Days of Fire: An EMP Survival Thriller (Blackout & Burn Book 1)

by Rebecca Fernfield

  She sees the gun. Planting her feet against the wall, she shunts across the floor, flips and stretches her arm to grasp the firearm. As her fingers close around the gun, a hand reaches down and covers hers.

  “Andy!” she gasps as he prises at her fingers. She grasps the gun tighter and pulls it away. He frowns but holds out his hand to help her up. Ignoring his hand, she jumps to her feet and swivels around. The blond has Alex by the throat and is reaching into his pocket.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot,” she says keeping her voice strong. Her heart is beating wildly, but she has to show her strength. ‘No weakness, Lockhart’.

  The blond turns to her and a blade springs open and spikes from his grip as Clare steps into the hallway.

  “Drop the knife,” Clare shouts and points the terrorist’s pistol at his head.

  He assesses Clare, then turns back to Jessie. With two guns trained on him he meets her gaze and holds it. For those seconds they exchange an intense glare. She shows no weakness. “Drop the knife or I’ll shoot,” she repeats with absolute calm. “You’ve got five seconds … Five, four.” He stares at her and smiles. “Three.” Surely he’ll drop the knife? “Two.”

  Ignoring her he pulls Alex to him, the length of the blade firm against his throat, and retreats to the kitchen. She follows as he drags Alex to the back door. As he steps out, he slices at Alex’s neck and then pushes him. Alex lurches and falls across the kitchen table.

  “Alex!” Jessie shouts as the blond disappears.

  She runs to the door, slams it shut then clicks the latch to locked. Alex bends over the table, clutching his neck. Blood seeps between his fingers.

  “Let me look!”

  Alex stands tall and turns. The blood is seeping but not gushing. Jessie gently pulls at his hand, the blood trickles.

  “It’s long, but not deep,” she says as she inspects the wound. “Here,” she says pulling at a drawer. “Use this to cover it, the blood will stop soon. You OK?”

  “Yeah,” he nods. “Now, where are your mother and sister?”

  “I-”

  “Who was that?” Clare asks as she steps into the kitchen. Andy follows close behind, his face ashen.

  “What the hell is going on, Jessie?” he asks with a concerned frown at Alex.

  “I have no idea!” she says thankful that he’s here. “But he wanted my mother and I don’t think it was a friendly visit!”

  “A hitman?”

  “I don’t know about that, but maybe.”

  “That’s a bit far-fetched,” Andy returns. “The city is in chaos—he was probably a thief.”

  “That’s crazy, Jessie. Why would anyone want to kill your mother?”

  “I’m sure he’s just a thief,” Andy continues. “I came over when I realised how bad things were getting in the city. I didn’t want Clarissa to be on her own.”

  “No, he wasn’t just a thief,” Jessie insists. “He asked for her, by name!”

  Movement behind Andy catches Jessie’s attention. “He is a professional—Russian.”

  “What?” Jessie stares at the unkempt man with blood caked through his hair and beard. “How do you know? And who the hell are you?” Jessie asks.

  “Bill. He was waiting for Clarissa this morning—at her office. He attacked her there. I brought her home. I thought she was safe, but obviously not,” he says.

  Jessie looks from Alex, to Andy, to the blood-covered Bill in confusion. “At her office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would he go to her office?”

  “She didn’t tell me,” he replies.

  “Where is she now?”

  “She’s here—at least I think she is. I haven’t seen her leave. After I brought her home, I decided to hang around for a bit. The city’s not a safe place, and-”

  “We know,” Clare adds with empathy. “Getting back here hasn’t exactly been easy.”

  “I checked upstairs, Jessie. There’s no sign of her or Stella,” Alex adds.

  “Well, if she’s not upstairs and she’s not outside then she must be down here—somewhere.” Jessie scans the large hallway as though it will give her the answers. Her eyes alight on the cellar door once more. They couldn’t be down there, that’s where he’d been hidden, unless … She steps forward and peers down the steps again. “Mum!” she calls and places a foot onto the top step. “Mum, it’s me, Jessie.” She listens. Nothing. “Mum! Stella! It’s me, are you down there. He’s gone now.” A shuffling then something is pushed along the brickwork floor of the cellar. Jessie smiles.

  “Jessie!” Stella calls. “We’re here.”

  “Thank God!”

  “Mum?” she calls again.

  “I’m here!”

  Jessie turns. “They’re both here,” she says with relief as Andy peers over her shoulder. His face is dark with concern but he smiles as she speaks.

  Within seconds Stella appears, her cheeks flushed. “Oh, Jessie. We were so scared. My heart is pounding so hard,” she says falling against her. As Jessie reaches her arm across her sister’s shoulders her mother appears. A bruise is darkening at her hairline and there’s the remnants of blood in her hair.

  “Oh, Mum! What’s happened.”

  “I don’t even know where to start, darling!”

  CHAPTER 27

  AS THE WATER comes to the boil in the small pan on top of the camping stove, Jessie pours it into the teapot and watches the teabags float to the surface in the steaming water. She puts the lid on then turns to the room.

  “Don’t let it brew too long, Jess.”

  “No, Mum!” It didn’t matter how old she was, as soon as she stepped back through the door she was just a child again.

  She pulls up a chair and joins the others at the kitchen table. Every window in the house has been locked, and large pieces of furniture have been pushed up against each door.

  “We should go to the police,” Stella suggests. “They should know about the Russian so that they can help protect Mum.”

  “I don’t think that will help. There’s no sign of the police or military on the streets—at least there wasn’t when we came through,” Jessie explains. “And even if they are starting to respond to the emergency, dealing with this isn’t going to be a priority—they’ll have their hands full just dealing with looters and the other criminals that are crawling out from under their stones.” And the terrorists waging their campaign of destruction! She sighs and twists her hair through her fingers. Alex gives her a knowing look.

  “Alex! Can I speak to you—alone?”

  “Yes!” he says and pushes up from the table.

  As soon as they’re in the living room, Jessie turns and closes the door.

  “What are we going to do?” she asks with an explosive sigh. Keeping back what they’d discovered about the terrorists whilst she dealt with her mother’s ‘problem’ has pushed her to the limits of endurance.

  “We have to tell the authorities,” Alex states.

  “Yes, but what about my mother? I can’t just leave her here. What if he comes back?” She strides to the window then turns, her brows knitted in frustration. “I just wanted to get them …” she stops. What’s the point of concealing it any longer? There wasn’t any! “I just wanted to get them to the safehouse—to Bramwell!” she blurts and walks back to the hearth and slaps her hand against the mantle.

  “Safehouse?”

  “Yes,” she says turning to Alex. “We have a house—in the north. No one else knows about it—she always said it was our bolthole if things … if the shit hit the fan.”

  “I can see where you get your ideas from now! What does your mother do—exactly?”

  “She investigates fraud: international fraud, money laundering, dodgy tax deals—that kind of thing.”

  “Russian mafia kind of stuff?” he asks raising his brows.

  “Well, I never imagined that, but given tonight—then yes, I think so.”

  “No wonder she wanted a bolthole!”

  �
�That’s not what made her keep the house to be honest. She’s not been in the job that long. No. It was my father who insisted on buying the house and keeping it a secret and making it ready if we ever needed it—he was always very aware of political tensions and said we needed somewhere to go if the shit hit the fan. After he died, Mum said it was her duty to keep his dream alive—he was passionate about keeping us safe.” She grows silent. “The thing is …” she falters, “danger is everywhere … we have to make ourselves safe—right here, right now.”

  “I don’t understand, Jessie.”

  “Being safe isn’t about running away to somewhere hidden. Well, it is, but … we should be safe on the streets and in our homes—not living in fear.”

  “True, but—”

  “We have to make our country safe! We have to be prepared by learning to defend ourselves and fighting back against the people who want to harm us—that’s being safe too.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why I joined up—to make a difference.”

  “You are doing.”

  “Yes, but I’m just one person and look around! There are hundreds if not thousands of people out there who want to bring us down and turn our country into a ‘cesspit of violence and disease’. That’s what they said, right?”

  “You’re right, but there are thousands more who need us to stop that happening!” Alex replies with passion. “Jessie, we can make a difference. We’re here to protect our country and that’s what we’ve been doing today. It’s what we’re going to do tomorrow as well. You know we have to talk to the authorities despite what’s going on here.”

  “Yes, but my mother and Stella need-”

  “I know. They need to be protected, but there are millions of people in this country who need protecting too.”

  “I don’t care about the millions-”

  “Yes, you do! Listen. Your mother should leave for the safehouse with Stella, Andy and Bill. We can make sure they have the provisions they need, even find a car and they can leave in the morning. Tomorrow, we have to go to the police and tell them what we know—they’re the ones who need to take action!”

  Jessie pushes her hands through her hair and stares at him. She knows he’s right but putting it off until the morning makes her anxious. She nods. “Yes, yes, OK. We’ll do that.”

  “Good! Do we tell the others?”

  “About the terrorists?”

  “Yes, we should. They need to be alert—we all do.”

  “OK,” Jessie replies and looks to the windows. The night is drawing in and the curtains remain open letting in what little light remains.

  “Agreed?”

  “Agreed. I’ll talk to Andy and Mum.”

  “What about Bill? He’s ex-military.”

  “I thought he might be. Have you spoken to him?”

  “Yeah, he’s army—served in Afghanistan and Iraq and a few other places.”

  “Why’s he on the streets then?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

  “Hmm. Well … there must be a reason.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want to delve.”

  “I need to know I can trust him.”

  “He saved your mum this morning and came back to keep an eye on her, I think you can trust him.”

  “Yeah, I hear what you’re saying, but … I’ll talk to him myself—later.”

  “OK. So what’s the plan?”

  “Well, I think what you said works: Mum, Andy, Bill, and Stella should go up to Bramwell in the morning. I want Clare to go too—that means they’ve got at least two military trained people to protect them. We can find a car in the morning—I think Mr Clayton has a vintage model that he keeps at a garage at the end of the road. Perhaps he’ll let us have it.”

  “Perhaps?” Alex replies with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t sound convinced.

  “Well, maybe not, but I’m sure we’ll find one for sale … somewhere?” She shrugs. “Once they’ve gone, we alert the authorities and tell them what we know about the ‘Days of Fire’ … Tsk!”

  “What is it?”

  “Days of Fire! It’s pathetic—so dramatic.”

  “Yes, but deadly, Jessie.”

  “Yes,” she replies anger boiling as she recalls the loathing with which the terrorist had spoken of the ‘dirty English’ and the gruesome details he’d delighted in as he’d told them of the fires he’d set and the people he’d watched die. He seemed to revel in their pain—that’s what finally convinced her to ‘execute’ him—he was getting a kick out of it. Evil—pure evil.

  “Well, are you ready?”

  “Yes, let’s go and talk to them.”

  “We’ve made it as safe as we can here,” Jessie explains to Stella and the others gathered around the kitchen table. “There are enough supplies to get you up to Bramwell and when you get there the house is stocked with enough provisions for at least a month.”

  “There’s a well and we have a wood-burning stove,” Clarissa explains smiling at Bill and Andy as they listen to the plan. “We can even have hot water!”

  “Tonight, we can all stay here. We’ve got enough food and water to get through this evening and the next few days if necessary. We’ll take what we don’t use with us.”

  “I don’t think I’ll sleep very well!”

  “We’ll take it in turns to keep watch,” she says with her best reassuring smile, “and in the morning we’ll leave for Bramwell.”

  Clarissa sighs and leans back in her chair. It’s the first time Jessie has seen the frown leave her face since she’d stepped out of the cellar.

  “Jessie’s right,” her mother agrees. “We’re comfortable here now. A good night’s sleep and things will look better in the morning.”

  “But what if he comes back, Clarissa?” Bill adds.

  “You can help us keep watch,” Alex suggests. “That way there’s always someone to keep a check on the doors and windows whilst the others get some sleep.”

  “Hah! Sleep,” her mother laughs.

  “You need it, Mum. You look washed out,” Stella joins in.

  “I don’t think I’ll get much sleep tonight, darling, but I’ll try,” she says and gently strokes the girl’s arm. Stella leans her head against their mother’s shoulder.

  Tap! Tap! Tap!

  A knock at the back door has them all on edge.

  “Yoohoo! Clarissa! Jessie!”

  “Mrs Clayton!” Jessie sighs with a smile and turns to open the kitchen door.

  “I went to the front door, Jessie, but there was no answer. Do you know that the wood’s split? Are you all alright?” she asks craning her neck to look into the candle-lit kitchen.

  “Yes, Mrs Clayton, we’re all fine.”

  “Oh, good! Then,” she says with an apologetic smile, “do you have that stove you promised? Mr Clayton would love a cup of tea and I’ve even convinced him that we won’t be poisoned by the gas!”

  Jessie smiles at the woman. “Of course. Give me a minute and I’ll pop it round.”

  “Thank you. I’ll wait on your knock,” she finishes and turns to step down.

  Andy kneads Clarissa’s shoulder as they stand in front of the fireplace. The muscles are knotted as he massages her neck. He can understand why; he’s had a tension headache since her phone call too.

  “And what did you do with the laptop and memory stick then?” he asks, noticing how rich and glossy her dark hair is in the candlelight as she recounts the story of the attack in the office.

  “The laptop was already here. It’s upstairs. I’d dropped the memory stick on the office floor.” She tuts, smiles and shakes her head. “Clumsy!”

  Stupid! “Yeah,” he laughs in agreement.

  “When he pushed me to the floor I managed to grab it. I dropped it into my pocket just before I sprayed him with the Mace.”

  “Hah! I bet that made him wince!”

  “I think it saved my life, Andy,” she says trembling a little at the memory.

 
“So where is it now?”

  “Oh, I’ve made sure it’s safe this time! Do you really think Melody is involved? I know she’s power-hungry but-”

  “Well, Bill said she was chatting to the Russian in your office before you came. I guess that’s good evidence.”

  “I know but … I never realised how ruthless she really was!”

  “You don’t get to be Director without being ruthless!” he says with a wry grin.

  “No! True, but risking it all for a deal with the Russians?”

  “Perhaps she was forced into it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Whatever reason she had though she’s going to do time for her mistake … if she is involved”

  “I can’t see the Russians letting her live if she’s caught. They’d be too afraid of what she might say.”

  “Oh! … What a mess! I wish I’d never found out! I wish I’d listened to you and closed the case instead of digging just that bit deeper.”

  Yes, yes you should.

  “Today has been hell and I feel … so guilty!”

  “Guilty? Why on earth should you feel guilty for doing your job?”

  “Well, it’s put us all in danger. If-”

  “Now, now, Clarissa,” he says gently and turns her to face him. “You’re just doing your job, and you’re damned good at it too!”

  “Yes,” she sighs. “But-”

  Her words stop as he bends to kiss her, the best way he can think of shutting her up.

  “I’ll look after the evidence if it makes you feel any better?”

  “No. No, I’ll keep it. It’s safe.”

  “Safe?”

  “Yes, upstairs, in my bedroom. As soon as this is over I’ll be uploading it straight to Clarvis.”

  Not a chance! “Agreed.”

  “And as soon as we get back online, I’m following the other leads. That’s where the fun starts!”

  “Fun?” he laughs with a sinking feeling in his gut.

  “Yes, fun. That’s where I start looking under the stones and finding out exactly who’s involved—see how far up the ladder the laundering goes.”

  “Right to the top?”