7
Fear had taken over her entire body, leaving her breathless. She gritted her teeth to stop them from chattering as her whole body shook. The reality of Lester’s death was sinking in, overwhelming her.
What had tipped him over the edge?
You.
Facing her son, Chris took a deep breath. “I think we should leave. Find a place that’s easier to defend.”
“Mum? What’s the matter? You look pale.”
“I’m fine, sweetie.”
“Where’s Dad?”
Chris hid a trembling hand behind her back. “He’s still sleeping.”
“Now? It’s almost dinnertime.” Tom frowned. “What’s going on? Mum?”
Her thoughts whirled through her mind like a tornado. Tom wouldn’t believe her if she told him that Lester had left. Fled. Abandoned them.
Perhaps if she set the house on fire—don’t be ridiculous. As if the air had been knocked out of her, Chris deflated and her shoulders slumped. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Don’t go in there, Tom. It’s not how you want to remember him.”
Tom placed his hand on the doorknob and looked at her, his eyes widening as the truth dawned on him.
He’d feared this would happen, and she‘d assured him it wouldn‘t. Your dad will get better. An empty promise—turned to dust in a single day.
She watched helplessly as he took a deep breath and braced himself for what he was about to see.
“Don't go in there, Tom,” Chris pleaded.
He‘d never forgive her. He‘d abandon her like everyone else.
“I have to.” Tom opened the door, stepped inside, and Chris heard him gasp. Her heart broke at the sound.
She followed her son, stifling a sob with her hand.
With the blinds closed, the bedroom was gloomy. Chris rubbed her eyes. It had been so bright earlier, the blood a glaring red.
She didn’t remember closing the blinds.
“You said he wouldn't do this,” Tom whispered, and this time his voice was filled with as much accusation as a thirteen-year-old could possibly muster.
Chris stared at her dead husband’s face as her son wept.
She thought back to the night they’d met. Lester had sat near the bar, tapping away on his laptop, pale blue eyes huge behind thick round glasses, his curly hair in need of a comb or—better yet—a cut.
She overheard him ordering a beer, blushing and shy. When the waitress brought it over, she dropped it, spilling the contents of the glass all over his trousers and laptop.
He didn’t even flinch. Said no harsh words. Instead, he quickly moved his laptop and books to a dry spot and helped the waitress clean up the mess.
“Gosh! Is your computer dead?” the waitress asked, soaking up the beer with a cloth. Tears laced her words.
Lester smiled. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Chris turned her head slightly in his direction, listening to the conversation instead of paying attention to her fellow nursing students. She didn’t believe for a moment that his keyboard had survived.
Minutes later, the owner of the bar himself brought over a new beer, apologising profusely, and offering to replace the laptop.
Lester politely declined, wiping his stained trousers with a napkin. His nostrils flared as he smelled himself, the unmistakable odour of beer now his cologne for the night. He stayed for a while longer, sipping his new beer and scribbling into a leather-bound notebook.
Chris asked him out before he left. She wasn’t prepared to let a man like him walk away. Someone who didn’t get angry.
Someone who would put up with her and love her—unlike her brother and grandmother who’d spent the twenty years prior telling her that nobody would ever want to be with her unless they were forced to.
Lester. Sweet and patient Lester, who was kind when Chris was unkind, patient when Chris got agitated, and supportive when Chris needed support the most.
He gave her a family. Promised to stick with her no matter what she did.
And now he was gone.
Because of her.
Because she’d told him to. Her brother and grandmother had been right, after all. Nobody wanted to be with her. Nobody wanted to put up with her.
Nobody wanted her.
“We need to leave,” Chris said, placing a hand on Tom’s arm.
He flinched and jerked his arm away. “Mum…” His voice was quiet, soft. His hands trembled.
“What is it?”
“Why…why are you covered in blood?”
“Wha—” She looked down and froze. Her skin was caked with dried blood all the way up to her elbows where it had seeped into her shirt, staining it an angry red.
The crust on her white sleeves looked like rust on metal.
“Mum? Did you hurt Dad?”
Shocked, she stared at her son. “No. Why would you…” She swallowed. “We were talking in your room just now, and then I came in here…and I found him…”
“Mum, we were talking in my room this morning. You said you’d go and get some sleep hours ago. It’s late afternoon.”
Sobs choked her, and she turned to look outside. Through the blinds she caught a glimpse of the sun, a bright orange above the horizon.
“Mum…I saw what you did to your…to Mike.”
“No, honey, this isn’t—” She dropped to her knees and stared at her hands.
She was responsible for Lester’s death. At least her words were. She didn’t…she hadn’t…
Chris closed her eyes, unable to face the grief on her son’s face.
She'd experienced a blackout once, had only been sixteen years old at the time.
She'd been dating her first boyfriend for two months when he’d told her he was seeing someone else. She’d wept, pleaded, begged, then screamed, and he’d thrown her out of the house.
The police had found her in the early hours of the following morning, wandering through the woods behind Carl’s house. She hadn’t known where she’d been, hadn’t known what she’d done since she’d left.
She’d insisted no more than an hour had passed at the most, but it had been almost twelve.
Her brother, Stuart, had admitted her to the hospital, insisted they call a psychiatrist, but they’d sent her home saying she was neither a danger to herself nor to others. “Stress can cause such an episode,” a doctor had said to Stuart. “She needs to sleep more.”
That would explain everything, Chris thought. Just like back then, she hadn’t slept, had spent the night working. She must have fallen asleep or passed out from shock.
“Mum?”
Tom’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“It must have happened while I checked his pulse. I must have touched…” She grabbed a towel from the chest of drawers by the door and scrubbed her hands.
Grief cut through her chest like a knife. Lester’s coagulated blood clung to her skin like glue and her son watched her with wide eyes as if she were a monster and not his mother. “I’m sorry you had to see this.”
Tom sniffled and wiped his nose. “Mum? Did you hurt Dad?” he asked again, and she shook her head.
“No. No. I swear. I didn’t.”
“But…”
“We have to leave, Tom. We can’t stay here.”
“Where would we go? Uncle Stuart’s?” He backed away from the bed, from his dad, and pressed his back against the wall. Sliding to the floor, he buried his face in his hands.
“No. Not Uncle Stuart.” If she never saw her older brother again it would be too soon. “No. We’re going to a friend of mine. Anna. She lives near the hospital.”
Tom didn’t look up. “The soldiers won’t allow us to leave the house.”
“I have my NHS badge. It’s easier for me to get to work from Anna’s. They’ll understand.”
Don’t ever hesitate, Chris. Act. Those had been Anna’s words. And everything she’d said so far had turned out to be true.
“I’m scared,” Tom whispered.
“I know, sweetie.” Chris dropped the towel and reached out to hug Tom, but he backed away.
“What about dad? We can’t just leave him here. We need to tell someone.”
“We can’t go to the police. Not after what happened with Mike. They’ll think I did this. They’ll take you away.”
“You’re scaring me, Mum.”
Chris pinched the bridge of her nose. She had to think. Fast. “Once people realise the government is letting them starve, they’ll riot, and once the soldiers out there understand that the government isn’t helping their families either, they’ll abandon their posts.” She paused, took a deep breath. “Your dad wouldn’t want for us to be separated. Believe me, Tom.”
“Did he leave a note? Anything?” Tom crawled to his feet. He rummaged through Lester’s wardrobe and drawers, then left the room. Moments later, she heard him search Lester’s office.
Chris studied Lester’s body. The slashed wrists. The blood.
She searched his face for answers.
It had been early in the morning when she’d left Tom’s bedroom.
She didn’t remember anything that happened after that. Until she’d found the body.
Had she done this?
She stared at her palms. How had she lost an entire day?
“Is it even safe to go outside?” Tom asked from the hallway.
Chris left the bedroom and closed the door behind her. “For now, yes, but not for long. People feel safe in numbers, but currently they’re confined to their homes, isolated. It’ll be a few more days before all hell breaks loose.”
A family portrait hung on the wall near the stairs. Silent accusations filled Lester’s eyes as he stared at her from the photo.
Don’t be silly.
Tom squared his jaw. “Everyone should just leave their homes at the same time. What could the army do about it?”
“Shoot people. At least the first few.” Chris raised an eyebrow. “Are you willing to be the first? Are you willing to sacrifice yourself?”
Tom shrugged. His spindly arms hung limply at his side. Grief had hardened his eyes. “Who is Anna? You’ve never mentioned her before.”
“A friend. You’ll like her.” Chris smiled. “I promise.” She didn’t know if the woman she’d randomly met at Tesco would even be open to Chris and Tom joining her.
If they brought enough supplies…perhaps.
“She lives in a flat on the top floor. Easier to defend than a house.”
With Lester dead, they couldn’t stay here.
Anna would understand.
“Should we bury Dad before we go?”
Chris barely recognised her son’s face as he pulled his mouth into an ugly grimace. “I’m not sure how to dig a grave without our next-door neighbours seeing.”
Tom scowled.
“We’ll come back for him. Once we’re safe and sorted.” It was an empty promise, but Tom was thirteen, and she didn’t know what else to say.
“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly. “And I’m not sure I believe you didn’t kill him.”
“Why would I—” She stopped, stared at her son’s face, searching his eyes for a sign of compassion. “I’m sorry, Tom. I haven’t been there for your dad. I’ve messed up. I know that. But I’d never hurt him. I’d never do this.”
He bit down on his bottom lip, staring at the closed bedroom door. “If you say so.”
Chris held her tongue as she decided not to reply. She poured her frustration and sadness into filling a suitcase with supplies, covering them with clothes. She asked Tom to do the same.
She put on her NHS uniform and badge and attached the bright orange band to her arm before leaving the house. Her heart pounded in her chest as she set foot onto the street.
They would see it on her face.
Lester’s death.
Her guilt.
A soldier immediately approached her, one hand on the barrel of the assault rifle strapped to his chest. “Madam, you’re not allowed—” Noticing her badge, he gave her a curt nod. “You’re allowed to go to work, of course.” He forced a smile. “But why are you taking the boy and the suitcases?”
Chris wrung her hands, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her. “I work at the hospital, but I don’t feel safe on my way there. It’s a forty-minute walk and I worry.” A sheepish smile appeared on her lips. “Someone might overlook my badge and…” She gave his rifle a pointed look.
The soldier narrowed his eyes but waited for her to continue.
“I have a friend who lives on Fifth Avenue, near Sainsbury’s. She has enough space for me and my son, and I’d be five minutes away from work.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask for the exact address.
“Does your friend know you’re coming?”
Chris bit back a sarcastic comment. It wouldn’t help. It never did. Instead she sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any way of informing her ahead of time.”
“I’ll organise an escort,” the soldier said. “I don’t want you walking down the street with suitcases. People might see and…I’ll send for a car.”
“You have working cars?”
“We’ve—” He stopped as though remembering that she was a civilian.
“Do you know what happened?” Chris asked.
“That’s classified.”
Behind her, Tom craned his neck. “Was it a solar flare?”
The soldier didn’t even acknowledge Tom’s presence and instead said to Chris, “Please remain in your home until I can get a car to you.”
He turned, took two steps, then looked back at her. “What’s in the suitcases?”
Chris felt the blood drain from her face. “Clothes, work uniforms, work shoes, tinned food. I doubt my friend was planning on feeding two more people, so I figured I’d pack what I have.” She offered a small, timid smile, hoping the soldier wouldn’t notice her shaking hands.
He gave her a long look, and she forced herself to meet his eyes. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. Any moment now, he’d open her suitcases and find their food.
Find her pepper spray. Her knives.
She clenched and unclenched her fists. Held her breath. Waited.
Finally, the soldier’s face relaxed, and his lips curled into a smile. “I’ll knock when we’re ready.”
8
Anna’s flat was less than ten minutes away by car, the lack of traffic making the journey even quicker. Chris sat with her shoulders tense the entire way, digging her nails into her palms until she drew blood.
What if Anna didn’t let her in? What if Anna told the driver that she’d never seen Chris before, and the driver took her back to her house, where Lester was?
The seats of the doorless Jeep were uncomfortable, and the wind blew strands of her hair into her face. Dark grey clouds threatened rain.
Tom pressed himself into a corner of the vehicle, holding his bag in a white-knuckled grip. He didn’t meet her eyes.
“It’s so empty. Spooky,” he mumbled as they drove past the buildings surrounding the town centre, turning right towards Sainsbury’s.
A roadblock manned by several soldiers stopped anyone from entering the town centre.
Pillars of smoke rose above Terminus House. Chris craned her neck in search of the fire as they turned the corner but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Was the army beginning to lose control?
Was the smoke a sign of riots?
Moments later, Chris gestured for the driver to stop. “This is it. Wait here,” she said to Tom, jumping out of the Jeep.
She ran up to the front door and rang the bell before realising that wouldn’t work. Stepping away from the building, she tilted her head back and shouted Anna’s name. A raindrop hit her face, rolling down her cheek. She brought up her arm to protect her face when a window opened, then slammed shut again.
A few minutes later, the front door opened a crack and Anna stuck her head out, frowning. “Chris?” Spotting the army vehicle in the st
reet, she narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Behind her stood a small black and white Border Collie. His ears lay flat against the sides of his head, his lips pulled up, revealing sharp teeth bared in a silent snarl. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Chris didn’t hesitate and, with a wide grin, pulled Anna into a hug, whispering, “I need your help. Pretend that we’re good friends. I’ll explain later.”
Anna stiffened.
“Please,” Chris repeated. Feeling Anna squeeze the small of her back, Chris slumped into the hug. Relief washed over her. “Thank you,” she said through tears.
She turned and waved for Tom to get out of the Jeep. “Bring the suitcases.”
The soldier gave her a curt nod and helped Tom with the luggage before driving off without a backward glance.
“This is Tom,” Chris said, and Anna stuck out her hand. Tom shook it reluctantly. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale.
The Border Collie was barking now, his bushy tail pointed at the sky. “This is Oreo. He’s not a fan of strangers.” Anna looked down at her dog and placed her index finger against her lips. “Hush. These are friends.” Oreo whined in response.
She turned her attention to the two suitcases Tom had dragged to the front door and lifted an eyebrow in question.
“I’ll explain later,” Chris said and pointed at the suitcases. “I’ve brought supplies.” She didn’t want Anna to think she was expecting anything more than a place to stay. “It’s enough to feed us for a while. I don’t expect anything from you. Just…a safe place…if at all possible?”
Anna didn’t reply, instead opened the door wide in invitation. The expression on her face was unreadable. Chris couldn’t tell whether she was pleased to have company or if they had intruded on her peace.
Now that she got a look at Anna in daylight, she realised the woman was almost forty. She wore her dark blonde hair short. Her face was long and angular, her jaw and chin pointy, giving her the look of someone who didn’t put up with anyone’s nonsense.
Chris wondered why Anna lived alone and if she had any children.
And if not, why?
“I’d love to offer you tea,” Anna said heading up the stairs. “But interestingly enough, my kettle doesn’t work.” Arriving at the top of the stairs, Anna opened the door to her flat and waited for Oreo to slip inside. “Where is your hu—”
Darkness Ahead of Us | Book 1 | Darkness Within Page 7
