TODAY, OUR TEAM MEMBER, AUTHOR EVA BIELBY, IS SHARING PART ONE OF HER SHORT APOCALYPTIC SURVIVAL STORY, 'WORLD'S END' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
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WORLD’S END – PART ONE
When my youngest brother died on 15th August, 2012, only 3 months after being diagnosed with advanced stomach cancer and given 6-9 months to live, I truly thought it was the end of the world. He’d always been my rock. When we were together, all we did was laugh. After the cremation, we scattered his ashes into the Cod Beck from the Packhorse Bridge at World’s End.
Every year since 2012, on 15th August, I buy a bunch of flowers, head to World’s End and scatter the petals into the Cod Beck from the Packhorse Bridge. 2026 was no different. I bought a mixed bunch of blooms and headed to World’s End in my car. I parked by the roadside and walked the last 50 yards or so to the bridge. I stood for ten to fifteen minutes, plucking the petals from the flowers and watched them flutter down into the water..
Suddenly, I heard a series of loud bangs. I looked over towards where I suspected the noises had come from (the A168 bypass) and saw that all the vehicles had come to a halt (nose to tail) on the road.
Curious as to what could have caused all the noise, I abandoned my task with the flowers and headed over towards the A168. I climbed the grassy bank until I reached the road. Several people were getting out of their vehicles and chatting to each other. I moved closer until I could hear various snippets of similar conversations.
“I’m not sure, but it felt as if my engine had cut out and stopped working.”
“I had no control. I couldn’t even brake.”
“My car stopped after hitting the vehicle in front of me.”
“The engine won’t start again. It’s dead.”
People started getting their cell phones out to call the police.
“Phone’s dead too, like the bloody car.”
“What’s going on? My phone won’t work either.”
“Damn it! I need to let my daughter know I’m going to be late.”
On the opposite side of the carriageway, several cars passed by.
“How come those cars are still working when ours are dead?” asked a young man, whom I guessed would be in his early twenties.
“Look at them carefully. They are older model vehicles,” I replied, “At a guess, I don’t think they will be computerised.” All the cars you’re driving seem to be newer models.”
“And what do you know about it, Miss, if you don’t mind me asking?” Queried an older gentleman.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Confirming what others had correctly stated, it was dead. I wouldn’t be able to contact Sam, my boyfriend, and he wouldn’t be able to contact me either. Sam lived and worked in the next town. He had a landscape gardening business and the van he used for work was a recent model. It’s highly unlikely that I will see him in the near future after today’s catastrophic event.
“Well, in my humble opinion, there’s been an EMP. Having read multiple apocolyptic fictional stories about EMPs, I can confirm that they can disable and harm any computerised device.
“So what the fuck is an EMP?” A young girl, now part of the conversation, asked. I’d noticed that she had climbed out of a black VW Golf before heading over to our little gathering to see what she could find out.
“An EMP is an Electro-Magnetic Pulse. An EMP can be initiated by a high-altitude nuclear detonation or a solar flare. It will fry electronics and electrics”
“So what does this mean for us all?” Came the next question from the older gentleman.
“Well, you won’t be going any further in your vehicles any time soon, that’s for sure.”
The little crowd gathered around all glared at me, no doubt because they didn’t want to hear the news which I’d just imparted. Either that, or maybe they needed someone to blame for their individual predicaments. Either way, I wasn’t about to win any popularity contest here because I had just been the bearer of bad news.
A senior lady was walking towards us. She rubbed frantically at her neck and claimed to have whiplash, which I didn’t doubt for a second. I suspected that because of the impact of all the vehicles smashing into each other, that there would be plenty of drivers and their passengers suffering similar neck injuries.
I felt a growing urgency to get away and leave these people with their woes. There was nothing I could do to help them. I need to get to the shops. Food is going to become scarce in the future. Thankfully, I have a well-stocked food cupboard including tinned soups, and both tinned fruit and vegetables. Frozen foods will have to be consumed immediately if as I suspect, there will be no electricity.
Deliveries will be rare, infrequent at best. Fuel shortages are a given, and that will affect many businesses and even hospitals and medical care, emergency services too. My thoughts immediately drifted to my frail, elderly neighbour, Mrs Bateman, who depended on her heart medications.
Upon reaching my car after the short walk, I realized it was dead as well. It was an older model Mercedes, and I’d been praying that it would be unaffected by the EMP. However, luck was not on my side. I locked it up and set off on the fifteen-minute walk home.
Once I was back on my street, my first job was to call on Mrs Bateman and ask if there was anything she needed from the shops or the pharmacy. The poor old lady was waiting by the garden gate, her eyes and cheeks wet with tears. She shouted out to me before I even reached her.
“KATE! Come here, please.” There was an urgent tone in her voice.
“Kate, what is going on, please? I have no electricity. I tried to call my daughter, but the phones are dead, both the landline and my mobile.”
I didn’t know what to tell her. I had no wish to add to her stresses by disclosing the enormity of the impact on our futures because of this recent EMP event.
“You’re not alone, Mrs Bateman. It’s the same for everyone. I’m heading to the shops. Can I get you anything?”
“Just a second, Kate. I could do with some fruit and vegetables. I’ll write you a short list and get you some cash.”
“No problem, Mrs B. I’m going into my house to get some cash.” It occurred to me that since Mrs Bateman had mentioned cash, I hadn’t given it much thought, but the tills in the supermarket would, without a doubt, not be working, and certainly be unable to accept card payments.
Fortunately, we’re in the midst of summer, so we don’t have to worry about keeping warm. The lucky ones when winter arrives will be those families who have log burners, myself included.
Arriving at the supermarket some twenty minutes later, and having passed plenty of dead, smashed up and abandoned cars, I can see that panic has already kicked in. I grabbed the fruit and vegetables for Mrs B as well as snatching up the fruit and vegetables that I needed for myself. A few aisles further on and women were sweeping up row upon row of tinned food which was crashing down into their trolleys. There was desperation in their faces. I can’t be sure if any of them know exactly what has occurred, as there would be no working televisions to broadcast the news, and no Googling on the internet. Had it not been for the two post-apocalyptic series of books I had read, even I wouldn’t have had a clue what an EMP was or how it would affect the world at large. I sincerely hope that when they get to the checkouts they have cash for the goods, or their purchases will all need to be put back on the shelves.
A little further ahead, the last pack of bottled water is being fought over by two or three women. They already have four or five packs of the water in each of their trolleys. It baffles me why they would be greedy enough to want the last pack. First, one older lady is holding the last pack, only to have it snatched out of her hands by a younger woman, who is wearing cut-off denim shorts and a white vest top.
“I need this. I need all the water I can get. I have three teenagers who guzzle water as if there’s no tomorrow.”
“Don’t we all?” The older lady snapped back.
The third lady wasn’t to be outdone. “Well, there are other supermarkets to try. Why don’t you go to Aldi or Lidl or the Co-op?”
The first two women glared at her, both piping up in unison.
“Don’t tell me where to shop! You should try them yourself instead of telling us where to go and what to do.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Since you b othhave four or five packs of water in each of your trolleys already and I don’t have any at all, why don’t you let me have the last pack and that way you won’t have to stand here arguing about it?”
The woman, wearing shorts and a vest top, handed me the pack of water without any fuss. “She’s got a point, ladies. She has no water at all. And there will be others too, maybe people more in need than us. We shouldn’t be greedy.”
“You have the bloody nerve to call us greedy? And when you had snatched the last pack from us, before she came along?”
I said no more. I had no desire to get caught up in their fracas. I just walked away with my pack of water, leaving the three ladies still bickering over something other than bottled water. I needed nothing else from Tesco, so I made my way to the checkouts, after suddenly remembering that toilet rolls were an essential purchase so I grabbed two large packs with the carrying handles. Just as I’d expected, credit and debit cards were being turned down by the cashiers, and very few of the customers had cash. The cashiers were having to take plenty of abuse when asking people to return their shopping to the shelves. Many were ignoring the request and heading out of the doors with baskets or full trolley loads of food. There were too many of them to be stopped by the security guard. For every person he managed to stop, ten more were escaping out of the doors with their stolen goods. It made me so angry to see the shoppers hurling abuse at the staff who were trying to defuse the situation. OH MY GOD! And this is only Day One, for fuck’s sake!
As I walked out of Tesco’s car park laden down with my shopping, I couldn’t help but notice the filling station at the opposite side of the road. Somebody had already stood a board at the entrance stating ‘Fuel Customers please note: Petrol and Diesel Sales are limited to £10 per customer.’ Three or four people were filling 5 litre jerry cans. The vehicles at the pumps were all older cars and vans. I could hear angry voices coming from the payment cabin, clearly giving the staff as much grief as I had already witnessed at the checkouts in the store.
I went home first to deposit my supermarket haul. It was hard work trying to carry so much shopping without a vehicle, but I soldiered on, stopping for frequent rests. The fruit and vegetables and pack of bottled water were the culprits and my arms ached.
Through my reading, I had a good insight into what the immediate future holds for us here in the UK. Planning ahead, my next visit was to our local garden centre to purchase vegetable seeds, gas canisters for my barbecue and camping stove. With potential delivery issues ahead, having your own fresh produce is vital, so I’ll be growing my own. With no electricity, my barbecue and small camping burner are my only means of cooking. Once most people come to realise the hardship of food shortages and a lack of something to cook on, the gas canisters will also be in short supply. My love of gardening (mainly flowers) meant that I already owned some raised wooden planters and seed propagators.
Peace reigned at the garden centre, and I was soon the proud owner of a decent assortment of vegetable seeds and seed potatoes. However, as the garden centre wouldn’t be able to deliver my essential gas canisters and I wasn’t able to collect them without my vehicle, I had to rack my brain to think if I knew of anybody with an old model Ford Transit van or something similar who could collect my items. It didn’t take me too long to come up with a couple of likely lads with vans and by the time I paid a couple of visits on my way home from the garden centre, I was delighted that my remaining items at the garden centre would be collected the following morning and brought to my house for me.
The next major task was to source a supply of logs in readiness for the colder weather, when late auturmn and winter hit us. Light will be provided by candles, which thanks to my obsession with buying some at every opportunity, I had a fairly decent stash. Most nights, Mrs. Bateman, my neighbour, would come to eat with me because she had no means by which to cook her meals. And during the winter months she would also be more than welcome to come round and keep warm in front of my log burner. I will do what I can to try and keep the lovely old dear fit and well. That said, I don’t know how she will fare if we are unable to find a regular supply of her heart medications.
While on my way back home from the garden centre, I passed a gentleman who also lived in my street. He was walking his dog. He stopped to chat with me for a few minutes. After a few pleasantries he asked,
“It seems as if this is the end of the world young Kate, do you agree?”
Unable to hold eye contact with him, I played my foot over a crack in the pavement before answering his question, “No, Mr James. I’m afraid this is only the beginning…”
© Eva Bielby July 2026
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AUTHOR BIO
Eva Bielby was born and raised in the small town of Thirsk, North Yorkshire in the UK. From the age of seven, she became a member of her local library and was backwards and forwards perusing the children’s section at least twice a week. Eva still lives in Thirsk with her son and daughter, and their respective families being in close proximity.
Having worked in accounts offices since leaving school, Eva passed her accountancy qualifications when her children were very young. She has spent almost thirty years of her working life as a company accountant. Eva has always been interested in writing and has written many poems over the years, mainly for her own entertainment. She started writing seriously in 2014 when she completed the first part of her trilogy, ‘The Hurt’. In 2015 her second book, ‘The Healing’ was completed. After a break of several years, in 2023 the final part of her trilogy, ‘The Scars’ was finished.
Being a reader of many genres of novel, Eva is trying her hand at one or two new genres. She is currently working on a suspense thriller which is to be called ‘All For Her’, a novel in which we read about a husband who vows to take revenge on several people who caused distress and harm to his wife. Eva may also delve into the world of comedy at some point, but for now she's happy writing suspense. Also, she pub;ished her fourth book in April 2026, which is a collection of her short stories and flash fiction and its title is 'A Little More Of Me...'
A further three novels have been started but they are each roughly at 30% along.
https://mybook.to/FWTWf THE HURT
https://mybook.to/UmRM THE HEALING
https://mybook.to/OBpFpPT THE SCARS
https://mybook.to/Uiya7V A LITTLE MORE OF ME…
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS
X (Twitter): https://x.com/AuthorEva69
BlueSky: @evabielbyauthor.bsky.social
Pinterest: https://uk.pinterest.com/evabielby/
Instagram: @xx04eva
Tiktok: @eva41538
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COMING SOON: On Wednesday, 2nd September, we are delighted to welcome back our guest author, Vanessa Rose, who is sharing an excerpt from her novel, 'Burning Of Sins'.
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