Darkness After Series (Book 4): The Savage Darkness

by Scott B. Williams

  “HEY! WHAT’S ALL THE RACKET ABOUT? IT’S NOT EVEN DAYLIGHT YET!”

  “Sorry!” Mitch answered. “I didn’t mean to wake anyone up.”

  Another man from the cell adjacent his had heard the commotion too. “It won’t do you any good to beat on the walls. You’re not getting out of here anytime soon. Maybe never.”

  “Why are you in here?” Mitch asked. “Why is everyone else in here? I didn’t do anything wrong. I just came to this town to find out about a trading post I heard was here.”

  “I’m here because I didn’t agree with the way Sheriff Macon was handling things. I guess you could say I’m a dissenter. I keep thinking they’re going to hang me but so far it hasn’t happened.”

  “How long have you been in here?”

  “A hundred and twenty-four days, counting today.”

  “A hundred and twenty-four days! Just for disagreeing with the sheriff? Who is this sheriff? Was he the sheriff for real before the blackout?”

  “No, but he was a deputy. Sheriff Singleton got killed about a month after it happened. They said it was in a shootout with some looters, but not everybody here believed that. The thing is, Tom Macon and his brothers took over and basically set up their own version of martial law right here in the city of Purvis. They knew they couldn’t control the whole county, because it’s too rural and mostly timberland and farms, so they closed off the town and ran off or locked up anyone that didn’t go along with their ideas. A few folks were able to leave before they got it all under control, but most just sided with them to stay alive because they didn’t have any better options. I think the only reason Tom Macon hasn’t had me hanged is because he never liked me before and wants me to suffer as long as possible before I die. But they’ve been hanging folks right and left ever since they built the gallows. They march us out of here for every one and make us watch. It’s the only time anybody in here sees the light of day.”

  “They told me they were holding me until the sheriff got back, and then I could explain to him why I came here.”

  “You may get your chance. It just depends. There’s been a lot of people in this jail for no good reason. A few got taken away that weren’t hanged. I don’t know where to, though. No way of knowing nothing in here, except what little you see and hear.”

  Mitch let all this sink in, grateful that he was able to get at least some intel from a fellow prisoner. He also learned that mealtime was once a day, usually late morning, and that he’d better not waste a bite because it was never enough.

  “I’ve been eating so little since I’ve been here even my mother wouldn’t recognize me if she saw me. I can count every rib, and I was pushing 250 before the lights went out.”

  Mitch couldn’t see the man on the other side of the wall, but he took him at his word even before the guards finally appeared a few hours after daybreak, just as the inmate said. The only thing he was given was a bowl of runny gruel, containing far more water than solid food. It tasted like a flour-based gravy with tiny bits of gristly meat stirred in to give it flavor. No one could remain healthy and strong eating like that, but Mitch finished it all because he believed his neighbor when he said that would be it for the day. Pushing the bowl back through the slot so he would get another if he were still here tomorrow, he slumped back onto his miserable bunk and settled in to wait.

  * * *

  Leading Arod and the other two horses behind her, Lisa crossed Highway 49 on foot, stopping in the sparse patch of young pines in the median to check that the northbound lanes were also clear. She was thrilled at having made it so far without encountering people. She would not have believed it possible had she and Mitch not had the same experience going the other way along the same route. It was sad that most everyone was dead or gone, but a relief that the bad ones were also noticeably absent, especially so soon after what happened at their farm.

  She called out to Mr. Holloway before she was within sight of his camp so she wouldn’t startle him and get herself shot. When there was no answer, she cautiously continued her approach, talking loudly all the while so he could hear her coming. He wasn’t around at the moment though, and his fire had died down to coals. Lisa led the horses to the edge of the creek to let them drink, and then settled in to await his return.

  “Thought I heard something over this way,” the old man said as he walked up from the direction of what was left of his little town. “Y’all made pretty good time, it looks like. How did it go? Was Mitch able to do some tradin’?”

  “Mitch didn’t come back, Mr. Holloway!”

  “What? What do you mean he didn’t come back? Why not?”

  “I don’t know. We found a place to hide in the woods just east of Purvis the second night we were on the road, and he waited until about noon to ride into town and see about trading. That was the day before yesterday…. He was supposed to be back in a couple of hours, but he didn’t show up, not even by dark. I waited there in the same spot all night and he still wasn’t back in the morning. I wanted to go look for him, but he made me promise him I wouldn’t, Mr. Holloway. He said that if he didn’t come back that I should ride back to our camp and wait. I don’t know what to do. It’s been tearing me apart every mile knowing I was leaving him behind. I don’t know what could have happened to him, but I’m scared it was something bad.”

  Watching the expression on Mr. Holloway’s face as she told him all this did not give Lisa any reassurance. He’d seen even more of the horrors in the aftermath of the collapse than she and her friends had, and they’d seen plenty. The old man wouldn’t say so, but she could tell he probably figured Mitch had been shot or something. He tried to give her a little hope though:

  “I reckon they may be holding him until they ask him some questions. Maybe they thought he was just another thief. The way things are now, folks in an organized town like that wouldn’t take many chances.”

  “I thought about that, but why wouldn’t they let him go once he told them who he was? I’ll bet there are a lot of people over there that knew our dad. Especially the police.”

  “If there’s any police left, yep, they probably would. Your daddy’s always had quite the reputation around here, and not just in Stone County, either.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Mr. Holloway. Mitch told me to go home if he didn’t come back, but the farther away I go, the worse I feel. I need to tell everybody back there though. I don’t know if they could do anything, but they need to know.”

  “Why don’t you wait right here for a bit, Lisa? Maybe if they did hold him they’ve already let him go by now. He could be on his way here now. Surely he’d stop by here on his way back if he didn’t find you where he left you.”

  “Yes, I think he would. I left his bow and Dad’s patrol rifle and the magazines for it hidden in that spot where he could find them. He would know I headed back, and he would probably figure I would stop by here to tell you.”

  “Then just sit a spell and get some rest. I’d give him at least another day to get here. If he’s not back by tonight, he might show up in the morning.”

  Lisa sat there thinking. She was tired, confused and scared. Even if she did plan to continue on home, she couldn’t do it without getting some sleep first. The horses needed rest too and time to graze. Mr. Holloway said he would take care of them and that he knew a place near the highway where there was some winter grass. He said he’d try to catch a fish or two later, but even if he didn’t there was still plenty of the jerky Mitch had brought him.

  “As long as you don’t offer me anymore of that dead cat….”

  “Nope. That’s long gone already. I don’t let fresh meat spoil. Tough ole critter, especially with a bad tooth like I got, but it don’t take all that much to keep a skinny old man alive.”

  Sixteen

  MITCH WAS HUNGRY AN hour after he finished the meager bowl of mystery soup. He couldn’t imagine being in here 124 days like the fellow on the other side of the wall claimed he’d been. Mitch figured he would sma
sh his head into the bars or find some other way to kill himself before he endured deprivations like that.

  The scant sunlight slanting through the tiny windows of the cellblock gave him some idea of the passage of time, and he didn’t know which was worse, waiting through the insufferably long hours of daylight or those of the night, when he couldn’t see anything of his bleak surroundings. His neighbor had gone quiet after their short conversation, but Mitch hoped to glean more from him about the goings on here if he became talkative again later. All day, of course, he hoped that the jailor or that Bailey fellow would come get him, telling him the sheriff was here and that he would have his chance to explain himself. But the light finally faded as the afternoon ended with no one opening the cellblock door, and Mitch resigned himself to another long night locked in darkness. His stomach growled as he sat there on the bench, still in disbelief that he had been locked up in the first place, not to mention the wretched conditions and lack of adequate food. It was a scary thought being confined like this in a world where everything was broken down and there was no system of fair justice he could count on. What if something happened outside that overwhelmed the townspeople or forced them to leave? Would he and his fellow prisoners remain sealed there in these cells that would become their tombs when they starved to death? Mitch tried to force such thoughts out of his head before they drove him to pounding walls again. Being locked up was simply one of the most helpless predicaments that he’d ever faced, and lately he’d faced a lot.

  But finally his neighbor broke his silence again and Mitch learned that shortly after everyone realized the power outage was more than some minor glitch, the city officials had called an emergency meeting to discuss what to do. Tom Macon, who was still a deputy at the time, as well as a couple of the city police officers, had combat experience from the recent U.S. military actions in Iraq and Afghanistan. After much discussion and argument back and forth, they came up with a plan to secure the homes and businesses of the residents and prevent the mass influx of refugees that they heard were overwhelming other nearby towns.

  “Some of those towns were opening up refugee centers in schools and whatnot, just like they do after a hurricane when all the people on the coast head inland. But the difference was that there wasn’t a resupply coming, like after a hurricane. Food quickly ran out everywhere, of course, not even accounting for the extra amounts needed for the refugees. If you’ve survived this long since it happened, then you’ve seen it yourself and you know how it was in those early days.

  “So, unlike most of those other places, the local lawmen acted quickly to seal off the town so they could take care of their own. What most folks around here didn’t know was that they were sitting on a huge surplus of FEMA supplies left over from Hurricane Katrina, in 2005, and they’d been hoarding all that stuff: including MREs, medicine, and whatnot, for years. On top of that, they bought up weapons and tens of thousands of rounds of ammo for them with taxpayer money. It was enough to last a long time so long as they kept it to the townsfolk they trusted. They recruited a whole bunch more able-bodied men to swear in as deputies, but what it really amounted to was a militia. Sheriff Singleton went along with closing down the town, but where he had a falling out with the rest of them was when they voted to banish the ne’er do wells and anyone else who’d been living there that they didn’t see as a contributor. That meant anyone who didn’t have either a job or own a business, house or other property they paid taxes on before the collapse had to go. What it really amounted to was a way of getting rid of folks they didn’t like, while at the same time culling the numbers, so they could make what they had go around. And, of course, it was a way for them to establish control and power. Everyone in town knew that if they didn’t go along, they might be put out to survive on their own. And from what we’d all seen of the refugees, no one wanted that. It was a death sentence.”

  So now Mitch had a better idea of why that Bailey guy acted like he did. Even though the people controlling the town were supposedly acting in self-protection, apparently they were in reality just thugs of another stripe. If they would cast out some of their own residents, it was no wonder they were dealing with outsiders so harshly. Mitch’s only hope was that someone among the former law enforcement officers that were part of this would know his dad. Whether it would matter or not at this point was another question, but he intended to make it known just who he was to any who would listen.

  He spent his second night in the cell alternating between fitful sleep and pacing. He’d had plenty of rest now, so unlike the night before when he was utterly exhausted, he simply couldn’t spend more than a couple of hours on that filthy bunk. His thoughts raced relentlessly between worrying about Lisa, wondering if he would really even get to make his case to the sheriff, and longing for April’s embrace and soft kisses. It was a long night—perhaps one of the longest Mitch could remember, but once again those narrow shafts of morning light reached into the gloomy cellblock. The mid-morning bowl of slop was delivered, and then, much to his surprise, Mr. Bailey and the guard entered about an hour later and came straight to his cell.

  “Sheriff Macon is waiting in his office. Let’s go!”

  * * *

  It was mid-afternoon when Lisa woke from her nap. She saw that Mr. Holloway had brought the horses back from grazing, and that they were tethered near the creek bank where he was sitting with a cane fishing pole, his back to her. She’d hoped she would wake and find Mitch there too, but seeing that he wasn’t she felt foolish for her wishful thinking. If Mitch hadn’t made his way back here by now, he probably wasn’t going to. She felt guilty for leaving without at least riding to the town to see what she could find out, but she’d promised him she wouldn’t, and she knew that keeping that promise was what he really wanted from her. Going back now would take two more nights of riding, or an all-day and all-night push like she’d done to get here. If she hadn’t been so tired, she could have made it home to tell the others by tonight too, but now it was too late in the day to leave. She didn’t mind riding the roads at night, but she wasn’t going to attempt the Black Creek Trail in the dark with three horses to worry about negotiating its water crossings and ravines and other obstacles. Like Mr. Holloway suggested, she decided she would stay here tonight and leave first thing in the morning. If by some miracle Mitch was on his way that would give him at least 12 extra hours to catch up She got to her feet and walked down to the water’s edge to talk to Mr. Holloway.

  “Did you catch anything?”

  “Look over there in that bucket! I never would have thought the fishing would be any good today, but look at them three bass!”

  Lisa did and was delighted to see that he wasn’t joking. There were three nice bass in his old 5-gallon bucket; all of them about two pounds each.

  “We got our dinner, Lisa. Them three’s more than enough. I’ll quit now and get ’em ready. I was just killing time waiting on you to wake up.”

  “Sorry I slept so long. Looks like I missed out on the fun. I’ll help you scale and gut them though.”

  Shortly after, just as it was nearing sundown, they were sitting by the fire eating the fish that Mr. Holloway cooked over the coals on an old grate he’d scavenged from someone’s patio grill. It was one of the best meals Lisa could remember in a while, although they had been eating steaks recently from the two steers. She loved fresh creek bass. Uncle Benny had been fishing most afternoons since they’d moved to the camp, but he hadn’t had any luck and blamed it on the weather and the time of year. She knew like everyone else in their camp that he mainly went fishing to get away and think about Tommy though. She sure felt sorry for him, losing his only son like that, and now she felt sorry for Mr. Holloway too. He was a nice man who would do anything for you and according to Mitch; he’d watched those men kill his wife. Now he was living here all alone, with nothing to look forward to and no one to talk to. Lisa was glad she’d stopped here and glad she was staying, no matter how much she was hurting with her sadness an
d worry over her brother. She felt bad about the prospect of leaving Mr. Holloway here alone again in the morning, and decided to ask him if he wanted to come with her.

  “Maybe I’ll come for a visit sometime, but wouldn’t want to stay. This is home now, for however long I’ve got left. There ain’t no use in me thinking about moving somewhere else.”

  “Isn’t it sad to be alone all the time though? I know it would be for me.”

  “Yeah, but you’re just a young-un, Lisa. When you get to be as old as I am, you can be pretty content just sitting and thinking back over a lifetime of memories. Yeah, some might be regrets, but there were good times too. I spend most of my days just sitting and thinking, once I take care of the camp chores. There ain’t nothing wrong with it. I figure it’s as good as any and better than most. To tell you the truth, I just feel lucky to still be here at my age, especially considering what’s happened to so many folks, including just about everybody I ever knew.”

  “I guess I can see that. I’ve never really thought about what it would be like being alone all the time. I think I would be lonesome, especially at night. I like being alone in the woods just exploring or hunting, but I like having someone to talk to when I get back. Someone to tell about what I saw and did out there.”

  Mr. Holloway just nodded. He was staring intently into the fire, no doubt suddenly swept away into one of those distant memories he spoke of. The world had closed in and gotten small again with the coming of darkness, reduced to a small circle of firelight extending only a short distance from its source. Lisa stared at it too and grew quiet with her thoughts. That’s when she heard the snapping of a branch from somewhere in the dark behind the old man. When she looked up, two men were standing there at the edge of the light; both of them holding guns at the hip that were pointed right at her and her companion. Mr. Holloway snapped out of his retrospection at the sound of Lisa’s gasp. He was about to turn around and see what had startled her when another voice broke the silence from the dark behind her, opposite the first two men.