Coming the Dark tdt-1

by Patrick D'orazio

  “George…” It was a whisper. The gentleness of it gave him pause. “You don’t know how much I hope your family is alive. How much I hope anyone is alive. We want to help you, but we need to help ourselves first. Please understand.”

  He stared back at Megan, his face rigid as if carved from stone. Suddenly, it began to crumble. When he reached up to take her tiny hands into his own, tears rolled down his face. She stood in front of him, dwarfed by his bulk, and slid her spindly arms around his neck. She leaned in close, and George’s arms wrapped around her. He hugged her tightly, wracked with sobs that had no sound but shook his entire body.

  Jeff watched until he was sure things were under control and then slid into the driver’s seat. He snapped on his seatbelt and flipped the gearshift back into drive.

  When he felt like things had settled down enough, he decided to speak. “Okay, guys. For now, let’s just head east. We can talk about where we want to go after we get the heck away from this hellhole.” No one responded, and he turned the van onto the road and through one of the gaps in the razor wire that had failed to keep the infected at bay.

  They were heading out into the country. Several of the ghouls that had gotten close while the van was stationary moaned and swiped at it as it drove away, angry at being cheated of their prey.

  Chapter 20

  The quartet drove east, seeing fewer buildings, fewer houses, and more wide stretches of farmland the further they drove. There was plenty of damage off in the distance; it looked like the area had been hit by a tidal wave. They only saw a few shadowy figures skulking around, but they weren’t fooled. Plenty of ghouls were still out there, hiding behind barns and in the shadows, waiting for the survivors to stop and step out of the minivan.

  After a while, they were able to settle back and pretend everything was normal as the scenery rolled by. There were split-rail fences that ran great distances, and while there were few businesses, several large propane tank parks broke the monotony of the farmland.

  They passed a sign indicating that the speed limit was now fifty-five. Jeff smiled when he saw it. There was the occasional abandoned vehicle in the road but not much else to worry about. He could do a hundred and it probably wouldn’t cause any issues. Still, he kept the van at around thirty miles an hour. He was in no hurry to get to the next town and its heavy population just yet.

  “Hey! Look over there!”

  Megan and George whipped around, startled at Jason’s outburst. He was pointing at one of the fields on the side of the road. Jeff shifted in his seat and slowed the van slightly so he could see what had the kid so excited.

  There was another split-rail fence running alongside the road, unbroken, for at least a mile. A large building set back at least a hundred feet served as the backdrop. It was nearly as long as the fence, a huge barn made of sheet metal. It was too far away for anyone to tell if it had been attacked. Not that the building was drawing their attention. They were more interested in the horse grazing in the pasture in front of the barn.

  The brown swayback gently nuzzled the overgrown grass. It did not bother raising its head as they slowly passed. Instead, it continued to munch contentedly. There was nothing special about the beast. It was like any other horse they had seen before. Old and grizzled, its back dipped precariously toward the ground. All in all, it was nothing special.

  Except that it was still alive.

  They watched the animal with a sad intensity that would have seemed odd just a few weeks back. But that was before the plague had come. The four survivors could only guess at what the virus did to animals with which it came in contact. They had no idea if it simply killed them or caused the same sort of psychosis evident in infected human beings. Only one thing was certain: someone who turned into one of those monsters would attack any living creature it could get its hands on. Most domesticated animals hadn’t stood a chance against them.

  Jeff turned back around, but his three passengers continued to stare at the horse until it was out of sight. Jason smiled briefly, proud of his discovery, but his stony countenance returned as they went over a rise and the field faded from view.

  A few minutes later, Jeff glanced at a sign telling him they were leaving Clermont County. They were out of the metropolitan area now, although there were still plenty of smaller population centers to contend with down the road. But Jeff knew if they could avoid backtracking or heading north, where George’s family and a thousand others just like them were, they might live to see another day.

  Jeff was still thinking about where they should go when something caught his eye.

  “There ya go!”

  “What?”

  Megan had been relaxing when Jeff’s excited statement broke the silence. She jumped up and looked out the window, fearful of what she might see. After no boiling mass of stiff bodies appeared in front of the van, she let her heart rate slow a bit. Scanning the horizon, she saw no obvious dangers and pursed her lips, trying to figure out what had gotten Jeff so worked up.

  There was a large field off to their left that ran parallel to their route for about three quarters of a mile and stretched about the same distance back from the road. A dirt path led to two squat structures in the middle of the barren field that appeared as little more than tiny dots from where they sat.

  Jeff stopped the minivan. “That’s the ticket, lady and gents.” He turned to face the others. “We can park our butts there for the night.”

  George slid over and shared a window view with Jason. “It certainly looks abandoned.” He was already scanning the area for anything that might give them trouble. The flat field stretched away from the homestead on the three sides they could see, and it looked like the tree line behind the buildings was far back from it as well. The vantage would allow them to detect anything that tried to get close long before it became a viable threat.

  “Guys, I don’t know…” Megan hesitated.

  “Megan, we have to find a place to stay,” Jeff insisted. “I’m not all that interested in staying in the van tonight. I’d rather find a comfortable bed, or even a dirt floor, and just spread out and relax for a while. I’m sure George and Jason would agree.”

  “You’ve got my vote,” Jason piped up.

  Jeff nodded and then looked at George. The blond man shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the idea. Jeff turned back to Megan.

  “I’m all for it too, but I just think there might be a better place to stay than this.” Megan waved her hand at the shacks dismissively. “They don’t look like much.”

  “Well it’s not the Hilton, that’s for sure,” Jeff agreed. “But if we set up a watch, we can make sure none of those bastards sneak up on us. We can probably see for a couple of miles in all directions from those windows. That’ll give us plenty of time to take off if things go wrong.”

  George slowly nodded in agreement as he listened to Jeff’s argument. A resigned look appeared on Megan’s face.

  “Okay, but just for one night.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Jeff said and grinned at her.

  There were a few moments of silence as they all looked across the field together, sizing up what they hoped would be their new residence for the rest of the day and on through the night. There was still no movement that any of them could see.

  “Okay. Let’s do this.” Jeff flipped the van in reverse and backed it up to the crossroad. A quick glance up at the sign told them the road on which they were turning was Shiloh.

  Several nondescript houses sat opposite the field to their left. They were anonymous, weathered ranch-style homes that were small, faded, and lacking in any sort of character. The yards were burnt in spots, scorched from the blazing sun and lack of water, while other patches were choked with weeds and overrun with tall grasses. There were cars in a couple of driveways, one with both doors hanging wide open. It was an old Dodge Aspen that looked half devoured with rust. Jason spotted what looked like a human skeleton, or part of one, wedged underneath the car, the legs only p
artially sticking out. Other than that, there were no signs anyone had ever lived in the area.

  “Clean as a whistle. Looks like no stiffs to deal with here. Nice,” Jeff said.

  As they turned onto the dirt path that would lead them to their goal, he was surprised to spot a small amount of water in several deep ruts on the road and tried to recall the last time it had rained. It was no more than a filmy muck, and he navigated around a couple of the potholes that looked deep enough to bottom out the van.

  Telephone poles were strung on the north side of the lane, and the wires led directly to a modest house on the property. It looked to be an unpainted cottage with a single window facing their direction. Overall, the property looked well tended. Next to the house was a small whitewashed shed with its doors hanging open. Behind the two buildings was a grain silo. That was what had drawn Jeff’s eye to the property in the first place. It soared above the house and was hard to miss. A few trees dotted the landscape, looming like leafy guardians in contrast to the emptiness of the surrounding fields. A rusted-out tractor out back put the finishing touch on the quaint scene.

  The van made its journey down the rutted road, and Jeff guided it past the craters that could knock it out of commission. As they got closer, they spotted a few more details that took away from the Norman Rockwell look of the place. The first was a BMX bike leaning up against the house and what appeared to be a hurriedly constructed grave marker next to it.

  The van inched closer, and everyone stared at the wooden cross. It was two pieces of plywood wrapped in twine and painted with illegible symbols across the horizontal board. Jeff squinted in an attempt to read the wording. The paint had run, and it was hard to know for sure, but he guessed the letters spelled out a name. The other board looked as if it had been hastily jammed into the ground and had a slight lean to it.

  Everyone was still focused on the cross when a man stepped out from behind the shed, pointing a hunting rifle at them. Megan let out a small gasp, and Jeff slammed on the brakes. The two rear passengers, who had been leaning forward in their seats, lost their footing and slipped to the floor.

  “What the-” was all George could get out from down on the floor before Jeff cut him off.

  “Stay down!” he hissed through gritted teeth. He wanted to follow his own command and duck beneath the dashboard, but the hunting rifle was trained on him. Instead, he shifted the van into park and slowly raised his hands.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Megan holding the revolver, but she had not raised it above the dash just yet. He could sense more than see that she was waiting for something, perhaps a signal from him, to make a move. Jeff gave a slight shake of his head. She lowered the big handgun down between her legs and clamped them shut around it. When she raised her own hands, a small stitch of tension went out of Jeff.

  “Both of you stay down. I don’t think he saw you.”

  Jeff was no ventriloquist, but he did his best to speak without moving his lips. The command was met with silence. He blinked away the sweat creeping into his eyes and stared at the man standing motionless in front of them.

  The rifle had a scope attached to it, and as far as Jeff could tell, it was not of the bolt-action variety. There was a clip coming out of the bottom, and while he didn’t know much about rifles, he guessed that meant it was a semiautomatic. In other words, it was time to play nice.

  The man with the rifle motioned for him to get out of the van-short jabs pointing to the door. He was a good twenty feet away but that was too close for Jeff’s taste.

  “Stay in here,” he mumbled to George and Jason as he reached for the door handle and lifted it. The door popped open, and he began to slide out.

  “What do you want us to do?” George hissed from behind the driver’s seat. He had gotten back up to his knees but heeded Jeff’s command and was tucked out of sight. Jason was next to him, trying to sneak a peek around Megan’s chair.

  “If he shoots me, get the fuck out of here.”

  George felt like cursing-or at the very least responding with a sarcastic comment of his own-but Jeff was already shutting the door behind him. George reached under the console where he had spied a small lever and tugged at it. The small plastic cup holder fell flat to the side of Megan’s seat, and the small amount of junk on it, including a map Jeff had marked up, fell to the floor. Now he had a small passage to the front seats if he could squirm his way up there without being seen.

  “Shit, he wants me out there too. What do I do?”

  George didn’t know if Megan’s question was rhetorical or not, but he decided to answer.

  “Leave that gun of yours on the seat and I’ll think of something. And be careful.”

  Megan risked a glance down at George. The fear on her face told him how badly she did not want to go outside. There were tears welling up in her eyes, but she nodded slightly. As she opened the door and began to move, George slid his hand up and grabbed her arm gently, giving it a quick squeeze. She froze for a moment and then started moving again, allowing the gun to fall between her legs onto the seat. George let go of Megan’s arm and quickly discovered the warm metal of the.357 Magnum beneath his fingers.

  Outside, Jeff was attempting to start a conversation with the man he hoped wasn’t planning on killing them.

  “Hello! Are we glad to see you! We haven’t seen anyone living in quite-”

  “Shut the fuck up and show me your hands.”

  Jeff raised his hands higher. His captor kept the rifle trained on him but gave Megan a long hard look as she dropped down from the van and came out from behind the open door. She pushed it shut slowly and moved forward, her hands above her head as well.

  “Look, I know things are screwed up, but there’s no reason to point a rifle at us. We don’t want any trouble,” Jeff pleaded.

  “Yeah, right. Everyone is trouble these days. I’m not taking any chances.”

  Jeff tensed and took a closer look at the man who had ambushed them. His tone of voice was cynical but not sinister, and he certainly didn’t look like some sort of bandit.

  He had on expensive loafers and a pair of dirty black designer jeans. As if that weren’t enough, the alligator logo on his shirt confirmed he wasn’t some farmer trying to ward poachers off his land. His reddish-blond thinning hair was an unkempt mess, and the bags under his eyes testified to the fact that he had suffered through many sleepless nights lately. His soft, round appearance betrayed the fact that he had not endured much in the form of hardship throughout his life. At least not until the plague had come along and spoiled everything. Jeff knew he was looking at a desperate scavenger, and nothing more.

  “Move away from the van. Come toward me, slowly…okay, stop there.”

  Jeff and Megan were about ten feet in front of the grill of the minivan and about twice the distance from their yuppie captor, who had backpedaled as they came forward.

  “Look, Mister…?” Megan said in a timid voice. She could see that the man in front of them was nervous, his eyes darting back and forth between her and Jeff. She inched forward slightly, hoping against hope that she could talk their way out of this mess.

  The rifle swung in her direction. She froze and felt her legs go numb.

  “Bitch, shut the FUCK up and stay right where you are!”

  The man’s grip on the rifle tightened, and despite the residue of nervousness about him, he was able to keep it pointed directly at her heart.

  “Hey, man! Take it easy! We don’t have any weapons,” Jeff shouted, hoping to turn the attention back to him and away from Megan.

  He got his wish and found himself staring down the barrel of the rifle once again.

  “I told you to both to SHUT UP! I meant it. I don’t want to have to kill you!”

  Jeff could hear panic in the words. The urban “warrior” holding the expensive rifle on them was sweating profusely and blinking like crazy. As the man’s eyes danced back and forth between his two prisoners, Jeff began to worry about the aggressor’
s mental stability.

  After a few moments, their captor calmed down enough to look past them toward the van. Inching to his right to see around Jeff and Megan, he scanned the vehicle with an appraising eye.

  The Odyssey had definitely seen better days. It looked like it was getting ready for the demolition derby. The windshield was still in one piece, but there were several growing spider web cracks in it. Deep gouges ran along the sides, the front was dented to hell, and the grill had snapped in several places. The outer casing of one of the headlights had shattered, and there were splatters of blackened goop in most of the available nooks and crannies. An attempt to clear away the spray of blood and chunks of flesh on the windshield had done little more than create a smeared haze. It was a mess.

  “Anyone else in there?” the man holding them prisoner asked Jeff. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he continued. “You better tell me right now if you know what’s good for you…all of you. ANYONE IN THERE?” His eyes didn’t leave Jeff as he threw the question toward the van. “COME ON OUT NOW AND EVERYTHING’LL BE OKAY.”

  The scavenger suddenly smiled, trying to show that he could be good natured if need be.

  “Bobby?” He leaned his head back as he spoke, throwing his words behind him.

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  The voice came from the house. Jeff looked toward the structure and saw that the front door was wide open. A young man stood there with another rifle pointed at him. At first glance, it looked like he was a teenager, and there was no doubt he was the man’s son. Get rid of the older man’s round gut and thinning hair, and they were spitting images of one another. Bobby held his rifle in a relaxed stance as he squinted down the sight. His did not have a scope, but Jeff could see he had a bead on him. The boy did not move away from the doorframe even after his father called to him, preferring to remain close to cover.

  Jeff gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath. Things were getting worse by the minute.

  “You got them covered?”

  “No prob, Dad.”