What Happens in the Darkness

by Monica J. O'Rourke

  “Goddamn kid is fast,” he grunted, laughing. He pinned her hands above her head and began to fumble with the button on her jeans.

  Sobbing, she closed her eyes, waiting for this to end.

  Suddenly he was off her. It felt as if someone had yanked him away in one smooth movement.

  When Janelle again opened her eyes, the two guards were lying dead by her feet, their bodies turned toward the ground, but their faces … their faces were turned the wrong way, looking impossibly back over their shoulders. Blood trickled from their noses and eyes and mouths.

  First Janelle gasped and then she screamed.

  A man dropped to the ground beside her while several other people freed the prisoners.

  “We were watching you,” he said. His smile revealed pointy teeth. “You’re a brave little girl.”

  She stared at him for a moment, surprised she hadn’t wet her pants. “What are you?” she asked, and then quickly added, “doing?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “What are we doing?” He smiled warmly. “Rescuing prisoners, same as you. But is that what you really wanted to ask?”

  Janelle studied her fingernails, shook her head. “What are you?” she asked quietly, eyes studying the ground.

  “Don’t you know?”

  She looked up at him and nodded. “I think so.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Janelle.”

  “Well Janelle, I’m Martin. I’m the leader of this group.”

  “The leader? I didn’t know you guys had leaders. Or groups.”

  He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I prefer to think of it as head of the family.”

  Janelle cocked her head. “I remember you from the bank vault the other day. You killed everyone there. Does this mean—are you gonna make me one now? A vampire?”

  “No, honey,” he said. “Only if you want to.”

  She shook her head. “Nuh uh.”

  He shrugged. “You sure? You get to stay up all night long. Sleep all day.” He knelt down, now within inches of her face. “You get to live forever, kid.”

  She wrinkled her nose, standing her ground, facing Martin. “Don’t you guys drink blood?”

  Martin laughed, taken aback by her candor. “Well, there’s that.”

  She looked back at the freed prisoners. “No thanks. I don’t think I could do that. What happens now, Martin?”

  “My family and I are traveling around the country. We’re on a mission to defeat the enemy.”

  “Really? That’s good.” Janelle wondered why they cared enough to do that.

  She thought for a moment and picked at a cuticle. “What about after?”

  “After what?”

  “After you finish. You know, after you kill all the enemies.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When this is all over, I mean. What happens to you then? Won’t people want to kill you?”

  He never answered her question.

  Chapter 14

  By his estimations Patrick had another two days before Martin or any of the others would return to the base. He couldn’t bring his own newly made family with him—where would he hide them? If Martin were to see the enemy soldier vampires, he’d kill them immediately, of that Patrick had no doubt.

  He reached the home base quickly. Deserted, the rooms in the caves had a peculiar, hollow feel about them. It didn’t matter how he felt, though. He didn’t plan to stay long.

  He had one piece of unfinished business to tend to before returning to his new family.

  ***

  Jeff had trained himself to be nocturnal, but on occasion, like those nights when no one was around and he was bored, he dozed in the chair in his living room. He would sleep lightly, alerted to every noise, which more times than not turned out to be a stray cat or a scavenging raccoon.

  There were no noises that night, but he slept fitfully, as if sensing something disturbing, something he should have stayed awake for.

  He opened his eyes, that uncomfortable feeling transcending his dreams, saturating his conscious mind.

  Someone was in the room with him.

  His pistol was on the table beside him, and he slowly extended his hand, reaching for it.

  “Don’t bother.”

  Jeff exhaled and then laughed. “You startled me. I thought you were the enemy.”

  Patrick snorted. “That so?”

  Jeff didn’t respond. He fumbled in the dark until he found matches, and he lit the kerosene lamp.

  “Why are you back already? Finish your business in Florida?”

  “My business? This isn’t a goddamned business transaction, Jeff. We’re out there saving your sorry ass.” In a rapid, fluid movement, Patrick planted his knee against Jeff’s chest and pointed a bony finger in his face. “This is your fault,” he said.

  Jeff struggled but couldn’t pull away. “What’s my fault? Get off me, asshole!” He shoved Patrick off. “My fault my ass. I rescued you. I freed you, goddammit!”

  “You should have let us out before you did.”

  Jeff scoffed. “I’m getting sick of your whiny fucking bullshit. You’re out, aren’t you?”

  Patrick’s eyes were flames, his already-pale face looking like death. “You treated us like shit,” he snapped. “You treated us with contempt! And now you use us. Now that it’s convenient.”

  Jeff recognized the fury in Patrick’s eyes and started getting nervous. “Look, Patrick—”

  “No, you look! You had a chance to help and you didn’t. You didn’t. And now you sit here, you smug, sanctimonious schmuck. Fuck you!” Patrick planted his knee against Jeff’s chest again and pressed much harder this time.

  “What are you doing?” Jeff said, the pressure on his heart beginning to ache. He opened his mouth and struggled for air. “Are you … planning to kill me?” he gasped, struggling to breathe, shoving against Patrick’s knee with no success. “Martin’ll be back, he told you nuh-not to kuh-kill—” The pain spreading across his chest choked off his oxygen, severed his words.

  “I’m not going to kill you.”

  “Puh-at-rih—” He couldn’t even fully say his name.

  Patrick leaned forward, forcing his weight into his own leg to keep Jeff pinned in the chair.

  Jeff gasped and cried out in pain, punching uselessly at Patrick’s leg.

  Patrick smiled. “I want you to know what it feels like, to live life in a shroud of despair. To know you’re hated, know you’re hunted. I want you to know what it feels like, Jeff. Maybe then you’ll finally help us find a way to survive.”

  “Nuh—” He fought to remain conscious.

  Patrick gathered him in a wicked embrace and pulled him from the chair.

  Jeff struggled for a few seconds, but Patrick was wrapped around him, limbs entwined in limbs, a ballet-like gracefulness about the move.

  Jeff sucked in air, still unable to move, a dizzy euphoria overtaking him, carrying him away in the vampire’s arms.

  He felt Patrick’s breath on his neck, cool breath like sucking on ice cubes, and then the exquisite pain as the teeth sank into his carotid artery, the flow of blood to his heart aborted, the flow of blood to his arteries accelerating.

  The last mortal thought he had was of being carried, half-dead, through the compound, and of being brought down to the cavern.

  ***

  Dagan and Rebecca, their three dozen followers in tow, made it as far west as Edgerton, Kansas, before they decided to look for shelter. They’d stampeded across highways and mile after mile of unprotected brush, no place to hide from the sun. Dagan began to worry, until they finally approached the Edgerton city limits. Although “city” was a bit of a stretch.

  He waited for the entire group to catch up and fall into place.

  “We need to find shelter,” he told them, his brogue pronounced. “Someplace where we won’t be disturbed.” He crossed his arms over his thin chest.

  “It’s doubtful we’ll find a place big en
ough for all of us,” Rebecca added. “So that means you’re on your own for tonight. We’ll spread out, and you should all look for basements, storage rooms, bank vaults. Preferably rooms without windows.”

  “There’s not much time left,” Dagan said, clutching Rebecca’s thick red hair and running his fingers through the length. “Questions?”

  No questions.

  The sign indicated Edgerton was ten miles away. It would take them a handful of seconds to reach the small city.

  “Remember,” Dagan told them. “Attract as little attention as possible. The less you’re seen, the better.”

  They entered Edgerton, Pop. 1671 according to the sign at the outskirts of the small town.

  ***

  Jeff lifted his head from the concrete and dirt floor, feeling moisture on his head and face. He tried to open his eyes and realized they already were. Groping blindly, his breath quickening, his heartbeat became a painful, echoing throb in his pulse points.

  “Patrick?” he whispered, sensing he wasn’t alone. He felt nauseated and weak. Struggling to his feet, he wavered for a moment before falling back down.

  A light sliced into the darkness, the white beam blinding him. When he was able to see again, he spotted Patrick a few feet away.

  Jeff coughed, a wad of bloody phlegm landing on the ground. “Why are you doing this?” he groaned. “Just leave me alone.” He clutched his stomach and struggled to his knee, still trying somehow to stand.

  Patrick laid the flashlight on the ground. He stepped up to Jeff and grabbed him beneath his arms, pulling him to his feet.

  Jeff didn’t have the strength to stand on his own and had to rely on Patrick’s help, something that greatly disturbed him, although he couldn’t remember why.

  “Time to choose.” Patrick scowled, pulling Jeff closer.

  Jeff’s head lolled back on his shoulders. His eyes rolled back into their sockets.

  Patrick shook him. “Choose.”

  “What?” Jeff moaned, unable to even lift his arms to defend himself, the weakness he felt engrained in every fiber, flowing through his marrow.

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  Jeff attempted bravado, tried to laugh, but his breath was cut short. He could barely inhale, never mind laugh in Patrick’s face.

  He wondered where the hell Martin was.

  As if reading his mind, Patrick said, “No one’s going to rescue you. Only you can rescue yourself. So which do you choose? Join me, or die?”

  Ah, now he remembered. The attack, the blood draining from his veins, life slipping away. Cold, so cold … yet Patrick wouldn’t let him die. Not yet.

  “F-f-uck hy-you …” he wheezed, his head dropping forward.

  Patrick laughed. “Not an option.” He pulled Jeff closer, separated by a breath of air. “Choose, goddammit.”

  “Kill me,” Jeff said weakly.

  “You’re dead already,” he said, dropping Jeff. He knelt beside the man’s shivering, spastic body and grasped Jeff’s head in both hands.

  “It would be so easy to kill you now, to end your suffering. But that just won’t give me much pleasure, I’m afraid. Are you suffering? Do you understand what it feels like to be in agony? Is it consuming you, crushing your heart? Can you feel the life draining from your body? I feel your pulse weakening … your blood slowing to a thick pulp … the beat of your heart diminishing … smells like … victory!”

  Patrick leaned over the almost-corpse. “Time’s up! The real suffering is about to begin.” He sank his teeth into Jeff’s neck, completing the transformation.

  Jeff screamed as the last of his blood was painfully drained from his body. There were painless ways of turning people into vampires, but that didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was pain and suffering. Patrick was obviously enjoying this.

  It was clear, Jeff thought as he lay in agony on the cave floor, that all that mattered to Patrick was revenge.

  Chapter 15

  It seemed impossible, but the town had been waiting for them.

  The moment Dagan, Rebecca, and the others stepped into Edgerton, Pop. 1671, they were accosted by townspeople holding up crosses, necklaces of garlic, what looked like picket-fence slats sharpened to fine points—and Super Soaker Water Guns.

  Dagan stepped up to the town line, and a man stepped forward to meet him.

  “I’m the mayor of Edgerton,” he said. “We don’t want none a your kind in our town.”

  Dagan scratched his head. “What?”

  “You undead bastards!” the mayor yelled in his Midwestern drawl.

  “What?” Dagan blurted, mouth agape. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity. But somehow it wasn’t funny at all.

  “What are you talking about?” Rebecca asked, stepping next to Dagan. “We’re helping you. If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t have any chance of winning this war!”

  An elderly man wearing a Radley Feed and Grain cap lifted his Super Soaker to chest level, aiming it at Dagan’s head.

  “We all kin take care a ourselfs,” the old man said. “We don’t wancherkind ’round here!”

  Dagan was stunned and shook his head. “What are you planning to do then?” he asked incredulously. “You plan to fight the enemy with those things?”

  “Nah,” the mayor said. “We got shotguns and other weapons to take care a them for’ners. This here’s holy water, for y’all. Now you best get on outa here.”

  Dagan and Rebecca exchanged glances.

  “Look,” the mayor said, also raising his Super Soaker, “we doan want no trouble.”

  “But how’d you know?” Rebecca asked. “That we were coming. Or that we’re—”

  “Some of us got family back east, an’ they tol’ us.”

  “But the phone lines are down.”

  “CB radios work just fine. Now quit stallin’ and get goin’. Final warning, folks, I’m sorry. I’m giving you to the count of three to get the hell outa town.”

  Rebecca and Dagan looked uneasily at one another.

  Dagan looked at the sky, knowing the sun would be up too soon. His mind raced to the locations they had passed, trying to remember if they had seen any place at all they could use for shelter. He had the sinking feeling this was not going to be an isolated incident. “Please,” he said. “We need a place to rest. Just for one day. Please!”

  “One,” the mayor counted.

  “We’ll die out here!” Dagan cried.

  “Two.”

  Dagan turned back to Rebecca and took her arm, prepared to lead her and the others away. They had promised Martin no more Americans would die, at least not by their hands.

  Someone in the crowd decided not to wait for the mayor to finish the countdown and shot a stream of holy water at the vampires.

  The wounded vampire screamed and fell to her knees, engulfed in flames.

  A war broke out. Townspeople charged, a ridiculous sight of people wielding orange and purple and green tubes of Super Soaker plastic guns running into the streets, chasing after the vampires.

  “Defend yourselves!” Dagan screamed, charging the human crowd.

  They tore out throats and twisted heads past their breaking point, dodged streams of holy water and people tearing through the streets with stakes raised overhead.

  Three men attacked Rebecca, and one managed to stab her in the leg with a wooden stake before she tore them apart. She grabbed the first one by the throat and drew back her arm, tearing out his Adam’s apple. The worst for her was when they didn’t die instantly. He toppled over, gurgling, drowning in his own blood. There was no coming back from that. If the attack didn’t involve her bite, he was staying dead. Lousy waste of resources but too bad under the circumstances. He flopped like a fish on a riverbank and was dead seconds later.

  The other two humans rushed her anyway despite seeing their comrade butchered. Rebecca punched the second one in the face so hard it exploded, the jawbone separating from the man’s head in a spray of bone and tissue and teeth. He fell for
ward, screaming at the top of his lungs, his hands shaking at the sight of his own jaw lying inches away. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with terror, and she shook her head as she slammed her foot into his skull, smashing it into the dirt like a rotting Halloween pumpkin, brains and hair oozing into the soil.

  While she punched the second one she kicked the third, his feet leaving the ground. He flew into the air and landed hard on a series of metal spikes lining the nearby fence.

  Too easy.

  Everywhere the vampires looked, the humans were still coming.

  “Goddammit!” Dagan cried, not wanting to kill them but having no choice. He didn’t start this attack, they had, but the vampires had to protect themselves at any cost. Considering the humans’ rate of attack, there would be no time to change them into vampires.

  Dagan heard familiar voices shrieking for help. Several of his followers were being held down by a small crowd of rednecks.

  Dagan rushed in their direction but was intercepted by his own band of attackers.

  One jumped in Dagan’s way, aiming his Super Soaker at Dagan’s face, but Dagan punched the water gun away. The plastic of the gun exploded under the force of his blow, drenching his forearm in holy water. His flesh began to sizzle and crackle as if he was a human grease fire, and several other attackers trained their guns on him and opened fire, blocking his passage to help the screaming vampires.

  Dagan had to jump back to avoid the holy water, and he was grabbed from behind by several humans. He jerked himself out of their grasp, and they fled.

  All they wanted to do was keep him from helping his vampire friends.

  In the distance, the rednecks had formed a circle around the attacking humans, each one wielding a Super Soaker, keeping Dagan and the others from helping.

  Inside the circle the vampires screamed in pain.

  One had been forced to the ground by holy water, his arms and legs burned off at the elbows and knees, smoke pouring off his body. The woman attacking him was now dripping holy water onto his face, slowly burning away his features. She started with one eye, drip-drip-dripping until the eyeball exploded, then the other, moving next to burn away his nose, saving his mouth for last.