The Savage Darkness (Darkness After Series Book 4) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Keep Reading

  Voyage After the Collapse Excerpt

  More by Scott B. Williams

  About the Author

  The Savage Darkness

  Darkness After Series

  Book IV

  Scott B. Williams

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are all products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Scott B. Williams

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Cover photograph swamp: © Scott B. Williams

  Cover photograph archer: © heshixin, file #95340755, fotolia

  Cover and interior design: Scott B. Williams

  Editors: Michelle Cleveland, Bill Barker

  01.02.17

  www.scottbwilliams.com

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  For Bill and Betsy,

  One

  THE LONE RIDER TURNED off the shoulder of the paved county road he’d been following for miles and onto a smaller gravel road that would take him the rest of the way home. It was a cool morning, almost cold really, in that last hour before dawn, especially with the bitter north wind that began the afternoon before. It was late in the season for a cold front so strong, and he figured it might be the last one like it. Spring came early in these parts, and some of the first wildflowers were already blooming. Even on a day like today it would warm up nicely by afternoon, but that didn’t keep him from turning up his collar against the wind as he whispered to Eli, telling his faithful mount they were almost home.

  It had been a long ride here from Texas, but it wasn’t the distance that kept him away for nearly a year. He could have walked those 450 miles inside of a month if that had been all he’d had to do, but of course, it wasn’t. There had been so many times he didn’t think he’d ever see this road again that he couldn’t count them. But here he was—almost home. What he would find when he got there, he had no idea, but Doug Henley wasn’t one to dwell on negative outcomes or worry about the what-ifs. It might have taken him a year to do it, but he made it here and he’d have his answers soon enough.

  Eli plodded along quietly without complaint. Doug had lost the other horse that was packing his gear in a shootout with some bandits in the woods east of Natchez. He couldn’t carry as much on just the one saddle horse, but at least he was well armed and had the basics he needed while on the move. And he hoped he would soon have a lot more than that when he finally reached the house where he’d raised his family.

  Doug had been riding most of the night, moving only in the cover of darkness as he always did when he had to follow roads. Even that was dangerous enough, but traversing open territory in the daylight was just foolish. He’d seen enough violence in a year to last the rest of his life, and if returning home meant he’d left it behind for good, that would suit Doug Henley just fine. He knew better than to think like that, but even a short respite would do him a world of good. The country had come apart at the seams when the grid went down, and he simply didn’t see any way that it could be put back together again. He’d made a career of enforcing the rules back in that other world before law and order collapsed, but neither he nor any other lawman could make much of a difference now. All he had left awaited him at the end of this dirt road he followed, and until he got there, he still didn’t know what that would be.

  Daylight was just breaking when Doug reached the corner of the barbed wire fence that bounded his property. He dismounted and led the horse to the edge of the road where he tied the reins to a bush and stepped into the gloom of the trees to relieve himself after hours in the saddle. From what he could see of it, the fence looked to be intact. That didn’t necessarily mean it was because Mitch had been maintaining it, but it was a good sign, nevertheless. It felt amazing to be standing on his own land again, and Doug Henley looked out into the mixed pine and hardwood timber with a sense of pride at all he’d accomplished here over the years. He’d often wondered in the past months if he’d ever see this land again, but now he was standing on it, if only on a corner. He looked up at the pale gray sky through the tops of the pines and breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

  He was about to turn and ride on to the entrance lane and the house beyond when something out of place on the pine straw-littered ground caught his eye, the unfolding light of dawn reflecting on it among the shadows. Doug reached for his rifle in the scabbard next to his saddle and then stepped through the fence to investigate. It only took a few more steps to reveal that the objects were exactly what he thought they were—bones—two skulls and an assortment of scattered ribs, pieces of vertebrae and big femurs. They were picked clean and dried out, telling him they had been here at least a few weeks, maybe longer. He didn’t have to wonder what they were; he knew at a glance they were domestic cattle, and he had no doubt they were two of his own animals from among the small herd he kept here on the place.

  Doug wondered why Mitch would slaughter the animals out here, in plain sight of the road, if that were indeed what had happened. He knew something else could have gotten them, but predators weren’t usually a problem in these parts, at least not with fully-grown cattle. Of course it was possible with the way things were now, that big packs of hungry dogs gone feral could take them down, and he’d lost cattle to lightning too, but there was no sign of lightning damage to any of the tall pines nearby. A number of other things could have happened to the animals as well, but Doug wasn’t going to waste time here trying to figure it out. Hopefully he’d get the scoop straight from Mitch soon enough.

  He untied the reins and led Eli on down the road. He was tired of riding and ready to walk anyway, as he was almost there. Besides that, he wanted to be cautious in his approach, just in case something was wrong here at the Henley farm. He kept the AR-platform .308 carbine in hand as he walked. It was such a part of him now that it was there anyway anytime he wasn’t mounted up and riding.

  When he reached the turn-off, he saw that the gate across the lane was chained shut and padlocked, just as it should be at this hour, and he took that as a sign that all was well. Looking at it closer though, he realized it was a different padlock than the one that was on the gate when he left. He didn’t know why Mitch would change it, but it didn’t matter anyway because Doug wasn’t carrying the key to the old one either. Since Mitch had driven him and Suzanne to the airport in New Orleans that day in his new truck, he hadn’t had his key ring with the house and gate keys with him. He’d entrusted all that to Mitch, knowing that all that metal was just more junk he’d have to empty from his po
ckets for the TSA monkeys at the airport. No matter anyway; it was simple enough for him to just climb over, but Eli would have to wait behind. Doug tied the reins to the gate and whispered to his faithful companion:

  “Take a breather, boy. Your work is done for now. I’ll be back to get you when I get the key. Then you can come check out your new digs. You’re gonna love it here, Eli, old boy.”

  The horse just eyed him patiently, shifting its weight from side to side and nodding his head as if in agreement, totally unconcerned about being left behind. Doug turned and set off walking, the mix of anticipation and anxiety within rising in conflict with every step. He willed himself to relax, and was managing pretty well until he reached the dip in the lane from which he should have been able to see the house from under the overhanging Live oak branches that stayed green year round. When what he expected didn’t appear, Doug almost wondered if he’d been away so long that he was wrong about being able to see them from this spot. But he knew better than that. He had come down this gravel drive so many times he knew every tree and bush along the way, and he damned sure knew where his house was. Except now it wasn’t.

  He stooped and bent and weaved to try and pick out more details of the scene before him, but all that was there were the tall oaks and pines that he knew bordered the far back edge of the yard. He felt knots twisting in his stomach as he started walking again, faster now, until he thought better of it and slowed until he was practically stalking. Something was wrong here—really wrong—and it wouldn’t be smart to go charging in without knowing. He side-stepped off the lane with his rifle held at ready and melted into the woods, opting for a stealthy approach that would allow him to see before he was seen, just in case….

  As he eased closer, Doug stopped to listen. The only sounds he could hear were the normal chirps of morning birdsong and the chattering and barking of the ever-present gray squirrels feeding in the surrounding trees. On this alternate route paralleling the road, he knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything of the yard until he reached the edge of the woods. And when he did, what he saw was the realization that one of his worst nightmares since all this madness had become reality.

  The front lawn looked more or less the same as it always did, although thick with un-raked leaves and pine straw. But where the house once stood, Doug saw only a heap of charred rubble and the blackened brick pilings that had once been its foundation. Where the attached carport had been sat the burned out Chevy Trailblazer that was Suzanne’s personal vehicle. Doug doubted it had moved since the day she parked it there before their trip. His state-issued patrol truck and boat were both sitting where he’d left them as well, in the side yard between the house and barn, the boat in the shed but the roof that had been over it missing. Both were covered in dust and soot, the windows of the truck broken out, whether from the heat of the fire or something else before.

  There was even less left of the barn than the house. The post and beam structure had burned completely, leaving only the blackened chassis of his late father’s old International tractor parked there exposed in the open. The old antique Ford truck was missing all together, and Doug figured that was because it was the only vehicle on the place other than the tractor that could still run after the effects of the EMP. His personal truck, the new F-150 Mitch had driven him and Suzanne to the airport in, was almost certainly still sitting on a street somewhere in New Orleans, wherever it had stalled when the solar flare struck.

  As he took all this in, Doug Henley just stood there transfixed, staring in disbelief at the ruins of the home he’d built in which to raise his family. His hopes all this time that it might be a safe refuge, far enough off the beaten path to remain hidden from the madness, were dashed on the rocks of harsh reality as he realized the truth. From what he could see, there was no sign that anyone was still hanging around, if indeed Mitch and Lisa had even been here when this happened. Doug dreaded what he might find among the ashes and rubble before him, but he had to know. Mitch and Lisa were all he had left in the world, and if they hadn’t survived this, he figured he might not either.

  He was crossing the yard in a trance-like state of shock when something off to the far side he’d not noticed before caught his eye. There were two of them; standing forlorn in the cold morning air under the big oak tree that a younger Mitch practically lived in from the time he was old enough to reach the first branch. Two simple wooden crosses, fashioned from boards Doug knew came from one of his gates. Doug Henley felt his steps waiver as his knees weakened, and he almost let the rifle drop from his grasp as he stood there and stared.

  NO! Not Mitch and Lisa! PLEASE NO! He turned his face to the heavens to cry out for answers, but there was only the cold wind whispering through the tops of the pines. Knowing he had to face the truth, he returned his gaze to the two simple markers, each standing silent over a patch of packed earth. Doug Henley walked slowly towards them, filled with dread, and feeling older and more alone than he’d ever felt in his life.

  Two

  EVEN BEFORE HE REACHED the edge of the yard, Doug could see that the two graves had not been there long. The dirt was settled, but still bare, other than a few sprigs of new grass that had taken hold. He figured they’d been dug just a few weeks prior, probably sometime earlier in the winter when it rained the most. That meant whoever was buried there—maybe Mitch and Lisa—had survived for at least several months after the initial event, and the thought of that broke Doug Henley’s heart. If he’d just gotten here a little sooner… After all he’d been through to get back home, he may have been just a few short weeks too late!

  The butterflies twisted in his stomach as he slowly walked the rest of the way to stand at the foot of the two graves. He allowed himself to sink to his knees between them, to get as close to each as possible, as he put his hands on the soft, damp earth, overcome with sorrow that not only had he failed to protect their mother, he had apparently failed his children too. He didn’t see much reason to keep fighting on just for himself. His life was empty now that the one purpose that kept him alive this long despite the odds was taken from him as well. Doug had placed the rifle on the ground behind him when he knelt. Dark thoughts crossed his mind for a moment as he glanced at it through the moisture that blurred his eyes. It promised an easy way out of the pain, but he knew even as he thought it that he wouldn’t take that route. He had to try and find out what happened here, even if it was too late to do anything about it.

  He’d not paid much attention to the two crosses as he walked up to the gravesites, but a glance had been enough to tell him that there was nothing written or carved on either one. They were just weathered cypress boards, the arms wired to the uprights with strands of rusty barbed wire. They were simple but effective in their message; forlorn markers in a dark world where most perished with no one to dig their graves. That someone had taken the time to make them told Doug that whoever it was, it was not likely the same that burned the place down, if indeed it had been a deliberate act of arson.

  He stood and stepped close enough to touch each crucifix, testing its solidity and finding them deep set and well tamped by whoever planted them. As his fingers moved over the weathered wood of one, his eye caught a glimpse of something shiny at its base and he knelt to get a closer look. Brushing away the loose dirt, he saw that the object was a delicate gold chain, neatly coiled around a heart-shaped pendant of the same metal. Doug gently picked it up. He didn’t remember Lisa having such a necklace, but he wiped the pendant clean on his shirt and turned it so that he could read the small lettering engraved on one side. There were four words:

  Corey and Samantha—Forever

  “Corey and Samantha?” Doug stared at the words as he spoke them out loud. Lisa’s best friend, Stacy Burns had a cousin named Corey. Doug didn’t know him well, as he lived over in Pearl River County and didn’t go to the same school Mitch and Lisa attended, but he’d met him. Samantha didn’t ring a bell, but obviously she was Corey’s girlfriend—maybe even wife. He thought
Corey might have graduated the year before the lights went out, so he could have been married by then. Did this mean either Corey or Samantha was buried at the foot of this cross, and not his Lisa or Mitch? Could it be the two of them together, or did the other grave contain one of his children? Doug didn’t know, but at least he had reason to believe the two graves didn’t mean what he’d thought at first.

  He breathed a sign of relief as he returned the pendant and chain to the spot where he’d found it and began searching for clues at the foot of the other cross. Finding nothing there, he stood up and looked around again. The presence of two crosses had seemed so ominous in light of the fact that he had two children that were supposed to be here, on the farm where he’d raised them. While one of them might indeed be buried in the other grave, he had no evidence of that but he did have reason to believe that at least one of his kids still lived. Doug had a new mission now, and he wouldn’t stop until he found either Mitch or Lisa, and hopefully both.

  He picked up his rifle and turned his back on the graves. He had to try and figure out exactly what happened here. To put his mind at ease, the first thing he did was to carefully check the entire perimeter of the yard and the edges of the woods to make sure there were no more burials he was overlooking. Then he turned his attention to the charred remains of the house and barn. It didn’t take much guesswork to conclude that the fire had probably happened around the same time as the two graves had been dug. It had been long enough that were new fire ant beds here and there at the edge of the rubble, as well as dried rivulets of ash washed downhill from the site by many hard rains.

  There was little inside the house that had survived the flames, and what had survived had probably already been salvaged, from what he could see. That someone had come back around after the fire was evident by the fact that all of the galvanized roofing panels from his boat shed had been removed. Did this mean that Mitch and Lisa might still be nearby, or did it mean some desperate survivors like so many he’d encountered had found the place and scavenged what they could? Doug didn’t know. He had far more questions than he expected to find answers to without talking to someone who was here when it happened.