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Welcome to the not-so-distant future. An insidious disease lies dormant inside of every human on earth. There aren’t any symptoms of this disease. There is no way of knowing when it will strike. One day you are you, and then the next minute – everything you have ever loved means nothing to you...and you go on a murderous rampage. It’s not “if” you will succumb to this murderous disease...but when. The upside to it? It only affects adults, so you won’t have to face the horrors of watching your child turn on you with the intent to harm you in their eyes. The downside? There is no cure, but the truth? The truth is out there...and it’s waiting to be found.
Hello Darkness is a dystopian suspense thriller by Sev Romero. This dark and twisted novel is going to grab you with the first few pages you read in this book. Chapter one is going to leave you with your jaw on the floor. The question dogging your mind...what happened in those final moments? Did Rye, the main character, do what he must or did another step in for him? I’ll ease your mind a little on that question – the answer comes later in the book. LOL! Sorry, no spoilers.
Page by page Hello Darkness will pull you deeper into this near-distant future novel. The world has been rocked by what is called “K2.” This disease almost makes you think of zombies – minus the undead part and flesh-eating. Honestly, you’ll actually expect that to happen a few times in this book, but it never does. Which helps set it apart from being a zombie-esqe novel. But that’s honestly the point. This story leans more towards the medical.
Rye works with a task force to “collect” the victims of “K2.” They are meant to bring them in if they can so that the victims can be studied and a cure discovered to save humanity. It’s been over ten years since the outbreak of “K2” and there has been “progress” but there is still no cure. The world lives in fear. Every family wondering – “When will it be us that suffers an attack?” This book absolutely brings the suspense and keeps you page-turning to find out what is going to happen next.
In most books you get a main character who is strong and domineering or one who is submissive but finds their strength midway through. Well, Rye is more of the mild and submissive type. Try to refrain from yelling at him in certain scenes. It will be difficult, but you can do it. LOL! Rye is the “I’m just trying to get by” type. He wants to keep his head down, do his job, and stay out of trouble. Too bad a family member of his has other plans. This family member? Yeah, they’re on a quest to uncover the truth – no matter the cost. Little by little Rye is going to be pulled in, because doesn’t his child deserve to grow-up without having to relive the fear he’s already gone through?
Sev Romero is going to drop hints here and there throughout the book as to where you should pay more attention. Of course, since a cure is being sought, the medical realm is where the story will lead you. But of course, things go deeper than that. Rye just has no idea just how far some will go to keep the power that they have acquired over the years.
This book is absolutely a page-turner from beginning to end. For readers who prefer their horror off-page then this book will be one that you can read and thoroughly enjoy. There are some horrific situations interspersed throughout this book, but most of it takes place off-page. Does that mean that there aren’t any horrific scenes on the page? No. There are a couple of scenes that play out on page. They don’t include humans, but only animals. Animal lovers – take a breath. The scenes aren’t graphic. The scenes are simply precisely detailed and then it’s over.
Brace yourself for some twists in this novel though. They are going to come in the least expected places, and will absolutely pull you to the edge of your seat.
When it comes to the characters themselves, they could have used more fire. You will feel outraged both for them and toward them. In particular moments you’re going to want them to just go off on the individuals “dressing them down.” I mean, if someone is telling you how to do your job? You have every right to tell them that they can go do it themselves if they think they can do it better. Then a little lap dog trying to play alpha and threaten your family? Yeeeeahhh….don’t cry when we go crocodile and go chomp. Rye needed more backbone. He really did.
Now, let's take a minute and talk about that cover. When you see the cover without the text, you get a clear image of a dystopian future. The world torn apart, only certain places - those with money, are still in more or less pristine shape. Now, look at the cover with the text. Pay special attention to those buildings. Every time I looked at this book's cover the buildings draw my eye the most. Why? The way that they are structured. If you look closely...or from a bit of a distance...they look like surgical implements. To be specific - scalpels. Of course, that is how my eye caught it, but you may see something different. But either way - it adds a nice twisted element to the story.
Hello Darkness is that dystopian sci-fi novel that teases you to picture this not-so-distant future. It will absolutely have you re-evaluating a variety of things in your life today once you’ve reached the last page. Fans of sci-fi and dystopian will not want to miss out on this twisted thriller.
4 out of 5 stars
Thank you to the author, Sev Romero, and Escapist Book Tours for the opportunity to read and review this book.
Book Information:
Hello Darkness
by Sev Romero
Series: N/A
Genre:
Sci-Fi/Dystopian/Thriller
Intended Age Group:
Adult
Pages: 309
Published: October 12,
2022
Publisher: Loud Minds Press (Self Published)
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Content/Trigger Warnings:
Shown on Page (things clearly told to the reader):
Gratuitous violence
Gore
Animal violence
Animal abuse
Child harm
Alluded to (things only mentioned in passing or hinted at):
Child murder
Child harm
Family violence
Note from the author: This is a mature story and includes scenes of graphic violence, imagery, language, and concepts. This includes the deaths of adult humans, a dismembered pet, and a scientific experiment that results in the death of a young chimpanzee.
Book Blurb:
We
all carry the insidious disorder—a ticking time bomb that can
explode at any moment with murderous consequences.
There
are no answers, no cure, and seemingly no hope.
Rye
Thorburn is a member of a rapid response team that scouts the night
skies and responds to each frightening outbreak, confronting its
violent perpetrators in a deadly game of cat and mouse. For Rye, it’s
more than a job—it’s his refuge from his conscience.
Faced
with this unprecedented threat, society has become an enclave of
autocratic leaders, invasive high-tech security, corporate
propaganda, and a populace sick with fear and suspicion.
However,
all is not what it seems. Rye and his colleague Kate Mbachi become
entangled in a conspiracy that involves a ruthless scientist and
powerful hidden forces that thrive from suffering.
Can Rye
overcome his demons to expose the horrifying truth before all is
lost?
Hello Darkness is
a pulsating dystopian thriller, set in the near-future. Readers who
love the grim, gripping worlds of Cormac McCarthy, Emily St. John
Mandel and Margaret Atwood will be swept away by this heart-racing
novel.
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See Also:
Orwell meets The Last of Us • Sometimes the Difference Between Life and Death is a Pair of Nail Scissors • They're Not Zombies!
Book Links:
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/hello-darkness
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Hello-Darkness-Dystopian-Sev-Romero-ebook/dp/B0BJ2VC22N/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63078338-hello-darkness
Ready for an excerpt from the novel? Look no further! Enjoy!
1.
When you already fear everything, what is there left to fear? I admit it’s a morbid thought, yet I find an uncomfortable solace within it. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to come to terms with the grim reality that the world is burning and the only thing left worth saving is my boy. His skinny arms wrapped tight around my leg. His fingernails pressing down so firmly that they’re threatening to tear a hole through my trousers. I can feel him convulsing and hyperventilating, his little body shuddering and shaking. Tears streaking down that innocent face. All I can do to comfort my little man is to squeeze him back. I peer into his eyes, place my index finger to my lips, and plead for him to be silent.
An icy chill bounces off the white tiles and even whiter porcelain that surrounds us. It’s our impromptu panic room. The flimsiest of locks stand between it being our safe place or our tomb. The half-crescent moon shining down through a skylight is our sole remaining contact with the outside world. It feels like we’ve been bunkered down here for eons, but only a few minutes have passed.
I fix my left ear against the door; there’s no sound or movement outside.
My mind is ticking over about what I should do next. And I’m fearing the worst. The darkest, most shocking, most nightmarish thoughts are clawing their way around my skull. Henry’s probably dead. We might be next. Everything is lost.
Then there are the unfathomable questions I’m trying to ignore. How can she do this? Is it that disease? And worst of all, why us?
I’m an artist at extrapolating anxiety. Spinning up a perfect storm in my mind from the smallest fragment of information. I can be presented with beauty and yet all I see is the inner gloom that will swallow me whole. Fear of flying. Fear of contaminants. Convinced every cough or pain is a symptom of a fatal illness. Even the fear that if I look up, an airliner will come crashing down on top of me. I fear it all. But this isn’t that. They’re concoctions of my hostile imagination. This is real. I can’t wallow in this; I have to confront it.
“I’m going back out,” I whisper.
Charlie shakes his head in a fit, spraying me with tears and saliva. “No, no, Daddy, no, don’t go!”
The last thing I want to do is leave him. But we’re being stalked by the apparition of unconditional love. Eventually, she’ll try to get in here. To spill our blood. To fulfil a murderous need that science doesn’t understand. I have to get help or find a way for us to escape.
I pat his head. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’ll come back. I’m going to check on Henry.” A white lie. Saying his name makes my hands clench like they’re crushing chalk. But now is not the time to avenge, or to mourn him. I have to help his brother.
Charlie’s sobbing slows and his delicate red face looks up at me like he has just had a profound thought.
“Please don’t hurt Mummy.”
He could see the fury pulsing through my body. The words hit me like a wet blanket and extinguish the rage.
“You know I love Mummy. I’m not going to hurt her.” It’s true. I’d never harm her. My beautiful Felicity. I can’t fathom a scenario that would make me go back on that promise. I just need to get my phone and call for help.
“You’ll be safe in here if you keep the door locked. Okay?” Charlie’s head is rolling, battered by a range of emotions that no adult, let alone a child, is equipped to deal with. I grip his bony arms.
“Now listen, this is important. Do not unlock the door unless it’s me.” I grip even tighter, knowing by the look on his face it’s hurting him. It hurts me as well, but this is too important. “And whatever you do, do not open it for Mummy.” The words come out with a bitter aftertaste. I watch Charlie trying to hold back his tears, trying to be brave for Daddy. I pull him in and kiss the shaggy hair on his head.
When I turn for the door, a stinging pain shoots down my arm. I touch my shoulder and the warm sensation of blood engulfs my fingers. I forgot about the wound. At least it’ll leave a scar that I can come to terms with.
I carefully pull open the bathroom door until it’s wide enough for me to slide through. Halfway out, I turn to Charlie. He’s still sobbing, hiding his red eyes from me.
“Lock the door,” I say.
He nods. “Don’t forget me.” My heart shudders.
I close the door, listening for the click of the lock, and then scan the dim hallway. I don’t recognise this place anymore. Our family home is now possessed by a wicked spirit. Each doorway potentially hides a phantom with a knife in hand. Every shadow threatens harm.
Charlie’s instruction is also replaying through my head. Until now, I had only thought about survival. Harming the love of my life, the mother of my children, hasn’t crossed my mind. I’m uneasy at the thought of it. But if I have to defend myself or Henry or Charlie, then... no, I won’t think about it.
Each step up the passageway is tentative, like I’m tiptoeing through a minefield. I listen for sounds, trying to get a fix on her. There are plenty of noises; the drone of the air-conditioner, the inane chatter from a television in a distant room, the faint heart-wrenching whimpers of Charlie. Nothing that sounds like Felicity. Is she still upstairs with Henry’s body? Or is she lurking and waiting for me? An icy shiver runs through me.
My phone is sitting on the glass hall table next to the front door. I had left it there when I had arrived home and expected to be greeted by two bounding five-year-old boys. Not today. There was no pitter-patter, no excited exclamations of Daddy’s home! Instead, I was besieged by the angry energy of the universe collapsing around me. There were screams and the thwack of objects hitting walls.
I remember bolting upstairs to find furniture upturned, and to my horror, Henry lying lifelessly on the ground. Before I could digest the sickening scene in front of me, or even to call out his name, the shadows jumped me. Felicity slashed me with a blade. A kitchen knife, cutting through my shoulder like she would a ham. I faltered and fell backwards down the stairs. Half rolling, half stumbling. Dazed, I had stood up, back where I had entered. That’s when I had spotted Charlie’s wide eyes peeking out from the bathroom door.
I’m jolted from this harrowing recollection by the sound of a door slamming upstairs like a wild wind has whipped it shut. It’s a warning shot. I decide to make a run for the garage, where I can call for help, and find something that I can use to defend us.
I slip the phone into my pocket and peer nervously up the empty staircase, then I scamper past it. My heart pounding at a thousand beats per minute. I make my way through our living room, dancing around a tipped-over side chair, and the toys and photo frames scattered across the floor like debris from a bomb. And through the kitchen where the aroma of a half-cooked pasta still lingers in the air. I clench the door handle to the garage with my sweaty hand, and swing it open, toppling inside like it's the finish line of a marathon.
In the relative safety of the garage, I bend over, clawing at my knees, inhaling the cool atmosphere of oil and lawn fertiliser. It's pitch black, but I’m wary of giving myself away by turning on the light. Instead, I fumble for the torch setting on my phone. And then it buzzes in my hand and sends my already strained ticker into a new stratosphere of palpitation. It’s a message from Felicity’s uncle, Avery Becker.
Be there at 8 with a bottle of port.
I text the old fella back, my hands quivering, and struggling to hit the letters I need.
Help. Call police!
After hitting send, I type ‘K2’ on my phone. A new app flashes up with a red button. A little over a year ago, the government passed a law requiring all communication devices to have this emergency app installed. I remember being swamped by advertising about it, through social media, streaming services, and even on electronic billboards next to major roads. I look at my phone again. I guess it worked.
I think through what has happened, trying to come up with an argument to not tap the button. It’s no good; it has to be the wretched affliction. There’s no other way I can explain it. I strike the button, the app changes colour, and a message in bold text scrolls across the screen.
FIND A SAFE PLACE. DO NOT CONFRONT THE PERSON, EVEN IF THEY ARE A FAMILY MEMBER, FRIEND, OR COLLEAGUE. EMERGENCY SERVICES ARE ON THEIR WAY TO YOUR LOCATION.
How long will they take? Five minutes? Ten? Thirty? I know only too well how stretched police resources are in this city. And I know I need to get back to Charlie, but I’m not risking it by going back through the house empty-handed.
I use the torch on my phone to shine spirals of narrow light through the garage. Shifting the light around, searching for the perfect tool, but refusing to point it at the rear corner of the room where I keep my work gear. Instead, I spy an old cricket bat balanced against some metal shelving.
Two indecisive steps towards it and the door behind me clicks. Felicity!
I turn back, and yank the handle. She has locked it shut. I shake it again with enough force to rip a lesser door off its hinges. It doesn’t budge.
“Felicity! Fel. Darling. Can we talk? We can get help? It’ll be okay. I love you. Please... talk to me,” I say, my nose touching the door. There’s no response, but I can hear hurried breathing on the other side. “Fel?”
It’s useless, I know it is. I’m no expert, but I know enough about K2 that I won’t be able to communicate with her. Part of me refuses to give up on her. Despite all the research on the disease, maybe I can be the first to get through. We’ve always been so close; we have a special bond. If only I can reach the real Felicity.
“Fel!”
There’s a cruel cackle, and then her footsteps trail off. Charlie!
I flick on the garage lights and scurry to an ashen metal locker sitting in the furthest corner of the garage. I promise myself I’ll wield but not use what’s within it. Where words fail, I’m hoping the sight of the very thing Felicity detests above all else is the key to bringing her back.
The locker is work-issued, a place to keep my gear—level four security, minimum biometric handprint to open. I place my hand on the frigid screen on the front of the locker. It goes from red to amber, and then to green, followed by a mechanical click. I tug the heavy door open, reach over my belt, past a large torch, and feel the cold steel of my standard police issue handgun. My hand fits around the handle of the weapon like they’re two connecting pieces of a puzzle. I hold the gun up to my eyes. It feels so much heavier than usual.
There’s a raucous banging coming from inside the house. She’s trying to get into the bathroom! I bolt through the door on the side of the garage, out into the fresh evening air, sprinting around the side of the house until I reach the sliding glass doors at the rear of our home. Damn. They’re also locked.
I pace under the moonlight to the blare of distant sirens, desperate to find a way in. Panic is spreading over me like a rash. The thumping from within the house might be softer out here, but each one shakes my core. I visualise the husk of Felicity kicking at the door with all the ferocity of a bloodthirsty Viking laying siege to a village.
Through the murky light, I spot a pile of bricks on the side of the pathway. Remnants of an unfinished project. I grab the top brick. It’s awkward to hold, but still doesn’t feel as considerable as the steel gun in my other hand.
I run at the sliding doors and hurl the brick at my reflection. My image fractures and the glass cracks enough for me to kick a hole in it large enough to crawl through. Jagged blades stab me as I squeeze through and return to the inner sanctum of my home.
The loud blows continue, but now each one concludes with a high-pitched shriek of Daddy! The sirens are also louder; they must almost be at our driveway.
I hurry back to the hallway and confront the devilish figure of Felicity. She looks closer to a brooding witch than the loving partner and mother I know, her hair ruffled and her mouth twisted and spiteful. She’s still clenching the knife. There’s a monstrous intent in her physique, all of its energy focused on bashing the door down. The bathroom door is bent, buckled, and almost beaten into submission. The only thing stopping it from giving way must be a weight on the other side.
Thump! “Daddy!”
“Stop!” I scream in the vain hope my voice alone will knock Felicity over. It succeeds in at least getting her attention. I raise my gun in an exaggerated motion, trying to convince her I will use it. Of course, I won’t use it. “Please, stop. Baby, that’s our son. He loves you. We all love you.”
Her eyes are streaky red like she has been crying all night, but there are no tears there. Only an insolent smirk, as she calls my bluff and turns her attention back to the battered door.
“Don’t make me use this, don’t make me shoot.” My voice croaks, it's at the end of its tether, trying to convince her, or myself, that I’m serious. Behind me, I can hear a clatter of feet at the front door.
Felicity looks back at me one last time before she changes tack, this time ramming the door with her shoulder. The door vanishes. Charlie’s scream echoes up the hallway like a frosty draught.
“Charlie,” I cry. My soul freezing over, the last bastion of warmth within me dissolving. I glare down at Felicity, her murderous eyes locked on the inside of the bathroom. The knife in her hand rising above her shoulders.
Behind me, another door bursts open. A wave of frantic energy hits my back and knocks me forward. There are shouts of police and stop and other words to that effect. And then the deafening crack of gunfire.
Author Bio & Information:
Sev Romero is a writer based on Ngunnawal Country (Canberra, Australia). Sev enjoys writing dark speculative fiction novels and short stories that hold a mirror up to today’s world. These tales feature gripping plots, authentic characters, and a healthy dose of social commentary and dark humour.
Website: https://www.sevromero.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/sev_romero
Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@sevromero
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22982333.Sev_Romero
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