The Dark Ones

by Anthony Izzo

  They approached the clock tower, which cast a long shadow across Main Street, and Dave couldn’t help feel a chill as the truck passed through the darkness, however brief. It made him think of last night at the hotel. Would they follow him and Frank right into town? There hadn’t been any sign of them after the hotel.

  “Up here. Greenview Lane.”

  Dave signaled right and turned down Greenview. Like the rest of Routersville, Greenview Lane was hilly, and many of the homes had driveways that wound upward from the road. As they drove, a sudden gust of wind rattled and shook the trees. It sounded almost like a hiss, and Dave had the urge to get inside. He knew it was silly, and it was only wind, but he felt bad things were coming down the road.

  “There it is,” Frank said, pointing to a blue mailbox with gold-foiled numbers. “Number eighty-six.”

  “We’re not staying long,” David said.

  “Engel can’t have found Sara this quickly, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “She’s away from me, Frank. I have no idea how she is. She’s a pretty girl, what if some pervert ...”

  “She’s also smart enough to know who to avoid and when to ask for help. She’s on a bus with others. She won’t go wandering off by herself.”

  “The sooner we go, the better.”

  Dave swung the truck up the driveway, and Chen’s house, like many of Routersville’s homes, was a nondescript ranch, white with powder-blue trim. A cornstalk was fastened to the porch, and a trio of pumpkins rested at the base of the stalk. Dave parked the truck next to a Ford Explorer and the two of them got out.

  They approached the front door, which was decorated with a cardboard black cat, its back arched, its eyes pale green. At least Chen’s Halloween spirit hadn’t evaporated with all the news of coming trouble.

  Frank rang the bell and footsteps sounded from behind the door. The door swung open and Jenny Chen appeared, a compact Asian woman with a set of brown eyes that could turn your heart to liquid. She wore a blue warm-up suit and matching Adidas sneakers. A fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead.

  “Working out?” Frank asked.

  “I’ve been cooking for you two all afternoon. Oven’s hotter than, well, an oven,” she said and smiled. Dave thought it was a particularly fine sight to see Jenny smile.

  She welcomed them in, giving Dave and Frank each a hug and taking their coats, hanging them on a coatrack. The house smelled of warm bread. Dave felt his stomach rumble.

  “Something smells good,” Dave said.

  “Homemade bread, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and a pumpkin pie for dessert. Hope you’re hungry.”

  “It won’t go to waste,” Frank said.

  An hour later, they sat around the table, the chicken stripped to the bones and half-empty bowls of food surrounding the bird. Dave’s stomach swelled and he felt the pull of sleep start to drag him under. Not wanting to doze off at the table, he said, “What do we know?”

  Jenny leaned forward, rested her elbows on the table. “We know they slaughtered the Littles, kids and all.”

  “Nothing around here, though,” Frank said.

  “I’ve been sending out people to scout,” Jenny said “They’re definitely on the move, using the woods at night where they can.”

  “And as far as you can tell?” Frank asked.

  “They’re headed this way.”

  “How many?”

  Jenny pursed her lips, thinking. “Hard to tell.”

  “How’s that?” Dave asked.

  “You haven’t heard any news lately?”

  Dave exhaled air out of his nostrils, realizing he was giving a snort of contempt, but then thinking Jenny had no way of knowing. She looked at him, puzzled. “Sorry. They almost caught up to us at a hotel.”

  Jenny’s eyebrows went up. “And?”

  “We got away,” Frank said. “Some others weren’t so lucky.”

  “How bad?”

  “The one I saw was horrible. Not sure about the rest.”

  “It’s worse than I thought, then,” Jenny said. “That must’ve been terrible for you.” She placed her hand over his and he couldn’t deny a little jolt of excitement passing through him. A moment later, she removed her hand.

  That man pinned to the wall wasn’t so lucky. Dave could still see the horrified look on the man’s face, hear the wet gurgling sounds that escaped him. “So what’s this news?”

  “They’ve been busy in a little town called Wickett’s Corner, about a half hour from here.”

  “We have none of our people down there, right?” Frank said.

  Jenny shook her head. “No, but it’s close enough to us to send a message.”

  “Turn on the news, then,” Dave said. “See if anything weird’s been reported.”

  “Better yet,” Frank said. “How about we see it for ourselves?”

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” Jenny said.

  “We have to know what we’re up against.”

  “It’s getting close to dark.”

  “Dave, get your keys.”

  Jenny Chen approached the idling pickup truck. She had changed into a pair of jeans, sweater, and a denim jacket with a sheepskin collar. Since she was the smallest, they decided she would ride in the truck’s extended cab, and she had quite a bit of room.

  She gave them directions and as the truck wound down country roads, Dave watched every flickering shadow, expecting an attack. The trees seemed taller, cathedral-like, as if built as a monument to some dark god. The normally steady pickup swayed in the wind, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The thought of being back in Jenny’s living room grew more and more appealing.

  They crested a hill and Jenny instructed them to pull over. Dave did, and after killing the engine, all three of them piled out of the truck. From the top of the hill, they saw a gray-brown gash in the earth surrounded by rusted machinery and piping that rose up into corrugated metal buildings. They would have to pass through Wickett’s Corner to reach it.

  “What’s that?” Dave asked.

  “Coal mine. Shut down ten years ago. By most accounts it’s flooded. A few kids died in there, got curious and fell down the shaft.”

  This was getting better by the minute. “That end of town, near the mine, not a lot of lights on,” Dave said.

  “From what I gather, when the mine closed up, so did most of the town. The main drag’s all boarded up.”

  “And the recent visitors didn’t help.”

  Chen crouched down and sat on a rock. “Here’s the thing, nobody killed or even hurt, right? But the people down there claim to see things at night, coming out of the mine, coming up to houses, looking in windows.”

  “And what do they take them for?”

  “Costumes? Hallucinations? Who knows?”

  David looked out onto the town. The houses nearest the abandoned mine were among the darkest, while the ones farthest from the mine had lights in the windows. What did they see, the people closest to the mines? The sight of the abominations were enough to make people pack up and leave town.

  “I want to see the mine,” Frank said.

  “It’s nearing dark,” Jenny said.

  “We have time,” Frank said.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Just a jaunt down there, get some idea of numbers, anything,” Frank said.

  “Let me send some of my people out,” Jenny said. “We can’t afford to lose you, Frank.”

  “She’s right,” Dave said. He had no doubt Chen would make a fierce and capable leader, but it was not the same as having the Reverend at the helm. He always seemed to know what to do and possessed a well of calm that knew no depths.

  Frank was already on his way to the truck. “Start her up, Dresser. We’re checking out that mine. And daylight’s wasting.”

  They drove through town, down Veterans Memorial Boulevard. Many of the businesses sported plywood boards across their fronts, and others had the windows covered in soap. Most of
them bore faded signs and David guessed they had last been freshly painted when Eisenhower was president.

  No one strolled on the main boulevard and David saw no lights in the windows. He kept expecting to see the flash of headlights in front of him or in the rearview mirror, but they were the only car on the road. He supposed the residents had good reason to stay indoors at night, but it was still disconcerting. Wickett’s Corner had a name that implied small-town charm, a place loaded with boutiques and quaint country shops, but instead it was a used-up corpse of a town. He wanted to turn and drive away, not out of fear, but out of the general sense of despair that had settled over him since entering the town.

  As if reading his thoughts, Frank said, “Cheerful, huh?”

  “About as cheerful as a field trip to the morgue.”

  “It wasn’t always like this,” Jenny said. “When the mine was open, it was a pretty bustling town. Builders couldn’t put up homes fast enough and realtors couldn’t keep houses listed. But then the mine shut down. Accidents, safety violations, rumors that it had been mined out. The town died.”

  “You’ve done your homework, Jenny,” Frank said.

  David looked in the rearview mirror. A wry smile crossed Jenny’s face. “Talked to some of the old-timers, the ones who are either too stubborn or carrying false hope that this place will come alive again.”

  They passed through the township proper and arrived at the mine, which was now surrounded by a six-foot chain-link fence. Rolled barbed wire curled along the top of the fence, and a faded blue sign announced HARBEN MINING CO. MINE NO. 4. NO TRESPASSING. Beyond the fence David could make out the yawning mouth of the mine, framed with timbers and covered by a patchwork collection of beams in the hope of keeping adventurers out. He noticed with dismay that some of the beams had been snapped in two and cast away from the entrance.

  “Kill the headlights,” Frank said. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  “But it’s not dark yet.”

  “Better to be safe.”

  David pushed in a knob on the dashboard and the lights faded out.

  “The gate, shouldn’t it be locked?” Frank asked.

  The tap on the window made David’s heart jitterbug in his chest. He turned his head to see a flashlight beam hitting him in the face. Instinctively he put up his hand to block out the light.

  He turned the key, preparing to lower the window, confident their adversaries had not begun carrying flashlights. He lowered the window and the man at the window lowered the flashlight.

  Dave looked into the face of a man with a bushy white mustache and equally robust eyebrows. Dave saw the twinkle in the man’s blue eyes and thought between that and the white hair, the man would have made a great Santa. He took a look at the silver name badge on the man’s shirt. It read: B. MEYERS.

  The guard said, “You’re trespassing. This is mine property.”

  “Just checking it out,” Dave said.

  “Still trespassing,” he said, and pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

  That was all they needed was cops showing up. “That’s not necessary,” Dave said.

  “I got a job to do, buddy,” the guard said, and went to dial.

  Dave reached up to snatch the phone, but the guard took a step back, moving out of Dave’s reach. Dave started to open the truck door, intent on separating the guard from his phone. This whole thing was a bad idea, coming down here in the first place. He should have been on his way to Buffalo by now. Sara was out there alone and here he was messing around with a rent-a-cop. He said, “Give me that damn phone.”

  He felt a hand on his arm. It was Frank, now shaking his head. Frank leaned across the seat and said, “You seen anything strange up here, my friend? We’ve heard stories.”

  The guard held the phone away from his ear. At least Frank had gotten his attention.

  “We came to see about things that go bump in the night. We mean no harm.”

  The guard paused, regarded the cell phone. Dave hadn’t seen him dial the number yet.

  “What can you tell us? There’s a twenty in it for you.” Frank pulled a twenty from his pocket and was waving it in the air. It had to work, because if the guard completed his call and they wound up in jail, the battle would be over before it started. The guard punched a button on the phone, and it made a warbling, beeping noise. He returned it to his pocket and approached the truck.

  He held out his hand. “Let’s see it.”

  Frank extended his arm, leaning over Dave. The guard snatched the bill and in one smooth motion tucked it in his shirt pocket. Dave had a bad moment where he thought the guard might laugh maniacally, whip out the cell phone, and summon the police. Instead, he grinned and said, “What do you want to know?”

  “Is there somewhere we can go. Close?” Frank said. “We’re in a hurry.”

  “The guard shack. This way.”

  They followed him, the man’s ample rear end swaying in the headlights. He led them to a steel shack with rusty patches on its front. A dim light emanated from behind the curtained front window. The guard waved, indicating they should follow.

  Once inside, the guard sat at a card table. On the table were a desk lamp, a travel mug, and a legal pad with messy handwriting scrawled on it. In the corner was a file cabinet with a dusty boom box on top. The closeness of the space made Dave feel as if the walls might press in and crush them. It was close enough to smell Jenny’s spicy perfume. Not that it was a bad thing.

  “Name’s Bernie Myers, been with the mine thirty-eight years. Once a miner, now a rent-a-cop. What else you need to know?”

  Dave cracked a grin. “Tell us about the mine.”

  They learned the mine had opened in 1919 with sixty employees on the payroll. By 1921 there were five hundred employees and they were mining coal as fast as the mine carts would move. The mine did well up through the Second World War, then things started going badly. In 1956 a cave-in killed nine miners. In 1961 an explosion killed eleven more. But the mine kept going, despite eleven more deaths between the last explosion and the fall of Saigon. By then the government started buzzing around, hitting the owners of Harben in the pocketbook with all types of violations.

  “What about recently?” Frank asked.

  “Strange things around.”

  “How strange?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told ya.”

  Jenny said, “Try us.”

  “Those houses closest to the mine? All empty. People vacated them.”

  “Real estate market bad?” Dave asked.

  “Boy, that’s real funny,” Bernie said, rolling his eyes. “They seen stuff.”

  “Dark’s coming,” Dave said. “He’s told us nothing.”

  “Another twenty might loosen my lips.”

  David moved the curtain and looked out the window. The sun had nearly disappeared beneath the crest of the hills. If the mine was acting as a hiding place, its occupants would soon be coming out for the night. “I’ll show you where to put a twenty,” Dave said.

  Frank intervened. “Hard times?”

  “Why do you think I stay here? I worked in that mine twenty-nine years, made a decent living. Got bad lungs and a worse back, but I fed my family. I need all I can get.”

  “Yeah, can’t make a living so extortion’s the next best thing,” Dave said.

  Frank put up a hand. “Times are tough. How about another forty to help you remember?” He took out his wallet and handed Bernie two twenties.

  Bernie took the money and muttered a quick thanks under his breath. He tucked the bills away in his pocket. “They come out of the mine at night. Started about a week ago. People seeing faces in their windows at night. Things that look like Halloween masks, only real. Half the folks around here have gone up to the Holiday Inn in Chancelorsville.”

  “And you?” Dave asked.

  “I stay in the shed. That reminds me.” He turned off the lamp and shut the curtain, cloaking the room in shadows. “They ain�
��t bothered me, but I hear them stomping and muttering in the dark.”

  “But have you seen anything?” Dave asked.

  “I peeked out the door one night. It was a clear night, all the stars out like little diamonds. One of them things flew over top of the hills, must have had a wingspan of eight or nine feet.”

  “I suggest you find a new line of work,” Frank said.

  “No other work around. I got the start of emphysema, need insurance.”

  The man had no idea how much danger he was in. Dave wanted to go, even though they had only been here a short time. He couldn’t imagine spending a night alone with the Dark Ones roaming the desolate hills.

  He went to the window again and looked out. To his dismay, the hilltops were now as dark as the sky. Night had fallen.

  Frank, Chen, and Dave piled into the truck. From the cab of the truck, Dave watched the guard shut the door, blotting out the light. He pulled down the blinds and a moment later the light went off.

  Dave backed the truck up, did a quick turn, and drove through the open gate and back down the road. Behind him, the steel machinery diminished in the rearview mirror. He realized he had the truck going fifty. It would be best to slow it down.

  “Pull over,” Frank said.

  “You nuts?” Dave asked.

  “We’re a good distance away. Turn it around and pull over to the side. I want to see.”

  From the backseat, Chen said, “Frank, I don’t know about that.”

  “Do it.”

  Dave looked at him. The bushy eyebrows had set themselves into a serious frown and when the Reverend got that look, there was no arguing. David eased the truck to the side of the road, checked the mirror, and turned it around. He parked on the opposite shoulder. The framework of the mining operation rose against the sky like an industrial leviathan.

  “Frank, we can’t stay.”

  “Just a moment. Look.”

  From the mine entrance at the foot of the mountain rose a cloud, blacker than the night. It swirled upward, curled on itself. It seemed velvety, thick. Dave imagined the deepest reaches of space would not be that dark. The cloud, perhaps a hundred feet wide and now two hundred feet tall, rose and corkscrewed above the hills.