Darkness on the Edge of Town

by Brian Keene

  “I…well…”

  I closed my mouth, unsure how to respond. To be honest, I was sort of embarrassed—and scared.

  “What kind of things?” he asked again. “You talking about animals or something? Coyotes? Black bears?”

  “The dead,” Christy said. “The dead are out there waiting for us.”

  The driver stared at her and blinked twice. Then a sneer slowly spread across his face. He did his best to hide the expression, but I could tell that we’d just confirmed his suspicions.

  “The dead?”

  Christy nodded. “That’s right. It sounds crazy, but we saw them.”

  The passenger made a mocking, eerie howl—the kind a ghost makes on television or in the movies. The driver silenced him with an elbow to the ribs.

  “Look folks,” he said, “it’s easy to get scared in a situation like this. Lord knows that we’re scared, too. But you can’t give in to wild speculation and panic. The best thing you guys can do right now is to head back home like the chief requested and just sit tight. Everything is going to be okay. You’ll see. We’ll send back word soon as we make contact with the next town. Hopefully, they’ll have a better handle on whatever is happening. Okay?”

  I started to plead with them, to beg them not to drive across that invisible line, but the words stuck in my throat. I couldn’t handle them thinking I was crazy again. In truth, I was starting to wonder if maybe I was. In a way, going crazy seemed much more preferable than the alternative—that all of this was real.

  Russ shined his flashlight into the driver’s face. Squinting, the driver threw up a hand to shield his eyes.

  “And what if it’s not there,” Russ asked. He kept his tone calm and steady. “What if you can’t find the next town? What if we’re all that’s left? What will you do then?”

  “Buddy, you mind getting that light out of my face?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do mind. Because you guys need to wake up, man. You need to learn more before you go driving off into that.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Suit yourself.” Shrugging, Russ lowered the flashlight. “It’s your funeral. But don’t say we didn’t try to warn you.”

  “Robbie,” my grandfather called from the darkness. “Let them pass. Let them come.”

  “Listen,” I said. “Do you hear anything? Anything at all?”

  The driver paused, humoring me before responding. “No, I’m sorry, but the only thing I hear is you guys delaying us with this bullshit story you’ve cooked up for whatever reason. Now move aside. We wait any longer and the chief will have our ass.”

  “But—”

  “You heard me. Move along.”

  I held up my hand. “But you’re not—”

  “Good-bye.”

  Shaking his head, the driver turned toward the road again. The passenger whispered something to him, but I couldn’t hear what it was. The driver rolled up the window, and the truck moved slowly forward. The tires concealed the strange, red symbols that had been painted on the pavement and crunched over the line of salt.

  “Wait, goddamn it!” I waved at them in frustration, but the driver ignored my shouts.

  “Idiots,” Russ muttered.

  We watched them go. The brake lights never flashed once, but neither did they pick up speed. The truck crept forward, and the darkness swallowed it inch by excruciating inch. First the headlights were snuffed out. Then the emergency lights on top of the cab. Then the taillights.

  And then it was gone.

  Fade to black.

  We stood there, waiting. I’m not sure for what. Shouts maybe. Another toot of the horn. The sound of the engine. But there was nothing—just silence.

  Then the screams began. They sounded like they were coming from a far distance, but I was sure they were much closer than that.

  Christy began crying again, shuddering against me. Russ let out a sort of garbled squawk. I said nothing. I couldn’t have if I’d wanted to. There was a lump in my throat and it was hard enough to breathe, let alone speak. My nausea grew stronger. I clutched my stomach as a cramp ran through me.

  “They’re gone.” Christy’s upper lip glistened with snot, reflected in the flashlight beam. “Should we go after them?”

  “No,” I told her. “No way. Not unless we want to end up like that.”

  “We can’t just leave them out there, Robbie!”

  “Listen.” I grabbed her shoulders. “Do you hear anything? The screaming has already stopped. It’s quiet again. Whatever happened to them, it’s already over.”

  “He’s right,” Russ said. “We tried to warn them. Our conscience is clear.”

  I nodded. “Even if we did venture out there, it wouldn’t matter. There’s nothing we can do for them now.”

  “There is one thing we can do,” Russ said. “Not for them, but for those who are left. We need to warn people. Tell them what happened, in case anyone else wants to leave.”

  Something growled in the shadows. We all spun around, peering into the blackness, but there was nothing there. The darkness shimmered. Once again it reminded me of a heat mirage on a hot summer road. We watched it apprehensively, but nothing solid appeared.

  “Did you guys hear that?” I asked.

  “The chainsaw?” Russ nodded. “Kind of hard to miss, right?”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t a chainsaw. Something just growled at us.”

  “I heard something different,” Christy said. “It wasn’t either of those.”

  Russ turned back to the darkness. “What the hell is going on?”

  “We’re each hearing something different again.”

  “What do you want?” Russ shouted at the shadows. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

  The darkness responded. This time, we all heard the same thing.

  It was laughing at us.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Christy pleaded. All the resolve was gone from her voice. “Please, Robbie?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Let’s bail.”

  We walked back to the car. We didn’t run, although I think all three of us probably wanted to. Personally, the only reason I resisted the urge to run was because of the pain in my gut. We didn’t tarry either, though. Christy held my hand tightly, refusing to let go. She squeezed so hard that my knuckles got ground together, but I didn’t stop her. Russ shuffled along beside us, breathing hard.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m not. None of us are.”

  I turned around and glanced at the darkness. I don’t know what I was expecting to see or hear, but the result was nothing, in either case. The darkness was silent again.

  But I was sure that it was watching us leave.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I don’t remember a lot about the drive back to town. We didn’t talk much. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts, shaken by the visions the darkness had shown us and what had happened after the firemen went into it. I mean, let’s be honest—the whole thing was pretty fucked up. It was hard to know how to react. I felt numb and emotionless. Not tired or scared or freaked out—just…numb.

  We discussed stocking up on supplies from the stores but ultimately decided against it. We knew that we needed to, but all of us were just too tired. Hell, we weren’t just tired. We were physically and mentally exhausted. Scared as we were, all we wanted to do was go home and hide. Supplies would have to wait.

  Occasionally, Christy quietly sobbed, but when I tried to comfort her, she’d pull away.

  We passed quite a few cars and even more pedestrians. Apparently we hadn’t been the only people to ignore the chief’s request to return to our homes. Other curiosity seekers were turning out to investigate the darkness for themselves. Some drove the speed limit. Others zoomed by, heedless of any traffic laws or posted speed limits, passing the cars in front of them. Of the people walking alongside the road, some looked frantic and others seemed merely passive. As we went through one intersection, w
e saw a motorcycle lying on its side in the middle of the road—one of those big touring bikes. I couldn’t tell what make or model. It was dinged up pretty bad, but there was no sign of the driver. I carefully swerved around it, almost hitting a dog that was running around off its leash. If the dog had a master, he wasn’t there. Russ rolled down the window and called to it, but the dog ran away.

  After the intersection, we came across another car—a blue Honda Civic. It was broken down in front of the storage unit rental place. The hood was up and a woman stood bent over the engine. Steam rose from the motor, swirling in the headlight beams. I pulled alongside her and stopped. I checked the rearview mirror, but there was nobody behind us. I hadn’t really figured there would be. People were heading toward the darkness, but no one was coming from it.

  I rolled down the window. “Need some help?”

  The woman straightened up and turned to me. Her eyes were wide and distraught. It was hard to tell in the gloom, but it looked like she might have been crying.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I think maybe it’s overheating or something.”

  “Have you checked your coolant lately?” Russ called out from the backseat.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. My husband usually takes care of all that. I don’t know anything about cars.”

  “Well,” I said, trying to muster some sympathy even though I still felt numb inside, “it looks like you’re stuck for a while. Want us to give you a ride back into town? Maybe your husband can look at it later?”

  “He’s at work. Bob works for the Library of Congress. He commutes to Washington, D.C., every day, so he leaves really early. And I’ve got to get our baby to the doctor. He has an appointment today. He’s asleep in the back. If he wakes up and starts crying…”

  Her voice trailed off. She raised her arm and made a sweeping motion toward the Civic. Sure enough, there was the shadowy outline of a car seat sticking up in the back, presumably with a baby inside it.

  I smiled. “We can probably fit that car seat in the back, if you want me to try?”

  “No,” she said. “We can’t go back home. I told you, he has a doctor’s appointment. He’s only three weeks old, and he’s been having trouble breastfeeding. We put him on formula, but he was allergic to that. Now they have him on some hypo-allergenic stuff, but he’s still losing weight and…” Her voice cracked.

  “Ma’am,” I said softly, “where is the doctor’s office located?”

  “In Verona.”

  “It might not be a good idea to go there right now. I don’t know if you heard what the chief said earlier, but there’s a situation.”

  “I know that,” she snapped. “I’m not blind. It’s dark outside. Big deal. Weren’t you listening? He’s got to see the pediatrician. If he’s still losing weight, then…” She trailed off again, glancing back down at the smoking engine. “They said if he hadn’t gained weight by today they were going to check him into the hospital and start feeding him intravenously.”

  I paused, considering our limited options. That numb feeling started to evaporate, replaced with an intense sense of pity. I didn’t know this woman or her baby, but they needed our help. All you had to do was look at her to know that she was at the end of her rope and close to cracking.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Christy reached out and squeezed my leg. Her nails dug into my skin through my sweatpants. I turned to her.

  “Do not offer her a ride to Verona,” she whispered. “No way, Robbie. You said it yourself. We can’t go out there.”

  “We’re not.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yeah. I’m not going to offer her a ride.”

  Shrugging Christy’s hand away, I turned off the car and got out. The woman jumped back a little. I held up my hands and tried to smile reassuringly again.

  “It’s okay. I just want to look under the hood.”

  Christy stayed inside the car, pouting. Russ got out and joined me in front of the Civic. The woman eyed us warily, but her expression was hopeful. I peeked under the open hood. Russ shined his light on the engine while I examined it. The air smelled sickly sweet, and the steam was nauseating. It made my stomach lurch again, and for a moment I thought I was going to puke right there. Instead, I focused on the task at hand.

  “There.” Russ pointed with the flashlight. “You see it?”

  The radiator hose had a huge split down the middle, and coolant had sprayed from the rupture and all over the engine. Using my shirt, I unscrewed the radiator cap. It was hot, even through the fabric. I winced, then set it to the side. Russ shined his flashlight down into the dark hole. The radiator was bone dry.

  Russ turned to the woman. “Got any duct tape in the car?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “How about you, Robbie? Got anything in the trunk that we can fix that hose with, at least temporarily?”

  “The only things in our trunk are an old beach blanket and some seashells left over from our trip to Virginia Beach. And the tire jack.”

  “Can you fix it?” The woman’s voice took on a hopeful, pleading tone. I was hesitant to answer, not wanting to crush what was left of her spirit. Instead of replying, I just shook my head and screwed the radiator cap back on.

  “Not really,” I said, “but I’m sure we could help you get it towed back home.”

  Her voice grew shrill. “I don’t want it towed. I want it fixed!”

  “You’ve lost all your coolant,” Russ explained. “And the hose is busted. Even if you could go to Verona, we wouldn’t be able to fix it enough to get you that far. The coolant would just leak out again.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do? I’ve got to get my baby to the doctor!”

  A group of people shuffled past us, giving the car a wide berth. Many of them glanced at us, but nobody stopped to help or even comment. They were heading toward the darkness. I considered telling them not to bother, but I already had my hands full with this woman. They’d find out for themselves when they got there. I wondered whose voice the darkness would speak to them with.

  I closed the hood. “Are you sure we can’t talk you out of going?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s dangerous out there,” I told her. “You might very well be killed. Your baby, too.”

  She stared at us, as if searching for some indication that we were playing a joke. When she saw the seriousness in our expressions, she looked away.

  “If my baby stays here,” she said softly, “then he’ll die, too. He’s sick. Please. I don’t expect you to understand. But I have to get him to Verona, no matter what the risk. I’m not going to let my baby just starve to death.”

  I didn’t know what to do. I felt helpless—wanting desperately to assist her but not knowing how to go about it. She was determined to go out into the darkness, and short of dragging her away or kidnapping her child, I couldn’t see any way of stopping her. In the backseat, the baby began to cry—a high-pitched squeal that sounded more like a pterodactyl in a movie than an infant. My sense of helplessness turned into hopelessness, then a sort of desperate resignation.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” she called softly. “Mommy’s here. It will all be okay.”

  I wondered if she was trying to assure the baby or herself. Then something strange happened. I studied the woman. I’d never seen her around before, but I knew her type. She lived on the other end of town, in one of the new cookie-cutter McMansions that had gone up in the past few years where there used to be farmland and trees. I didn’t know her because her kind didn’t come to our section of town, except maybe to check out cheap investment opportunities and become amateur slumlords. A dull sort of malaise overwhelmed me. I didn’t know where the emotion was coming from, but I felt it just the same.

  I glanced at Russ and then at our car, where Christy was leaning out the window, listening to the exchange. I wondered if they were feeling what I was feeling. Judging by her expression, Christy must have known wha
t I was going to do even before I knew it myself. We’d been together awhile, and I guess we could read each other’s minds like any other long-term couple. Anticipate each other’s moves. In any case, she didn’t seem as surprised as I did when I walked over to our car, pulled my keys out of the ignition, and handed them to the stranded woman. Christy didn’t protest. Russ, however, seemed shocked. He gasped out loud.

  “Here,” I said to the woman. “Take our car. I really wish you’d reconsider this, but I understand why you won’t. We can’t go with you, so please don’t ask us to. We just won’t. We’ve seen what’s out there and I don’t know how to make you understand. But if we can’t change your mind, then take our car and do it.”

  She stared at me, blinking. I jingled the keys in front of her, and after a pause, she took them hesitantly, as if I were handing her a poisonous snake or a flaming bag of dog shit instead.

  “I can’t…”

  “Then don’t,” I said. “Because I’m telling you, you don’t want to go past the town limits. There’s some weird graffiti painted on the road, near the sign that says you’re leaving town. From what I’ve seen, you’ll be okay until you pass that. But beyond it…”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m just guessing, really. But it ain’t good. And if you care about your child, you won’t risk it.”

  “But…” Her eyes flicked to the horizon and then back to mine. “What’s out there?”

  “The dark. It’s the dark.”

  The baby’s cries grew louder. She closed her eyes, hung her head, and reached for the keys.

  “I have to,” she explained. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m so worried about him, and I just…I don’t know what else to…he’s sick…”

  I turned to Christy and motioned at her to get out of the car. She scowled at me as she climbed from the passenger seat.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this, Robbie.”

  “Neither can I.”

  I tried to hold her hand, but she pulled away from me.

  The woman opened her car door and leaned into the back. “Can one of you help me switch the car seat into your car?”