What Happens in the Darkness

by Monica J. O'Rourke

  Janelle screamed and covered her eyes even though she hadn’t seen anything, even though she couldn’t see into the pervasive blackness of the primate house. The cloying smell of death made her gag.

  Thomas reached for the door and pulled it shut.

  She sobbed and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Can we go now? Please?” he asked. “Had enough of this place?”

  “No. One more. One outside, not inside.”

  She led them to the lions’ den. This zoo didn’t usually have cat cages, not anymore, not since the renovation years and years ago, but this had been recently built to house a special display from Africa and India: Bengal tigers, lions, cheetahs.

  They climbed a flight of stone steps, poised above a large pit filled with tall, angular rocks, surfaces too smooth to climb. She shined the powerful flashlight beam down. The pit below contained a small body of water, a few shrubs, and trees.

  And cats.

  One looked up at her and growled, and instinctively she stepped back. She peered over again. The lion’s ribs jutted, and its fur was matted and stringy. Still, it looked active, alive; it roamed (paced?) from one side of the pit to the other. Several other lions stood up and stared at Janelle and Thomas, licking their lips, growling lightly.

  “Oh man,” he muttered. “Now what?”

  “We let them go.”

  “That’s not a very good idea. In fact, that’s a real bad idea, Janelle.”

  “We can’t just leave ’em.”

  “Yeah we can.”

  “They’ll die!”

  “If we let them out,” he said, shining his light from one big cat to another, “we’ll die. They’re starving. They’d hunt and kill everything, including us.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Hey—what do you suppose they’ve been eating? They’ve been there a long time.”

  Janelle shined the light from one end of the pit to the other, searching everywhere. “Over there,” she said. In the far corner of the pit were the remains of what appeared to have been a person. Hard to say if it had been a man or woman … all that remained were the boots, a small chunk of torso, piece of a head. In another corner of the cage were the remains of an animal carcass, probably lion, chewed almost unrecognizable, giant tufts of fur lying beside the skeletal remains.

  “This is fucked up,” Thomas said.

  “Why’d you have to say that?” she asked sharply. “No need to curse.” Her father had hated cursing, had never used foul language in front of his children.

  “What’s the difference? No one here to tell me not to.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It sounds nasty.”

  “Whatever.”

  They returned to ground level and found the entrance to the cage.

  “Don’t, Janelle. You can’t open that door!”

  “They have a right to survive. Besides, you know what’s going on out there—” She pointed toward Fifth Avenue and beyond. “I’m more scared of those people. I’ve been thinking that maybe the bombs wiped out all the wrong people!”

  He shrugged. “I know, Janelle. You’re right. But we still can’t.”

  She ignored him.

  The cage doors were hidden behind a rock display and were shut but not locked. The electronic lock mechanism hadn’t been restored.

  Thomas grabbed her wrist and pulled her away. “You can’t!”

  Her body moved in the direction he pulled, and she yanked her wrist out of his grasp. “I have to! Can’t you see?” She started to cry. “I can’t leave them like this. I have to give them a chance.”

  “But where will they go? If they leave the park, they’ll be killed anyway.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe they’ll stay in the park. Thomas, if we don’t let them out, they’ll die for sure. I can’t let that happen.”

  She leaned against him, her cheek resting on the soft flannel material on his collarbone. She sobbed into him.

  He returned the hug.

  “I can’t see any more dying,” she cried. “I can’t let those poor animals starve to death.”

  She pulled away from him and opened the doors, but just a tiny bit. “This is fair, right? Give them a chance to escape, if they find the way out.”

  He sighed. “I still don’t like it. If I get eaten by a lion, I’ll never forgive you.”

  They heard growling on the other side of the door.

  “Run!” he cried, leading the way out of the zoo.

  Chapter 26

  Starlight was obscured by gaudy, fake overhead spotlights hanging from the midtown buildings. The streets were so bright that for a moment Rebecca thought she had mistaken the timing and had stepped into a sunrise. She shielded her eyes with the edge of her palm.

  She grabbed Dagan’s arm. “What is this?”

  He grabbed back and pulled her into the doorway of a decimated jewelry store. “Don’t know,” he yelled. “Never saw anything like this before.”

  The shrill announcements of car horns blended in with the noise of the city. Jackhammers pounded concrete, people shouted and cursed. Marquis over churches announced past lives and offered hope of what once was and what might again be. Hundred-foot boy-men lewdly exposed themselves, covered only by ill-fitting clothing or bottles of scotch.

  In the streets, among the attempts at civilization, carnage reigned. In one desolate area, pressed against the doorway of a burned-out barbecue restaurant, several men were attempting to rape a woman.

  Dagan nodded and pointed it out to Rebecca. “We start there.”

  Seconds later they were pulling the attackers off the woman. Two of the would-be rapists were down and were a quick meal for Dagan and Rebecca.

  “Oh gawd!” the woman screamed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  The third rapist, still with his pants around his ankles, pulled a gun from inside his jacket.

  “Tony, what the hell is they doin’?” the woman shrieked. She dropped down and ducked behind Tony.

  The gun trembled in his hands as he pulled back the hammer.

  Rebecca and Dagan looked up.

  Rebecca dropped the man she’d been holding in her arms. “Weren’t they attacking you?”

  “No!” the woman cried from between Tony’s legs.

  “Then what—” Dagan dropped the dead man to the sidewalk. “What the hell were ya doin’? What sort of woman allows a man—three men!—to—”

  She was up again and peered over Tony’s shoulder. “A horny one. Shoot him already!”

  Tony fired, and from three feet away it was doubtful he would miss.

  But it didn’t matter. The bullets disappeared, traveled through Dagan, whatever holes they made instantly disappearing, flesh rejuvenating, the bullets lodging in the brick of the building behind Dagan.

  He reached out and snatched the gun and jammed it into his jacket pocket.

  The woman shrieked, and her head darted from side to side as she searched for an escape route.

  Rebecca grinned. “Wanna have some fun, leprechaun?”

  Dagan winked. “Which one do you want?”

  “I want Tony. I said fun.”

  They turned their attention to Tony and the woman in the doorway, turned their heads slowly, grinning as if a mirror image of each other. Blood dripped from their teeth, coated their mouths like garish lipstick.

  Tony and the woman ran, both east, toward Sixth Avenue. Rebecca and Dagan followed, taking their time catching up, darting in front of them, then behind, dancing around them.

  The woman screamed and stopped dead, gasping for breath, bent almost in half, her long hair dusting the sidewalk.

  Tony kept running and Rebecca chased, corralling him before he could get far, heading him back toward the screaming woman.

  The woman was already on her knees, her head tucked down. She sobbed into her hands.

  Tony collapsed to his knees beside her.

  They breathed hard, held their aching ribs and coughed out ancient cigarette smoke.

&n
bsp; Rebecca elbowed Dagan. “That wasn’t much fun. These two—” She shrugged.

  “I know.”

  “What do you want from us?” the woman cried.

  “Just having some fun,” Rebecca said. “You aren’t much fun though.”

  “What a shame,” a voice behind her said.

  Rebecca snapped in the direction of the voice.

  Patrick.

  “What are you doing here?” Rebecca asked, planting her hands on her hips. “Boy do you have a lot of people looking for you.”

  “Vampires too, I’ll bet.” He stepped forward, cowboy boots marking his steps. A small group of vampires slowly filtered away from him, down the block toward Seventh Avenue—behind and around Dagan and Rebecca.

  “What do you want, Patrick?” Dagan asked, his brogue more pronounced now that he was becoming upset.

  “Oh, I don’t know … have some fun maybe?” he said. He nodded, which signaled the others. They rushed Dagan and Rebecca and stood between them, outnumbering them six to one.

  Patrick grabbed Tony and the woman by their throats and squeezed, their windpipes snapping like chicken bones. He flung their bodies into a pile of trash bags lining the curb.

  He wiped his hands on his pants as if he had just handled garbage.

  “Play first,” he said as he approached Rebecca. “Then—who knows?”

  She was held tight by the vampires surrounding her and couldn’t fight free. They pulled her to the ground. Dagan was held down by the others.

  Patrick unzipped his fly. “Hold her,” he told them. “You’ll get your turn.

  “Filthy bastard!” she spat. They pulled down her pants and pried her legs apart.

  “I know you like your little experiments,” he said, kneeling between her legs. He stuck three fingers in his mouth, wetting them. “So let’s try a few things, shall we?” He pried her lips apart and shoved his fingers inside her, fucking her with them. She thrashed on the ground, trying to kick at him, punch him, but the vampires held her down.

  His thumb massaged her as he finger fucked her.

  “Get off me!” she shrieked, flailing madly.

  With his free hand he punched her in the face. She spat blood at him, and he laughed.

  His hand snaked up her body, lifted her shirt, exposed her bare breasts. He crawled up her body, his other hand still working away inside her, and reached a breast. He sucked the nipple and then nibbled it, biting harder.

  She screamed again, this time releasing her frustration, her pent-up fury.

  He bit harder … harder … until he exposed his fangs, until they dug into the tender flesh surrounding the nipple and chewed away, biting it off. He spat the nipple in her face.

  She screamed in agony, and Dagan yelled, “Get offa her, ya filthy motherfucker!”

  Patrick snapped his head around and snarled at Dagan. “Shut your mouth you dirty mick or you’re next!” He panted heavily, trying to remain calm, quickly losing his erection. He settled down and stroked himself hard again. He pulled his fingers out of Rebecca and shoved his cock inside her, pounding hard, attacking furiously, moving back as far as he could to gain momentum.

  He came inside her and finally pulled out. He laughed, punched her cheek. “Go on, guys. Just make sure you beat the shit out of her. I don’t want her walking away from this.”

  They attacked, half a dozen vampires punching and kicking, pinning her to the ground.

  They took turns fucking her, biting her, gouging holes in her.

  The vampire named Jack rivaled Patrick in the sociopath department. He hovered over her and aimed his cock at her face. “Smile, baby,” he said, pissing all over her face.

  Rebecca tried to turn her head, but they held her in place. Jack’s urine splashed over her eyes, filled her mouth, ran up her nose. She desperately wanted to scream, curse him out but kept her mouth closed as much as she could. If she could get away, she would rip him apart one tiny body part at a time.

  Jack pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open.

  Patrick looked over. “Whatcha doin’ there?”

  Jack looked up. “There a problem?”

  Patrick laughed. “Just askin’. You’re some kinda sick fuck, aincha?”

  Jack smirked and looked back at Rebecca. He planted himself on her belly and leaned in, grabbing her wounded breast. He looked up. “You boys better hold her good.”

  They did.

  Jack started with the top of the breast and sliced away, severing the meat from her body, sawing away, separating muscle and tissue and sinew.

  Rebecca howled and sobbed beneath him, nearly breaking her own limbs trying to thrash free.

  He ignored her movements and kept cutting, cutting until he held the breast in his hand.

  Dagan sobbed, begged them to stop, screamed for help until Patrick had his vampires shove something in Dagan’s mouth to shut him up. Tears poured down Dagan’s face.

  Jack tossed the severed breast at Dagan’s feet. It landed with a plop like a hunk of raw liver.

  He turned back to Rebecca. “Okay, sweetheart, party’s over.” He stroked himself hard again and fucked the hole where the breast used to be, blood and tissue flying, bits of sinew wetting his cock. He stroked himself over the wound, fully emptying it.

  The vampires holding her down were able to get up and leave her there. They knew she wasn’t walking away from this.

  Patrick turned back to Dagan. The vampires lifted him off the ground and held him securely.

  “You never should have interfered,” Patrick said, closing in, barely half an inch from Dagan’s face, pulling the gag out. “You should’ve let that prick Jeff die as I had intended.”

  “Go to hell,” Dagan said, and spat in Patrick’s face.

  “You first.” Patrick wiped the spittle off his lips.

  They held him, one on either side, each securing a powerful grip on Dagan’s elbows and shoulders.

  “Boys,” Patrick said, “make a wish!”

  The vampires ran in opposite directions, away from Dagan’s body. A ripping sound and then screams as Dagan was dismembered by the inhumanly strong vampires, his limbs tearing as easily as tissue paper.

  Rebecca screamed Dagan’s name despite her own assault, her mournful howl shattering windows throughout the building above them.

  People who had hidden to watch the attack fell to the ground, their heads held in agony, blood pouring out of their ears and noses and mouths.

  Patrick laughed, unaffected by the sound of her voice. “Finish him!”

  They raised pointed sticks and jabbed him, each wound painful and damaging but not lethal.

  Dagan lay on his back and tried to breath through the ragged holes in his throat.

  Rebecca was sobbing, crawling along the ground, blood pouring from gaping wounds all over her body, the pain unimaginable. She was desperate to reach Dagan, to help him.

  A vampire handed Patrick a sword. He unsheathed it, the metal grinding against metal, and he stabbed Dagan through the stomach, impaling him like a bug on a board.

  Rebecca struggled to sit up, her body destroyed, her face unrecognizable. She would heal. Dagan would not.

  Patrick raised the sword high overhead and brought it down on Dagan’s neck, severing head from shoulders. The sword’s impact caused his head to topple away, roll across the sidewalk, and lean beneath the flat tire of a taxi.

  Rebecca crawled on hands and knees and collapsed on Dagan’s decapitated body, hugging his knees, a heart she’d forgotten she had, a dead thing buried inside her chest, now breaking.

  She looked up. Patrick and the others were gone.

  The sun would soon rise, and would destroy Dagan’s body. Strength eluded her; she wouldn’t be able to move him. She wasn’t able to move her own broken body.

  She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, waiting to die alongside him.

  Chapter 27

  Janelle and Thomas fled the zoo and headed south, running parallel along Fifth Avenue
. They heard the cries of the big cats, the starving animals wanting nothing more than freedom and a meal.

  She hoped the lions would find the exit. At least they’d have a fighting chance.

  But there were other cries throughout the city, heart-wrenching sobs and tortured screams, somehow worse than the pitiful hunger cries of the lions.

  Thomas grabbed Janelle’s hand and ran faster, pulling her to keep up.

  They reached Fifty-Ninth Street and Fifth Avenue, the end of Central Park.

  “What do you think that is?” she gasped, catching her breath. Bent over, palms on knees.

  “No idea. Maybe people getting killed. Maybe soldiers are back or something.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Something like vampires maybe. They don’t sound human. More like animals.”

  “Yeah. But I don’t think the lions could’ve gotten out so fast.”

  They ran some more, past the remains of the Sherry Netherland Hotel and Cipriani’s Restaurant, past a partially demolished FAO Schwartz, glass windows having exploded, toy carcasses littering the street. They ran down Fifth, toward the source of the commotion. On Forty-Ninth Street they headed west, zigzagging the streets. Two blocks later they were on Sixth Avenue and headed downtown again.

  Times Square was brightly lit, flashing billboards and neon signs obscuring the sky.

  ***

  “Rebecca!”

  From her position sprawled on the ground, her beaten body resting against a garbage dumpster, she looked up at the sound of the voice.

  He dropped beside her. “What happened?”

  “Dagan …” she groaned.

  Martin looked at the body beneath Rebecca’s and knew it was Dagan, recognized his clothes. “I heard your cries. I knew you were in trouble.” He gently lifted her into his lap and cradled her.

  “Patrick,” she whispered.

  “Where is he now?”

  She slowly shook her head.

  Martin glanced at the sky and shielded his eyes from the harsh Times Square lights. “Sunrise soon. We don’t have time to get back.”

  The other vampires joined Martin and Rebecca.