She hadn’t considered not being allowed outside. The army stepping in. Taking control. Stripping England’s citizens of their freedom in a desperate attempt to control the situation and secure supplies.
“Together with trusted charities and corporations, the councils are working as quickly as they can to restore the national grid.”
Anna turned to Oreo who was licking his empty bowl and frowned. “What a load of bollocks,” she muttered. “They’re not being honest. I get it. They don’t want us to panic, but without power…”
She sighed.
She looked outside where one of the armed soldiers was holding a megaphone up to his mouth. Placing her elbows on the windowsill, she listened.
“In the meantime, every household will receive their fair share of food and water, and we ask those of you who have enough supplies for the moment to…” his voice droned on, but Anna had heard enough.
The message would no doubt be played on a loop.
A message that didn’t mention how long it would take to restore the power. Not even an estimate. Not even a guess.
No information about the cause of all of this and what had actually happened.
They either didn’t want the public to know, or they simply didn’t have a clue.
“Once a week we will distribute supply crates. To receive your crates, please sign up to the Government Food Supply Scheme tomorrow morning.”
Anna rubbed her forehead, smoothing her frown with her fingers. Would they be inspecting homes before they handed out supplies? Or could she pretend not to have anything and be given more water?
Did they even have the necessary manpower to search homes?
“I wish Sarah were here,” she said to Oreo, closing the window. It had taken the army almost three days to mobilise.
Had Sarah left her home? Was she on her way to Harlow?
Or had she done the same as Anna had and stayed put?
“How am I ever going to find you?” she whispered to the photograph sitting next to the urn containing her mother’s ashes. Anna walked over and traced the photograph with her finger. Her father had taken it almost fifteen years ago. Both her mother and Sarah were smiling in it. Her sister had only been seventeen. By that point, Anna had already moved out.
They hadn’t expected their mother to die only three years later.
On her deathbed, Anna had promised her to take care of Sarah.
“Always,” she’d said, squeezing her mother’s hand.
What if she couldn’t keep her promise?
No. She wouldn’t allow the voice inside her head to take over and fill her with worry. Oreo tilted his head, his black eyes watching her.
The man on the radio had said that everyone must remain inside. Was that even legal?
Then again, it hadn’t been legal for Anna to take three months’ worth of food from Tesco without paying.
Theft.
She was a thief.
You don’t seem to have a lot of sense, Anna. The lump in her throat grew, and she closed her eyes, pushing back against her father’s voice. Hopefully, I can change that before it’s too late.
“No!” She flinched hearing her own voice. Oreo whined, bumping her thigh with his nose as though reminding her that he was right there.
Her support. But she needed more than just a dog. “Sarah,” she said to Oreo. “We need to find Sarah.”
How did the army communicate?
They had to communicate somehow.
Perhaps one of the soldiers outside could help her. If they had radios.
If only she knew what had happened. What kind of electronics had survived. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she considered the possibilities. Again.
She’d done nothing but consider the possibilities for the last two days. Sitting on her bed, hugging her knees into her chest. Paralysed by fear. By the unknown. She’d considered the possibilities over and over again.
Had it been the sun? If another country had attacked, the army wouldn’t be standing in the streets talking about food and water.
They’d be busy fighting.
Unless…unless the entirety of Europe was under attack.
Unless the fight was happening somewhere else.
She buried her face in her hands and groaned. Perhaps one of the soldiers in the street would be able to shed some light on the situation.
“Wait here,” she said to Oreo and slid into her flip flops. The air in the stairwell was cooler than inside her flat. An almost agreeable temperature.
It was a small block with only four flats.
The couple who lived right below her didn’t seem to be home. She hadn’t heard any noise coming from their flat since the power had gone out. She pressed her ear against the door and listened.
Nothing.
They had to be away.
Anna heard the child from the ground floor screaming all the way up from the third floor, seemingly in the middle of a tantrum. The soothing voice of a mother replied, progressively growing louder.
The door to the flat on the second floor stood open a crack. A bald man stuck his head outside, a scowl on his face. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and absentmindedly scratched his hairy chest. Spotting Anna, he grimaced. “All right?”
She nodded. “Trying to see if I can talk to one of the soldiers in the street.”
His scowl deepened. “Trying to sell yourself for food? Think you can get more than the rest of us?”
She stared, blinked slowly. Almost laughed. Then she shook her head. “No,” she mumbled. Blood rushed to her head, making her blush. She didn’t know what else to say and dashed down the stairs instead, past the empty flat on the first floor. The letting agency had been in the process of finding new tenants.
Outside, the sun was beating down on the tarmac. The soldier who’d spoken earlier was standing by the traffic lights speaking with his partner. He barely looked older than eighteen. Anna winced, realising she was old enough to be his mother. Surely, he could be reasoned with?
The warm air was thick with humidity and the pungent smell of baking tarmac filled her nose. Her flat would warm up fast now. By mid-July it would be unbearable, and this time she had no ice, no cold water and no fan. Worse, she’d have to drink more water to make up for the fluids she lost through sweating.
“Excuse me, madam, you have to stay inside.”
Anna scowled. She hated being called madam. It always gave her the impression that they were addressing someone else. Her mother, or somebody behind her. They couldn’t possibly mean her because she wasn’t old enough to be called madam.
You’re approaching forty, she reminded herself. And the soldier stalking towards her wasn’t even old enough to grow a proper beard.
She smiled at the blond shadow on his upper lip. “I just want to ask you a few questions.” She suddenly wished she’d put on some make-up and brushed her hair. After three days without a shower, she realised she must look a state.
Then again, what could the world possibly expect from her in such circumstances?
Now the soldier stood in front of her, she didn’t know where to start.
“If this is about the supplies,” the soldier started, clutching his rifle with a white-knuckled grip. His left eye twitched as he spoke. “We will begin—”
“My sister is in Colchester.”
He moved his head as though suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “A lot of people have family in various places.”
“I know. I was just wondering if there was any way I could get a message to her via you. You must have the means to communicate, don’t you?”
“We’re not the post office. We’re here to ensure that everyone gets their fair share of food and that our streets are safe while the government works on restoring the power.”
“Are there any—”
“I can’t help you.” His features hardened, and his narrowed eyes grew sharp. “Are you in urgent need of food and water?”
“No.” Anna shook her head.
She had to get through to him somehow. She had to make him listen. “Why are you following these orders instead of looking after your own family?” She paused and waited for her words to sink in. “Are they prepared for the coming famine? Are they safe?”
He frowned and cocked his head as though considering her words. Letting go of the rifle strapped to his chest, he scratched behind his ear.
“They’re not going to restore the power anytime soon,” she continued. “Everything’s gone bust. And once food runs out, you won’t be able to keep the peace.”
“I know how to do my job, madam.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second. At least for now. But once people are starving?” She licked her lip, contemplating her next words. “Look—what’s your name?”
“That is none of your business, madam. Nobody will be starving. We are handling it. Please go back inside, and please refrain from spreading any rumours.”
His words sounded robotic as if he were repeating a mantra he’d been given by his superiors.
Not easily discouraged, Anna tried again. “Without power, nobody can produce food. And without power, the food we’ve already produced will spoil. We’re probably already running out of everything fresh, and by the end of July we’ll be fighting over tinned goods. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He shrugged. “If you say so. Please go back inside.”
He’d been given a mantra, and he’d been told not to engage.
Anna sighed. “Our society depends on electricity.”
His tone shifted, and his hand was back on his rifle. “Please go back inside.”
“The reason the army is out on the streets is so that the government can stockpile food while we’re prisoners inside our own homes. The rich and powerful get to survive a little bit longer than the rest of us.”
He raised his rifle, not quite pointing it at her, but his intentions were clear. “Go back inside.”
This time, he’d dropped the please. Anna was about to give up when she noticed her second-floor neighbour approaching. He wore jogging trousers and had put on an oversized shirt with a sloth printed across the front. She could make out the word coffee, but the letters folded over his beer-belly, and she struggled to read the font.
“Sir, you have to get back inside.” This time the soldier levelled his rifle at the newcomer straight away. Anna glimpsed a flicker of fear in his brown eyes, but it was quickly replaced by determination.
The other soldier was still standing by the traffic lights, busy with his megaphone, but he was looking over now. “Do you need help, John?”
“I’m fine,” John shouted, gritting his teeth. “Sir, please go back inside.”
Her neighbour rubbed his bald head. Sweat dotted his temples. “My mother lives on the other side of Harlow, and you can’t stop me from visiting her. She’s old and sick, and she depends on me looking in on her. I don’t think you lot get to decide whether or not I can see her.”
“Your mother will be taken care of, I promise. I’ll personally make sure—”
The man cut him off with a sneer. “I’m going now. You won’t shoot me. This is England, not Venezuela.”
Anna reached out to pull him back with her, then remembered the way he’d barked at her in the stairwell.
“Go back inside, madam,” John said to her. He gave her a long, almost pleading look before turning his attention back to the bald man. He pursed his lips, his left eye twitching.
Anna didn’t doubt he’d shoot.
She didn’t know her neighbours. She avoided bumping into them whenever she could. She knew the couple who lived below her spent a lot of time abroad, and she knew the family on the ground floor had a noisy toddler who threw the occasional tantrum. The father was a young man who worked the night shift at the local pharmacy while studying to become an IT specialist. She’d bumped into him once, and they’d exchanged a few words. Anna had never met his wife, had only seen her from behind.
She wasn’t a fan of small talk. She never knew what to say. Hated the neighbourly chit chat that seemed appropriate when meeting in the stairwell. She’d never even seen the man from the second floor prior to this day.
Nausea washed over her as she watched him walk up the road towards Sainsbury’s. Away from the two soldiers.
Anna knew they had their orders, and if they didn’t stand up to people like him, they’d have riots on their hands before long.
And they definitely had permission to shoot.
Besides, there’d be no repercussions. Without smartphones and without the Internet, nobody would know. There’d be no videos. No social media posts to go viral.
And right now, people had much bigger problems than police brutality.
Law and order was more important than a human life.
They wouldn’t risk anything by shooting this man. On the contrary, the street would cower.
And obey.
And that’s exactly what they wanted.
Strength was found in numbers, and without the Internet, without communication, people were alone. They certainly felt alone.
Anna shuffled back inside. She stopped by the front door and watched as her neighbour approached the roundabout.
“I’m warning you one last time,” John commanded. His voice shook ever so slightly, but the grip on his rifle looked steady.
Bracing herself, Anna shielded her face with her hands and turned away from the road.
“I’m going to see my mother, and you can’t stop—”
A single shot rang out.
Anna squeezed her eyes shut. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she trembled, her hands gripping the bannister. She waited. Waited for her heart to stop thumping in her chest. Waited for her tears to stop falling.
It wasn’t until she heard Oreo bark that she went back upstairs.
When she glanced out of her kitchen window a few hours later, the body had been removed, and nothing but dark marks in the middle of the road near the roundabout remained.
She spotted the soldiers sitting by the traffic lights and frowned.
John was gone.
He’d been replaced by a stocky woman with sharp cheekbones and an angular jaw.
Anna wondered if the young man had listened to her, after all, or if his superiors were following standard procedure.
She closed the window and let out a long breath.
Tomorrow, she’d knock on the bald man’s flat and find out if he’d had a wife. If not, she’d ask the neighbours on the ground floor if they wanted to split his supplies.
But for now, Anna sat down with her back pressed against the wall in her bedroom, her hands stroking Oreo for comfort.
6
As Chris stood in the doorway to Tom’s bedroom, studying the back of her teenage son’s head, his dark hair curling around his ears and neck, it occurred to her that life was unfair.
No one ever got what they deserved.
And if they did, it was by chance.
Her son deserved safety and love. He deserved to grow up and find a partner, have his own family. He deserved to party and travel, explore the world.
He didn’t deserve this new world with soldiers in the streets and the threat of starvation looming.
Chris’ mind reeled. It hadn’t stopped spinning since she’d met Anna. Scattered thoughts clouded her mind.
She’d forced herself to sit still, make a list. An inventory. A plan.
She’d forced herself to ignore the outside world. Anna had been right. They needed to hunker down. Wait it out.
Play dead until the predator had moved on.
But who or what was the predator? And how long would they need to hunker down for?
Three days ago, the army had shown up and promised to distribute supplies. Armed with megaphones and assault rifles, they patrolled the streets in a desperate attempt to keep the peace.
There were five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
Chris assumed most peo
ple were still in denial.
Denial meant thinking that everything would go back to normal. Soon. The government would look after them and fix everything. Denial meant that life as they knew it wasn’t over. That they were still living in a safe world.
They simply had to stay at home and wait it out.
Chris knew better. Torn between anger, bargaining and depression, she sighed. She wondered how long it would take before people progressed from denial to anger. How long it would take people to understand that they were running out of food, and the government couldn’t fix anything.
Every man for himself, Mike had said. Her manager hadn’t deserved to die, but Chris felt no remorse. She’d expected to wake up feeling nauseous, racked with guilt.
Instead she’d woken up feeling proud. She’d saved her son. She’d looked after her family.
She had a chance to survive this.
The night before had been her first shift at the hospital since the power had gone out. “Is the hospital even still open?” Lester had asked. “I’m not comfortable with you out there.”
Without the phones working, she’d had no way of contacting work. She’d gone outside, holding her NHS badge like a shield, and a soldier had handed her a bright orange armband. “Keep that visible at all times. It identifies you as medical personnel,” he’d instructed, and she’d nodded, her heart thumping in her chest.
At the hospital, they’d welcomed her with hugs and disgusting, cold coffee. Half the staff hadn’t shown up. Nobody knew if they lived too far away or if they were too scared to come into work.
Or if they simply thought work no longer mattered.
In the emergency department, dozens of patients had waited for medical attention.
“We should pull up staff records. See if we can coordinate with the army to find more doctors and nurses,” Chris had proposed.
“We’ve tried that. I sent Hannah to the archives on Tuesday, but it looks like everything’s electronic these days,” one of the doctors had replied.
The shift had been chaotic. With no imaging and no power, they couldn’t do much more than provide basic emergency medicine. Some of the doctors and nurses had spouted conspiracy theories, discussing everything from aliens and the Rapture to a nuclear attack.
Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 1 | Darkness Within Page 5
