Into the Dark (Book 8): The Next World

by Casey, Ryan

  Everyone wanted hope in their own ways.

  But they weren’t going to find that hope. Not in the immediate aftermath of this situation. Not immediately after the fall.

  Mike thought back to the initial downfall, and he remembered the mistakes people made right back then. The urgent selfish rush for self-preservation. It was important, now more than ever, that people stuck together.

  Literally everything depended on it.

  He heard another grunt from Harrison. A mumble. Which was a good sign. He was alive at least. Still living. Still going strong. He had to stay aware. He had to keep tabs on his physical state.

  But at the end of the day, he was lucky he’d made it this far.

  Of course, Mike wasn’t looking forward to reporting back about the hydroelectricity source. He wasn’t looking forward to telling everyone just how ruined it was.

  But he had other priorities right now.

  He just had to hope he didn’t run into…

  He saw her right as he thought it.

  Gina stepped out of the bar. She turned and looked in Mike’s direction right away.

  Mike couldn’t make out her face. But he could see from the way she was tilting her head, from the way she was trying to see, that she knew.

  “Harrison?” she said.

  “Gina,” Mike started.

  But it was too late.

  Gina raced towards them.

  “Harrison? What? What h… Oh God. Oh God.”

  “We need to get him into surgery immediately, Gina,” Mike said.

  “How—What—”

  “The power’s completely gone. We have to accept that. But that doesn’t matter right now. He matters right now. Help me get him to surgery. Quick.”

  Gina looked bewildered. Like she still hadn’t totally processed this, yet. Like she was in shock. “I can’t… I—”

  “Gina, stay with me. We need to get your boyfriend seen to right now or he’s going to die. He’s lucky he’s still with us at all. Can you help me? Please?”

  Gina shook her head. Then she took a breath, nodded. “Come on,” she said, her voice shaky, crackly. “Let’s—let’s get you somewhere safe. Let’s get you somewhere comfortable.”

  They rushed through the hospital grounds. Harrison was still bleeding badly. And as they ran, Mike couldn’t help but shake the shades of the beginning he saw, here. He couldn’t help but fight the feeling like it was happening all over again. Because society before had been more civilised. It had been better constructed.

  But at least they had an understanding of the past, this time. At least they had an understanding of how things could go, and how they couldn’t let things get to that state again for anything.

  They rushed to the entrance to the main hospital when Mike was stopped.

  Graham was standing there. He was speaking to a couple of people. Reassuring them.

  When he looked at Harrison, the horror widened his eyes.

  “What…”

  “We need to help him, Graham,” Mike said. “The hydroelectricity source, it’s knackered. For good. And it cost Harrison an arm in the process. We need to help him.”

  Graham looked stunned. Taken aback. Like there was a reality to all of this that went way beyond rivalry and everything else.

  He nodded. Then he moved out of the way like he was caught up in a trance.

  And as Mike pushed past him, the altercation they’d had earlier a thing of the past, he felt a hand on his arm.

  He looked around. Saw Graham standing there. A couple of his supporters emerging.

  “Let Ryan see to him,” Graham said. “He’s—he’s been training for the bulk of the time we’ve been here. He’s well qualified. Let us take him out of your hands.”

  Mike wanted to protest. He wanted to stand his ground. Those old rivalries with Graham and his allies still strong, still pertinent.

  But in the end, he could see from the look on Graham’s face that this transcended allegiances.

  He wanted to help.

  He nodded. Passed Harrison over.

  And he watched as Ryan—a bulky guy with a bushy beard—propped him up, half-smile on his face. “We’ll take care of him,” he said, looking at Gina. “Don’t worry.”

  He went to carry Harrison away.

  That was when Harrison’s eyes opened again.

  This time, there was no struggle. This time, there was no pain.

  He just looked at Gina. Not at Mike. Not at anyone else. Right at Gina.

  And he smiled at her, like he was totally calm, totally at ease. Like nothing bad was going down here at all.

  “I love you,” he said. “I’ll be… I’ll be back soon. And we can talk about… about decorating the lounge. We can talk about… Christmas.”

  Gina went over to him. Kissed him.

  But his eyes had already closed again.

  Ryan nodded. And Mike nodded back at him.

  Then, Harrison disappeared behind the doors, into the hospital.

  The next time Mike saw him, he was in a hole in the ground.

  Chapter Fourteen

  One month later…

  Winter progressed rapidly and harshly.

  The air was icy cold. The bright days had long ago passed. Every day, a blanket of thick grey clouds. Snow beginning to fall, and then falling heavily, and then before Mike knew it, a thick carpet of it everywhere.

  The hospital looked nice in the snow. The grounds looked picture perfect. From a distance, it was easy to believe that everything was still good here. That everything was perfect.

  But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  There was nothing perfect about the hospital. Not anymore.

  Mike stood in the cemetery. The holes in the ground were growing. Some of them were older people falling victim to the nasty flu going around. Others were suicide, people struggling to get to grips with the sudden shift in circumstances. And others were murders. Yeah. Murders were a thing here, now. Mostly random. Mostly unsolved.

  But all adding to the melting pot; all adding to the theories that were spreading around.

  The theories that the outsiders were responsible for this mess.

  Vincent and Graham’s running of this place had disintegrated in recent weeks. There were rumours of severe struggles behind the scenes, but both of them kept that pretty private. One thing was for sure: this place wasn’t letting as many people in, not anymore. Now supplies were limited, they had to be serious about conserving what they had. Especially now winter had arrived.

  Trade between the other groups out there had nosedived, too. They didn’t have as much product to work with after the withering of the crops and the vandalism of much of their equipment, so that simply meant that they fell down the rung; slipped down the pecking order.

  And Mike knew it was just the reality of the world they lived in now. It was just another adjustment, all over again.

  And they had to adjust. Because if they didn’t, things would keep spiralling downwards.

  There wasn’t just the ill, the suicides, the murdered here, though.

  There was another grave.

  A grave that meant more to Mike than any of the others.

  He looked at Harrison’s grave and he felt that same combination of guilt and regret storm through his system.

  He blamed himself for what had happened to Harrison. He’d chosen to take him out with him. He’d made that judgement call. Another glimpse of what leadership under Mike was like, truly.

  Sure, it was Harrison who’d got into the water. It was Harrison who’d tried to move the rocks, to get the hydroelectricity source back in working order.

  But Mike was the one who’d pushed him to a point where he felt like he had to prove himself.

  He’d pushed him into a position where he felt like he had something to prove.

  And that had been the thing that had killed him.

  Well. Almost.

  He thought back to the decision he’d made. The snap d
ecision to take Harrison’s arm off.

  Those sounds. That feeling of muscle slicing away underneath his knife.

  And Harrison’s quivering body.

  Those memories would stick with him for the rest of his life.

  They would haunt his dreams for eternity.

  He looked around and saw Gina standing there.

  She was looking over at the grave. Then at Mike.

  And when she saw him, her eyes widened.

  He went to stand. Heart racing. He just wanted to speak with her. To talk with her.

  But then she turned around and rushed away.

  He wanted to go after her. To follow her. Because it had been going on too long now. In the first two weeks following Harrison’s death, he’d avoided her. He hadn’t been able to look her in the eye. Because he’d been with Harrison when it happened. He’d been… responsible.

  But when he’d finally managed to conquer his guilt—or rather, to push his guilt to one side—Gina had been the one avoiding him.

  He watched as she rushed away, and he wanted to go to her. To speak to her.

  “You’re spending an awful lot of time here, Mike.”

  He jumped. When he heard the voice, he spun around.

  Romesh was standing there.

  He looked thinner. He was wrapped up in a thick parka, but even that couldn’t hide how gaunt his cheekbones had got, neither could his beard—which had grown somewhat patchier. His glasses were smudged. He was shaking, sniffing.

  Mike turned away from him. “Just paying my respects.”

  “There’s paying your respects, and then there’s wallowing in guilt about what happened.”

  Mike looked back at him. Frowned. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting you stop blaming yourself for the shit that went down. What happened was awful. No doubt about it. But you can’t hold yourself responsible for it. You did the right thing in the moment. You did the only thing you could. What’s so wrong about that?”

  “What’s wrong about it is that I killed Harrison,” Mike said.

  Romesh opened his mouth like he was going to say something then. And then he closed his mouth. Sighed. “I came to tell you some news, anyway. Sarah. She’s pregnant. We’re having a little Romesh.”

  Mike smiled. He walked over to Romesh, patted him on the back. Some good news. That’s what he needed. That’s what this whole place needed right now. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. I mean. I know it’s kind of outdated. But me and Sarah have been talking a lot. We kind of feel like it’d be nice if you were the kid’s godfather. Whatever the hell that even means anymore.”

  Mike felt his throat wobble. He looked away. Tears started to well up.

  “Hey,” Romesh said. “Don’t go getting all emotional on me. Might just revoke my offer.”

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “I’ll do it. I’d… I’d be honoured.”

  Romesh smiled. “Good. Now that’s the good news. Bad news? There’s a problem with the cows.”

  Mike frowned. “No good without bad. What’s wrong?”

  “You should come see for yourself. Really.”

  Mike looked at the graves.

  He looked off into the distance, off where Gina had disappeared to.

  Then he turned back to Romesh.

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  “You might regret that,” Romesh said.

  Mike didn’t know what Romesh was talking about.

  Not until he saw the scene for himself.

  But Romesh was right.

  Mike regretted it immediately.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The second Mike stepped inside the barn, he knew something was seriously wrong right away.

  The barn was usually filled with life. Cows in their pens chewing away at their feed. That smell of methane clinging to the nostrils. That gentle warmth, even on a cold day.

  But today was different.

  Today, the smell was intense. Extreme. Made Mike want to heave the moment he stepped into the barn.

  And there were no sounds.

  Nothing but a pained call of a cow in the distance.

  “Shit,” Mike said.

  “Yeah,” Romesh said. “Something like that.”

  The cows—all twenty-six of them that were in here—were dead. All of them except for one, right at the far end of the barn.

  Lying on its side. Whimpering.

  Mike walked past Gemma and Dave, who were on duty. Both of them looked traumatised, shell-shocked.

  “They were just like this when we started shift,” Gemma said. “I don’t… I don’t know how it happened or when it happened, but it must’ve been sometime between changeover.”

  Mike nodded. He covered his nostrils, not getting used to the stench at all. In fact, the longer he spent in here, the worse it got. Because he was growing used to the reality of what had happened. Adapting to the reality of this situation.

  And it was a situation that nobody could ever be prepared for.

  Especially when you’d grown so used to the luxuries of a home like the one they had for so, so long.

  “It must be the same virus that picked the others off,” Romesh said. “Only, like, a mass outbreak.”

  “And a pretty sudden outbreak,” Mike said.

  He didn’t intend his words to sound so sceptical. But he couldn’t mask the way he truly felt, deep down.

  “Whatever happened is irrelevant,” Gemma said. “They’re… they’re gone. Which means we need to start having some serious conversations about the next step. Because I’m not sure we can move on from this. This… this is the last good resource we have now the crops have withered. The one thing we had going for us, and it’s gone.”

  Mike didn’t need reminding of the severity of this situation. He knew just how tested the group were going to be as winter progressed. He knew just how much tensions were going to build as time went on, as things got worse and worse.

  This place was far beyond breaking point. It was a miracle it was even still standing—even if it was barely.

  One more significant loss like this could be enough to snap it completely.

  He walked past the cows. Looked at them as they lay there. Most of them looked at peace, in a way. No sign of blood or anything like that.

  But there were a few that were bleeding. Bleeding from the ears, that kind of thing.

  And Mike felt more and more sorrow for them as he walked past them. Rosie. Jill. Hilda. They’d named them all. Grown accustomed to their company.

  Grown to love them and respect them for what they offered to their people. Because respect was the only thing that was going to move them forward.

  And now they were gone.

  It was when he reached Belinda’s pen that he stopped and sighed.

  She was still moving a little. Still twitching from side to side. Looking up with those big, ever-puzzled eyes, looking over at Mike.

  He felt a knot in his chest tighten. Walked over towards her. He didn’t want to say goodbye. Saying goodbye was never easy.

  But he owed it to this poor cow not to leave her to die alone.

  He climbed into her pen. Walked over to her side. The smell grew worse and worse as he got closer.

  But he held back his sickness. Held back any fear.

  Then he crouched by her side.

  “Hey, girl.”

  She twitched. Quivered. Tried to shake away from him, shake free of him, staring up at him with one unmistakable expression.

  Fear.

  He stroked her. Patted her. And she wasn’t comfortable with it at first. She wasn’t happy about it at first.

  But eventually, she let him.

  She let him, and her breathing eased and her whining relaxed.

  “You don’t have to worry about a thing,” Mike said. “It’s okay now. Let go. Let go.”

  He felt the cow tighten up. Saw her stretch her legs out, kick and shake a few times.

  And then he felt her
go still.

  Heard her let go of a final breath.

  He wiped his eyes. Took in a sharp inhalation. It was never easy losing anyone. Not even cattle. They’d grown to build such a bond. Such an attachment.

  Losing them wasn’t easy at all.

  He stood up. Went to turn away, to walk away.

  And that’s when he saw something.

  Something shimmering, just about catching his eye in the hay.

  He crouched down. Picked it up.

  And when he saw it, his body went numb.

  “Mike?”

  He turned around. Saw Romesh looking at him, frowning.

  Then Gemma and Dave just behind.

  Both looking uncertain.

  He stood up. Took a deep breath.

  Then he walked over to Romesh, to Gemma, to Dave.

  “I found this.”

  Romesh squinted. So too did the others.

  “What’s…”

  “It’s a syringe,” Mike said. “The tip of a syringe. Snapped off.”

  “But what does it mean?” Romesh said. And even though he said it… Mike got the sense he understood exactly what it meant already.

  “It means these cows didn’t die of any virus,” Mike said. “Somebody killed them. Somebody’s been taking them out. One of our own people has been taking them out.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mike stood in the bar and looked at everyone surrounding him; everyone who had decided to attend.

  The bar wasn’t like it used to be. It didn’t serve beer anymore, for one. Figured they could use the supplies for something more worthwhile.

  It was a shame, really. This place used to be a real spot of recreation. A place where people could come and chill out. But things had changed. The power outage had made sure of that.

  Occasionally, Mike still visited here. Tried to recreate that same feeling he used to feel back in the day, back when everyone used to come here, sometimes every night of the week.

  But it was like a ghost haunted this place, now.

  It was like a spectre of what it used to be lurked around every corner.