Days of Darkness (Book 3): Dark World by Casey Ryan

Author:Casey, Ryan [Casey, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | EMP | Thriller
Publisher: Higher Bank Books
Published: 2020-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Martin sat back against the wall of the cabin and tried to process what he’d just heard.

A cool late morning breeze blew in through the cabin door. Ella and Jax sat opposite Martin, saying nothing. Just waiting for him to say something. Waiting for him to respond.

“I just... That’s not the Harold I know.”

Jax sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry. I know you probably had a positive opinion of him. And it’s hard, learning the truth about those we believe benevolent. But I’m only sharing the truth. And it’s a truth my friends here can corroborate. A truth your daughter can corroborate. Harold executed my girlfriend. He killed her in cold blood. And it didn’t stop there.”

Martin swallowed a lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anything else.

“I was angry after that,” Jax said. “Grief hit me like nothing else. I wanted to run in there. I wanted to kill the bastard myself. But I realised that was just going to get me killed. That was just going to do harm to my people. I needed to step back. I needed to bide my time. And I needed to wait for the right moment.

“But it wasn’t as simple as that. Harold... he came after us. Sent his goons out into the woods to hunt us down. He pushed us out of the area. Forced us back. And it turns out we weren’t the only ones. There were others groups, too. Others like us. Others who’d sought out shelter. Others who had been forced away. By Harold. And they are the people who make up our group now. They are the people who form my people. And they are the people who you have to stand by. Because we’re the good guys. Not Harold. I’m sorry.”

Martin looked at Ella. He couldn’t wrap his head around this. Couldn’t take any of it in. Because Harold. He seemed a good guy. He seemed like he had the best interests of the shelter at heart. Like he cared about Lancaster. Cared about people.

But maybe that was just it.

He cared about Lancaster. He cared about his people.

But did he care about people?

He thought about how much the numbers were trickling down. How, in the early days, more people joined their shelter. But how they had dwindled over time. He thought about how proud Harold was of his home. But how mysterious he was about their recruitment process. About the scouting missions his closest allies went on.

And then he thought of Quentin.

He’d seen it. Seen it for himself in the woods. Quentin. George. Both of them in balaclavas. Shooting Jax’s people in plain sight.

And then pointing the rifle at him and being so close to shooting.

“I’ve seen it too, Dad,” Ella said. “And... and I wanted to come back. I wanted to get you out of there so badly. But if I’d come near that place, he’d have killed me. So we had to wait. We had to wait ’til we had a chance to draw you out.

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