Clickers

by J. F. Gonzalez

  Fred muttered and turned away, his head down. Rick had made a good point, one that could still be argued against, but nobody wanted to do any arguing now. All they wanted to do was get the hell out of here.

  In the end, after much discussion and cajoling, a simple plan was made. None of them were entirely comfortable with it, but they all agreed it was the most sensible thing to do. Rick and Fred volunteered to do the honors and Janice protested feebly, but stopped when she realized that it was really the only way out for them. The others remained silent as the two got to their feet and collected their weapons. They all walked to the door of the freezer with them and paused briefly.

  It was still dead quiet outside. The light patter of rain drummed on the roof, but beyond that it was as silent.

  Glen regarded them solemnly. It looked like he’d aged ten years in the past forty-eight hours. “Are you sure you guys want to do this?”

  Fred nodded. Rick nodded and said yes.

  Janice stood behind Rick and he turned to her briefly. He tried to muster a smile, but her features were grave, her eyes filled with the knowing that this had to be done. She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Be careful, Rick.”

  “I will,” Rick said. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but that seemed trivial now. The war hero telling the woman he loves how he feels was the romantic thing to put in a story; it was necessary in every novel or film where the protagonists reached this point. That way, when the good guys go out to fight the good fight, they get in a terrible predicament but ultimately save the day.

  Then the hero goes with the girl he loves and they ride off into the sunset together to live a happy life.

  But that was for the movies. This was real life. And while he did have strong emotional feelings for Janice, he had tripped over that little emotion called love once too often. He certainly thought he felt it for her, but now was not the time to proclaim it. It would either hold him back, or blow up in his face.

  Instead he just kissed her back.

  Glen nodded as if accepting their decision, and moved to remove the metal bar that locked them inside.

  He turned the handle of the door. Rick and Fred braced themselves for any surprise attack that might come in the form of a hiding Dark One, guns cocked and ready. Glen opened the door slowly, revealing a darkened grocery store littered with trash, crushed cans spilling goo, food wrappers and other plastic and household goods. It looked like a huge frat party had been held in the store and nobody had cleaned up. Fred and Rick looked out into the store for a moment, noting the quietness of the place, then stepped out over the threshold.

  The minute they did, the door to the freezer was closed. The metal bar was drawn back through the door handle, locking them out. They were out of the freezer.

  The store was silent. It felt exactly the way it felt when Rick had ventured out previously. Aside from him and Fred, there wasn’t a living thing in the store with them.

  He looked at Fred and the other man seemed to read this in his gaze. Fred nodded. They’d talked about heading straight to the front of the store to check the parking lot, see if there were any Dark Ones abound, but Glen had nixed that one. “Time is of the essence here,” he said. “Besides, if there are any outside and they see you, that would be defeating our purpose. Just do what you have to do, and do it as quickly as you can, and if God’s willing, we’ll be able to get out of here.”

  With that sentiment on their minds, they set about to do just that.

  As a resident of Phillipsport, Fred stocked up on canned goods, frozen TV dinners, and plenty of beer at this grocery store at least once a week. He sometimes bought household goods and at times, automotive equipment. In fact, two months before, he’d bought a pack of flares in this grocery store just in case his truck ever broke down and he had to use them to warn oncoming motorists. The automotive section was on the north end of the building, four aisles up from the women’s toiletries and the infant items. Fred led the way, moving quickly but quietly through the fallen rubble with Rick behind him. The lack of sufficient lighting made identifying the correct aisle by the signs that hung overhead almost impossible, but Fred seemed to know his way around the place like the back of his hand. He turned down an aisle and then they were standing by the relatively unscathed automotive rack.

  Rick’s nerves were on edge. A few items from other aisles had been strewn over into this one, but for the most part the automotive and households goods aisle was untouched. A few boxes of laundry detergent had been dumped, and bottles had leaked the blue soapy fluid onto the floor to mix with the water that seeped in, creating a slick, soapy look. But for the most part the goods on the shelves were intact.

  Fred’s gaze crawled over the cans of STP, windshield wiper fluid, and makeshift first-aid kits till his eyes riveted on a nondescript gray package. He seized it and groped for another one—the last one on the shelf. He handed one to Rick and began tearing his open. Six flares fell out of the gray wrapping and Fred clutched them in his left hand as his right dove into his jacket pocket for his cigarette lighter. Rick got his flares out and the two men looked at each other. Fred looked ready for action. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  They headed out the doors of the supermarket. Once outside, the cold wind caressed their bodies, the sky still spitting rain, but the parking lot itself was silent.

  Empty.

  There wasn’t a Dark One in sight, much less anything else resembling life.

  Rick’s eyes scanned the parking lot. His first target told him that they would have to revert to Plan B.

  The blue Datsun he’d driven to the store with Janice and Bobby was a crushed mass of metal. The Dark Ones had had a field day with it. It looked like it had been hit by a train.

  He shifted his gaze to the other cars in the parking lot. A few sat empty in the lot, lonely and desolate; two of them resembled the blue Datsun. They were parked closest to the store. The red Chevy Blazer that had once pulled up with the two black women and their sons was now standing silent and empty, its windshield shattered. Dark stains of crimson covered the pavement near the driver’s side of the vehicle. Beyond the Blazer, only six other cars were in the parking lot that appeared to be in working order—a yellow Datsun, a green Subaru, two Scouts, and a white Chevy pickup truck. Fred pointed at the truck, which was one hundred yards from where they were standing, almost in the middle of the parking lot. “That’s my truck there.”

  Rick nodded and they set off toward the truck in a slow jog. The barrel of the rifle brushed against Rick’s butt as he ran, its shoulder strap reassuring him with its comforting weight as it lay slung over his back. Fred was clutching the flares in one hand, his handgun in the other.

  Before him the cars lay scattered about. At the far end of the parking lot, almost at the edge of the lot itself that ended in thick woods, stood a generator-powered spotlight of the kind used for evening beacons. Rick’s mind registered it briefly and then it was gone.

  The sky overhead was dark with thick clouds. If it wasn’t so fucking cloudy, the sun would be coming up in another hour or so. Fred was slightly in the lead as they approached the truck from the passenger side. Rick headed to the passenger side door, one hand on the handle waiting to climb in as Fred scurried to the driver’s side. What happened next happened so fast that Rick remembered it later only as a series of images.

  Fred’s short exclamation of breath, his sharp cry of “What the fuck?”

  The guttural grunt of some beast. The sudden rush of air as something lunged. The rocking of the truck as it was hit with incredible force.

  The image of a Dark One was the first thing that sprang to his mind as he started running away from the truck as soon as those first images hit him. He slowed his run down to a sort of sideways scurry as he turned to see what was happening. It was then that the truck tipped over with a crash to the pavement and Rick saw the cause of the mayhem.

  A Dark One was straddling Fred, who now lay over the driver’s side d
oor on his back. Fred was struggling wildly, his arms flailing as he tried to bring his weapon up. Rick brought the rifle up, aiming at the creature and screamed. “Fred!”

  The Dark One lunged forward in its assault, the weight of it tipping the truck over on its side. Fred screamed as he slid down the side of the truck with the creature on him. He fell to the pavement, the creature still on him, tearing into him with its claws. The force of the truck rolling over a third time dislodged some of its inner workings, and the exhaust pipe came free. Rick saw the creature lean forward, its mouth open wide, sharp teeth gleaming. Rick screamed again. “Fred!” Then he began shooting.

  The first three shots went wild. The second and third hit the body of the truck; he could hear them pinging off the metal of the body. The next three went wild, one hit the pavement, ricocheted off, and hit the truck again. He wasn’t sure which one hit the gas tank, which caused the truck to explode.

  The explosion was sudden, instantaneous. Rick threw his arms over his face and fell back. Flames mushroomed in a loud ka-boom! as metal pieces and shrapnel flew everywhere. Rick dropped to the ground, covering his head and neck. Heat rushed over him in a deadly wave and he could feel metal parts and chunks of the truck raining down over him. He risked a peek at the truck and his eyes smarted at the sight and brightness of the flames. The truck was an inferno, flames billowing, sending out clouds of black smoke. Rick couldn’t spot Fred anywhere in the blaze, but he did pick out the bulk of the Dark One crouched over the underside of the truck. The creature was a motionless, burning husk.

  Debris rained down, then stopped. Rick scrambled to his feet, horrified, yet numb to what had just happened. It had all sounded so easy: they were just going to get in either the car he’d driven in or the truck, drive over to the entrance, honk the horn once to sound the all clear, pile everybody in and drive away. Simple, but now thwarted by one single mishap, one that had been anticipated but not dealt with because there was no dealing with it. They’d known the risks of the possibility of Dark Ones lying in wait. And they’d all agreed that they couldn’t stay cooped up in the freezer forever. Somebody had to take that risk. And now that was shot to shit.

  There were burning chunks of metal all around him. The rain began to fall harder again, dampening the flames. His hair felt singed, his eyes smarted from the smoke. He took a step backward and stopped when he heard a sound from behind him.

  He whirled around. The explosion had attracted the attention of the other Dark Ones. They began to approach him but were stopped by the fire. They stood roughly forty yards from him, shielding their eyes from the intense flames. They mewled and growled in rage; it was obvious that the fire was holding them back and for a moment the line from the film Bride of Frankenstein came to mind: fire—baaaddd! He almost burst out laughing, it was so comical. They were reacting just as any typical monster would, and while it was true that fire would probably kill most anything, the scenario he was in surely lent weight to the credo that art imitated life.

  Rick caught movement beyond the line of Dark Ones stopped by the fire. He craned his head up. Beyond the Dark Ones, another wave of the creatures was making their way to the shattered front of the supermarket. They would go back in and begin their assault on the freezer door again, perhaps this time finally breaking it down.

  He had to think of something. The creatures in front of him roared their frustration. One took a tentative step forward and howled as if in pain. Rick saw that they were shielding their eyes more than they were shielding themselves from the intense heat and it suddenly hit him: It’s the light from the fire that they can’t stand. Glen’s theory of their sensitivity to light sprang forth and rang true more than ever. The Dark Ones were able to venture out because of the huge mass of clouds and the dark of the night, yet the intense light from the fire, and probably the heat, too, were driving them back. As long as he stayed within the realm of the fire, the ones that had been trying to approach couldn’t touch him. Now if he could only drive them, and the ones entering the store, out.

  He turned around and his eyes fell on the generator-powered spotlight.

  He rushed toward it, hoping that what he just thought of would work, hoping that the generator was working, that when he reached it and turned on the switch and revved it up, it would do the trick. He reached the spotlight, opened the control panel of the generator and saw that it was indeed shut down. He flicked the on/off switch, and the generator began to hum; Rick surmised it was an electrically-powered generator, and hoped that it was charged up. If it wasn’t, he was in some deep shit.

  He looked out across the parking lot and saw that the Dark Ones were casting a wide berth around the fire and were now making their way toward him. The generator began to whine into action and he reached along the control panel of the spotlight itself, finding the switch. He flicked it on.

  The parking lot was suddenly bathed in light. The advancing creatures cringed and threw their arms over their faces, shielding their eyes from the bright light. Rick felt a tinge of excitement run through him. The spotlight rested on a small cart with four wheels. Rick pushed it. It moved easily and he turned the spotlight around, getting the monsters in the path of its beam. They cried out and cringed, scurrying backwards. Rick felt a rise of triumph, then quelled it. He hadn’t won the battle yet. It was just beginning.

  He pushed the spotlight forward, keeping its glow trained on the monsters. They backed up, skirting around the burning truck. Rick stopped once, turning around to see if any of them were circling around the light to sneak up on him from behind. The blaze of the truck fire was now on his right, slightly behind him, and its glow cast a wide arc. To his left, the spotlight had them and none were trying to skirt around the far edge for a sneak attack.

  The light danced across the broken front door of the supermarket, catching the entering Dark Ones in its path. They stopped as if sprayed with pesticide and staggered back, shielding their faces, roaring in rage and frustration. They staggered around, bumping into each other. Rick continued pushing the light, shoving its brightness forward. It drove the Dark Ones more insane.

  The sharp cries of the creatures outside must have attracted more, because now more began to crawl into the parking lot. As soon as the light hit their eyes they cringed back, hiding their faces. They remained frozen in the doorway, unable to move forward but unable to move back due to the others behind them. Rick was afraid they would retreat inside. He reached toward the control panel, planning to maybe turn the light off briefly to allow them to come outside, then switch it back on when they were out. But suppose the generator died before he could get it turned back on again?

  His fingers brushed against the control panel and lighted upon a knob. It was pointed at FULL LIGHT. The other selection was FLASH. Rick turned it to FLASH.

  The spotlight began to flash in slow, even strokes like a strobe light sputtering to life. It affected the Dark Ones immensely. They became less drunken by the high glare of the spotlight, but more disoriented by the flashing light. They moved around, their eyes open and glazing, their arms rising periodically to their eyes to guard them from the strobe. The creatures at the door of the grocery store stumbled out and began to wander around drunkenly. Rick stepped away from the spotlight and watched them, debating on whether he should dart through the throng to the store.

  He hadn’t even made up his mind yet when it was made up for him. Rick saw Charley’s face peering out the shattered glass of the front door, Annette’s strained face beside him, scoping the lot out. The creatures were oblivious to them. Rick stepped out from the spotlight, waving his arms. Charley saw him, motioned to Annette and pointed. She saw him, turned back, as if speaking to the others. What the hell are they doing out of the freezer? Rick thought. Are they nuts?

  Charley and Annette exited the building followed by the others. Glen crowded behind them, followed by Barbara, Anne, Melissa, Bobby and Janice bringing up the rear. The eight of them crowded in front of the shattered doorway of the Lu
cky’s Supermarket and watched the Dark Ones stumble around blindly. The creatures were moving away from the store and the spotlight in large circles, their human prey seemingly forgotten. Rick stood where he was, watching but not daring to dash forward until he was absolutely sure it was safe. He prayed that Charley or Glen or any of the others decided to take a chance and take a mad sprint across the parking lot toward him. He was still a good ten yards away from them—a three-second run, but three seconds too long.

  Charley took a tentative step forward, watching the retreat of the Dark Ones. Rick was sure now that Charley was going to chance it. But then Charley turned around. He looked toward Rick but his eyes were focused somewhere beyond, past the parking lot. His eyes widened, and a moment later Rick heard what the other man saw approaching.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The twin orbs of headlights were heading straight for him and for a moment Rick was dumbfounded by their appearance. Then he heard the roar of the engine and realized it for what it was: a giant Ford pickup truck. Help was on the way.

  The truck stopped abruptly beside him with a squeal of brakes and Rick jumped onto the bed. The others clambered on with him and it wasn’t until he was in the truck that he recognized the driver from the rear window. The driver waved at him with his skinny arms, his bony face grinning wildly. It was Jack Ripley.

  “Way to go, Jack!” Rick yelled. Jack made a thumbs up sign and drove forward, the headlights of the truck stabbing into the dark parking lot before them. The Dark Ones scattered at the new invasion of light and Rick could now only barely hear them as the truck pulled into the covered awning. The spotlight and the burning pyre of Fred’s truck still cast sufficient light in a nice arc to keep the Dark Ones at bay, and now the twin orbs of the headlights from Jack’s vehicle brought more protection.