Vic, amazed by the work that had been done already that day. Since returning home both she and Chase had been much more focused on reuniting with their grandparents and seeing that Pop was holding it together than fixing the roof. Now that she was standing in her old room and could see the progress that Vic, Blake, and Leo had already made, she had real hope that everything they had worked for—everything that she and Chase had left the farmhouse in the first place for—would actually be possible.
“Thanks, Vic,” she replied, truly grateful for his help. Riley understood that none of this would be possible without the Ukrainian man, aware of the massive part he played breaking her, Chase, and the others out of the pit as well. “This is amazing.”
“Just doing our job,” Vic grinned. “I think you’ll be back in here within the week.”
Riley squealed and wrapped her arms around Vic’s waist, showing her appreciation for the man and making sure he knew it. It was strange. Her reservations about both Vic and Blake had faded away following the time they had both spent with her family at the farmhouse. The awkward hours of the initial meeting had quickly given way to the evening meal and subsequent days of building after. Riley helped where she could, but admitted she wasn’t much compared to the strength of the four men doing the vast majority of the work. She watched and assisted where possible though, and that was how she had come to change her mind about the two adults.
While they worked, Blake and Vic had shared stories with the others about their lives, enlightening Chase, Riley, Leo, and Linda—when she wasn’t downstairs with Jerry—on how the pair of them had lived before. While Vic’s life was more difficult to understand for most people, it was a story, which Riley admired more than Blake’s chasing fame. The former stuntman she was still slightly reserved about, but Vic had gained a positive place in her estimations.
Riley admired how he had traveled to America to make a better life for himself and saw it as a sort of fairytale how he was forced to do the occasional bad thing for the overall greater good. She saw him as a sort of secret agent in a way; his little store that he spoke of as a treasure trove of secrets and supplies that equipped him for any eventuality. It was almost like his bat cave, a thought that made Riley smile as she kept it to herself.
“Is this right, Vic? Does it look level to you?”
Riley pulled herself out of her daydreaming as her brother drew Vic’s attention away from her, asking some technical question about the support beams they were building into the farmhouse. Despite the couple of days where the Authority had forced her into rebuilding a ruined theater, Riley didn’t really understand any of what the four men were doing and so, as Vic walked over to Chase, she took her cue to leave and snuck out of her old bedroom, heading back downstairs to check in with her grandparents.
Chase saw his sister go out of the corner of his eye and half wished he could join her. Rebuilding the farmhouse was difficult work, work he knew had to be done. Thankfully with the four of them working together, they were managing to make good progress and the roof would likely be fixed in another few days. But it was still hard work, his back aching from lifting and his body protesting from the exerted energy, his fuel supplies already low.
“Looks good to me, my friend,” Vic nodded, assessing the crosshatching Chase had been working on. “It just needs to be a bit wider, I reckon.”
“Oh yeah,” Chase agreed. “It’s not finished yet. I just wanted to make sure I was doing it right.”
“All good with me,” Vic gave his approval. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Receiving the green light for the support that he was building, Chase got back down on his knees and picked up his hammer again. He was working on creating a crosshatched grid of wooden planks, one that was going to be used to provide the framework the tarpaulin could be stretched across. Not only did Chase need to make sure it was large enough, but he also had to make sure it would sit side by side with the one Leo was constructing, their elements integral for the roof being able to hold its shape through any ensuing bad weather.
“Is yours nearly finished, dude?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Leo nodded. “It’s getting too heavy to lug around, that’s for sure.”
“Why don’t you guys go downstairs and get us something to drink?” Blake suggested, overhearing the exchange between the two younger men. “This is sweaty work even in this weather.”
“Yeah, sure,” Chase nodded immediately, thankful for a break. “Good idea.”
Leading Leo out of Riley’s old room, the two friends made their way downstairs into the kitchen in search of refreshments. Blake was right; even though snow now fell
heavily outside, they had all worked up quite a sweat with their manual labor. The gear they had brought back from Houston was all top of the line, which meant at times it was heavy and difficult to maneuver. They all knew it was the best they could have hoped for though, so any extra aggravation was worth it to ensure the farmhouse remained standing moving forward.
The weather outside was like the worst winter Chase had ever seen. The dark cloud still owned the sky, bearing down on them like an angry dog gnashing its teeth and sending spittle to rain down upon them. Except instead of spittle, it was heavy snowflakes, some as big as Chase’s fist, that floated down to the ground and coated everything. The only upside was that it covered the dirty gray carpet that had been there before, the fallen ash now hidden underneath a blanket of snow that quickly solidified and turned to ice, the ground beneath it impenetrable.
“Oh, Chase,” Linda called out from the front room as she saw her grandson enter the kitchen, pushing herself to her feet so she could go and talk to him. She was reluctant to leave her husband’s side in his weak state, but as always, she had a more pressing matter to attend to. “There you are. I need your help with something, I’m afraid.”
“Sure,” Chase replied automatically, always ready to help his grandmother out. “What’s up?”
“I can’t get the well pumping,” Linda replied with a shake of her head, a look of worry crossing her face that Chase was unable to miss. “It’s too stiff. I’m worried it’s frozen or something. Do you think you could give it a try?”
“Oh man, that isn’t good.”
“I’m sure it’s just me,” Linda continued, hoping that the only issue was in fact that she wasn’t strong enough anymore. “But would you mind coming and helping with it? We’re running pretty low on water now you lot have all arrived.”
Chase smiled at his grandma, hoping that the well had just turned stiff and there wasn’t any bigger problem with it. “Yeah, no worries,” he replied confidently. “Leave it to me. You don’t need to come outside again, especially not in this weather.”
“Thank you,” Linda said gratefully. “Is everything going okay upstairs?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chase nodded. “We’re making good progress.”
“That’s my boy. I honestly don’t know how we survived without you.”
Chase chuckled, brushing off his grandmother’s praise and pouring himself a small glass of water. The woman was right—they were running low on their supply now that five extra mouths had arrived. They hadn’t had any serious discussions about the food levels in the pantry or what would happen when it all ran out. Being miles from the nearest store and even then, uncertain whether it was safe to leave the house left the group of them in a potentially dangerous situation. The last thing Chase wanted was to have to move his family away from the farmhouse in search of somewhere more sustainable, even though he knew it was a very real problem if they didn’t find a solution soon.
“You want me to come out with you?” Leo offered.
“No, it’s okay,” Chase shook his head, certain that Leo would be more help upstairs again. “I doubt it’ll take long. I’ll come back up and join you guys as soon as I can, okay?”
“All right,” Leo shrugged. “Rather you than me out there.”
Chase laughed, trying not to focus on the cold from outside that he could already feel creeping along his skin. Since being back at the farmhouse, he had been making a conscious effort to be more cheerful about everything. He and Riley had made it home. They had tackled the odds and come back victorious, finding their grandparents both still alive and both still surviving. Sure, things didn’t look too good for Pop, but Chase refused to be pessimistic about the situation, knowing that all good things—including people’s lives—had to reach an end eventually. His grandfather had lived a long and happy life. Chase knew that if and when he did pass away, Jerry wouldn’t be leaving the world behind with any regrets.
Pulling a Re-Breather over his face—Riley having created several more since being back at home—and securing it with a scarf, Chase wrapped up as tightly as he could before walking to the door. It was only his hands that felt the sting from the cold too badly as he stepped out into the snow, the thin gloves he wore not stopping his fingers from turning blue underneath them.
Stomping over to the well as quickly as he could, Chase grabbed hold of the pump arm and pushed down on it, startled to find that it wouldn’t budge at all. He gritted his teeth and pushed down harder, putting all of his body weight on the pump and jerking it slightly in an attempt to create movement. It shuddered slightly, not moving as it should, no water able to be pulled up from below ground.
“Damn,” Chase sighed to himself. He had been hoping this would be a quick and easy job, the idea of spending long periods of time outside now so unpleasant he would rather take his chances in the pit than spend a full day outside. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, though. The pump was moving slightly, it was just a bit stiff. With some dedicated effort and force, Chase knew he could get it working again.
“Chase! Chase, that’s enough! Come back inside now!”
“Just a minute,” Chase called back without turning away from the pump. “I’ve nearly got this barrel filled.”
His words were met by the sound of footsteps coming toward him, Chase refusing to turn around and get distracted from his rhythm. After he had finally gotten the pump working again, he figured it was foolish not to at least fill one of the barrels he’d brought outside with him. His hands were practically frozen to the pump they were so cold, and his feet had dug perfect crevices in the snow from where he stood, but he refused to stop until the barrel was filled, determined to help provide for his family.
“That’s enough, man,” Blake’s voice sounded in his ear. “Any fuller and we won’t be able to drag that back inside.”
“Yeah, you can stop now, my friend,” Vic added. “Get yourself inside. We’ll bring this in.”
Chase finally allowed his muscles to stop tensing, his biceps groaning from the pressure he had been demanding of them. He had no idea how long had passed since he stepped outside; his teeth chattered together like milk bottles and his breath was coming out in ragged pants as his whole body shivered from the cold.
“Jeez, Chase,” Blake put an arm around him and started walking him back toward the farmhouse. “Come on, kid, let’s get you inside and in front of the fire.”
Allowing himself to be shepherded into the warmth, Chase was immediately accosted by his grandmother, who wrapped a blanket around him and shuffled him into the front room, the fire blazing bigger than he had ever seen it and giving off an almighty heat.
“Wha-wha-wha…” Chase struggled to talk, his body so cold it couldn’t formulate sentences.
“Quiet, you,” Linda scolded him. “I can’t believe you’ve been out there all this time. I thought you’d gone back upstairs when you last came in. I told you not to take the barrels straight outside.”
Chase merely shivered in response, his body very slowly thawing out so he could just about feel his fingers and toes again. The sound of Blake and Vic stumbling into the kitchen behind him with the barrel rang out, Leo and Riley helping to pull the massive thing in and close the door behind them all. Finally, they were all safely inside, everyone quickly traipsing into the front room to try and keep warm after the episode.
Turning his head slowly to his left, Chase saw his grandfather lying on the couch beside him. The old man’s eyes were closed while his chest lifted slowly up and down, proof that he was still breathing at least. Running his gaze over Jerry’s face and his blanketed body, Chase noticed again how frail and weak he looked. He needed to do more to protect his family, but try as he might, Chase just couldn’t seem to get it right. Winter had fallen over the farmhouse and Chase knew it would be a long time before day broke again.
Chapter 8
“You cannot be serious! Did we really let that happen?” Jackson was furious. The office facility was under complete b
ombardment and he was only just learning that Vic had been able to walk off of the premises without giving anyone else the keys to his store and therefore access to the wealth of weaponry that lay within it.
“The man didn’t even mention it,” Larson shook his head and tried to backpedal, feeling Jackson’s wrath unleashing on his shoulders along with everything else. “I didn’t know we needed to get the keys from him. I wasn’t even on the gate that day. I think it was Sam. I can go and get him if—”
Jackson held a hand up to silence the ramblings of Larson, well aware that the man was about to launch into any number of excuses just to get himself off the hook. It didn’t really matter who’d slipped up. The fact was they didn’t have the key to Vic’s store, and they didn’t have the supply of fresh ammunition that Jackson had been relying on. He had to figure out what to do without it and fast, because the office facility and the people within it wouldn’t be able to hold out as they were much longer.
The Authority had taken the group completely by surprise. Jackson didn’t know whether his scouts had been taken hostage or just straight-up murdered, but none of the ones who had been on the night watch had returned that morning. Instead, the ground-floor windows of the building were smashed in with gas bombs and the lower level was taken almost immediately. Jackson had no idea how many people had lost their lives or been captured—he only knew that what was left of his group had been forced to retreat upstairs, using everything they had left to defend the building.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jackson dismissed Larson, aware that he was wasting energy on the conversation now. “Do a sweep of the upper levels. Find out how much we’ve got left up here and how many men we’ve still got who can fight. I need everyone who is able armed in some way and helping to defend this building. Got it?”
Larson nodded, not daring to open his mouth and question Jackson any further. Leaving the leader to try and come up with an idea, he jogged away, making a beeline for the first flight of stairs he came across. Jackson watched Larson go and sighed, regretting sending so many of his top men into the pit with Mike. He had thought that was the main target for the Authority, that they would focus their efforts on rebuilding there before they launched any attacks of their own. How wrong he had been. Jackson didn’t want to admit it, but he feared he had made a grave misjudgment.
Escaping Darkness (Book 6): The Shadows Page 5
