Children of the Dark

by Jonathan Janz

  A voice spoke up from the other side of the white truck. “You can take that bullshit and shove it.”

  We turned and saw a short, tough-looking Hispanic guy coming toward us. He addressed Perlman. “You, Mr. High and Mighty, need to get your ass back in your car and let us do our jobs.” The worker’s nametag said JUAN.

  “What’s happening up there?” a woman’s voice called.

  We turned and spotted a man and woman standing in the road about twenty feet behind Jeff Perlman. They looked familiar, but with the wind and rain pelting them they were difficult to identify.

  “Will Burgess?” the woman said.

  I nodded, seeing Chris coming up behind them.

  “Have you seen Rebecca or Brad?” the woman asked.

  And then it clicked. Of course. The people were the Ralstons, parents of Rebecca and Brad.

  But then something happened that obliterated every other thought in my head.

  Chris had gotten about halfway between the Ralstons and where I stood. But he stopped there, a look of awe overtaking his face.

  “Umm…what is that?”

  He was looking up to where the TIPMONT truck was parked. A third worker stood in a raised bucket, apparently examining the pole and the lines grafted to it. But it wasn’t the guy in the bucket at which Chris was staring.

  It was the creature in a nearby tree.

  The guy in the bucket, he didn’t see the creature at all. He was so immersed in examining the pole that he didn’t notice the beast climbing closer. I was appalled at how nimble its movements were, how lithe its body.

  It was ten feet away from the guy in the bucket.

  “Uh, Larry?” the burly worker said.

  Larry didn’t turn.

  “Oh shit,” Juan muttered. He licked his lips, shouted, “Larry! Get out of there!”

  The storm was so loud that I’m sure Larry couldn’t make out his co-worker’s words, but the urgency of Juan’s tone must have broken through because Larry turned and squinted through the leaden day. He cupped a hand to his ear, shouted, “What?”

  “Move the truck,” the burly man muttered to Juan.

  “Can’t,” Juan answered. “The braces are down.”

  I looked and saw this was true. White arms protruded from the sides of the truck to make sure it didn’t overturn once the bucket was extended.

  The creature was five feet away from Larry.

  “Oh man,” Chris said.

  Chris was staring with open-mouthed terror at something to my right. My eyes moved that way, and I discovered two more creatures standing at the edge of the forest.

  Watching us.

  I understood how a steak must feel right before it’s eaten. Or a lobster awaiting death in some murky supermarket water tank.

  “What are those things?” Dr. Ralston asked. It was the first thing he had said.

  “The Children,” I said.

  “Let’s get to the car,” Chris said in a shaky voice.

  I began to nod, but that was when a shouted expletive made us all turn toward the worker in the bucket. Larry had finally noticed the creature in the tree. But perhaps that was because it was no longer in the tree.

  It was standing in the bucket with him.

  ¨

  The bucket couldn’t have been more than four-feet-by-four. Just enough for a man to be able to move around in comfortably.

  But with two bodies inside it, the bucket looked very crowded.

  The creature in the bucket was even taller than the one who’d caused such mayhem with the state police. I could see that by the way it towered over poor Larry. I don’t think he would have had a chance no matter what piece of equipment he’d been holding, but the fact that he was only gripping a plastic flashlight certainly didn’t help him much.

  Neither did the other two creatures approaching him.

  Both of these were new to the scene, one of them monkeying through the branches the way the first one had, the second perched atop the cab of the utility truck, reminding me of an emaciated general marshaling his forces. We all stood there staring up in dread—the two utility workers, Chief Cavanaugh, Chris, me, Jeff Perlman, the Ralstons, Mr. Watkins, and one more onlooker, an old man with his pants rucked up to his nipples.

  Ten people.

  Five monsters.

  No, I realized, that was wrong. There was a sixth creature emerging from the forest. It was angling toward the utility truck, but was still a good thirty yards away. The pair of creatures at the edge of the forest still hadn’t moved. Had I not been so terrified of them, I would’ve offered them some popcorn so they could enjoy the show.

  The show started when the beast on the cab of the truck sprang straight into the air and landed on the side of the crane bucket.

  On impact, the whole truck rocked, its steel braces groaning with the extra load. I assumed it was constructed to bear the weight of one man, maybe two. But now there were three figures on or in the bucket, and though the creatures were wiry, they were immensely powerful. And muscle, I remembered from my eighth grade health class, weighed more than fat.

  I reckoned there was at least seven hundred pounds weighing down the bucket.

  Larry looked like he was about to make a jump for it, but before he could, the beast in the bucket seized him by both shoulders. Larry brought the flashlight up and cracked the creature in the chin.

  The creature lifted Larry into the air.

  “Make it stop,” Chris said. I’d never heard Chris sound so scared or helpless, not even in the cell when the Eric-thing was attacking. I could relate. Watching poor Larry being manhandled like that was like watching a doomed skydiver plummet to the earth, his defective parachute still tucked uselessly inside its pack.

  At first I was sure the beast would simply take a chomp out of Larry’s face. But it didn’t do that. Evidently incensed at being smacked with the flashlight, it gave Larry a single, violent shake, and the dull crunching sound told the rest of the story.

  Larry dangled in the beast’s arms, his neck broken.

  The creature who’d leapt onto the bucket was now clawing its way inside. The creature who’d killed Larry snarled at his fellow beast, evidently wanting the meat for himself. The creature climbing into the bucket lashed out, tore away a swath of Larry’s back.

  The two beasts set upon Larry’s carcass, their movements causing the entire truck to rock drunkenly on its braces. The third creature climbed through the trees, then lunged forward, no doubt intending to join in the fun. But it jumped too far and only avoided missing the bucket entirely by snagging the side of it.

  The truck began to tilt.

  “The car,” Chris said. “We need to get back to the car.”

  I nodded.

  The old man began to hobble toward his car, an older yellow Cadillac.

  The tallest creature I’d seen so far made a move toward the old man.

  Cavanaugh fired.

  The chief’s aim had apparently improved. The slug caught the creature in the shoulder. It stumbled back, roaring, and took refuge behind the cruiser. The other two creatures on the ground began to stalk toward Cavanaugh.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “Over here!”

  One creature turned toward me. The other darted toward the old man.

  “I’m right here!” I yelled. “Come after me, you ugly white cocksucker!”

  What the hell are you doing? a voice in my head shrieked.

  The truth was, I had no clue. I just couldn’t bear to see that defenseless old man turned into Children food.

  And I didn’t want to see Cavanaugh get eaten either. He was a better person than I’d assumed. Or at least he was capable of being better. I still hated him for the way he’d treated me and especially for the way he’d talked about Peach, but I’d come to feel a grudging respect for him over the past hour.

  Cavanaugh fired at the immense creature menacing the old man. The creature tumbled forward and pawed at its back.

  The old man finally made
it to his Cadillac and climbed in.

  “Look out, Will!” Chris shouted.

  I looked up and saw a creature headed straight for us. I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran.

  Chris was right beside me.

  We’d made it maybe twenty feet before we heard Cavanaugh shout, “Get down!”

  I spun around in time to see the monster bearing down on us. Chris swung an arm over me and drove me to the asphalt. A shot sounded.

  The creature skidded on its knees, squalling in pain.

  A groaning sound ripped through the muffling veil of storm. I whipped my head around and saw the utility truck rocking again, but this time I could see it was toppling over. It leaned on its braces for a long moment; then it yawed deliriously toward the forest. The bucket had been thrust against the wooden pole, and now it steamrolled the pole, dragging a trio of power lines with it. The lines twanged and cracked as they tore off branches, scraped over boughs. The truck lurched farther, one line tearing loose of the pole before snapping completely. The ends of the split power line spat orange sparks and undulated like enraged serpents. The crane bucket jarred, and the three creatures were disgorged from the bucket, the remains of the ill-fated Larry spilling out around them like pig slop.

  Something snagged my ankle.

  I looked down and saw the beast Cavanaugh had shot. It was still grasping its back with one hand, but the other one was towing me closer. Pure malice shone in its slitted green eyes. It rose to a crouch and drew me nearer. I kicked at it with my free leg, but it only opened its mouth, its saber-like teeth right above me.

  Something darted toward it.

  Chris.

  My best friend tackled the beast, its fingers instantly releasing my ankle. They both went tumbling to the ground. Chris scrambled to his feet as the beast reached for him. I looked for whatever I could find, but there was nothing. Just useless bits of gravel on the roadside. Chris stared up at the creature, his blue eyes wide with terror.

  A shot cracked. The creature spun sideways.

  Cavanaugh was striding toward us, his gun extended.

  The beast snarled at him. Cavanaugh took aim.

  And was slammed to the ground by another creature.

  It was, I realized with a sinking sensation, the one he’d shot before it could kill the old man. But now Cavanaugh was batting at the thing, his gun lying several feet away. The creature knocked Cavanaugh’s arms aside with one hand, and with the other it tore down at the chief, its deadly nails digging bloody trenches in the side of Cavanaugh’s face. The chief’s head whipped sideways with the blow, and for a fraction of a second I was sure his eyes battened onto mine. Then the creature dove forward and buried its face in Cavanaugh’s throat.

  I looked away, sickened.

  The creature that had grabbed my ankle moments earlier loomed over me. It grinned, the face like some hideous white jack-o-lantern.

  Chris leaped on its back.

  Or its lower back, rather. The thing was so tall that Chris would have needed a pole vault to reach its shoulders.

  Beyond Chris, I saw a flash of fish-white skin, then heard the sharp crunch of broken glass. The creature who’d taken refuge behind the cars was on the offensive again. It was tugging Mrs. Ralston out of the passenger window. Her husband was trying to fend the thing off, but I figured her odds of survival were pretty low.

  The sound of Chris yelping in pain brought me back to the battle right in front of me.

  Chris was still clinging to the creature’s back with all his might, but the thing’s arms were long, its hands unbelievably powerful. It kept swiping at Chris with awkwardly aimed blows. If I didn’t save him soon, one of the creature’s blows would connect, and it would only take one brush with those razor-sharp talons to end my best friend’s life.

  Or turn him into one of them.

  I looked around frantically. Something bolted toward me.

  I spun sideways expecting an attack, but it was Juan, the stocky utility worker. He carried two objects, slender steel rods I recognized through the pounding rain as crowbars.

  “Here!” Juan shouted and tossed a crowbar to me. I caught it with my left hand, then brought it up with my right, my movements precisely as they’d be if I were turning a double-play. Spinning back to Chris, I realized the thing had just about pried him off its back.

  I aimed a home run swing at one of its knees.

  The turned end of the crowbar bashed the side of the beast’s knee with such force that I heard the splintering of bone. The creature’s strident wail told me the damage was severe. The creature completely abandoned its attack on Chris and toppled over, its fingers clamped around its wrecked knee.

  Something dark and red inside me reveled in its agony.

  Chris had fallen onto the grassy shoulder but was still within reaching distance of the creature. I was thinking this as the beast’s hand flared out, gripped Chris’s wrist, and jerked him toward it. Chris screamed. I stepped forward and brought the crowbar down again, this time smashing the creature in the wrist. There was a juicy snap, and then its head was thrashing from side to side, a buzzing screech issuing from its fanged maw.

  Its good leg swept out and knocked my feet out from under me. I hit the ground on my side and gave my elbow an awful knock. Bone-deep tingles rippled up my arm, the pain vibrating in my teeth. I scrambled up, shuffled around to the beast’s head, and swung again. I clobbered it in the temple this time, but impossibly, the creature seemed like it was recovering. It clambered to its hands and knees and glared up at me in green fury.

  “The other end,” Chris shouted through the rain.

  I glanced at the creature’s nude buttocks.

  “Not its ass!” Chris yelled. “Stab the thing with the chisel end!”

  I rolled my eyes at my own denseness. The creature groped for me. I flipped the crowbar around so the sharp chisel would point down. Without pause I jammed it at the beast’s face. The chisel punched through its nose and kept going another several inches, where it lodged against bone and cartilage. The creature’s limbs began jagging in what I hoped were its death throes, and a moment later, it flopped onto its back, the crowbar still buried in the middle of its face. It reminded me of a narwhal.

  “Look!” Chris said.

  I whirled and saw Juan battering at the creature that had hold of Mrs. Ralston. She was half-in, half-out of her car, but she didn’t look mortally wounded. Not yet.

  Within the vehicle, Dr. Ralston had climbed over his wife’s body to fight off the creature. Why the beast was so fixated on Mrs. Ralston I didn’t have to guess. Its long, erect phallus made its intentions clear.

  I heard an engine revving. A moment later, the burly construction worker went dashing past us, seemingly ready to join the effort to save Mrs. Ralston. At the same moment, Jeff Perlman’s white Audi swung into the other lane in an attempted U-turn.

  Perlman’s timing couldn’t have been worse.

  Granted, it was difficult to see with the storm blowing around us, and yes, Perlman was in a state of panic. But I still couldn’t believe his stupidity in smashing into the burly utility worker with his car.

  In movies, the guy who gets hit always bounces up on the windshield and either tumbles back down or somersaults over the roof. In this case, however, the white Audi’s front fender smashed into the worker’s thighs and sent him zooming into the concrete retaining wall. The worker, ironically, had shed his white helmet before joining the fray. Whether that would’ve helped him or not, I’m not sure, but when he ricocheted off the Audi and slammed into the concrete headfirst, I knew he’d never get up again. The poor guy lay without moving, his face turned away from us. It was an ignominious death, but at least it was quick.

  Unlike Jeff Perlman’s.

  Perlman tried to keep moving after mowing down the utility worker, but the Audi was hydroplaning on a flooded section of road. Its back end slued wildly toward the Ralstons’ car, then overcorrected, swung around, and crashed into the ret
aining wall. The engine stalled.

  “We gotta help Rebecca’s mom,” Chris said.

  I nodded, but as we hustled over to the Ralstons’ car I couldn’t take my eyes off Perlman in his Audi.

  He hadn’t noticed the creature striding toward him.

  It was the biggest beast of all, the one who’d killed Cavanaugh. I realized with bleak astonishment that, despite our superior numbers, we’d only killed one of the six monsters. While two of the utility workers and Chief Cavanaugh had been murdered.

  The giant creature ripped open Perlman’s door. The lawyer gaped up at it in awe.

  I looked away as Perlman’s wails began.

  ¨

  I still had hope for Mrs. Ralston. For one thing, there were four of us fighting to save her and only one beast to fend off. The biggest creature was leisurely dining on Perlman—whose wails were only growing louder. The other three beasts were still immersed in vivisecting the ill-fated Larry. I had hoped the severed power lines might do us a favor and electrocute one of the bastards, but though the lines hopped and spat amber gouts of fire, the creatures remained safely enshrouded by the veil of forest.

  How long, I wondered, until the trio tired of dining on Larry? How long until other Children showed up for the feast?

  Children.

  Oh my God, I thought. Peach. Her friend Juliet.

  I had to get to the caves!

  But Mrs. Ralston was in big trouble. I owed it to Rebecca to save her mom if I could. I ran toward Mrs. Ralston, then I bared my teeth, my sneakers skidding on the wet road.

  I’d forgotten the crowbar. It was still lodged in the creature’s face.

  “Where are you going?” Chris yelled as I sprinted away.

  I didn’t answer, but I assumed Chris had gone on to help Dr. Ralston and Juan. After what seemed like forever, I reached the beast’s carcass, positioned a sneaker on the thing’s forehead, reared back, and wrenched loose the crowbar. I backpedaled away, amazed it hadn’t attacked. I smiled, thinking my luck had begun to turn.

  Then I saw the creatures emerging around the overturned utility truck. The trio had evidently finished gorging on Larry. Their naked bodies were slathered with blood.

  They were stalking toward me.