Into the Dark of the Day (Action of Purpose, 2)

by Stu Jones

  “Yeah, it is my choice,” Kane tried to contain the snarl in his tone. “So what is it you want?”

  “Our camp is about four miles southwest of your station, off Highway Seventeen, up Steed Creek Road. Come at first light, alone. Bring a vehicle loaded with whatever you value most. Make sure it equals the value of your family and represents what they’re worth to you. We’ll evaluate whether the trade is fair. When you see the fires of our camp, stop your vehicle one hundred yards out. Step out of the vehicle with your hands visible. Try anything funny, and they die.”

  I’m going to kill you—every last one of you.

  “First light. I got it.”

  “Screw this up and your family is dead.”

  The scratch of static made everyone wince again as the radio went silent. Winston turned down the volume. Kane stood, turning to face him and Courtland. Jacob leaned back against a nearby wall, his face covered in darkness.

  “What time is it?” Kane asked Winston. Exact time had ceased to be important long ago, but Winston still possessed one of those fancy kinetic watches. He looked down to check it.

  “Three forty-five in the morning.”

  “So with the cloud cover, I’ve got three hours or so before first light.”

  “What are you thinking?” Courtland asked, his voice a whisper.

  “I’m thinking…” Kane pondered, touched his lips. “I can’t believe this. How could they have survived all this time? My family is…This isn’t possible.”

  “I don’t like it,” Courtland murmured. The gentle giant’s usual easy demeanor seemed worn and guarded. “They’re going to extort you.”

  Kane began to pace. “Of course they are, but what choice do I have?”

  “If you go, the mutants will finish the rest of us.”

  With an expression raw with grief and pain, Kane turned to face Courtland. “It’s my family.” He clenched his jaw as he recalled the dusty voice describe his wife as delicious. It made his skin crawl, the familiar, prickly feeling of white-hot rage took hold. “I’m going to get my family—and I’m not trading shit for them!”

  “Kane…” Courtland swallowed. “I don’t like where this is going. We don’t know if they have them yet.”

  “The guy described my family!”

  “I don’t like what’s been happening to you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means we’ve all been through a lot, and we need you,” Courtland reasoned. “I need you—the Kane I first knew in those early days.”

  “So I’m supposed to ignore the fact that a group of bandits may have my family?”

  “Kane, I’m not trying to be hurtful, but what are the odds that your wife and kids survived and made it up here from Miami? We can’t spare you right now. We’ve almost been reduced to nothing.”

  “Come with me,” Kane pleaded. “Help me, Court. I need you in this.”

  Courtland dropped his head and wrung his hands. “I…can’t.”

  Kane raised his voice. “You said you were with me. You said you had my back, always.”

  “I know I did, but I have to be here. I have to protect the people here—the children. What you’re thinking…this is something different. Something isn’t right with this.”

  “Of course it’s not right. They plan to kill me. I know the law of the land. But if they have my family captive…What is it you want from me?” Kane yelled, causing him to wince and press his palm to his chest.

  “What? Are you alright?” Courtland asked.

  “It’s nothing. Forget about it.”

  “What about when the Sicks come back for the rest of us? You’re the leader of this group, and we need you,” Courtland said. “When this is settled, I swear I’ll do everything I can to help you secure your family—if they’re alive and if these people have them. But think of how many families are here now. There are people here who need us.”

  “If you’re not with me in this, you’re against me,” Kane stated firmly.

  “Don’t say that, Kane. Don’t do it like this.”

  “It’s done. I’m going,”

  “Your choice will doom the rest of us. I can feel it.” Courtland paused. “I already know what you’re going to do.”

  “Oh, you read people’s minds now?”

  “Yeah. You’re going to murder those people, whether they have your family or not.”

  Kane picked up a chair and hurled it across the room. “You’re damn right I am! Those bastards will get what’s coming to them! They’re going to find out what happens when you hold my family hostage!” He stormed past Courtland and Winston, heading for the door.

  “Kane, stop!” Courtland growled, fierceness in his voice. The sound made everyone in the room freeze, Kane included.

  Kane turned slowly, his eyes betraying his fear and agony as his gaze locked on Courtland.

  “You need to hear me, just this once,” Courtland said. “I understand why you feel you have to go, but you’ve become reckless and self-absorbed. Neither God nor I can protect you in this. If you do it this way, you’ll do it alone.”

  “I’m tired of all of the unanswered prayers. I’m tired of waiting on God to do something that he doesn’t seem interested in doing. Why isn’t he here now, like he was in the early days? He’s abandoned us.”

  “No. It’s you, Kane,” Courtland whispered. “You’ve shut him out.”

  “Great. Thanks for the sermon, preacher. Since you’ve got such a great connection, why don’t you talk to Him for me? And while you’re at it, tell him to stop wasting my time,” Kane spat as he slammed the door.

  Courtland dropped his head, feeling the pain and regret of things left unsaid. Pulling away from the wall, Jacob glanced at him before pushing the door open to the outside.

  “I gotta go with him, Mr. Courtland. I’m sorry. I owe him my life.”

  Courtland didn’t respond as the teen lowered his head and left the room, the door closing with a click behind him. Winston collected the thrown chair and set it back in place.

  After a quiet moment alone with the giant, Winston spoke cautiously. “What do you think? Are we going to be okay? I mean, those of us who stay here.”

  The giant remained silent for a long while as a myriad of troubled thoughts tumbled through his mind. He sighed as he considered Winston’s question. “It seems like the world is falling down around us,” he said. “We’re down several more men now, including the leader of this group. He can leave, but the mutants will come again.”

  “But you can lead us, right?”

  “I don’t know, Winston. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “What plan?”

  “The one I swore to follow a long time ago.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Kane moved hurriedly, stuffing a few items into a camouflage backpack. He holstered his Glock and slipped two extra magazines into a pouch on his belt. The man named Arrice worked beside him, preparing the items that he would need. Kane didn’t know the man well. It surprised Kane when Arrice volunteered to go. The man was dark-skinned and spoke with a thick African accent. He’d been on the second rifle team and had proven himself proficient with a long gun. Arrice told Kane that no one had helped him when his family died and he wouldn’t let the same happen to someone else. Kane offered his condolences and gladly accepted the man’s help.

  In minutes word spread around the station that Kane was leaving. The news didn’t have far to travel. Only about fifteen able-bodied people remained. The rest were injured or had become ill. Kane felt a certain amount of guilt over leaving the people at the station, especially given the many wounded and the children with few to protect them from the evil that would come again after nightfall. But Kane felt he’d these people his problem long enough. He had to make a choice, and that choice had been clear. Courtland could think whatever he wanted; his family wasn’t being held hostage any longer.

  Jacob entered the armory behind Kane and stopped in the doorway. “I’m going w
ith you.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re needed here.”

  “You can’t choose that for me.”

  “Sure I can. You’re just a boy.”

  Jacob stepped forward and grabbed Kane’s jacket, half turning him. “This boy just stood shoulder to shoulder with you in that damn hallway. Besides, you know I owe you one. I’m coming.”

  Kane turned and pushed Jacob’s hand away. The teen stared at Kane with hardened eyes. “Your call, kid,” Kane responded, turning back to his task, “but I’m not responsible for you. You can’t be stupid about this. You’ve got to pull your own weight. Grab whatever ammo you need, but we’ll be traveling light. Meet us out in the courtyard. We’re out of here in five minutes.”

  “You got it,” Jacob said, as he stepped forward, taking a rifle from Arrice’s outstretched hand. “I won’t let you down.”

  The three men double-checked their weapons and their equipment. Then they loaded up into the old truck. The vehicle idled in the center of the courtyard as Courtland watched from the catwalk on the second floor above. Kane gave the signal to move. As the truck pulled forward, the double doors of the station swung open, and out came a woman, walking briskly toward them. Kane motioned for Arrice to stop.

  “I’m in too,” Shana said, as she climbed into the back of the vehicle. Though she’d cleaned herself up some, her body and clothes were still partially covered in blood.

  “Shana? But you were in shock or something. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I want to go,” she said, stuffing a revolver into her waistband.

  “Look, you’re obviously competent and all, but you were missing for a while,” Kane explained, “and you still haven’t told anyone what happened.”

  “I was kidnapped by bandits who beat, raped, and tortured the shit out of me until I was able to escape. Cal, Mico, and the rest were all murdered. Does that cover it?”

  Everyone sat silent, looking at Shana. This unexpected change in her condition had come out of nowhere. Kane was still trying to find the right words when she spoke again.

  “All I’m saying is if you’re going with the intention of wreaking havoc on some bandit scum, then I want in. I’ve got a personal score to settle.”

  Kane glanced quickly at the other two, who both nodded in agreement. “Then you’re in,” Kane said, leaning forward. “So here’s how I’m thinking we do this.”

  The world burned, and as it did, the moon turned to blood. The stars fell from the sky one by one, spinning and breaking apart in the atmosphere, bursting in showers of sparks that rained down upon the darkened landscape. The shadows of the dark ones gathered on the horizon as they waited for the fire to spread, sending hopelessness and despair like a cancer into all who could not fight against it. The darkness would never stop, not until the last shred of light was extinguished from the world and every last shred of hope was gone.

  This is how it ends when you allow the light to die.

  Tynuk jerked upright on his bed of wool military blankets. The light of the fire felt warm and comforting in the stillness of the cool prairie night. The boy looked across the fire to the beast, curled on his belly, snout to the ground, his silvery eyes winking in the glow of the fire. The beast rarely slept if the boy was sleeping, as though he held to an unspoken duty to watch over his friend. Ever vigilant, Azolja was indeed deserving of his name.

  Tynuk pushed a blanket aside and pulled his knees to his chest, a concerned look on his face. In response the wolf-like creature raised his massive head ever so slightly. He tilted his head as if he’d been asked a question. Tynuk noticed and met the creature’s gaze, one that seemed to bore into him. Tynuk felt something eternal behind the beast’s eyes.

  “It’s the vision, Az,” the warrior boy muttered. “The vision came to me again in a dream.”

  The beast bobbed his head.

  “It’s always the same. The world burns, the moon turns to blood, the stars fall, and the darkness threatens to drown out the light. There is no one to stop it.” The boy stopped and looked away from the beast. “I don’t yet know what this means for us. Are we supposed to try and stop this event? There is much I don’t yet know. Maybe my uncle and cousin will know more. Surely they will join us in our cause.”

  The beast gave a light woof and rested his muzzle back against the earth. Tynuk sighed.

  “I fear for the safety of our friends, though, Az. I fear for Courtland and Kane and the others at the station. Their light may be fading. If so, then it may be fading just as the darkest times are upon them. I can only hope they look to the Spirit for the strength to face the darkness of that coming day. If they do not, if the darkness extinguishes their light, as the vision predicts, I fear we may never see the rising of the sun again.”

  Dagen sat up with great effort, holding his head in his hands and moaning. His tongue felt like a plank of flayed wood in his throat. He was dehydrated and felt the faint introduction of a headache pulsate behind his temples. Dagen pressed back against the wall behind him as the cries and groans of agony that surrounded him hung thick in the air like smog.

  Rubbing his eyes, Dagen fumbled for a moment as he tried to identify his surroundings. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten wherever he was. His eyes felt as though they were stuck to the inside of his eyelids. He groaned in frustration and cleared his throat a few times, which sent him into a spasm of coughing. The stinking, moist warmth of the room rose and filled his nostrils, the smell death and fear. A few silhouettes drifted across his field of vision, and as they went, a host of pleading arms grasped and called out for the figures. For all Dagen knew, he was in hell, right where he belonged. He closed his eyes and tried to think, to recover the last thing he remembered.

  The rooftop. He’d tried to jump. Jenna had saved him. No, there was more, something else. He rubbed at his face. The pills and vodka—that was it. He’d tried to overdose on the roof. It hadn’t worked, unless he really was in hell.

  A slight figure appeared and knelt beside him. He felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder blade. No, he wasn’t in hell because she was here. He knew who it was long before words were spoken. Something felt different. Something inside him felt real, like a caterpillar emerging from the darkness of its cocoon into the light of day for the first time. The emergence was painful, but something about it felt honest, as though some of the false layers were being peeled away.

  “Why?” she whispered, handing him a cup of cloudy, lukewarm black water.

  Dagen didn’t answer and cleared his throat again. He drained the shallow cup and waited as the bitter liquid poured down his throat, giving life to his broken voice. He coughed again, dipped his fingers into the remaining moisture, and rubbed a small amount into his eyes to help clear them.

  “You know why.”

  “Killing yourself won’t change anything, Dagen.”

  “I wasn’t trying to change. I was trying to die.”

  “We’ve been over this—”

  “Yeah, I know,” Dagen said, blinking a few times as his vision returned. He turned to see Jenna giving him that look again.

  “I hate it when you look at me like that.”

  “Then stop trying to take your own life,” she replied. “It’s selfish, and you’re obviously not any good at it.” She gave a small smile.

  “Okay, make jokes.”

  “Hey,” Jenna said, looking Dagen in the face. “I’m just glad to see you’re all right.”

  Dagen pulled his eyes from hers—eyes that seemed to know his most terrible secrets. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the medical bay. Courtland found you on the roof and brought you down.”

  “You got any more water?”

  Jenna shook her head. “There may be a few bottles floating around, but the black-water reserves are gone. No water has been scavenged recently. It’s not looking good.”

  Dagen’s vision grew stronger as he adjusted his position against the wall and looked around the room. “What’s with
all the people?”

  Jenna’s face grew serious. “You’ve missed a lot. We’ve been under siege for the last two days by a huge group of Sicks, an organized group. With you out of it on the roof, we never saw them coming.”

  Dagen lowered his head, the shame of yet another personal failure made real by the deaths of so many. He’d thought his responsibility as lookout had been unimportant. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “You said they’re organized?” Dagen asked, deflecting the focus of the conversation off him.

  “It’s a long story, but there’s one creature who leads the others.”

  “A leader?”

  Jenna nodded.

  “Why are they attacking now?”

  “We don’t know exactly. Maybe because Kane and Jacob stumbled into their group and killed a few of them.

  “How many are there?”

  “Hundreds. They broke through the outer fence two nights ago. Last night we fell back and defended the station. They got in here too. They stopped just short of wiping us out. We think they’re toying with us. They’ll come again tonight. You’ll see.”

  “Is that where you got this?” Dagen asked, pointing to the bandage across her collarbone.

  Jenna nodded.

  “That’s crazy. Just a few days ago everything was fine here.”

  “Yeah, and on top of that, Kane is gone now so—”

  “He’s gone?”

  “No one can believe it. I heard he got a radio message about someone holding his family captive. He left with three others in one of the trucks a few hours ago.”

  “I did miss a lot.”

  “You did. There aren’t many of us left. Now our numbers are mostly the injured and children. We won’t stand a chance when the Sicks come again.”

  “What are we going to do?” Dagen asked, his face softer, the weight of his role in their situation heavy upon him.

  Jenna shrugged. “What can we do?”

  “We take the fight to them,” came a throaty rumble from across the room. Dagen and Jenna turned to see Courtland push through the medical bay doors, a few heavy duffel bags across his shoulders. He was followed by a small group of individuals carrying weapons and equipment. Kris from the commissary stood among them.