Dark Days

by Bradley, Arthur T. , Ph. D.

  “And what happens when they do?”

  Malina’s eyes grew wide. “They never return.”

  Tanner walked over and thunked his shotgun down on the table.

  “Listen, lady, you’re wasting your breath. We don’t have anything worth stealing.”

  Malina squinted at him. “You think that because I’m a gypsy, I must be a thief. Is that it?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And how much do you know of our culture? Not much, I would wager.”

  “I know that I don’t want your kind repaving my driveway.”

  “Perhaps not. But did you also know that when Jesus was to be crucified, a gypsy slave was ordered to make four nails, three for his hands and feet, and one for his heart?”

  “Is that true?” Samantha said, looking up at Tanner.

  He shrugged. Religious history was not his strong suit.

  Malina continued. “The gypsy initially refused, but the soldiers whipped him until he finally made the four nails. When he went to deliver them to the Romans, he was so distraught that he swallowed one of the nails and told the soldiers that it had been lost. Seeing his unwavering devotion, God freed him from the Romans and told him that he and his people were permitted to forever travel the land, taking whatever they need in order to survive.” She looked at Tanner. “Perhaps some gypsies are thieves, but they are so with God’s blessing.”

  “Whatever, lady. It doesn’t mean we’re going to help you.”

  “You will help me because in return I will give your daughter the one thing she desires most in this world.”

  “Oh really?” he said with a chuckle. “You got a case of Yoo-hoo lying around here?”

  Malina pressed her lips together. “I have something better.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “A chance for a young girl to say goodbye to her mother.”

  It took Tanner a moment to comprehend what the woman was proposing. But when he did, he wheeled about and started for the door.

  “Come on, Sam. We’re leaving.”

  Samantha got to her feet and hesitated.

  “How did you know my mother was dead?”

  “I sensed it, just as I sensed that you and your father would come to save Babik.”

  “Sam,” he growled.

  She studied Malina intently. “Can Babik really talk to my mother? I mean really?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded solemnly.

  “I swear it is so.”

  Tanner was about to intervene, perhaps giving the old woman enough of a fright to have her rethink her crooked ways, but as he started toward her, his feet suddenly became heavy. There was a look in Samantha’s eyes, a spark of childish hope that he wasn’t entirely certain he should extinguish. It occurred to him that Samantha had never had an opportunity to tell her mother goodbye, or to say those parting words that every child would want to tell their dying mother: “I love you.”

  Samantha looked over at him. “This is crazy, right?”

  He sighed. “It is.”

  “But?”

  “But who am I to say how this crazy world works?”

  “You—you think I could talk to her? To tell her I’m okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Malina sat back and crossed her arms, a big smile spreading across her face.

  “It’s settled then. You will rescue Babik, and I will summon the spirits.”

  “Sam, wait for me outside. I want to have a word with Malina.”

  Samantha stood up and for once didn’t question why she was being asked to leave. Instead, she brushed by Tanner and stepped outside, quietly pulling the door closed behind her.

  Tanner grabbed a chair and slid it close to Malina’s. When he sat down, the old wood creaked under his weight.

  “Listen to me, gypsy, and listen good.”

  The woman’s smile had yet to leave her face.

  “Yes?”

  “If you cause my daughter to question her mother’s love, even for a moment, I’ll send you on to meet her. Do you understand?”

  The smile faded. “You’d kill an old woman?”

  He leaned so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

  “In a heartbeat.”

  Her face drew back in a worried scowl.

  “There’s something broken inside of you.”

  He smiled. “What do you know? You might just be psychic after all.”

  “Do you think she’s crazy?” asked Samantha.

  “Depends on whether she’s putting on or really believes in her own mojo,” Tanner said, turning the truck onto Old Gray Station Road. “Either way, I wouldn’t put much stock in any of it.”

  “She knew that my mom was dead.”

  “A lot of people are dead. She was reading our situation. That’s how con artists work.”

  “I suppose.” Samantha sat back and puffed her lips, mulling it over. “It would be cool though, wouldn’t it? I mean, I could tell my Mom about you and Issa. And my chickens too.”

  “Speaking of which, I’m getting hungry. As soon as this is over, let’s stop for some grub.”

  Samantha nodded. “Where’d she say we could find Babik anyway?”

  “Right about here,” Tanner brought the truck to a stop. The road ahead narrowed under a small overpass constructed from thick wooden beams. Train tracks could be seen riding over the top. The only building in sight was an automotive repair shop sitting to their left, bars protecting its windows and doors.

  “Here?”

  Tanner shut off the truck, and they climbed out with weapons in hand. He pointed toward the embankment.

  “Let’s go up and check it out.”

  “Okay, but it doesn’t look like much.” She sniffed the air. “You smell that?”

  He turned his nose up. There was the unmistakable odor of rotting fish in the air.

  “Fish.”

  “Yeah. And not the sizzling, delicious kind either.”

  They hiked up the short embankment and found a long set of railroad tracks running off in either direction. Other than the tracks, there was nothing in sight but trees, a signal light, and a few boxcars parked behind a large cinder-block building.

  Samantha walked out onto the tracks.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she said, turning to look in both directions. “There’s nothing here.”

  Tanner nodded toward the cinder-block building.

  “Let’s go see what’s inside.”

  They followed the tracks, coming upon several empty refrigerator boxcars parked alongside the building’s loading dock. Stacks of wooden pallets and a large green dumpster gave the place a junky, rundown feel. The building’s single high-bay door had been pulled up about a foot, and an orange tabby stood next to it, staring out.

  Samantha clapped her hands softly. “We found him!”

  “Not so fast. Babik’s gray, with a large white patch covering both eyes.”

  She studied the tabby. “It is a weird coincidence though, right? Us finding another cat?”

  He shrugged. “Lotta cats in the world.” Tanner started toward the door. “Let’s see if he has any friends.”

  When they arrived at the sliding door, both of them lowered onto their bellies. Before they could even peer underneath, the stench of rotten fish burped out to greet them.

  “Pee-yew,” Samantha cried, slapping her hand over her nose and mouth.

  The tabby let out a soft meow and moseyed over to scrub against her.

  “Hello there, boy,” she said, reaching over with her free hand to rub his neck. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”

  The cat began to purr, ducking his head to scrub against her outstretched hand.

  “Look, Tanner, he likes me.”

  But Tanner was too busy staring under the high-bay door to care about her newfound friend.

  A row of white butcher tables lay along the far wall. Central to all of them was a large stainless steel wash basin with three
spray hoses dangling down from pipes in the ceiling. Carts and tubs lay scattered about, but what caught Tanner’s eye was the enormous pile of dead fish lying in the center of the room.

  Crappie, bass, and catfish all peeked out from the mound. Trying to guess how many fish were in the pile would be like trying to guess the number of jelly beans in a pickle jar. Certainly thousands, if not more. Those on the outside of the mound had either decomposed or been eaten away, reducing them to nothing more than bony white skeletons. Those closer to the center had the look and consistency of slime-covered silver coins. Beyond them lay many more that had been partially preserved by the putrid fish stacked on top.

  And the fish were not alone.

  Cats of every size and shape mewed to one another as they milled about, picking through the smelly carnage. It was as if the room had become a cat Mecca for all who dared make the pilgrimage. But as strange a sight as the fish and the cats were, it was the women who gave Tanner pause.

  There were at least six, all of them naked and all of them lying curled together in a tight cluster at the base of the fish pyramid. Even from across the room, he could tell that the women were something other than human. Their skin was jaundiced, remnants of creamy yellow blisters intermingling with reddish-blue spots. Nearly all of their hair had fallen out, leaving behind a few clumps of thin strands that looked like threads of silver wire. Their bodies were anorexic, gaunt and bony, except for swollen joints and disgusting flabby pockets of fluid that had developed along their necks, bellies, and thighs.

  “Forget what I said about wanting to eat anytime soon,” he said, nudging Samantha.

  As she turned away from the tabby and took in the full scene of the room, her eyes grew wide.

  “Oh my goodness. Look at all those cats!”

  He turned to her. “You’re kidding, right? Cats? Really?”

  “What? It’s a lot of cats.”

  “And the naked mutant women? You see them too, right?”

  Samantha eyed the sleeping women. “Of course I see them.”

  “And they don’t worry you?”

  “Sure they do. But look at all those cats. There must be a hundred of them. You gotta admit, that’s pretty unusual.”

  Tanner rubbed his face, wondering what it must be like to see the world as a child.

  “What do you think happened to them?” she asked.

  “The cats or the women?”

  “The women, of course.”

  “A whole lot of bad luck, that’s what.”

  “Look at their skin. It’s splotchy and yellow. And what are those giant blisters?” She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

  “All I can figure is that they’ve developed scurvy from living on fish for so long. That, along with the pox, left them looking like Donatella Versace.”

  “Who?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He pointed into the room. “What matters is him.”

  It took Samantha a moment, but she finally zeroed in on the sleeping cat, big and gray, with a white spot covering both eyes.

  “Is that Babik?”

  “He matches the description.”

  Samantha pursed her lips. “But how do we get him without waking the—the Versaces?”

  “Shove the door up and go in, guns blazing. Same as always.”

  “If we do that, those women aren’t going to like it. It’s hard to tell how many there are, but I’d say at least six, maybe seven. That would be a handful, even for us. Plus, at the first sound of a gunshot, the cats are going to scatter. Good luck finding Babik after that.”

  Samantha was right. “You got a better idea?”

  “We need to get him to come to us. Instead of the other way around.”

  “Fine. But what’s going to lure a cat away from a pile of dead fish?”

  Samantha leaned forward and cupped her mouth, softly calling, “Here kitty, kitty.” Between the incessant mewing and hissing, her voice was all but inaudible, and not a single cat came over to investigate. “Oh well, it was worth a try.”

  Tanner considered their options. The only solution that came to mind was not a good one.

  Picking up on his train of thought, she said, “You want me to go in and get him, don’t you?”

  “It’s either you or me, and you’re a whole lot quieter.”

  “That goes without saying,” she said, slipping the rifle off her shoulder and placing it on the concrete floor in front of her.

  “Be careful. If they wake up, it’s going to get hairy in there.”

  She giggled. “Hairy. That’s cute.”

  He grinned. “I try.”

  “If they do wake up, you’ll come in and save me, right?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Good. But don’t shoot your shotgun.”

  “And how am I going to fend off a coven of Versaces without a gun?”

  She grinned. “Based on our previous encounters with infected women, I fully expect them to fall madly in love with you.”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious.”

  Before either of them could change their mind, Samantha high-crawled under the door, pushing her rifle in ahead of her. The tabby that had given her so much attention eyed Tanner warily and then followed after her. As soon as she was clear of the door, Samantha cautiously got to her feet. Between the clowder of cats, the mound of rotten fish, and the sleeping Versaces, it was a sight unlike anything she had ever encountered. Oddly, she didn’t feel afraid. She had always liked cats, and the disfigured women seemed content to sleep the day away.

  She slipped the Savage .22 rifle back over her shoulder and carefully made her way toward Babik. The cat had yet to stir, despite the incessant meowing of his fellow fish eaters. As Samantha drew closer, she couldn’t help but study the Versaces.

  Their skin was the color of butter, splattered with tiny purplish polka-dots. Their fingers seemed unnaturally long, each ending in thick yellow fingernails coated with snippets of dried fish. What repulsed her the most were the fluid-filled sacks lining their bellies and necks. They looked like giant boils ready to burst. She wondered if they might contain acid capable of dissolving steel. Perhaps the women could burst them at will, melting their enemies like wax figures.

  Babik didn’t seem at all put off by their hideous features, instead curling up against the back of one of the women.

  Afraid to get too close, Samantha stopped about ten feet away and squatted down.

  “Here kitty, kitty,” she whispered, holding her hand out like she had a treat.

  Babik’s eyes flicked open. He studied her for a moment, yawned, and then slowly got to his feet. The Versace he was lying against immediately sat up and opened her milky white eyes.

  Samantha froze.

  The woman looked directly at her for a moment and then slowly turned her head from side to side, the tip of her tongue flicking in and out of her mouth as if she were tasting the air.

  Samantha tried to will the woman back to sleep.

  It didn’t work. The Versace stood up with her shoulders hunched and her arms dangling in front of her. She tilted her head from side to side, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse and wispy.

  “Who’s there? Who’s come to visit?”

  Samantha said nothing, but she was sure that the pounding in her chest would give her away.

  “Sisters, awake!” the woman called.

  The other Versaces stirred and slowly rose, their clouded eyes searching the room.

  Babik let out a soft meow and meandered toward Samantha.

  Samantha shook her head stiffly, hoping to ward off the cat. Of all the times for him to cooperate!

  The Versaces let their gaze follow the cat as he wandered over to Samantha and began scrubbing against her legs.

  The woman who had awoken first pointed in her direction.

  “There, sisters,” she hissed. “Our visitor is there!”

  It took Samantha all of half a second to decide what to do. She reached down, scooped up Babik, and bolted for the
sliding door. Unfortunately, when she was halfway across the room, another cat darted in front of her, causing her to trip and fall. She twisted sideways, landing on her shoulder so as not to squash poor Babik in the process.

  The Versaces let out a collective screech and raced after her.

  Before Samantha could right herself, the high-bay door slid up, flooding the room with sunlight. With his shotgun in hand, Tanner charged in.

  “Sam!” he shouted. “Get out of here!”

  Still lying on all fours, Samantha scrambled toward the door with Babik clutched tightly against her chest.

  The Versaces came for Tanner, undeterred by the light.

  Having officially “married” an infected woman himself, he was reluctant to kill the women outright.

  “Listen, ladies,” he started, “we don’t want any—”

  The first Versace leaped toward him with claws extended and teeth bared.

  Tanner instinctively swung the stock of the shotgun up. The blow caught her under the chin, flipping her head over heels and sending teeth shooting from her mouth like a handful of backgammon dice. The second and third Versaces were on him before he could bring the shotgun back down, both of them tearing into him, scratching and snapping like hungry animals.

  The women were in too close to use the shotgun either as a cudgel or a firearm, so Tanner reluctantly let it drop to his feet. He grabbed the Versace on his left by the throat and slung her back toward the mound of fish. Then he turned to the one on the right and drove an elbow into the side of her head. The blow was solid, and she fell sideways, landing face first on the floor. Before she could get back up, he pressed a boot onto the back of her neck.

  “Stay down,” he growled.

  “I’m out!” Samantha shouted as she rolled under the open door.

  Tanner turned, but two other Versace latched onto him, driving their claws into his thick back and shoulders. He felt a mouth close on the side of his neck and immediately spun around, shoving her away. The other slashed his face, raking her filthy claws across his cheek.

  “Enough!” he shouted, stepping forward and punching her squarely in the nose.

  She toppled backward, her head smacking against the floor. Blood spattered out behind her, and she lay still.

  Detecting motion to his right, Tanner spun and fired an uppercut, breaking another woman’s jaw and rocking her head back. He followed up with a front thrust kick to the gut, taking the woman’s legs out from under her.