Hello Readers,

The sixth instalment from the 10% Club, a series of posts sharing samples of my work. This is an excerpt from the second short story I published, titled ‘Darkness in Shadows’. I hope you enjoy this little morsel of fiction.

Darkness in Shadows

by Allan Walsh

Moscow, 10.00 am, March 25th, 1986.

Kochenkov brushed his tunic smooth as he waited outside the rust covered door. He stared at the cracks in the grey concrete walls and wondered how much of a blast the old bunker would take if there was an attack. The handle of the door clunked and he straightened as it creaked open. “Colonel Gorev is waiting for you, Captain,” said a young blond soldier, saluting before he exited. Kochenkov removed his flat cap, pushed it up under his arm and stepped through the doorway. “Ah, Captain Kochenkov, what news do you bring for me today?” said the fat man behind the metal desk. He was trying to light his black and gold Sobranie. The smell of lighter fuel and ground flint wafted from his Zippo, filling the dimly lit room, as he repeatedly tried to strike a flame. “Such good machinery in these American Zippo, I just don’t have the knack to use them,” the colonel said, as he clacked the lid shut and threw the lighter on the desk. Kochenkov picked up the lighter and shook it. With a flick of his wrist, the top clicked open and he spun the flint-wheel against the palm of his other hand. A small ball of flame burst up and settled into a flickering cone of blue and white. The three gold stars on Gorev’s shoulder glistened as he leant forward and put his cigarette to the flame. He sucked a breath through the golden filter and puffed out a cloud of smoke, then started flicking through documents on his desk. “Well Captain, what have you heard?” “Colonel, our spies report the Americans have completed their new weapon.” The colonel’s cigarette drooped from his lips and he looked up at Kochenkov. “And … does it work, comrade?” “We’re not sure Colonel, they’re still running tests, but our contact says the initial results show a high probability.” “I’m going to need a copy of their plans, Captain.” “Yes Colonel, I will arrange it.”

#

Nevada, 12.15pm March 30th, 1986.

Corporal Jackson stood looking around the lab, running his fingers across the stubble on his head. He could see the corrugated roof of the huge, converted hangar, looming above. He had counted at least twenty doors on his way to room 13b and wondered just how many rooms there could be under this one shelter. “You there, what’s your name?” “Corporal John Jackson, Ma’am.” “Well Corporal Jackson, the damn batteries keep dying on this thing, give me a hand to move it,” Dr Norris said as she pushed a hunk of metal towards the centre of the lab. “Yes Ma’am,” the corporal replied as he placed his hands on top of the contraption and pushed. It gleamed in shiny chrome; its two antennae stuck out at symmetrical angles, facing forwards, and loops of wires coiled beneath the long cellular panels that stuck out to the rear. It looked like a large mechanical insect. “What is this thing anyway?”

If you enjoyed this sample of my writing, please share it with your friends.

Allan Walsh writes Fantasy and Horror. If you’re looking for something new to read in these genres, why not check out his books here. You can also find his titles available in some libraries.