Into Darkness (The Guardian Book 2)

by Jason Davis

“No! No! No!” Bobby cried out, spinning around. As fast as he turned, he could only see glimpses of the world around him, the darkness cutting him off. Then it drew closer, the circle of light shrinking around him. Above him, the dark moved across the light, Bobby’s world disappearing.

  If anyone had come down the street, they would have seen what looked like a circle of nothing, not much larger than a ten-year-old child.

  If a person was really close, they could even hear the muffled cries, screams of a child calling for help.

  Then the ball of blackness shrank in upon itself until the glow from the streetlight above illuminated the area once again.

  Bobby was gone.

  CHAPTER 2

  Rob knew she was going to kill him, but not because of how late he was. She was getting used to that, even though she didn’t like it. She understood it was only temporary and she had accepted it. After the second week of him coming home to a dinner that had been sitting for three hours, she’d learned not to cook too early. That fight had already happened. He thought she was okay with that part of the job.

  No. She was going to kill him because not only was he coming home tonight smelling like sewage, but his clothes were covered in it, he was covered in it, the towel on the car seat was covered in it. He didn’t want to think about how their only car was covered in it. His sense of smell had long since evaporated after the second hour of being coated in the stuff, so he wasn’t sure how bad it was. He would find out soon enough. Robyn would probably take him right into their back yard and hose him down before he was even allowed in the house.

  Her house, yeah, and if he just walked in like he was now, he would immediately be pushed back out of her house. In the cool night air, he would be forced to clean up with the garden hose. Maybe he should just go into the back right when he got home. Just walk around to the side of the house and spray himself down. Rob had already done it once tonight while still at the sewage plant, but there was only so much he could do without getting undressed. Much of the chemicals still covered him, and there was no hope for his clothes. He would have had to strip naked at the plant, and that wasn’t happening.

  The smell just had to come home with him. Each day, he thought he left it at work. According to Robyn, though, he still smelled like sewage when he got home.

  Thank goodness the job was only temporary. Rob Alleto, town deputy and overall nice guy, did not see himself working there for long. It was just a nice bit of additional income to get them ready for the winter. The job wasn’t him, but it was what they needed to do to get by right now.

  When Rob left Chicago, he had been a beat cop for over fifteen years. When he left to become a small-town deputy, he didn’t know how much less he would make. He was used to being a full-time cop. He came to Standard assuming the job was full-time. He didn’t expect to only be working weekends, the chief giving him the occasional weekday out of pity.

  He didn’t know if he could say he loved being a cop. He loved his wife and son. His career as a police officer was different. He was a protector, a guardian. Being a cop was so intertwined with his being, he wouldn’t be himself, the man he was happy to be, without it.

  That had been put to the test just over a year ago when he was caught in the mess down in Hammond. He still wasn’t over that, but he had moved on as best as he could. He had saved some, but not everyone. On one level, he knew that would have to be enough, but there were so many more people he should have been able to save. He should have rescued them.

  He took a long, deep breath. It’s all behind me. It has to be.

  He took another breath, tasting the smell hanging in the small space of the car. Rob hauled sewage from the plant to the fields. It was a seasonal job, just until the end of October. He worked during the week so as not to interfere with his police duties. It also paid well enough that not only was the mortgage finally up to date, but there was extra. It was enough to get Jake clothes and supplies for school. They also put money away to actually pay the power bill on time this winter. The job allowed him to provide for his family once again.

  He sometimes worried someone would say something about how being a town deputy and a truck driver might be a conflict of interest. Maybe it was. He knew working every single day pushed the hours of service laws, but he walked the fine line of harvest field exception laws for farmers. He had to walk it, even though it meant he wouldn’t be able to spend much time with his wife and son.

  Dan had tried to help him. He knew how much they were hurting. When the chief had to reduce Rob’s time on duty and cut the weekly day bonus due to cutbacks of what the town considered unnecessary police spending, Rob’s life started to get increasingly more difficult. They had been three months behind on the mortgage, the power was about to get turned off, and their house in Chicago wasn’t selling.

  Dan told him about a farm outside of town that needed a driver. Bruce, a friend of Rob’s, had been happy to help him get his CDL. He couldn’t afford to get his commercial driver’s license through a school. He knew there were programs out there, but he couldn’t leave the part-time job he had now for a chance at making a little more.

  Without Bruce, he never would have managed it. At first, Bruce was nervous. Rob was the only officer who knew about his second log book, and he had to constantly reassure his friend he wouldn’t turn him in for it. Of course, that deal came with conditions. He looked the other way, but Rob had been adamant about the real reason he stayed cool with the second log book. Bruce was a decent guy who didn’t do drugs. When he used the second log book, he just stretched the law a little bit to get by. If he stayed safe, stayed responsible, Rob didn’t have a problem with it.

  Then there were the guys he worked with from the plant. At first, they were wary about being around a cop all day. Drivers had a history of not trusting law enforcement, and he could understand why. From their perspective, the DOT was always out to get them. They thought officers were around every corner. As if to justify the belief, Bruce had told him about some of the things he’d seen out on the road. Rob had a hard time believing it, but he understood why the guys would be as wary around him as they were.

  It had taken some time, but he had worked his way into their good graces. He had even adopted the CB handle “Da Bear”.

  Not too many drivers went by anything other than their names, but none of them called him by his. He was “Da Bear” and he liked it. At home, his son used to call him “Daddy Bear”, and he knew truckers called cops “Smokey Bears”. So he was “Da Bear”, and he took pride in it. It warmed his heart when they called him on the CB. Of course, it didn’t have anything to do with an old SNL skit and Rob actually being from Chicago.

  Yeah, and Ditka is not a god. Daaa Bears.

  Rob smirked. Da Bear is going to be dead once the mommy bear gets her hands on him.

  He pulled the car into the driveway, not wanting to go in. This wasn’t going to be pretty. His shitty job had led to a shitty day, which would probably lead to a shitty night. Oh, where was the justice in the world? The second he opened that door, she would drag him out to the hose. He knew it was coming. It was inevitable. He might as well just go right over to the hose and do it himself.

  As he walked up to the door, the cool breeze rustled the trees. Weeks earlier, the leaves had turned yellow, many of them now scattered on his lawn. The few remaining in the tree caught in the wind, gliding down amongst that brisk fall air to land on his windshield. The air blowing through his hair, he imagined it turning to freezing when the water slammed into him.

  It was going to be a long night. All he had to look forward too was the hot shower to come.

  CHAPTER 3

  The sound of frying grease and the pleasant scent of bacon floated in the haze filling the kitchen. It smelled good, distracting her from the long day. Mr. Sydney, who always screamed, and Sarah, the other R.N., always disappeared when Ms. Finch had one of her fits. In a way, Wendy was glad Bobby wasn’t home yet because it allowed her some peace. Five m
inutes after he got home, she knew she’d have to swat his hands from the already cooked slices, then rush after him.

  But tonight’s dinner was simple. BLTs. It would only take her a few minutes to slice the tomatoes and pull apart the lettuce. Bobby could toast his own bread. He was old enough. It should not be on her to do everything for him. His hands weren’t broken.

  She pushed the bacon around in the pan, feeling the little tingles as grease popped and splattered against her forearms. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t felt before. She had other, much larger scars on the inside of her arm. Round ones that were suspiciously the same size as cigarette burns. She always wore long sleeves to keep them covered up, but those were now pushed up high on her arms.

  None of those scars were recent. The visible ones had long since faded to just annoying reminders. It was the unseen wounds that still caused her problems.

  She looked up from the pan, glancing over her shoulder at the window above the sink. It had gotten darker the last half-hour. When she started cooking, there was still a slim ray of light hovering over the horizon.

  Bobby should have been home by now. He knew better than to stay out this late. That damned woman. She was going to have to have a word with her about keeping her grandson over there so late. There was no reason for it. She knew Wendy got home early enough now that he didn’t need to go over there anymore. It was different when things were still awkward, but it was better now. He wasn’t here anymore.

  Wendy took a quick glance around the kitchen, looking for her cell phone. It wasn’t on the counter. She had knocked it off too many times cooking, no longer making that mistake. She didn’t see it on the little television nook they had in the far corner, and the table was covered with a mass of unopened bills and flyers.

  Dammit!

  She must have left it in the front room when she walked in. It wasn’t a big deal. She’d grab it to call her mom after she finished. She quickly placed the last few pieces of bacon on a plate and put a paper towel over it.

  It really is getting late. Bobby has never been this late from leaving mom’s. That damn woman knows I hate him out this late, Wendy fumed as she walked into the front hallway and saw her phone sitting next to her car keys and purse. She’d better be planning on driving Bobby home. There is no way I want him walking home. It is way too late.

  “Hello?” her mother said a moment later.

  “Hey. So when are you bringing Bobby home?” Wendy said in the cheeriest tone she could fake.

  There was a pause. “You mean he’s not home already?”

  “No… He’s not still there? How long ago did he leave?” That little asshole, she wanted to add, but she wasn’t ready to give her mom a reprieve just yet. If he had left already, she should have called and let me know. What the hell was she thinking?

  “It was a while ago. Before I started cooking supper and before Pat Robertson came on.”

  “So where is he?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not home? Have you checked his room just to make sure?”

  Like I wouldn’t have seen him come in and walk past me. Damn, why does the woman always have to push my damn buttons?

  “No. I’ll check now,” she said, working to keep from saying it through gritted teeth. She walked to Bobby’s room, looking in. “He’s not here.”

  “Then where is he?”

  “That’s why I called. How long ago did he leave?”

  “It had to be over an hour ago. It was before it got too dark. He should have been home by now.”

  “Okay,” Wendy said, her mind racing. Maybe he ran into a friend or went to someone’s house to play video games. There was no reason for her to worry yet.

  Where is he?

  If he had come home the way he was supposed to, it was well-lit and there were plenty of people who would have seen him. That wasn’t much to base hope on, but it was all she had at the moment.

  But what if he came home the way he wasn’t supposed to? Would he have gone through the coal dump? He was continually told not to go through there. Would he dare, especially at night? Especially with what happened to his brother?

  She couldn’t see him doing that. There were just too many bad things there. He had to have gone the other way. There were always all those boys up there sitting in front of the sweet shop... Maybe some of them gave Bobby trouble. She wouldn’t know unless she went up there herself.

  Should she drive? What if Bobby came home while she was gone? Her best bet would be to walk, maybe running into him in the process.

  She reached into the closet, grabbing a flashlight off the shelf. Then, thinking it was probably chilly, grabbed her coat, as well.

  When Wendy found Bobby, she was going to tan that boy’s ass until he couldn’t sit down for a week. Of course, that would be after spending about an hour hugging the life out of the little son of a bitch.

  She quickly hurried into the darkness of the night, turning on the flashlight, lighting up her path. She strode up the sidewalk, hoping to find her son.

  * * * *

  David felt the sensation as ice-cold vanilla-flavored soda run through him, the fizz dancing on his tongue. It was a heavenly taste, a nectar from the gods, and one that he so desired after a day from hell. A day he had to struggle just to get through.

  It was a turd of a day, one he seemed to enjoy making worse by standing at the only local hangout the small town had with two people he liked the least. Yes, he lived in a craphole of a town. Yes, he had nothing to do. Yes, he was grounded, so even if he went home,he couldn’t even play Xbox or watch TV. Yet he continued to subject himself to more torture by standing up there with Tina and Singer.

  It wasn’t even a warm night, so why the hell was he standing there? Why?

  Because there was nothing else to do in Standard. There was the coal dump, but it was dangerous to go there at night. If you weren’t prepared, you could fall into a hole or off the little cliffs. Then there was the main drag, which consisted of about six blocks. People would sometimes drive up and down, wasting away hours just horsing around. If you didn’t want to risk breaking a leg or wasting your gas, there was always the sweet shop.

  David didn’t know how the sweet shop had come to be the hangout for older kids in the evening. When he was younger, it had been the previous older kids, and now that he was part of that age group, he found himself there. And it wasn’t like the business wanted them standing there. They did their best to dissuade the kids from loitering, calling the cops when they actually stood in front of the building. But the paint store next door had no problem with the kids standing in their little entryway.

  It was so exciting to stand up there, watch who stopped by, talk to everyone they had just seen at school that afternoon. He needed to get out of this small joke of a town. Every day was the same as the day before. Being banned from his Xbox made it that much more painful. Was he seriously there with people he couldn’t stand to see if other kids he could barely tolerate would come up, then they might talk about something other than who got drunk here or who tore through whichfarmer’s field?

  Kim came out of the sweet shop, holding her soda in one hand, Singer’s soda in the other. She wasn’t as short as Tina, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that poked out the back of her baseball hat. David avoided looking into those round, cute, and innocent brown eyes. She was nice, even to him, and he couldn’t help but feel something for her.

  “Hey, thanks,” Singer said, taking the offered Coke. David shook his head as he took another long pull off his fountain soda. Last year, Singer was banned from going into the sweet shop after getting into an altercation with the owner. He always wondered what the hell they had fought over. No one knew, but the owner was still adamant about him not being allowed in. The woman even called the cops if Singer walked too close to the front door. If anyone got caught bringing out sodas to him, they’d be banned for a week and given a stern warning not to do it again.

  Yes, Singer was an asshole, but even
David couldn’t imagine what he had done to bring on that much hatred.

  “Any word on what’s going on this weekend?” Kim asked, looking briefly at David before turning around to sit on the stoop.

  “Lukas is talking about having a party out at his barn. His parents will be out of town. He thinks he’ll be able to get a couple of kegs from over in Streator.”

  “Really? That sounds promising.”

  David tuned out their conversation. It didn’t matter. He knew he would never go, even though there was a part of him that wanted to. His penis screamed, Hey, don’t be a loser. Do the party and get laid! There was always a chance he would find some girl to “knock boots” with, as his dad would say, but that just wasn’t him.

  Besides, he had Ally. He shouldn’t even be looking at other girls. If he ever did hook up with a girl at a party, she would be extremely hurt. If one of their friends in town didn’t rat him out, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye. Even with all the miles separating them, he still thought of her. Just thinking of those tear-filled eyes sent a tinge of regret through his chest. Damn, he hadn’t even done anything, but still felt terrible.

  What were they now? They were best friends, growing up only a few houses apart. When they got older, they kissed and played around until, one night, it went further.

  Had they ever officially been a couple? They had always been together. With her being gone, it felt like he were missing a part of himself.

  He looked back at Kim’s short, petite frame, which was similar to Allison’s. She was cute, but he knew nearly nothing about her. What if he said something to her and they had nothing in common?

  Why did all this have to be so complicated?

  He looked away from Kim, trying to find something else to focus on. The town was deader than usual. Other than the distant hum of the interstate, it seemed like the rest of the world had slipped away. There hadn’t been any cars driving down Main Street, no people walking dogs, nothing. The sweet shop was quiet, the four of them providing the night’s only business. The town was deadsville. Come to Standard, the last dead town on earth.