Enter Darkness Box Set

by K. M. Fawkes

  The soldier holding him gave him a short jab to the kidney and Brad had to catch his breath as pain burned through him.

  “I told you that there are rules,” Walker answered, his voice raised so that the whole crowd could hear him. “You all know the rules, don’t you?”

  There was a general mutter from the crowd. Walker turned to face them.

  “I said, you all know the rules, don’t you?” he demanded again.

  “Yes, sir!” the crowd called back, more or less in unison.

  “Well, this boy wasn’t willing to follow them,” the Major said, pointing at Jamie. “That’s why he’s being punished. He’s a thief, a liar and a deserter!”

  “Bullshit!” Brad yelled. “He just wasn’t willing to kill for you!”

  “And what about you, Brad? Are you willing to kill?” Walker asked, stepping toward him and looking serious. “You can earn forgiveness for the things you’ve done, you know. All you have to do is end the fugitive’s life and you can go back to being part of the family here—”

  “Get fucked,” Brad snarled. “I have all of the family I need.”

  “I do wish you’d reconsider,” Walker said, his voice filled with regret. “Either way, Brad, whether you kill him or I do, this boy doesn’t leave alive. I can assure you that things will be much better for you if you cooperate.”

  Suddenly unable to listen a moment longer, Brad pushed against the soldier holding him so quickly and forcefully that the man, who wasn’t expecting a push, lost his grip. As Brad ran, he heard the sound of the gunshot. He closed his eyes as he fully expected to feel the bullet rip through his body.

  Instead, blood splattered onto him from the front, warm and thick. Jamie’s body jerked from the force of the shot. His eyes, shocked and fearful, met Brad’s for a split second before they closed for good.

  “No!” Brad yelled.

  The soldier closest to the boy’s body cut him free from the column with one quick movement. Jamie’s body slumped to the cold ground limply. Brad dropped to his knees beside it, checking pointlessly for a pulse.

  The kid was gone. Brad pulled the body closer, embracing the boy and choking out an apology that was far too late. He should have known. He should have known.

  The entire complex was quiet for a few minutes as Walker watched the scene play out. Then, he approached him slowly, his boots crunching on the icy grass. Brad stiffened when the man stopped right behind him.

  “I told you that there were rules,” Walker said, his voice gentle and so subtly mocking that Brad honestly if the residents would even hear it.

  Apparently they wouldn’t do a damn thing either way. Brad was furious with Walker, but he didn’t have any love for the people he’d shared the facility with, either. Fucking cowards.

  “I hope that you’re ready to do the right thing now,” Walker said, and Brad could hear his smile in his voice. “You’re still valuable to the community, Brad. There will have to be some kind of discipline, of course, but I’m prepared to go easy on you if you just admit that you were wrong.”

  Brad stood up, keeping his head down and his shoulders slumped. “I’m still valuable to you?” he mumbled. “Even after all of this?”

  “Of course,” Walker said, and the smile widened. “Your medical and survival skills make you a very important member of this community.” He turned slightly and looked around. “And I’m sure you understand what has to happen if you say no. I just can’t allow my authority to be undermined. You see, all of these people here…they trust me, Brad. I just don’t know what they would do if anything happened to me.”

  Brad smiled. Walker smiled back. Then, with a quick step forward, using the knife he’d given Jamie, Brad cut Walker’s throat from ear to ear.

  “Let’s find out,” Brad suggested.

  The Major’s eyes widened as his hands clamped over the gaping wound, but there was no saving him. His life's blood pumped out in jets between his fingers, splattering Brad’s boots as it hit the ice-cold ground. He staggered back, making a sickening gurgling noise as he struggled to take in air.

  It would take the crowd a few seconds to understand and react to what was happening. Brad knew that he had to capitalize on that. He spun on his heel and grabbed one of the soldiers that had been standing behind him.

  The man had been staring in shock at his commander, so he wasn’t exactly prepared for Brad’s sudden move when he slammed the soldier’s face into the thick column. The soldier raised his hands to his nose and Brad grabbed his gun, knocking him back with it. Then, he scooped Jamie’s limp form up and over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let them have the kid’s body to add to the pit.

  People were yelling now, but it seemed far away to Brad. He needed a plan. He needed another distraction. If he could keep the residents scattered and trying to figure out his next move, he’d have a much better chance of getting out alive. The first and only thing that came to mind was incredibly dangerous, but hey. Beggars can’t be choosers.

  Brad put on a burst of speed as he headed back for the truck that they’d just filled with gasoline and oil. He laid Jamie’s body down on the ground before aiming the gun into the open doors and firing from as far back as he possibly could. He saw soldiers running toward him from that side of the yard. It took three shots, but the truck went up in a fireball of flame that left his ears ringing and the ground tilting under his feet for a second.

  He didn’t have the time to spare, so he staggered forward, moving in the opposite direction of everyone else, heading toward the blaze. The shock of the explosion bought him some time.

  Several of the soldiers had been close to the truck when it went up. They lay in pieces around it, now. Brad ran over and grabbed as many of the undamaged packs as he could. There should be rations inside, so it made the few seconds it took to gather them worthwhile. It sucked that he wouldn’t have a chance to go back for his own pack or hit up the supply cupboard, but he’d have to do the best he could.

  Once he’d grabbed everything he could carry, Brad heaved Jamie back up over his shoulder and headed for the rest of the trucks. No one had gone that way yet; they were still looking around for him in the crowd. Idiots. They really had needed a leader, apparently.

  In the distance, he heard gunshots. A woman screamed and Brad saw a man who might very well have been Jack fall to the ground. Soldiers were demanding to know if anyone had seen which way Brad had gone and the civilians were protesting that they didn’t know. They didn’t know anything more than the soldiers did.

  Brad saw the moment it all turned. A soldier aimed his gun at the man on the ground, who was clutching his shoulder. Vance—it couldn’t be anyone but Vance, not with that big and tall frame of his—stepped up and decked the soldier in the jaw. Then, all hell broke loose.

  “Time to go,” Brad told himself. “Way the fuck past time to go.”

  Brad thanked God when he found the keys in the truck just like Jack had said they’d be. Clearly, the Major had been so arrogant as to believe that no one would rise up against him and his men. Pity how that worked out.

  Brad had just loaded Jamie’s body carefully into the back of the truck and was throwing the soldiers’ packs up onto the front seat when he heard something. Even over the shouts and shots, even over the ringing pain in his ears, he heard the sound of a yelp. He turned instinctively.

  Remington was standing there, looking at Brad with sad, confused hazelnut eyes. Brad eyed the dog and made a quick decision.

  “This is no place for you, buddy,” he said. “Come here.”

  The dog trotted over and Brad gave him a reassuring pat before hefting him up into the front seat of the truck, along with the remaining packs. Then, he jumped into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine.

  Speeding through the chaos around him, Brad plowed through the gates. The truck slid just a little on the ice, but handled well overall. And Brad would have put up with a whole lot worse if it got him out of there.

  A glance in the
rearview mirror showed him people running around, but they were just shadows in the light of the flames. He couldn’t tell if they were soldiers or civilians. No matter which side won, Brad only hoped that Ben would manage to survive. He hadn’t been at the shooting. He was the only one that Brad would miss. The rest of them could go to hell.

  Chapter 23

  Brad watched the next sunrise from the comfort of the front seat of the military truck. He’d driven pretty far the day before and then he’d locked everything up and fallen asleep in the front seat.

  It shouldn’t have been a restful night, not with the fact that he’d killed someone. Again. And the fact that he had a body in the back of the truck. That was a new one. But it had been restful, anyway. He hadn’t had any weird dreams and he’d barely moved all night long. He probably wouldn’t even be awake right now if Remy hadn’t had to pee. That had turned out to be a good idea, and relieved and refreshed, he and the dog had returned to the cab of the truck.

  “December first,” Brad grunted. He obviously hadn’t been able to bring his calendar with him when he’d set the facility on fire and run for his life, so he was back to this method of timekeeping. Saying it out loud every day hadn’t failed him yet. Remington, who was lying on the seat beside him, looked up at Brad, quirking first one eyebrow and then the other.

  “You’re right,” Brad said. “It is going to be getting pretty close to Christmas soon. Do you have any requests? I’m hoping for a new form of electricity, myself.”

  He held up a pair of crossed fingers. Remington closed his eyes and curled up a little tighter.

  Brad decided in that moment that he was very glad he’d brought Remington with him, and not just for the inhumanity that it would have been to leave the poor thing behind in a war zone; now, rather than look crazy when he spoke his thoughts out loud, he could just say that he was talking to the dog. Not that there was anyone around to explain it to.

  He’d driven to the edge of Baxter State Park. He’d last hiked the trails there just over a year before. Now, he was going there to bury the body of a kid who’d trusted him.

  At least, burying Jamie had been his original intention. The frozen ground didn’t cooperate, so Brad built a pyre instead, using the lighter his father had given the boy to start the blaze. He’d found it in Jamie’s pocket when he was frantically searching his body for a weapon yesterday.

  He knew now that it was definitely Brad’s father that Jamie had met in the store. If his intuition hadn’t told him, the lighter would have—the initials engraved on it read L.F. Lee Fox.

  It was true that L.F. could have been anyone. Leonard Fitzwallace, maybe. Or Leona Fuller. Or… Brad shook his head. He was way too easily distracted these days. The point was, he’d flipped the lighter over the moment it was safe to, and there it was. A small fox paw print engraved on the back in the left-hand corner. His father had the symbol engraved on everything he could get it on.

  Brad sat down on a log to watch the blaze, resting his hand on the dog’s head. Remy leaned against him with a gentle low bark and Brad began to scratch behind his ears. Lately, it seemed that everything around him had ended in fire, he mused. His cabin had gone up in a blaze. Then, the complex had followed.

  The fire had been spreading through the facility pretty rapidly when he’d left. There had been families there. If they’d survived the soldiers’ panicked shooting, would they have anywhere to sleep that night?

  For a moment, Brad felt incredibly guilty. Then, he looked back at Jamie’s body on the pyre. It was just starting to really catch and burn. He looked so small up there. He’d never have the chance to see a better world now.

  No matter what those people thought of him, Brad wouldn’t change what he’d done. He’d killed a madman. He’d torn up a community that had stood by and let an innocent kid be murdered.

  Once snow joined the ashes raining down around them, Brad pulled the dog back into the truck. After sitting for a few more moments, just watching the fire die down, he cranked the truck on and headed off down the road.

  “Where do you think we should go?” he asked Remington. “Do we take our lives into our hands and go back into Bangor? I mean, who knows what the soldiers did to those people. The fact that they were shooting at us might have been perfectly justified. Or, should we…” It hit him like a thunderbolt out of the blue. The perfect answer. The most obvious damn solution. “We should go to Island Falls.”

  Didn’t it make so much more sense for Anna to have gone back to her hometown rather than to his? Hell yes, it did. He dug through the glove compartment and smiled in relief when he found a map. Then, he turned the wheel and headed for Island Falls.

  The drive didn’t take too long, much to his relief. There were only a few spots on the road where he’d been afraid that he’d get stuck, and the road signs, miraculously still in place, helped him find the place without too much trouble. He’d managed to get all the way through with the vehicle, the dog, and his sanity intact.

  He remembered Anna telling him that it was a small town, but as he drove in, he wasn’t even sure that town was the right word. It was more like a cute little village. Cute, but completely empty, as far as he could tell.

  In fact, the place was a ghost town. Brad’s heart sank, even though he’d told himself the whole way there not to expect to find anything. The soldiers hadn’t destroyed anything, but there were no people in sight. Brad drove aimlessly, until he saw a sign for the street Anna had said that she’d lived on. He turned down it, remembering her story about the girl who’d been shot right in front of her.

  He pulled up to a house that could well have been Anna’s, based on her descriptions. It had probably been a nice little home at one point, but neglect had taken it just as it had taken every other house on the street. He called to the dog and they walked up the cracked walkway and into the house.

  The place had been looted, that much was clear the moment he walked in, but nothing had been damaged. For some reason, it made him feel better. He would have hated for Anna to lose the things she’d been so proud of, even if they wouldn’t do her any good anymore.

  His breath caught in his throat as he saw the pictures hung on the wall. Sammy’s school pictures. This was the right house after all.

  Alongside the pictures were examples of his artwork, each piece dated and framed. Apparently, the kid had always been pretty creative. There was a drawing called “My Friendly Monster” that showed real promise when it came to color theory. Another one wasn’t titled, but it seemed to involve some sort of car chase. There was also a helicopter involved. All of them were done in the boldest colors a kid could find in the crayon box.

  The kitchen was empty and it had the grime that accumulated when a house sat empty for a long time, but other than that, it looked nice. There was a roll of paper towels in the holder over the sink. They had a print of blue teddy bears and little pink bows.

  Brad smiled as he looked at them. It seemed so unlike Anna to have something so frivolous. He noticed gradually that the blue theme carried around the whole kitchen. It wasn’t overwhelming, but there were small, almost hidden touches of it all around the room. It was on the drawer pulls, the napkin holders on the small table, and on the towels that were hung near the sink.

  He walked back out of the room. He guessed that the bedrooms were down the hall, but he stopped in the living room. It was one thing to snoop through someone’s house, but it became very strange knowing the people it was once home to.

  Brad sat down on the living room floor and leaned back against the couch. He probably would have been more comfortable on the sofa, but he really wanted to be able to stretch his legs out. Brad pulled open one of the packs he’d brought in with him and pulled out a ration bar. He clicked his tongue and Remy joined him quickly. He broke the ration biscuit in half and shared it with the dog. His rations wouldn’t as far now, but he was past caring. It was better than going through the whole thing by himself.

  Once they were done
eating, he pulled the lighter from his pocket again, desperate to distract himself from the pain in his chest. He’d enjoyed being in the house at first, but now it felt like it was closing in on him. He would have sworn that Anna was just around the corner. That Sammy and Martha were just out in the backyard playing one of the crazy games they’d made up.

  But they weren’t and he felt his throat start to tighten in spite of his desperate struggle to hold back the tears that wanted to come. If they started, he was afraid that they might not stop. He was simply overwhelmed, he told himself.

  “And falling apart won’t help.”

  Ordering himself around wasn’t doing much good. Neither was the lighter trick. He still sucked at it. In fact, he thought that he might have gotten worse.

  Brad dropped the lighter with a smack and sighed. Yeah. He’d definitely gotten worse at it.

  He leaned down and grabbed the lighter, flicking it open when his fingers brushed against something odd on the hardwood floor.

  It was a carving, hewn into the floor in that spiky lettering Brad knew so well. “S+A+M.” Below that was carved, “Nov 2026.”

  Brad let out a shocked whoop that startled Remington to standing. Brad flung his arms around the dog and laughed. He laughed until he felt his throat tighten too much and the tears came. This time, he didn’t mind.

  TO BE CONTINUED

  Book 4: Thin Ice

  Copyright 2019 by K. M. Fawkes

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.