Children of the Dark

by Jonathan Janz

  Rebecca asked, “Is that where you think he took her?”

  Chris looked at me. “You’re positive, Will?”

  I took some time to think about it. “I’m sure.”

  “Sure of what?” Brad said in a voice about ten times too loud.

  “Shut up,” Rebecca hissed. “What if Padgett hears you?”

  Brad snorted. “You mean the killer that was spotted in Indianapolis? What a fucking joke.”

  I suppressed a groan, considered explaining how Padgett himself had delighted in the mistaken sighting, but what was the point?

  The clock was ticking on my sister’s life.

  I moved forward.

  Mia snagged the tail of my shirt. “Where are you going?”

  “Hah!” Brad said before I could answer.

  Chris looked at him sullenly. “What’s so funny?”

  “I get it now,” he said. “You get it too, don’t you, Kurt?”

  Kurt nodded, but it was obvious from his expression that he had no idea what his best friend was talking about. Brad was not only taller than Kurt, he was smarter too. Not that that was saying much.

  Brad smirked at me. “You make up this serial killer story, and Mia thinks you’re a big, brave guy.”

  “He’s not lying,” Mia said.

  Brad ignored her. “Tell me something, Burgess. What happens when you come out of the cave with nothing? You gonna keep this charade up, or are you finally gonna admit you’re full of shit?”

  Mia’s nostrils flared. “He’s not—”

  “Shut your mouth,” Brad snapped.

  “The hell I will,” Mia shouted. “You don’t own me, you son of a bitch!”

  “Look at you trying to be tough,” Brad said, grinning. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

  The sick, angry feeling in my gut intensified.

  “You should be,” she said, her blue eyes fierce.

  “Tell you what,” Brad said, rising. “I’ll go in there with Burgess. That way, when he comes out, I’ll be able to deny whatever wild stories he tries to tell.”

  I opened my mouth to tell Brad this was an opportunity to save two young lives, to maybe lay to rest whatever guilt he still felt about Emmylou’s death. But there was no way to talk about it without making things worse, and certainly not in front of Rebecca.

  Chris said, “Let’s go then.”

  “You’re not going,” I said to him.

  Chris looked at me like I’d slapped him. “Huh?”

  “You heard me. You’re staying out here.”

  His eyes glinted. “The hell I am. If you think I’m gonna let you face Padgett alone, you’re nuts.”

  “The girls are going to be out here by themselves,” I said. “I need you with them.”

  “I’ll be with them,” Kurt said.

  I ignored Kurt. “Like I said, the girls will be out here alone.”

  “Umm…seriously?” Rebecca said. “What is this, medieval Europe? We’re perfectly capable of defending ourselves.”

  I clenched my fists to keep from yelling at her. “Listen, it’s not about chivalry or women’s rights or whatever. It’s about…” I sighed. I hadn’t wanted to tell them about this, but I couldn’t see any way around it. “There are other things in the woods.”

  Mia cocked an eyebrow at me. “Other things?”

  “Remember what you saw that night near the creek?”

  A shadow flitted across her face. “What about it?”

  “It’s real.”

  There was a long silence.

  Kurt interrupted it. “Okay, I have no clue what the hell you guys are talking about. Can somebody fill me in?”

  “Put it this way,” Chris said. “You’ll want to keep a low profile out here.”

  I glanced at Chris. “You stay hidden too.”

  He gave me a pained look, but he didn’t argue. That was a good sign. He’d seen what the Children could do.

  I started forward with Brad in tow.

  But Mia moved after us. “I’m going too.”

  I rounded on her. “Think about it. When we find Peach and Juliet, we’ll need to haul ass out of there, right?” I nodded toward the entrances. “Those caves are gonna be narrow. It’ll be tough enough navigating them with me and Brad. Add my sister and Juliet to the equation, and it gets even harder. If you go in there with us…” I shrugged, hoping she’d see my point.

  “Come on, Burgess,” Brad said. “Let’s go see this big bad serial killer.”

  I ignored him, set off through the clearing until I reached the largest cave, the one I suspected Padgett would have chosen. It had to be this one, I told myself. He was crafty, but he was also arrogant. He wouldn’t select one of the muddy ones he’d have to wriggle into like a worm.

  I stepped toward the cave entrance then stopped, a stark realization crashing down on me. I didn’t have a flashlight. I glanced at Brad.

  “What?” he said. “Lose your nerve already?”

  “It’s not that, it’s—”

  “Here you go,” a voice said.

  I turned and saw Rebecca coming toward me, a small but brightly gleaming blue Maglite in her hand.

  I gaped. “How did you—”

  “I figured we might have to search the caves for Kylie,” she explained. “It made sense to bring a flashlight.”

  I gave her an admiring glance.

  As Brad and I entered the cave, I could still see that smile of Rebecca’s, that mixture of sarcasm and good humor. I could see why Chris liked her so much. She was maybe the only girl I would approve of for my best friend.

  And I would have told her that if I’d known she’d be dead in twenty minutes.

  ¨

  “Give me the flashlight,” Brad said.

  I kept moving, the ceiling of the cave just high enough for me to walk without hunching over. “Your sister gave it to me.”

  “And it belongs to my dad, dickhead. So fork it over. Now.”

  I could hear the strain in Brad’s voice. Unlike me, he did have to bend over to avoid knocking his head on the ceiling.

  “Hey,” he barked, “are you hard of hearing?”

  “Lower your voice,” I whispered. “I don’t want Padgett to know we’re coming.”

  He chuckled. “Still keeping that up, huh? We’ve been walking for, what, ten minutes now?”

  In truth we’d only been in the cave for two or three minutes, but it did seem like longer. Most of the way had been level, but a couple times we’d moved downhill. So far we hadn’t encountered any places where the tunnel split, which was something. I didn’t relish the idea of getting lost down here.

  Rough hands shoved me forward. I stumbled and nearly went down.

  I spun and glowered at Brad, who was grinning at me through the murk. “That was stupid,” I said. “What if the flashlight breaks?”

  “You scared?”

  “Don’t push me again,” I said, and continued on.

  Trailing me, Brad said, “You’re not so good with the threats, are you?”

  Before I knew what I was saying, the words were out of my mouth. “You know, nobody blames you for Emmylou’s death.”

  Behind me, I sensed Brad growing very still.

  I hurried on, doing my best to keep my tone level. “You didn’t mean for her to—” I licked my lips, struggling for the right words, “—for her to get hurt. It was just a senseless accident.”

  “Senseless?” he repeated in a low, hoarse voice.

  “Yeah,” I said. “You were only what? Fourteen? You didn’t know she’d die that way.”

  Brad didn’t speak. I kept my back to him, knowing if I looked him in the eyes—even in the dark of the cave—that I’d be unable to say what I wanted to say. “That scar on your wrist,” I went on. “I know how you got it. You didn’t punch any window.”

  Brad’s voice was barely a whisper. “Tell me how I did it then.”

  I swallowed. “I think you tried to kill yourself. I think you felt so guilty over your
sister’s death that the only—”

  His fist smashed me in the back of the head. I stumbled forward, Brad scrambling up beside me. He pistoned a knee into my ribs, doubling me up, then brought down an elbow right between my shoulder blades. With a breathless grunt, I slumped forward on the moist cave floor. I shot out a hand, meaning to snag his foot and trip him up, but he danced away, came at me again, and stomped on my lower back. I gasped, the pain was so exquisite. I rolled over, trying to gather my strength, but Brad wasn’t taking any chances. He kicked me in the side. Bright pain bloomed in my ribs. I tried to roll away, but he followed, his shoe drilling me in the left buttock. I gained my knees, but Brad tore down at me with a savage fist and clocked me in the side of the face.

  I went down, panting. The flashlight had tumbled to the cave floor. I glanced up at Brad, tried to clear my carouseling vision, but it was no use. The blow to the head had really scrambled my eyesight.

  Brad was laughing. “You’re such a pussy, Burgess.”

  My vision clarified a little. Brad had circled me, was standing farther down the tunnel. The Maglite shone in his direction, front-lighting his big frame.

  “Please don’t do this,” I panted. “I mean it, Brad. I’m sorry for what happened to your sister.”

  “Shut up!” he thundered. His big foot thumped me in the ribs.

  He loomed over me. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he said. “You’re gonna tell Mia you’re a liar, and you’re gonna admit how easily I whupped your ass.”

  Something sounded from deeper in the tunnel.

  Brad gave no sign of hearing. “Then I’m going to kick the living hell out of your buddy and make sure my sister sees what a loser he is too.”

  The sound came again, but Brad was too busy talking to notice it.

  “And then, after my sister realizes how stupid she was to stray from Kurt, we’re gonna kick the shit out of you two again.”

  I realized what the sound was now. Furtive footfalls. Coming nearer.

  “Brad,” I grunted.

  His eyebrows went up. “Oh, you got something to say?” Another kick, my ribs too numb to feel it.

  “Brad,” I repeated. “Please listen.”

  “Get your sorry ass up,” he said, beckoning me forward. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

  A figure materialized out of the darkness behind him. At first I thought it was one of the Children.

  Then I saw the machete.

  Carl Padgett raised the blade high above his head.

  “No!” I shouted.

  Brad noticed where I was looking. He spun and started to raise his arms.

  The machete whooshed down.

  Brad’s head snapped back, his entire body rocked by the jolt. He landed on his back, the machete buried in his face.

  “Man, that felt good,” Padgett said, wiping his brow. He leered at me. “Now, Will. It’s time to come to Daddy.”

  ¨

  As Padgett moved forward, I got shakily to my feet. I could hear Brad’s blood gushing out onto the slimy cave floor, could smell something foul wafting out of Brad’s body, the boy having apparently voided his bowels when he’d been murdered.

  There was a lump in my throat. Yes, Brad Ralston was a bad person. But he’d been through something terrible.

  He didn’t deserve to die.

  Padgett evidently read something in my expression. “Feel bad for him, Will? I heard the things he was saying to you. Don’t you have any goddamned pride?”

  I choked back a sob. “Where’s Peach?”

  “Where do you think?”

  “Tell me,” I growled.

  He smiled. “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll kill you.”

  His grin widened. “It’s about time! I’d started to worry you weren’t really mine after all. But seeing that look in your eyes—”

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” I said. “Where’s my sister?”

  He nodded. “Good, Will. Good. The less you feel, the better. Once you stop caring altogether, that’s when you’re finally free.”

  I shook my head. “I’m nothing like you, Padgett.”

  “Keep tellin’ yourself that, Son.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Don’t call me Son.”

  He licked his lips, grinning broadly. “Uh-huh. I like it. Why don’t you show your daddy how tough you are? Show me what a big man—”

  I launched myself at him. Padgett evaded my first punch, but I pivoted, caught him with a left-handed jab in the belly. He didn’t cry out, but the blow was a solid one. Take that you son of a bitch! I followed with an uppercut to the jaw. Padgett’s teeth clicked together, and moaning, he reeled backward. I moved with him, showering him with hard jabs to the body. Padgett swung at me, but it was an awkward swing, and it missed me by a mile. I moved in, pounding his midsection with hard right jabs. Yes, I thought. Feel this one, you murdering bastard! I could tell he was growing winded. He made to cover up, but I instinctively crouched and hammered him in the mouth. Padgett flailed backward.

  I’m doing it! I thought.

  Then he was gone.

  I realized with a flood of terror that Padgett hadn’t been in trouble at all; he’d been luring me backward into the gloom. I had a memory of the gun he’d used on Detective Wood, steeled myself for a blinding flash of light and a bullet to the chest.

  Nothing.

  I squinted my eyes into the gloom. Padgett could be anywhere.

  Turning, I saw the flashlight was about fifteen feet behind me. I spun to retrieve it, and at that moment Padgett hurtled out of the dark and rode me down like a lion taking down a baby gazelle. Then Padgett was the one raining blows, only his were more ruthless, more effective. I was face down, with Padgett straddling my midsection. His sharp fists crashed against my back, my ribs, the impacts almost metronomic in their regularity. I couldn’t breathe. The pain was ghastly, continuous. I writhed beneath him, tried to buck him off, but he was relentless. It occurred to me I’d die this way, be simply beaten to death, and in desperation I reached behind me and grabbed at the only thing I could—his genitals. I squeezed with what little strength I had left, but it was enough to elicit a surprised cry from Padgett. He flopped off, holding his privates, and I scrambled forward, at first moving in the direction of the downed flashlight.

  Then I saw Brad Ralston’s corpse.

  And the machete.

  I lunged ahead, the machete only five or six feet away. I pushed forward, extended my arm—

  —and gasped as Padgett seized my leg.

  “You miserable…little…cockroach,” he growled. I glanced back at him and felt my blood freeze.

  His eyes glowed a dull green.

  No! I thought. He can’t really be one of them!

  He seized hold of my waistband, dragged me backward, and I knew in moments I’d be under him again. Only this time I wouldn’t escape. This time he’d beat me until I looked worse than Brad and was just as dead. I spun around, facing Padgett. I saw him grinning down at me, his face satanic-looking in the meager glow of the flashlight. The hollows of his eyes were gaping black ovals, the whiskery grin broader and more diabolical than it had ever been. He cocked his right fist, ready to knock me into oblivion. But it wasn’t his right hand I was thinking about.

  He’d brought his left hand up to the middle of my chest to hold me in place. I waited until the last possible moment to make my move. Then, with both hands, I grasped his left wrist, jerked his fingers toward my mouth.

  And bit down.

  His eyes bugged in his head and he squealed like no human I’d ever heard before. Hot blood, thick and coppery, flooded my mouth. Padgett’s scream rose higher and higher. My front teeth had cleaved nearly all the way through his fingers, and I ground my incisors to finish the job. Padgett slapped my face with his free hand, then jammed a thumb into one of my eyes. This finally broke my lockjaw hold on his fingers, but I’d effectively incapacitated him. He rolled off, still squealing, and in the scant illumination I saw more than I care
d to. His middle finger was almost severed at the top knuckle. The ring finger was even worse, the tip of it flapping around like the lid of a water bottle. Blood spurted from the wounds, Padgett screaming and cursing as he crawled away from me.

  I knew I couldn’t show mercy. Peach’s life and the life of her friend depended on my remorselessness.

  My vision bleary, I rose and stepped over to where Brad lay. It took me a moment, but I was able to wrench the machete loose from his skull. Padgett was cursing steadily now, as angry as he was in pain. He pushed to his feet, turned to face me.

  I pumped the machete straight into his belly.

  There was an endless moment where neither of us moved.

  Then I slid the long blade out, stepped away from Padgett’s swaying form.

  The Moonlight Killer toppled forward, grasping his perforated guts.

  I considered skewering him again. Or even beheading him, vampire-style. But I had to know if my sister was alive.

  As I hurried down the tunnel, the machete in one hand and the Maglite in the other, a sense of unreality washed over me. I’d just killed Carl Padgett, the most notorious child killer the Midwest had ever seen, The Bedford Cannibal. Padgett the Blade.

  Dead.

  By my hand.

  I ventured deeper into the cave, the pale wash of luminescence fluttering on the walls because my hand was so unsteady. Around the corner, the tunnel opened up.

  The wavering flashlight beam picked out crudely drawn figures, cave art I would have assumed was ancient had it not looked so fresh. My skin crawled at sight of the Children feasting on innocent people, the slender white figures all eyes and teeth, their victims’ mouths opened wide in voiceless wails.

  Padgett had created a shrine to the Children.

  Farther on I made out new shapes, unfamiliar to me but just as disconcerting. There were black creatures with vast wings and luminous red eyes. And a huge black-winged creature, perhaps meant to represent the mother or father of the other ones. I crept deeper into the cave, my ears straining to detect the slightest sound. Another drawing appeared, this one another Child, but roughly five times taller and stronger.

  Did a creature like that exist?

  My eyes lowered to the cave floor. I distinguished a few bread crusts, an empty beef jerky wrapper. I braced myself, expecting to see little arms and legs strewn about the cave like broken doll parts. No, I thought. Not Peach. Please let her be okay. I crept around the corner, shone the flashlight at the far wall.