Coming the Dark tdt-1

by Patrick D'orazio

  Jason had always been hard for George to read. From the time they were thrust together in the high school gymnasium alongside hundreds of other refugees, to their endless days stuck inside the church, the kid had shared little about himself. Their isolation had nearly driven George mad as he thought about and prayed for his family constantly. Jason, on the other hand, remained stoic and distant and didn’t seem to mind that they were trapped. All George knew about him was that he had lost his mother, a single parent, during the first few days of the plague. That was it. The rest of Jason’s story remained a mystery. That seemed to be the way the kid liked it.

  The quartet fell into silence, the burning question of the moment answered. They sat back and relaxed, enjoying the sound of the slight breeze whispering through the trees and the crickets off in the distance.

  After a while, Jeff sat up in his chair and clapped his hands together. Everyone looked at him.

  “Well, enough of this lounging around and doing nothing crap. Let’s see if we can find a deck of cards or a board game in this mausoleum and have some fun.”

  Megan grinned and went into the house. A few minutes later, she was back with a stack of games she had found in a closet. They decided on Monopoly, and for the next hour or so, until the sun started dipping down in the west, they rolled the dice and laughed with one other.

  * * *

  They moved a couple of sofas from the family room in front of the French doors at the back of the house and stacked the dining room table and chairs in front of the main entrance. They knew that neither of the makeshift barriers would hold up if they came under assault, but they would decide in the morning whether they should make the defenses more permanent or just move on.

  They climbed the steps to the bedrooms, Megan fretting about Jeff’s head injuries, fearing he had a concussion. He laughed it off, but she insisted that it wasn’t safe for him to fall asleep if that was the case. Exhausted, he was prepared to argue with her until George stepped in and offered to stay up with Jeff. They would stand watch from up in one of the bedrooms. When he winked at Jeff as Megan was looking elsewhere, Jeff agreed quickly and the matter was settled.

  The two men took the rifles and chose a bedroom with a view of the front lawn. They scrounged up a card table and chairs and settled in for a moonlit game.

  “I’m okay, George, really,” Jeff said.

  George nodded. “I know.” He smiled as he looked over at the other man. “I saw plenty of concussions back in my football days, and you don’t have any of the symptoms.”

  He leaned forward and gave Jeff a conspiratorial look. “But like you said, Megan is going to do whatever she wants, and there’s not much you can do to stop her.”

  He winked and a grin cracked Jeff’s face.

  “You got that right,” he agreed, snorting with laughter.

  “So I figured we would play some cards, shoot the bull, and then take turns sleeping.”

  Jeff nodded. “Setting up watch ain’t such a bad idea anyway.”

  George just smiled and shuffled the deck.

  Throughout the evening they chatted about their lives. George was happy to talk about his wife, Helen, and two daughters, Roxanne, who was twelve, and Debra, eight. They had lived in Wildwood, a suburb of Dayton, for the last ten years, ever since George had gone back to college to get a degree after being laid off by Ford. He was a programmer and worked on special projects all over the region.

  “I was on a short one in Gallatin, only about three days’ worth of work, when they began quarantining the area.” He shook his head in frustration. “It was an intense project: sixteen-hour days so they can get you out of there quick. So I stayed in a hotel even though I was less than an hour from home…” He trailed off as he stared out the window at nothing.

  After a few seconds of silence, George realized he had stopped talking and looked down at his cards again. “Anyway, I got hijacked by Guardsmen out of my hotel room and tossed into that pit.” His lips puckered with distaste. “They packed us like sardines in that gym, and when they ran out of space there, they started cramming more people into the other schools.

  “I tried to keep in touch with Helen, but cell phone coverage was for shit and then died altogether.”

  Jeff nodded, recalling a conversation with his sister that had blinked out. It was just as she was telling him about some island off the coast of Washington state, where she lived, where she and her husband were going to try to wait things out.

  “The last time we spoke was when she agreed they would stay in the house. We have plenty of food and water in the basement.” George looked at Jeff and smiled ruefully. “I like shopping in bulk at Sam’s.” Jeff returned the smile and nodded. The far-off look came back into George’s eyes. “So we agreed they would stay there. Cover the windows, put some boards over the doors, and wait for me to get back.”

  “So…what happened at the gym?” Jeff gently nudged George to continue.

  “It was a massacre.”

  George relayed his story in short, choppy sentences. He had met Jason and a young married couple in the high school gym, and they had clung to each other as everyone around them started going crazy. Rumors were rampant about what was happening in local cities like Cincinnati and Dayton and how everything was falling apart. It was falling apart inside the gym as well, and it took everything the soldiers had to keep everyone under control. Stories abounded of death squads shooting everyone on sight out on the streets and dump trucks stacked to capacity with bodies slated for huge burial pits. Everyone was on edge, and it did not help that the gunfire they heard outside was getting more constant as the days went on.

  One night, the gunfire never stopped. A young lieutenant came into the gym and pleaded with everyone to remain calm, telling them that the situation was under control. Not long after his speech, the lieutenant and the rest of the soldiers were rushed by several hundred occupants of the gym, who had grown tired of hearing the same reassurances day in and day out. As the soldiers and citizens fought and George could hear the cries of the infected out on the streets, he knew it was time to flee.

  He grabbed his partners: Al and Jennifer, the married couple, and Jason, who had grown particularly attached to Jennifer during their time imprisoned there. As most of the refugees ran out onto the streets, the foursome moved deeper into the high school. The plan was to get to the back parking lot, away from the soldiers and the infected attackers on the street. Other refugees followed their path, but they lost track of everyone else as they roamed the halls of the darkened building. Shots rang out and echoed down the locker-lined hallways. George had no idea if it was soldiers firing on the refugees or if the infected had already breached the high school, but he had no intention of sticking around to find out.

  They finally found their way to the parking lot, and that was when they realized they were in as much trouble as the people on the other side of the building.

  There were hundreds of plague victims coming through the woods toward the school. They were already in the parking lot, and some of the other refugees had made it there before George’s quartet. The survivors were struggling to get into the cars crammed in the lot, but some were already screaming and being pulled to the ground, swarmed by the ghouls.

  “We started running. I’m not quite sure what happened…it gets kind of fuzzy. I just remember seeing those infected people and wondering how they could still be standing. Their guts were hanging out, and their arms and legs were missing. I don’t really understand it.”

  George’s mouth remained open, but he was at a loss for further words. He shook his head several times, and Jeff reached over and gripped his shoulder to reassure him that it was okay, that he didn’t have to say any more.

  George was silent for a while, and just as Jeff thought his tale was through, George spoke again, his voice distant and puzzled.

  “I’m not really sure how Jason and I made it to that church, how we got back around to the front of the building and crosse
d the street. I know Al was attacked in the parking lot. Jennifer was trying to help him. I think I was too, but I know that Jason and I ran…I’m just not sure how it all went down.” He looked at his hands and turned them so his palms were facing up. “I think I killed someone that night…or maybe it was more than just one. Jason did too…I think we both killed some of those…those…” He waved his hands, trying to come up with the right word.

  “Those things?” Jeff interrupted. He leaned forward. “People who had been infected?”

  George’s eyes darted over to Jeff and he put his hands down on top of his cards. He looked confused as he considered what Jeff had said and then nodded.

  Jeff shrugged and shook his head. “Then you shouldn’t feel all that guilty, George.” He shifted in his chair and leaned back. “You did what you had to. I doubt most people in the same situation would have acted differently…at least none who wanted to survive.”

  “I did what I had to, but Jason…” George’s eyes widened as he remembered more details. “I watched him beat one of them to death with some piece of metal he picked up off the ground. He did it without any remorse.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  George’s eyes went wide with surprise. His expression changed. It was hard to see in the moonlight, but Jeff could tell that he had struck a nerve.

  “Well, you tell me how it can be a good thing that a kid his age…hell, that anyone shouldn’t give a rip that they just killed someone.” George’s hand slammed down on the table.

  Jeff barked out a harsh laugh. He peered into George’s eyes to make sure the other man could make out his expression in the dim light. “Reality check, George, old pal. Those things are already dead. You can’t kill what’s already dead.” He leaned back. “You and Jason were doing those pricks a favor by putting them down for good.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “What?” Jeff cringed at his own volume. “What?” he repeated, whispering. “Uh, you’re not sure those things are already dead or you’re not sure you’re doing them a favor by putting them out of their misery?”

  George stood up and walked across the room, out of the light. “I don’t know. Hell, I’m not sure of much of anything anymore.”

  Jeff shook his head in frustration. “Well, George, I am sure. Those things aren’t human anymore. Once I figured that out, it got real simple: slaughter them before they slaughter me and maybe I get lucky and live to see another day.”

  George looked at Jeff from across the room. The younger man’s face was pale in the moonlight.

  “I’ll do what I need to survive, and you know that, Jeff. I already have. But that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. This isn’t some sort of game for me.”

  Jeff’s laughter was bitter this time. “So it bugs you that I might be enjoying myself when I take a few of those things out, huh?”

  “Yes, yes it does. Self-defense is one thing, but enjoying it and killing anyone…or anything, if that’s how you prefer to think of them, is a sin.”

  Jeff waved his hand disdainfully. “Let’s not bring God into this.”

  George looked at Jeff as if he were a child. “How would it be possible, given all that has occurred, not to bring God into this? Or do you think that he has just been sitting on the sidelines this whole time, not paying a bit of attention to what’s been going on?”

  Jeff held his hands up in a sign of surrender. He was not in the mood for a religious debate, especially with someone who looked raring to go. The apologetic look on his face placated George enough to let it pass. The big man came back to the table, and they sat quietly for a few moments, until George, who still had a look of great concentration on his face, spoke up again.

  “I don’t know, Jeff. I do know that murder is a sin. So I’ll do what I can to survive and get to my family intact, including defending myself, but I will not go out of my way to attack those creatures. You can’t tell me that you know for certain, without any doubt at all, that there isn’t still a spark of humanity left inside them.”

  “Yes I can.”

  Jeff had a hard expression on his face, with a tightened jaw and a stern gaze.

  “Well, if you’re so sure, enlighten me. Please.” George spread his hands and waited for an explanation.

  Jeff’s face darkened, and George realized his newfound friend was getting angry. Jeff leaned forward, his eyes flashing with rage. “Have you had to face off against someone you knew, someone who had turned into one of those things?”

  The question took George by surprise, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t say a word, but Jeff already knew his answer.

  “Unless you’ve looked into the eyes of someone you love who’s been bitten and turned into one of those things, you have no idea. Until you look into their eyes and see that there is absolutely no recognition or comprehension of who you are anymore, you wouldn’t understand.”

  Jeff continued staring until George had to turn away, uncomfortable with the look in the other man’s eyes. Jeff stood and paced the room.

  “I’m sorry, Jeff.” It was lame, but it was all he had. George didn’t look up to see if the other man had acknowledged his apology, and he received no response. He looked down at the cards scattered in front of him.

  A few minutes later, Jeff sat back down across from him, staring out the window. The two sat in silence for a while longer, until it became awkward.

  “So what happened? If you want to tell me…”

  Jeff rubbed his eyes. He looked across at George and felt profoundly exhausted.

  There were no sounds except that of the crickets outside, no movement except when a slight breeze moved a branch on one of the trees. Slowly, Jeff began to tell his story.

  Chapter 22

  Jason was lying in bed on his stomach the next morning when he felt the fingers on his back. He had his pillow wrapped around his head and tried to ignore them as they gently rubbed, coaxing him to get up. He moaned and mumbled something about letting him sleep for just a few more minutes and pulled the pillow tighter.

  “Come on, Jason, it’s time for breakfast,” the voice implored. It was muffled, and he tried to ignore it, his eyes clenched shut.

  “I made your favorite…” The words were soothing, tempting him to get out of the bed. The fingers began scratching his back the way he loved.

  “Momma, no! I don’t want to get up. Let me sleep for a little while longer,” he whined and shook the hand off.

  He heard the clicking sound of disapproval and could imagine his mother’s head shaking as well, her hands on her hips, like she always did when she was irritated with him.

  When she pulled his pillow away, he shifted onto his back and slowly let his eyes adjust to the morning light.

  “Now get up, boy. It’s time for my breakfast too.”

  Jason opened his eyes and saw his mother standing in front of him. She was dressed in the blue scrubs she wore for her job as a nurse in one of the big downtown Cincinnati hospitals. They were splattered with blood. Her braided hair had come loose and was disheveled, floating around her head. He looked at her face and saw that her eyes were cloudy. She grinned at him, revealing smashed and blackened teeth. Bits and pieces of her ashy skin were flaking off.

  She touched his face with her hands, which were desiccated and missing much of their skin. As she caressed his cheek, she leaned over, her hand slipping behind his neck.

  “You better get up now, boy. ‘Cause momma’s hungry.”

  * * *

  When Jason sat bolt upright, he was staring into the startled face of Megan, who had just tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

  Megan stumbled back and nearly fell at Jason’s reaction, her hand clamped to her chest. He slid back on his bed toward the wall, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Jesus, Jason! You scared the heck out of me!” Megan laughed, her heart pounding fiercely. Shaking her head, she smiled at him, but then realized that Jason’s expression was no
t gradually relaxing, like hers was. His eyes were still wide with fear as he stared at her and shivered.

  “Jason?” The word was hesitant. Megan took a step forward and stopped when the boy scooted farther away from her on the bed. “Are you okay, honey?”

  Megan gave him a smile that was as bland and nonthreatening as she could manage, but Jason remained backed up against the wall, in the corner of the bed.

  A few moments later, as she stood waiting, Jason began to regain his composure. He rubbed his eyes and hid the wetness at their rims.

  “I’m okay. Could you just leave me alone, please?” Jason forced the words out slowly to hide any trace of emotion in his voice as he covered his face with his hands. When he pulled them away, Megan was still standing in front of him, the look of concern on her face even greater.

  She moved closer to the bed, and Jason pressed himself against the wall, shying away like a skittish horse in its pen. Megan hesitated for a moment and then moved forward until she was at the edge of the bed. She sat down at the foot of it, as far from Jason as she could.

  “Please don’t,” Jason said, scrunching his body up into a tight ball.

  “Jason, what is it? Please tell me, maybe I can…” He was shaking his head and shivering again. Megan stopped, frozen where she was and said nothing, just continued to stare at him.

  The boy wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face behind them, hiding himself as much as possible from her prying eyes.

  “Please go. Just go.”

  Megan continued to stare at him without moving.

  Jason looked over his knees and saw that she was still there, still looking at him. “Why haven’t you left? Get out now!” His voice was ragged. There was resentment there, but the tremulous anger was a cheap facade covering up something else, and Megan saw through it immediately. Jason was afraid of her.