by Benton, Ken
Debra took her eyes off him and returned to her pondering. Could Jessie and Archer really be happy together? She knew both of them so well before. Helios changed everything, including people. Some who found themselves turning nocturnal needed to adjust their romantic pursuits towards nocturnal partners, and vice versa, out of practicality. But it couldn’t be that simple, could it? After all, they were still the same persons after moving to the other side of the clock. Weren’t they?
Jessie and Archer’s political views matched up better, as did Joel and Debra’s, although none of them claimed to be politically motivated. But compatible politics, and even common interests, were not necessarily what made romances work. At best they only prevented certain types of arguments, which wise couples would quickly learn to avoid anyway. There was undeniably much truth in the old axiom “opposites attract.” Attracting across the nocturnal-diurnal division, however, was much more of a challenge, unless a couple conceded to being together a total of 2-4 hours per day during crossover times. Then again, many pre-Helios couples probably didn’t spend much more actual time together upon close examination.
Then there was sexual chemistry, which sometimes reigns supreme. Everyone knows at least one completely incompatible couple who stays together far longer than otherwise possible because of that. This was difficult to imagine being a factor for Archer and Jessie. Archer wasn’t exactly a stallion when it came to physical passion.
A chance existed that Jessie was simply using Archer. She needed a companion, and she especially needed a nocturnal companion who could get her back to Fredericksburg. But Debra didn’t think that was the right explanation, either. When she saw them together earlier tonight, there was something about them that registered as a team. Something that…
A gunshot sounded from the direction of the Maddock house. Debra also thought she detected glass shattering.
Red jumped up. Callaway tightened his muscles. Some of his veins were becoming visible.
Debra remained still, putting a death grip her coffee mug. “That was the AR-15,” she said.
Another gunshot rang, not as deep a sound, and after a few seconds two more repeated a little closer together.
“That was Mick’s rifle,” Debra said with her eyes closed.
The next few minutes were silent and stressful. They ended when two more gunshots echoed in fast succession.
Debra opened her eyes. “That was the AR-15 again. Something tells me it’s over.”
Callaway stood up from the barstool. “Me too.”
* * *
When Dunn saw the headlights from the SUV light the street in front of them, he found himself wishing three things. The first was that he was younger. The second was that the boys accompanying him, his son and his son’s friend, were older—and more experienced. The third was that they’d minded their own damn business, instead of leaving the trading post and walking up the street towards the sound of the gunshots.
It was mostly a reactionary thing. They couldn’t tell whether the shots came from the Maddock place or Danson’s. Dunn was pretty sure they didn’t come from Bronson’s side of the street. By now Rob Danson would be shut up inside. And all the remaining nocturnals in the neighborhood were either on Dunn’s property or at the trading post. None had gone in this direction yet tonight that Dunn knew of.
The vehicle approached slowly. That fact added to Dunn’s uncertainty. Whoever this was, they were not behaving like someone fleeing a crime. The SUV wasn’t a familiar neighborhood vehicle. It could possibly be non-local nocturnals looking for the trading post. But it could also be someone coming from the gunfire. Dunn didn’t know what to do.
“They see us,” he said. “Let’s act like we’re going to walk past them. Don’t point your weapons. We’re caught in a tough spot here. Be ready to scramble for cover.”
Lyle grumbled in response. Dunn knew that meant he would reluctantly obey. That kid’s hotheadedness and impulsive tendencies would be the end of him yet. If there was any justice, he’d be the one in a prison camp right now, not Ricky Danson.
Of course, there was no justice. Not for nocturnals, anyway. They had to make their own justice.
The SUV continued to approach, never changing speed. Being in front of its headlights was an uncomfortable disadvantage if there was to be any trouble. Dunn and his son moved to one side of the street and Lyle the other. The way the vehicle kept coming slow and steady, sinking a tire into every divot, was almost as if it were keeping pace with someone walking along outside it.
That’s when Dunn realized someone was actually walking along outside it, on the passenger side where Lyle was headed. He was hard to make out at first, but Dunn could see that he was armed. The weapon he carried resembled a soldier’s.
“Come over to this side Lyle,” Dunn said.
Lyle obeyed.
In another minute the visitors became fully visible. Just one person inside, in the driver’s seat, but he registered as familiar.
A voice spoke from the figure walking on the opposite shoulder. “Give us the road, Dunn. We’ve had enough trouble for one night.”
Dunn recognized both the voice and the figure.
“McConnell?”
“Yes,” the man retorted. “I’m not in the mood for any more theatrics.”
Dunn looked up at the night sky, now fully dark.
“McConnell, what the devil are you doing outside still?”
“Taking care of problems.”
“What kind of problems? We heard shots fired.”
“And you were coming to help?” McConnell replied. “Like a good neighbor?”
“I don’t rightly know, to be perfectly honest. Couldn’t tell which house they came from. We were going to have a look, anyways. So what happened? Whose car is this? We saw Jessie and Archer come out of your driveway in one of your trucks.”
“They didn’t tell you they’re leaving?” McConnell asked.
“No,” Dunn said. “But it doesn’t surprise me, after they acquired those gas tickets. Those two prima donnas never really took to country living.”
“Looks like there are some things you and I can agree on, Dunn.”
Dunn saw clearly that it was Mick driving the SUV as it passed by them. He was another member of McConnell’s clan that belonged in a city. Rumor had it this one was actually a Supreme Court clerk prior to Helios.
“You gonna let me know what happened?” Dunn called after McConnell.
McConnell walked backwards after passing, keeping an eye on them for ten yards before turning forward again and voicing a reply loud enough to be heard.
“We had trouble with uninvited guests. All taken care of, except some cleanup that can wait until daybreak.”
“Taken care of how?” Dunn shouted back in frustration. “If this is a neighborhood security issue, we need to know!”
McConnell mumbled something in response that couldn’t be heard over the car engine.
“He means he shot some people!” Lyle said. “Some more nocturnals like us, I bet!” He waved his pistol in their direction. “Killed them, no doubt, just like those guys who were staying with us. You aren’t going to let him get away with it, are you? They’re almost to their driveway!”
Dunn spit and looked at his son. This was an important moment. To Dunn’s satisfaction, his kid only stared back at him with eyes seeking clarification. He also seemed agitated by the words of his friend.
Good.
“Even if that’s what happened, why is it any of our business?” Dunn asked Lyle.
“It’s our neighborhood!” he responded. “Like you said! What goes on here is our business, Mr. Dunn, especially if our kind of people are involved.”
“By ‘our kind of people’ you mean sun avoiders like us?”
“Of course!”
“Lyle, you ought to be a little more particular in how you pick your friends than anyone who happens to keep the same sleeping hours. Otherwise you’re going to be picking some mighty undesirable
friends, whichever side of the clock you sleep on. And you ought to be more particular in how you pick your enemies, too.”
Lyle waved the gun southward. “But you give lodging to any—”
Dunn raised his voice. “You especially shouldn’t be picking as enemies a next-door neighbor who is better armed than you, who isn’t spoiling for a fight, who has powerful friends, and who has already proven he is more skilled with a gun than you will probably ever be.”
* * *
Debra and Red were standing on the front porch waiting when Joel stepped into the driveway clearing with Mick driving beside him. Two bucket candles on the railing cast enough flickering light to see their expressions. The lack of relief on their faces was, no doubt, attributable to Debra’s acute hearing.
Callaway came walking out of the goat pen with Jules at his side. Joel had briefly considered taking Jules to the Maddock house, but decided against it. He may have barked and given away their positions.
Everyone followed Joel inside the cabin.
“Bridger wasn’t home,” Joel explained to Red. “Either he went a hunting trip, or maybe was able to slip out after the invaders showed up. We’ll probably have two more vacancies again, possibly as early as tomorrow. The woman is pretty freaked out.”
“What do you need me to do?” Red asked. Everyone had gathered around Joel in front of the couch and stood in a tight circle.
“I’m afraid there is a mess to clean up in the morning. It’s going to be a lot of work. You’ll need a shovel. If we’re not back yet, maybe you can get some help from Hal Bronson.” Joel eyed Callaway, who stood with a blank stare on his face.
“Joel…” Debra said.
Joel looked into her scared eyes. “I’m sorry, Deb. Sammy is hurt and lying in a hole. I don’t know if he’ll be okay, and I sure as heck won’t get any sleep knowing that. At least we have a good vehicle now, with plenty of gas to make it back.”
“Joel, I…” Debra had a tear in her eye. “This isn’t easy for me. I was a scientist, you know. Studying magnetism and electricity. Now Archer and Jessie are gone. Everyone will be gone if … I wish … I wish I could go with you.”
“It’s too dangerous, babe.”
“I know it’s dangerous! That’s why I want to go with you.”
“You’d be a liab—”
“Liability, I know. I know I would be. You’re right. It would only make all of us less safe. But this isn’t easy. And I would help Red … clean up the … but … I just can’t.”
“I’ll help,” Callaway said in a tone that communicated it wouldn’t be easy for him either.
Joel looked at Callaway. “That means a lot to me, and I highly appreciate it. I wasn’t going to ask it of you.”
“I’m so useless,” Debra muttered walking to the table. She immediately returned with Joel’s Glock. “Here.”
Joel accepted it, because he already planned on trading her Mick’s .38 revolver for it. They would also have both of Joel’s shotguns here, the .22LR pistol, plus one of two newly-acquired handguns which Joel decided to leave behind. Based on the encounter with Dunn on the street just now, Joel didn’t expect the neighborhood noctos to come stirring up any additional problems—at least not tonight.
The distress Joel felt from the evening’s events didn’t ease from the short spell at home, given the uncertainty of what lay ahead. This is what soldiers deployed in a war must feel like when saying goodbye to family. After hastily organizing an emergency backpack, Joel and Mick were ready to go. Debra followed them to the porch where she asked an unexpected question.
“Joel, what was it like having to be outside at night?” She peered outside the covered porch with a nervous curiosity.
Joel looked up at the early stars before answering.
“I didn’t think about it at all. Too occupied by other concerns. Now that you’ve directed my attention to it, I’m scared.”
“Sorry. Please be safe. Please come home to me.” She looked at Mick. “All of you.”
Joel held her a moment and promised to return. The unwavering glint of fear in her eye told him it wasn’t his best sales job.
Joel and Mick climbed into the SUV. Mick drove. Joel hunched down in the back seat so the noctos at the afterhours trading post wouldn’t see him leaving. This was one of those moments when he regretted setting it up across the street from his driveway.
“If there’s any more trouble and you need me, say the word,” he told Mick from the floor. “I can come out either door you say.”
Mick nodded in response, but didn’t speak. When they reached the end of the driveway Joel saw him wave as he turned west on the street.
Gradually, he picked up speed.
Chapter Fourteen
Noises at night amplify. A snapping twig that would go unnoticed in the middle of the day sounds like an elephant charging you at night. Sammy kept reminding himself of that each time he heard an elephant charging. These thick bushes along the river were likely home to much of whatever wildlife still survived in this cursed city.
His leg only hurt in certain positions. Slightly bent and flat on the ground, it was fine. In fact it felt so good at times it convinced him to stand and attempt climbing to a less vexing hiding spot somewhere. He always ended up back in the same position.
He probably ought to try and get some sleep, as Mick advised. But fear of charging elephants, and fear in general, would surely sabotage any such efforts. Sammy now understood exactly what was so frightening about the post-Helios night air to diurnals: everything. In this horrible place, left all alone, he felt the full frontal assault of its dark magic. It was almost enough to drive him mad. At least the detestable odor of some horrible burning meat stopped with the onset of darkness. Sammy refused to let his inner thoughts surface on what it probably was.
Thinking about Idaho helped some. About his parents and brother, safe inside the farmhouse at night sleeping on full stomachs knowing they had all the potatoes, cheese, chickens, and eggs they would ever need without having to leave the property.
But then the evil night air would invade even those thoughts, and invent things to worry about. His parents had a son besides the one still with them—one who was last known to be living in a dangerous big city, and whom they hadn’t seen or heard from since Helios. Big city horror stories had by now circulated everywhere, even Idaho Falls. How peaceful were his parents really sleeping if they were worried about him? At this moment, the worst of their irrational fears were justified.
Well, maybe not the worst. Sammy was still alive. But for how much longer? Just a few hours ago he was happily on his way to see them and relieve all their worries. Now he was stuck in a hellhole on the verge of validating them.
Mick. If Mick was successful, he’d be coming back with Joel, properly armed and executing one of Joel’s fast-acting plans, hopefully before Sammy was forced to spend a second night here. They had to be. That prospect was unthinkable. Sammy wasn’t sure he could make it through even this night, let alone another. Not in this spot, anyway. But thinking Joel was on his way did bolster his resolve. In order for Mick and Joel to find him, he needed to stay where he was, or very nearby.
There had been no close-by gunshots between the time Mick climbed up and when those three car horn blasts sounded. Sammy wasn’t sure what to conclude. The only known working vehicle was last seen guarded by an all-too-awake foe, so it seemed an unlikely asset to acquire without another gunfight.
But the honks came, as if trumpets blown by angels. Mick did acquire it, or at least he acquired some working vehicle. That much Sammy knew. Maybe Mick got the drop on the guy and was able to take the Celica without further bloodshed. Those three honks were enough to build hope from, and to inspire imaginings of various forthcoming happy endings.
The sudden sound of another charging elephant provoked Sammy into changing positions and bringing the blunderbuss forward. It hurt his leg to scramble so impulsively.
“Stupid rabbits,” he said winci
ng. Dammit, he didn’t mean to speak out loud. This damn night air and the damn pain in his leg were making him do dumb things. Hopefully, whatever critters were close to him would hear and scatter away.
Instead, his voice was answered.
“Rabbits,” a human voice said back softly.
Sammy came to full alert and held the weapon towards the sound of the voice.
For a moment, he doubted what he heard. It was possible he was truly starting to lose his mind, or had drifted half-asleep and heard the voice in his head as part of a shallow dream.
A long uncomfortable moment followed, during which some of the bushes continued rustling in different spots. Sammy couldn’t be sure if the rustling was louder than before, or if he was simply more tuned into every little sound. Whoever was in charge of giving people nightmares could learn a few tricks from this place.
The voice then spoke again.
“Rabbit.”
It was definitely masculine. Its location changed slightly, Sammy was pretty sure. He moved the shotgun barrel. This was no dream.
“Hey rabbit,” the voice then said. “What are you doing in there?”
Sammy decided to keep silent. He knew that’s what Joel would do. There were no friends to be made in the bushes at night.
As if reading his mind, the man in the bushes said, “I’m a rabbit, too. Happy to meet you. I live here. Where are you from?”
Sammy wished the blunderbuss didn’t already have a round in the chamber, so he could pump it for the sound effect to try and scare off the intruder without sacrificing a live round. But that would give his position away, too. So he stayed absolutely still.
“Rabbit, the problem is you are in my rabbit hole. Now, I don’t mind sharing, but it’s my hole, understand? I don’t want to scare you. I’m going to come crawling straight in from the sound of my voice, all right? Then maybe we can have a few carrots together. So don’t be alarmed. I wish you would answer me, but I’m coming either way because I need to be in my hole. All right?”