Escaping Darkness (Book 4): The Fallout

by Richards, E. S.

  Chapter 12

  Deb, Stuart, Ethan, and Miles stood around the grave silently, their heads hung low as they each whispered their own goodbyes. They had known this day would happen for some time now, even though none of them were prepared for it. Even after watching Doctor Reeves and everyone else die, they had still had faith that Billy would pull through. Now that faith was lost. Billy was dead and the four of them were the only survivors remaining in Tanner.

  Walking back inside, Deb ushered Corker back and away from the door. The small dog wasn’t allowed outside anymore, the dirty snowfall—as they had come to call it—too heavy and there being no way to protect the little dog from it. None of them were even sure if it was just snow or not. They were certain ash and dirt were mixed into it on some level and that it was toxic, but without Mia and Jorge, they didn’t have any way of knowing how deadly it really was. As a result, they all chose to err on the side of caution and just avoided going outside at all costs. Now it seemed the only time they left the house was to dig another grave.

  After Patrick and Allie had left, the group had done their best to make the final few days as easy as possible for Doctor Reeves and the couple of others who still lived in Tanner. The doctor was helpful, telling them what to do to ease the pain for each of them, although ultimately, they all knew there was nothing that could prolong their lives. Everyone from Tanner had died one way or another and now the place felt empty and strange to those who remained. A part of Deb wished they had all left with Patrick, though she knew Seattle was likely no different. Wherever you went now was a toss-up—no guarantee of an easy life anywhere.

  “Miles—wait!” Ethan called after his son as the young boy stomped up the stairs to the room he had claimed as his own. Over the last twenty-four hours, Miles had struggled to come to terms with the fact Billy was dying. They had done everything they could for the boy, whose lungs were just too badly damaged to recover. Doctor Reeves had given him the gift of a few more days—that was it. Tanner seemed to be cursed in some way, no one able to escape the lure of death that camped there.

  “Let him go,” Deb said to Ethan, aware of what Miles was afraid of. He was frightened he would die too, truly believing that the town was cursed. “He’ll come around in time.”

  Ethan sank down onto the couch with a sigh, his body sagging into the material and almost molding to it. He spent most of his time there now, snuggled into the fabric in front of the fire. A solid chill was settling across Tanner, growing more intense with each passing day. It made digging graves increasingly hard work, the ground solid and unyielding. Still, a line of gravestones sat outside in the doctor’s garden, decorating the path that led down to the bar.

  “I don’t blame him,” Ethan remarked, rubbing his hands together and willing himself to warm up. “Even I sometimes think we should’ve stayed at home.”

  “For what?” Stuart questioned, trying to stop his friend from spiraling into depression. “To die in a small village below an airport? Overlooked and forgotten about?”

  “We would’ve been in our own homes, at least,” Ethan argued back. “Instead of waiting to die in a stranger’s town.”

  “We’re not waiting to die,” Stuart declared. “We’re not giving up just because we’re the only ones left.”

  Ethan sighed. “I just don’t see the point. There’s only enough food and water here to last us a limited time. The next town is miles away and we’ve no way of getting there. We can’t grow any crops and we certainly can’t melt the snow and drink that. Admit it. There’s a time limit on our existence here. We all know it. Maybe life will be easier if we just accept that. It seemed to work for the doctor in his final days.”

  Stuart and Deb looked at one another, exchanging a glance that made them both feel anxious. Ethan was right. They both knew it; they were just trying not to admit it out loud or believe it. Nevertheless, it was true. There was no way the four of them could survive in Tanner for longer than a few months. They were in the process of going around all the houses and gathering food and water supplies from them, but it still wouldn’t be enough. Unless they found a source of clean water, none of them thought they would live to see Christmas.

  “We can’t think like that,” Deb chastised Ethan. “Your son is upstairs. He’s just watched his friend die and he thinks that he could be next. Even if you don’t believe it yourself, you have to make him believe that he stands a chance of surviving. That little boy needs hope. And we have to give it to him.”

  Ethan looked at Deb, truly listening to what she was saying. The woman was right. The main reason that he had left his home was to give Miles more of a chance of surviving. Even if his son couldn’t live forever, it was his job as a father to make him believe that he could. That was what Patrick had been doing for Allie. That man had traveled across half of the country in his attempt to get his daughter home, all to make the young girl feel safe.

  “You’re right,” Ethan said to Deb. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Deb smiled. “We all have our down days. We just have to work together to pick each other up and remember that there is a future for us. It might be short, but it’s better than nothing. And who knows—this might all blow over in a couple of weeks. We just need to have hope. There’s nothing stronger.”

  Pleased that her little pep talk had worked on Ethan, Deb excused herself from the room and went upstairs to her room. Corker bounced along beside her, the little dog still full of life and enthusiasm. It brought a smile to her face. Everyone said animals were clever, so if Corker still seemed happy, then that was enough to give Deb hope that things would work themselves out. She knew it was probably foolish, yet after having lost everything else in her life, she refused to lose her faith. Whether it was faith in herself or in some higher power, she wasn’t sure. She just knew she wouldn’t let herself be beaten. She wouldn’t give up. Even when all the odds seemed stacked against her, Deb was determined to keep going and not let herself crumble.

  Waking the next morning, Deb knew another day of scavenging lay ahead of her. They were working through Tanner in a methodical manner, clearing full streets each day and cordoning off sections of the town that had been emptied out.

  “Hey,” she smiled at Ethan and Miles as she walked into the kitchen. “Stuart not up yet?”

  “He’s been down already,” Ethan replied. “Think he’s just getting dressed.”

  “Fair,” Deb replied, grabbing herself a bowl and emptying some cereal into it. Adding some canned milk, she stirred the contents around for a few seconds to allow the cereal to get soggy, then scooped a large spoonful into her mouth. “You coming out with us today, Miles?” She asked between mouthfuls, addressing the young boy at the table and hoping he was in better spirits.

  “Yeah,” Miles replied, shooting his dad a quick look before answering. Ethan nodded at his boy and smiled, the two of them clearly having shared a conversation last night after what Deb had told Ethan. She was glad of it. The four of them all had to live together; she was doing it for their relationship, but also for the benefit of herself and Stuart. None of them wanted an angsty preteen roaming around the house, even if his mood was completely justified.

  “Morning,” Stuart announced himself, walking back into the kitchen with his boots on and his coat all buttoned up as well. “Are we ready to head out yet?”

  “Jeez, was I late up or something?” Deb laughed. “I’ve not even had a chance to wash my face yet.”

  The three men burst out laughing, the mood in the house definitely a lot more upbeat than it had been previously. None of them had forgotten what had happened—nor would they ever—and they all seemed to have come to the same conclusion about it. It was done: there was no point dwelling on the negative points or ruining the rest of their lives over it. People died, and they had to keep on living.

  “It’s all right,” Stuart replied, “take your time. I was just up early this morning.”

  “Okay,” Deb smiled, allowing herself
to finish her breakfast at a suitable pace so she didn’t get indigestion. “I’ll be as quick as I can nonetheless.”

  With water being rationed, washing herself and getting ready wasn’t exactly a long process for anyone anymore. Deb was back downstairs within minutes, prepared for the day of scavenging. Going through people’s houses was never an easy affair. It was necessary, but it was impossible to avoid thinking about the people who had lived there beforehand. Their ghosts were still fresh in the air, their scent lingering on the furniture as the group moved through the house gathering up old possessions. It was a difficult task, one they all knew had to be done.

  Wrapping her scarf around her mouth, Deb tucked the folds away neatly so no dirt could sneak into her lungs when she went outside. Stuart, Ethan, and Miles were all already lined up by the front door, waiting for her.

  “You need to stay here,” she whispered to Corker as the little dog jumped up and scratched at her legs, begging to join them. “It’s not safe outside.”

  Looking up at her friends, Deb nodded to them and prepared herself for the treacherous weather outside once again. It was getting worse every single day, the air sharp and frigid, and the wind beyond extreme as it whipped past them. Stuart opened the door slowly, when the force of the wind threw it back in his face immediately, the gale charging into the house and spreading its icy talons over every surface. Deb lifted an arm over her face to protect her eyes from the sting, inching forward until she was fully outside with everyone else.

  They tried to walk as quickly as possible to the next house on their list, everyone marching with their heads down and their arms wrapped around their bodies for warmth. It was difficult to see much farther than a few yards ahead of them, houses coming out of the dark cloud like shadows dancing on the wind. They seemed to move somehow, almost like the buildings were ghostlike. It was the density of the clouds—Deb was sure—and she could almost swear she saw silhouettes of people within the haze as well. Ghosts. Former residents of Tanner. It was spooky; Deb was unwilling to look twice in case she discovered it wasn’t just her mind playing tricks on her, but reality.

  More bad thoughts circled through her head as they hurried down the road. Questions of whether it was all going to be worth it, whether what they were doing would be enough. There were plenty of resources in everyone’s houses in Tanner, and Deb still questioned how long it would all last. Eventually they would run out. How long would that take? Would it happen before or after things started to return to normal? Would that even ever happen?

  The questions kept her up almost every night, plaguing her dreams with terror and doubt. Deb knew it had been right to leave her home in the first place; whether it was right to remain in Tanner was another question. A part of her thought they should’ve kept traveling, always on the run from the effects of the eruption. Deep down, Deb knew it would’ve caught up with them eventually, no matter which direction they decided to go.

  The effects of the natural disaster were bigger than anything she could’ve imagined and there was no way of knowing if it was even survivable. Pushing her way into the next house on the street, Deb reminded herself that she just had to keep living for every day, as she had told Ethan the night before. They might not live forever, but her days had been limited since birth and that never stopped her before. Although everyone had a timeline on their life, that didn’t mean they should live by it.

  Chapter 13

  “Shh, darling,” Linda stroked her husband’s brow, mopping the sweat away with a cool, damp flannel. “It’s okay. Just breathe. Breathe.”

  Stretched out on the couch in the front room—the uncomfortable leather one they hardly ever used in normal life—Jerry hacked and coughed, his lungs weakening inside him. Spittle and tiny flecks of blood flew out of his mouth as he coughed, landing on his shirt, the couch, and the carpet below. Linda didn’t bat an eyelid at that though, supporting her husband’s body with her arm and trying to soothe him in any way possible.

  “Try and lean over to one side,” she suggested, coming up with ideas that she thought might ease the strain on Jerry’s windpipe. She wasn’t really sure what was happening or which parts of his body were affected, but Linda was trying everything to bring her husband back to full health. “There you go,” she murmured, rubbing his back. “That’s better.”

  Slowly, Jerry’s coughing fit began to subside, the old man able to right his body slightly and sit up a little bit. Linda helped him, moving a few cushions behind his back to support his body. Jerry had been taking an afternoon nap, his body already feeling weak and exhausted from the work he and Linda had been doing. They were now living entirely downstairs in the farmhouse, but it hadn’t been easy sorting it all out and making sure they were safe from the breeze that crept through the halls and down the stairs from Riley’s bedroom.

  “Thank you,” Jerry managed to sputter, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he spoke. “That can’t be good,” he remarked, his hand covered in blood.

  “Oh, darling.” Linda moved around and sat on the edge of the couch, looking at her husband lovingly. His coughing had sprung up on him while he slept, alerting Linda to what was happening from the kitchen where she was preparing dinner. The smell of burning vegetables carried to the front room from the kitchen now. She didn’t care. Her husband’s health was much more important than a perfect meal was.

  “I’m sorry, Linda,” Jerry whispered, knowing that he was letting his wife down. He was practically useless to her now, one morning of work exhausting him more than a whole week used to back in the day. He couldn’t even take a nap without putting himself in danger apparently. The old man felt like his body was wasting away. “I’m okay now.”

  “Oh, don’t apologize, you big fool,” Linda quipped back, her worries about Jerry far outweighing any other emotion she felt toward him. “I just want you to be okay.”

  “I know,” Jerry replied. “I’m sorry that I’m not. I’m sorry that this is happening to me.”

  “You can’t control that. It’s not your fault.”

  “But I can still apologize for how it’s affecting things,” Jerry continued. “I can still take credit for being the one who is putting more strain on our already difficult situation.”

  Linda sighed. She knew her husband wasn’t ever going to just lie back and let her take care of him. He wanted to fight up until his very last breath, and the fact that he couldn’t made Jerry feel like he was useless or worthless. She knew that was exactly how he was thinking and it pained her that she couldn’t make him see things another way. He wasn’t a burden to her in any way—Linda would rather suffer every day as long as she could see her husband’s face than live an easy life without him. He was the only thing that kept her going anymore, so she hated it when he blamed himself for what was happening.

  “Okay, okay,” she reluctantly agreed, letting her husband win that small argument so that she saved him more aggravation in the long-term. Whatever Linda could do to make Jerry’s life easier now, she did it, even if her husband didn’t quite see what she was doing. “How does your chest feel?”

  “Tight,” Jerry answered. “I feel like it’s difficult to breathe,” he paused, inhaling slowly with his right hand still on his chest. “And almost like I’m breathing in, but the air isn’t making it to my lungs or something.”

  “Hmm,” Linda shook her head, worrying anxiously about her husband. “I don’t know what we can do.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything,” Jerry sighed. “Not without seeking some proper medical advice. Which obviously isn’t possible,” he quickly added to the end of his sentence, not wanting his wife to get any ideas about going outside again.

  “I know,” Linda remarked. “I just wish there was something I could do for you.”

  “You do more than enough,” Jerry smiled, willing his wife to see how much he valued her already. “I’m feeling much better now. Why don’t you go and see if any of that dinner can be saved? I’ll come in a second
.”

  “All right,” Linda replied reluctantly, not wanting to leave her husband yet seeing that he needed a minute to himself to collect his thoughts. He was a proud man and she knew how much he hated it when she saw him like this. Jerry liked to believe that he was invincible—he had lived his whole life never showing any weakness, believing that to ask for help was a failure. It was difficult for him to act differently now. Even so, Linda knew he was at least trying. They had to be there for each other and understand each other’s needs. If Jerry wanted a minute to himself, Linda had to give that to him—despite how much it pained her. “Shout if you need me.”

  “I will,” Jerry nodded, waiting for his wife to finally walk out of the room before he tried to reposition himself on the couch. Even the small movements caused him to experience chest pain. Breathing was difficult lying down, let alone moving about or trying to do anything strenuous. Jerry was turning into a massive couch potato and he hated it. Each day that passed only meant he got more frustrated at himself and he knew that it was upsetting Linda as well. Even if just for her, he knew he had to try and deal with things in a better way.

  Pushing himself to his feet, Jerry paused as the blood rushed to his head. He squeezed his eyes closed and held on to the arm of the couch, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass. That was happening more often as well. Sudden bouts of lightheadedness or moments when he felt woozy and confused. Jerry wondered whether it was whatever sickness he’d contracted exacerbating his previously troublesome illness in some way, leaving his mind unable to cope with what was happening and therefore lapsing into forgetfulness more often. He hadn’t had an episode where he’d wandered off outside again yet, but he was getting increasingly forgetful about things—his mind losing itself mid-sentence or switching and going completely off topic at times.