The Dark Trilogy

by Patrick D'orazio

  The trees creating a wall around the area were thicker to the south, where the new subdivision was supposed to have expanded, had construction gotten underway. Jeff squinted and guessed the trees probably stretched for a least half a mile back.

  The van felt like a sauna as everyone waited for Ben’s signal. The keys were in the ignition, but the vehicle had not been started, so there was no air conditioning. Michael insisted on doing nothing to draw attention before absolutely necessary, so there was little for everyone to do but twiddle their thumbs and try not to sweat to death in the cramped quarters.

  Jeff was jammed between George and Teddy, huge circles of wetness on his armpits and chest. He gripped his baseball bat in both fists, the tip resting on the floor. Michael had given him his bat back and had the audacity to act as if he were being magnanimous as he did. George, on the other hand, had been given nothing with which to defend himself. If they got into trouble, he would be forced to use his bare hands.

  Jeff had argued that he and George should get their rifles back, and Michael had almost laughed at the request. “Prove your worth to me today and then maybe I’ll consider giving them back to you down the road” had been his response. The weapons were to remain in the camp, and Cindy would be in charge of them while they were gone.

  The heat was potent, and though Michael had the front windows rolled down, there was no airflow. Just a bunch of sweaty men turning the van into an oven.

  Jeff let his mind wander as they waited, and it drifted back to Megan. It had been hard for her to let him and George leave, especially with Jason still locked in their RV not speaking to anyone. Jeff was nervous about leaving her there with that crazy bitch Cindy in charge, but Lydia reassured him and George that she would watch out for both Megan and Jason and keep Cindy away from them. It didn’t make him feel much better, but he thanked her anyway.

  Jeff glanced over at George. The look on his friend’s face made him nervous. The pain of what Michael had forced the family man to agree with was fresh in George’s eyes. Jeff patted him on the shoulder, and George looked at him. He was still bitter, but as he stared at Jeff, he managed a small smile.

  After what seemed like forever, the walkie-talkie started chirping. Jeff wondered if it was Morse code Ben was sending over or some other code he and Michael had come up with. Whatever it was, it did not take long for Michael to translate.

  “Okay, gents, the coast is clear up to the road. Let’s move.”

  Michael turned the key in the ignition, and the van roared to life, shattering the quiet surrounding them. Jeff cringed as he realized how loud the minivan sounded in the dead silence of the world.

  They turned away from the circle of RVs. Jeff glanced back as they moved down the rutted path. Soon the trees hid the camp, and it disappeared behind the canopy. He thought again about Megan and Jason and could only hope they remained safely tucked away while he and George went on the salvage run.

  Before he knew it, they were at the cars lining the roadway. Jeff nearly laughed as he looked at how they were arranged in a perfect funnel to trap a victim. He rolled his eyes, wondering how he could have missed that the day before when they had been captured by Michael and the others so easily.

  He looked back over at George, who was wistfully staring at the cars. He wondered what his friend was thinking, but it was Megan’s words that ran through Jeff’s head.

  “Jeff, take care of George out there. Please, for me. I just don’t know how he’ll deal with it. Please …”

  The plea echoed over and over in Jeff’s brain, even more than Megan’s request that he take care of himself. As Jeff tapped the bat against the floorboards, he recalled his response to her.

  “Nothing is going to happen out there. I promise I’ll take care of both of us.”

  Jeff bumped his fist against his knee at remembering the words. He had made a promise to Megan, and it was a promise he intended to keep.

  “Okay, let’s move out.”

  At Michael’s command, everyone climbed out of the van. They caught sight of Ben, who stood up from his hiding place between two of the cars. His bow was at the ready, an arrow already notched. Michael walked over to talk to him as everyone milled around the van, looking down the road toward Manchester.

  The town was like most other small burgs in the rural Midwest. It had a modest downtown area with a stretch of fast food restaurants, commercial operations, a small amount of industry, and a ton of farmland. Jeff tried to recall anything about the town that he knew, like a significant landmark, but nothing came to mind.

  “Okay, let’s huddle up.”

  Michael snapped his fingers several times. Everyone moved around him in a semicircle. As he went to one knee, Ben backed away. Jeff stared at the broad-shouldered monster of a man in his workman’s coverall and wondered how many yards of the durable material it took to wrap his massive frame. He also wondered how the giant tolerated the heat in the heavy fabric. There was a thin veneer of sweat on Ben’s forehead, but otherwise he looked fine.

  Jeff looked down at Michael, who was drawing a map on the pavement with his finger.

  “This is base camp. Ben is going to recon off on his own in town.” Heads popped up to look at the big man, but he was too busy moving north to notice. “Several of you are going to hit the stores nearby.” Everyone’s eyes were back on Michael.

  He was staring at Jeff and smiled. “Think you can handle that?”

  “I can handle it. I don’t think we need to bother with the formalities here. We already know what’s out there. Let’s just do this and get back to camp safely.”

  The smile wavered, but Michael’s eyes stayed on Jeff. His irritation was obvious as he shook his head in dissatisfaction at the blasé answer. After a few moments, his eyes moved to Marcus.

  “Marcus is going to lead the group. You’ll head down the road and go straight for the stores. It’s up to him to decide if you’ll split up or not. Jeff, George, Ray, and Teddy, you’re with him.”

  There was an audible groan from Marcus. For the first time Jeff could recall, he heard the bony hillbilly string more than a couple words together. “Ah shit, boss. Why the hell do I have to take ‘em out?”

  His voice was not quite as twangy as Frank’s. It was flat Ohioan versus Frank’s pseudo-country accent.

  Michael stared at Marcus. It was not a threatening look, but a patient one, as if he were dealing with a moody child. Their eyes met briefly, and after a moment, Marcus’s dropped. He mumbled to himself, but said nothing that anyone could decipher.

  “So where will you and Frank be while we go shopping?”

  Michael did not look over at Jeff immediately, his eyes still trained on his subordinate. After a moment, he turned to Jeff. The look was the same as the one he had given Marcus.

  “We’ll be here, of course. This is base camp,” Michael repeated, exasperated. “We need to maintain radio contact with Ben in case he reports any problems.”

  Jeff squinted and then nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense … someone should stay here. It’s a rallying point in case things go wrong, right?”

  Michael returned the nod almost imperceptibly.

  “But it seems to me that the people who are heading down the road should be carrying the weapons.”

  Before Michael could respond, Frank moved in front of Jeff. His nostrils were already flaring as his pupils narrowed to pinpoints.

  “Listen, smartass. I’m not about to give up my weapon to you … or anyone else, for that matter.”

  He moved closer, and Jeff was reminded for the second time that day how bad the hillbilly’s breath stank.

  The two stared at each other, their mutual contempt obvious.

  Frank edged forward, and Jeff’s eyes were drawn to the stout man’s gut. It was magnetic, like it had its own gravitational pull. It was round and well defined, not sloppy or sagging, protruding outward like the prow of a gelatinous ship. Megan’s gun was wedged there at its edge, pressed up against the filthy deni
m of his straining jeans. Jeff stared down at the gun like he had back at the camp. This time, Frank caught him doing it. He took a step back, his hand coming up to cover the weapon.

  Jeff nodded toward the magnum.

  “Seems like one of the weapons you’re carrying wasn’t yours to begin with, now was it?”

  Slowly Frank’s fingers wrapped around the pistol grip of the silver-hued revolver. Jeff watched, mesmerized. Frank’s forefinger slid into the trigger guard.

  His voice was a greasy whisper. “You want this? Do ya?” Excitement danced in Frank’s piggy eyes as he telegraphed his desire to have Jeff reach for the gun.

  Jeff’s grip on his baseball bat tightened. He was sure he could get off at least one solid swing before Frank could pull the trigger.

  “Enough, you two!” Michael stepped between them, his hand raised as he forced the two bickering men to back off.

  “No one is giving up their weapons.” He looked at Frank, who was still trying to stare through him at Jeff. The crony looked up at his boss after a moment, and his anger visibly cooled. He took his hand away from the gun and raised the appendage, showing Michael it was empty.

  Satisfied, Michael turned to Jeff. “Besides, this is just a quick snatch and grab. In and out.” He looked disdainfully at Jeff and then at everyone else in turn. “None of you should need weapons anyway.”

  Michael moved out of the circle and walked a few feet toward the town. He pointed at it as he looked back at the others. “Grab food, medicine, water … everything you can. Don’t screw around and get back here quickly.” He motioned to Frank, who nodded and walked back to the minivan. Frank returned with several empty duffel bags and passed them around.

  He threw one at Jeff’s head, but Jeff caught it before it hit him. It was a decent-sized canvas rucksack, military issue. It could carry a good deal of loot. As Jeff stared at the bag, he had a sneaking suspicion why he had been given it.

  “So we’re not taking the van? We’re just walking into town on foot?” His voice was filled with disbelief.

  Michael stared at Jeff, the exasperation back. Sighing, the young leader rubbed his eyes wearily with his thumb and forefinger. He shook his head and barked out a harsh laugh.

  “Jeff, I’m starting to wonder if you were put on this earth just to piss me off.”

  Jeff forced himself to take a deep breath. George moved closer and gave him a puzzled look.

  “Michael, I’m not trying to piss you off,” Jeff said in his most rational voice. “I’m just trying to understand why we can’t take the van down the road, pull in front of one of the stores, collect some stuff, and be on our way before any of those things even realize we were there.”

  The whole time he was speaking, Michael was shaking his head. More than once, he tried to interrupt, but Jeff persisted until he was finished.

  When he was done, Michael asked quietly, “Jeff, how did we discover you?”

  “What does that have-”

  “Please, Jeff. Indulge me. How did we discover you?”

  Jeff sighed, knowing where the question was leading. “From the van. The noise it made as we drove down the road.”

  Michael gave him an expectant look, clearly hoping Jeff would connect the dots.

  Jeff didn’t care a bit for Michael’s logic. “So what if we wake up a few of those stiffs? It’s going to take us all of five minutes to get in and out if we use the van. Before there are enough of them to cause us any grief, we’ll be long gone!”

  “But if you move in quietly-”

  “We’ll be sitting ducks! Don’t you realize that we’re going to make enough noise even without the van to alert those things? They’re too damn sensitive to the sound and smell of people. My God! I’m surprised the noise we made driving here now or yesterday didn’t bring every last one of them down on us!”

  Michael shook his head, his eyes on fire. “You’re making my point for me. We can’t afford to move the van into town. We’ll stir up every one of those things down there.” He jabbed his finger toward Manchester, his face red with anger.

  Jeff shook his head in disbelief, knowing further argument was pointless. Michael clenched his fists and shook with rage. Stepping back, Jeff knew that he had pushed too hard this time. Michael was about to blow.

  Staring at the M16 slung across the leader’s back and then down at the man’s fists, Jeff wondered with which Michael would choose to fight.

  Regaining control as quickly as he had lost it, Michael gave Jeff a look that made it clear he would waste no more time on him.

  “Enough of this bullshit. We do it my way. Get on the damn road now!”

  Michael’s look dared anyone else to challenge his authority. No one seemed willing to, but no one was moving either.

  After a few seconds, Marcus chimed in, reinforcing his boss’s words. He leaned to the side and spat a glob of tobacco juice on the ground. “All right, you heard him. Let’s get moving.”

  The reed-thin man began walking as he slid the pump-action shotgun off his back. Teddy glanced over at Ray and shrugged. He followed with his rifle clenched in a death grip. The short boy glanced back at Jeff and then turned around.

  Ray followed, his pseudo-military apparel giving him the appearance of an Army recruit wannabe. He kept his eyes trained on Marcus’s back the whole time.

  Jeff spied Frank leaning against one of the cars. The hick chuckled as he picked his teeth. He nodded toward him and George.

  “You two ladies have fun out there.”

  Jeff ignored him as he caught George’s eye. “You ready?”

  The other man shrugged. Jeff leaned over, picked up the satchel George had set on the ground, and shoved it into his hands. “Come on.” They moved, following the teenagers.

  Jeff remembered the look on Teddy’s face as the boy had looked back at him. The short, athletic adolescent might be just another hyperactive kid at first glance, but when you got a good look at his eyes, you started to understand him a bit better. Teddy had a clear head and was far less strung-out than Ray, his best buddy. Ray would jump at his own shadow, while Teddy struck Jeff as the type who would stay calm under pressure.

  That was what made the look the teen had given him all the more disconcerting. Teddy had survived a lot over the past few weeks, and Jeff could only guess at the horrors he had experienced during that time. He was a seasoned warrior, regardless of how young and diminutive he was.

  Jeff took a deep breath and let the air escape like a leaking tire between his teeth. He could feel an ache in every one of his bones and a tightening in his chest. Teddy’s look told him how terrified the boy was of what they were about to do.

  As he moved to catch up to the others, Jeff whispered under his breath, “You and me both, kid. You and me both.”

  Chapter 12

  Jason slammed the door behind him and moved to the bed in the RV. He picked up the few books he had commandeered from the farmhouse at which he and the others had stayed a couple of nights before. They were the extent of his worldly possessions.

  Staying in the RV with George and the others was no longer an option. Not when the three adults believed it was their right to run his life. He would ask to move in with Ben and the teenagers when they returned from their expedition.

  The arguments over whether he was allowed to stay or go with the men had been humiliating. Jason knew George would act the way he did—pretending he was Jason’s father, making decisions about everything. Even after the stoic man barely paid any attention to him while they were alone in that church for over a month.

  Megan was more surprising, jumping into the argument, screaming like some maniac. She barely knew Jason and was already trying to act like she was in charge of things. Letting her comfort him after the nightmare he had the other morning was a huge mistake. That was when things had changed between them.

  Even Jeff had chimed in during the argument, which Jason found hard to believe. The man hadn’t strung together more than ten words in a row
to Jason since they’d met, so the twelve year old suspected he was just trying to impress Megan by being a badass and standing up to Michael. That was the only explanation for it.

  At least Michael was cool. Everyone looked up to him, and it was easy to see why: He listened to what they said and didn’t treat anyone like a baby. Remembering when Michael shook his hand brought a smile to Jason’s face. It was funny; the one person with any real authority around this place was the only one not trying to boss him around.

  Jason was still staring at his books and thinking about Michael when he heard the door open behind him. He had locked it, so when he saw Lydia walk in, he knew that she must have a key.

  “What do you want?” he mumbled before turning back to his books in an attempt to appear nonchalant about her entrance.

  Lydia didn’t answer. Not immediately, at least. Jason heard the floor squeak and knew the old woman was walking up to him. He climbed onto the bed and stared at the RV’s wall, hoping she would take the hint and leave.

  Lydia kept moving closer, and Jason could feel her weight as she sat on the edge of the bed. He rolled his eyes. Of course she would not take the hint. She was just as bad as the rest of them. They all wanted to coddle and comfort him like a little baby. Getting him to say he was frightened was good. Seeing him shed some tears was even better. Then they would know for sure he was just a baby who did not understand what was really going on out there and needed to be sheltered. Jason clenched his teeth and crossed his arms. He stared at the curtains on one of the windows. He would not give Lydia either the fear or the tears she was hoping for, and maybe then she would understand that he was a grown-up and not just another snot-nosed little kid.