"What kind of a stash is this?"
"We struck a deal with another base."
"This looks like a bloody apocalypse survival kit."
-- East Carlisle, Surface -- 2015 --
"What the hell did you give them in return? This must've cost a fortune!" said Carl, running his hand through the cold barrel of a Freedom Arms 83, complete with vintage iron sights and a handcrafted wooden grip.
This shit was hard to get back when everything wasn't stir crazy.
"Seeds," Blake replied, casting a deadly silence all over the fortified room.
Reyna would've thrown a fit if she was awake.
"You got a whole armoury of weapons when you gave them, seeds?" said Claire, trying hard to get the words out of her mouth.
"They ran out crops 'cause the darks took out their fields last summer, so they're starting over. We gave them the seeds and they've been supplying us ever since," said Blake, blankly as though he was merely stating the obvious.
The reply was a deafening silence.
"Let's get packing then," Blake announced, pulling the dumbfounded Harringtons back into reality.
The campers watched on as Blake inspected the supplies crate by crate. Pistols, knives, assault rifles, the works. He gave them a few test runs but nothing seemed to interest him. Every time Blake cleared a crate, the pack would empty the box's contents and sling the weapons over their shoulders.
Finally, he opened the smallest crate in the room. He took special care as he unboxed the cuboidal package, pulling out a well-made bow and quiver that contained a bundle of arrows.
"Custom?" asked Claire, walking up to his side
"Looks good. Kinda useless, but I like it."
"I thought you preferred close quarters."
"I thought you didn't care," Blake grumbled as he cut her off, the sting from her words still fresh in his mind. Claire didn't say a word after that.
A sudden wail startled everyone in the room. The sirens had kicked in. Carl instantly let go of the crate, dropping it down with a thud.
"It's fine, I'll be right back," said Blake as he walked towards the security room.
Make sure you turn off the sirens before lifting the crates, Sarah's words rung in his head as he pulled the lever down. Why? The darks can't hear us anyway, he thought, wondering why such a useless countermeasure had been placed.
Soon enough, everyone was strapped with guns until they couldn't bear to walk. They shuffled out of the armoury, aiming one loaded gun each as they stepped through the insanely thick vault, and then finally out the main door. It was barely six in the evening, yet it was already getting darker and colder outside. Oddly enough, a crimson light seemed to be flashing on them from behind.
Blake froze in terror as the realization sunk in. He turned back slowly, setting his sights on the top of the building, on which rested a rotating red siren light.
A heavy rumble of rabid footsteps shook the earth beneath them.
"RUN!" he screamed.
In a moment's notice, the pack dropped all the supplies they held but for the weapons ready in their hands. Then they ran, like their lives depended on it.
"What the hell is going on?" asked Mark, struggling to run with Reyna on his back.
"There was a light on the building. Went haywire when the alarm tripped."
YOU ARE READING
Where Light Dies
Fantasy--Completed-- Book 1/3 - A Phantom's Light The world has ended. It has been nearly two decades since humanity fell. The skies have turned a vile crimson, and the earth now lies smeared in the blood of billions. In a realm overrun by demons...
