Jimmy stepped outside and held the door for Sam. It wasn’t completely dark. Some sort of a moon hung over the town, casting a deep purple glow over Main Street and the buildings that lined it.
The falling flakes were almost invisible in the night sky. Sam caught one in his hand and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. It left a black smudge over his fingertips. He brought them up to his nose and sniffed.
“Ash,” Sam said.
4
Jimmy grabbed a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and tapped them against the palm of his hand. “Like I told ya,” he said, flicking his lighter. “Shit ain’t right. Like some volcano erupted during the night.” He took a deep drag.
“Ain’t no volcanoes in New Hampshire. Or anywhere near here,” Sam told him.
Jimmy shrugged. “Maybe Frost will have answers. I think she’s at Soucey’s with most everyone else.”
“Frost? What about the Sheriff?”
Jimmy frowned. “I heard Becky... I heard she was dead.”
“Dead?” Sam felt ill. Becky’s husband had been a friend, and Sam had remained friendly with Becky since he’d passed, chatting on the sidewalk when they crossed paths, which was fairly regular since the station and his store were neighbors. She knew he’d been living out of the store; noticed on day two. Told him it was against the law, but looked the other way so he didn’t have to find someplace out of town, further from his kids. That she was dead... It didn’t seem possible.
Sam silently went back in and grabbed his watch and wallet off the nightstand. Aside from Becky’s death, he was having a hard time understanding everything Jimmy had just told him. Communications were out, but he could see the street lights blazing outside. Near as he could tell, Refuge still had power. At least downtown did. He wondered what else had happened.
Leaving Jimmy’s truck parked in front of the hardware store, the pair started the short walk past the now gray park, toward Soucey’s Market, where they could see a throng of people gathering. Sam looked at the park, covered in ash. The gazebo, the swing set, the ball field and trees; he used to admire the park view from his office window, but now it was a macabre scene.
Jimmy tapped his arm. “Hey, there’s Griffin.” He started across the street, toward the church, before Sam could question his interest in Griffin. He followed his friend across the street, shuffling through the gathered layer of ash that continued to fall from the sky, pushed by a southerly wind creating drifts against the buildings.
They walked into the church parking lot, where a single truck was backed up to its front doors. Its tailgate was down and the truck bed was half loaded with boxes.
Griffin Butler stepped out of the church carrying a couple of folding chairs in each hand, tossing them onto the back of the truck. He shut the tailgate and then made his way over to Sam and Jimmy.
“Jimmy. Sam,” Griffin said with a nod.
“Hey Griff,” Jimmy said. He pointed to the badge on Griffin’s chest, a simple circle around a star with the word Deputy etched into the center. “Been deputized, eh?”
Griffin nodded. “For the time being.”
“So, ah, why aren’t we meeting at the church?” Jimmy asked. “Seems like the best place—” He looked up at the sky. “—given the circumstances.”
Griffin pulled a small ring of keys from his pocket. “Not everyone agrees on the circumstances. We thought it would be better to meet at Soucey’s instead.” He motioned to his cargo. “Hence the chairs.”
“Something wrong with the church?” Sam asked.
“You mean aside from the ear splitting bell toll?” Griffin said.
“What?” Sam asked.
“You don’t know?” Griffin looked up to the church tower as if expecting it to do something. “Look, I gotta get this stuff over to Soucey’s. Jump in and we can fill you in there.”
They drove down the street and turned into the Soucey’s Market parking lot. Sam was surprised to see that two large white patio canopies sectioned off the first quarter of the lot, closest to the store’s entrance. These spaces were usually reserved for handicapped parking.
The parking lot lights were off, but the store front was lit up. A few halogen work lamps stood atop a few neatly stacked bags of dog food that lined the front walk. If not for the fact that it was close to ten in the morning, it would appear that business was booming on a warm Refuge night.
Sam could see a few people moving about inside the store as he and Jimmy stepped out of the truck. They helped Griffin carry some boxes and chairs up to the store.
“Thanks guys. Just set those over there, if you would.” Griffin pointed to the canopy closest the store. “I’m gonna check on a few quick things, and then I’ll fill you in.”
Mary Soucey-Bartlett puttered about under one of the canopies, setting out Styrofoam cups, sugar, plastic spoons and creamer on a folding table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air and seemed to lighten Sam’s dull hangover.
“Hey Mary,” Jimmy said, setting down his box where Griffin had asked and taking a long sniff. “That smell is nothing short of a godsend.”
“No kidding,” Sam said, setting his box on top of Jimmy’s. He took a deep breath, and for the first time since waking, smelled something other than ash. “I need something to clear this funk out of my head, and a little ‘nectar of the Gods’ sounds just about right.”
Mary frowned. “Not sure coffee is gonna fix much around here.”
Mary was a petite woman with red curly hair and an athletic build. At 35, she was one of the youngest business owners in Refuge, and attractive to boot. Inheriting the Market from her father—who’d passed unexpectedly one night, hitting a moose out on 95, after visiting a friend up in Maine—had interfered with her plans of heading off to New York. She was generally an upbeat type, though.
“It’s a start,” Sam said, not sure how to approach the conversation, since he seemed to know less than everyone else, and no one was all that talkative when it came to the current situation.
Mary grabbed two cups and filled them with coffee, pouring cream into one and sugar into the other.
“Here you go boys,” Mary said, giving the coffee with cream to Sam and the sugared to Jimmy.
“Can one of you please tell me what’s happening?” Sam said.
Mary stared at her cup for a moment. “I’m not really sure. No one is. Lots of speculation, but nothing concrete. Winslow has a few ideas, but again, it’s all just speculation. I overheard Griff telling Brian earlier that there was a bad accident, and something happened to Sheriff Rule, but other than that, I don’t know much.”
“Heard she was dead,” Jimmy said, and then he asked, “Is that why this is all set up? Some sort of makeshift reprieve?”
“Pretty much,” Mary said. “Not everyone got switched over to the new power grid during the upgrade, so there are some stuck without power now. Figured I’d do what I could to help. Hot coffee and some snacks can go a long way when people are nervous. In theory.”
“Well, it’s helping me,” Sam said, taking a sip. “Thanks.”
“A small group has already gathered inside,” Mary said, and craned her neck to look inside the market. “I think Tess and the kids were in the last batch that came in.”
“Tess is here?” Sam’s heart skipped at the thought.
5
Sam squinted at the market’s bright interior lights as he entered. The store wasn’t huge by outsider standards, like one of those fancy Hannaford supermarkets, but it was large for Refuge.
Four aisles separated the interior, each neatly stocked with canned foods, snacks and assorted beverages. The lone checkout stand sat off to the left, its counter lined with candy guaranteed to make kids whine enough to force mom or dad pay for it. The wall behind the counter had been reserved for more adult vices, with just about every form of tobacco one could imagine.
The front of the market was floor to ceiling glass, each pane holding a single carefully pla
ced poster listing the current specials. We have Twinkies Again! Get them before they’re gone! read one of them. Sam had never quite understood the appeal of Twinkies, until he’d had one deep-fried up at the Scarborough Fair in Maine one summer. He could only think of one word to describe the dessert treat: dangerous.
He made his way toward the back, where he could hear the dull murmur of people talking.
“Sam!” came a call from the back. “Holy shit! Now it’s a party!”
Sam smiled. “Mr. Cram. How the hell are you?”
Dana Cram rushed up to Sam, grabbing him in a bear hug and lifting him off the floor. On a good day Dana probably stood about five-foot eight, and maybe dressed out at about one-hundred-twenty pounds, soaking wet. This was a guy that was a walking contradiction, lending a whole new meaning to the saying never judge a book by its cover.
Sam let out a muffled umph. “Easy there hoss, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Sorry, boss,” Dana said, releasing Sam with a grin. “You just get me all excited, don’t you know.”
At least Dana was his normal jolly self, though Sam could detect a trace of nervous energy fueling the man.
“You should hear the shit Winslow’s had to say,” Dana hung his head. “But the only thing we really know for sure is that Sheriff Rule’s dead.”
“I heard. Twice. You know what happened?”
“I don’t. I’m hoping Griffin can tell us more, now that he’s back. He’s wearing a badge now, after all.”
They walked into the stock room, and Dana moved off to the corner to talk to Winslow Herman and his wife Carol. Sam looked around just as Tess stepped out from the woman’s bathroom with the kids in tow. She bent down to tuck in his son’s shirt, and Sam couldn’t help but appreciate the fine curve Tess’s ass made in her Levi’s. God, he missed that woman, and not just her ass. His daughter, Ellie, looked up and spotted him.
“Daddy!” she cried out, running to him.
Sam bent down and caught her in his arms, picking her up. Ellie planted a big wet kiss on his cheek, her cold fingers wrapping around his neck.
“How’s the world’s sweetest li’l princess?” Sam asked, kissing the top of the head.
“I went to the bathroom with Mommy. Wyatt came too,” Ellie added, her eyes wide, as if she just discovered something new. “The girl’s bathroom!”
“Oh my goodness,” Sam said.
“I missed you, Daddy,” Ellie said, tucking her head against his chest.
“I missed you too, hun,” Sam said, kissing her head again.
Wyatt walked over, trying not to be embarrassed about having just left the ladies room.
“Hi Dad,” Wyatt said.
“Hey bud,” Sam said, setting Ellie down.
Sam crouched down to eye level with them both, and then brought them in for a tight group hug.
“I missed you both so much,” Sam said.
He placed his head against Wyatt’s. “How’ve you been? You still taking care of things, while your mom and I work things out, like we talked?”
“Trying,” Wyatt said, putting his hands in his pockets.
“Well that’s good, Son. It makes me proud to see you accepting responsibility. You’re going to make a mighty fine man.”
Sam hadn’t noticed Tess walk up to join them, and he was startled when she spoke.
“Sam,” Tess said, sounding slightly annoyed.
Sam stood and pulled his shirt loose in a futile attempt to hide the little beer belly he’d recently acquired. Not a big belly, just enough to be noticeable with his shirt pulled tight.
“Hello, Tess,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “You look good.”
Sam struggled against the urge to reach out and hug her. Ten years of living with a woman and all of its subliminal programming makes one behave certain ways in certain circumstances. Hugging Tess was never a thought process; it was just something he’d always done, something he’d simply taken for granted. But now there was a new rule to live by. The look on Tess’s face might as well have been a neon sign flashing ‘Hands Off.’
“Thank you,” Tess said, pulling Ellie close. “Kinda crazy outside, ya?”
“You could say that,” Sam said. “What have you been up to?”
“Sam, don’t start.”
“What? I simply asked a question,” Sam said, feeling his old friend, agitation, creep up on him. “No need to get defensive. I just think I have the right to know who my kids are spending time with.”
“You know what I mean, Sam.” Tess crouched down and brought the two kids close. “Why don’t you two go over and visit with Uncle Dana. Your dad and I have a few things to talk about.”
“You’re not going to fight again, are you?” Wyatt piped in. Ellie was thankfully oblivious to the tension.
“No buddy,” Sam said. “No more fighting. I promise.” Sam meant it.
“Good,” Wyatt said, giving Sam a hug. “I love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, bud.” Sam squeezed his son and reached out for Ellie. “And you too, li’l princess.”
Ellie hugged Sam’s leg tightly. She looked up and asked, “Are we going with you today?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he whispered, the words hard to speak. “I think we need to find out a little more about what’s going on first. Now go see the world’s ugliest Uncle.”
“Uncle Dana?” she giggled.
“The one and only,” Sam smiled, giving her a quick love pat. “Go bug him for a little bit. Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” Ellie said, running off to Dana.
“You too buddy, okay?”
Wyatt nodded and shuffled off with his hands in his pockets.
Dana wasn’t really their uncle, but between him and Jimmy, they were about the closest the kids would ever get to the real thing.
Sam couldn’t help but smile as he heard Dana’s mock cries of surprise and Ellie’s childish laughter. The smile was short lived, though. Now that the kids were out of earshot, any pretense Tess had put on that she was happy to see him was gone. “Who I spend my time with is none of your business.”
“You’re still my wife,” Sam said.
She looked at him, a mix of anger and sadness. “Sam...”
“It’s Dodge, isn’t it? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how often the car is parked at the church,” he said, and immediately regretted it. He’d accused her of cheating on him several times since she’d sprung her unhappiness on him. He just couldn’t think of any reason for the sudden reversal of her feelings. At least, it felt sudden to him. His newest accusation ended roughly the same as the others.
The slap across his cheek stung, but not nearly as much as her words. “I swear, sometimes you’re just asking me to give up and divorce you.” With that, she walked away, leaving Sam feeling like the ash falling from the sky was the least of his problems. But there was a ray of hope in her words. She hadn’t given up. Yet.
6
More people had gathered outside since Sam had stepped away. He recognized most everyone, though there were a few people—probably out-of-staters—that he didn’t. Sam wondered why they simply hadn’t packed up and driven off.
“There’s not a lot to tell,” Winslow was saying to the group, “at least not a lot that I’m sure of, anyway. But it appears that Refuge has been…” He paused and scratched at the back of his head. “…cut off.”
“Cut off? Cut off from what?” someone asked.
“Well, the rest of the world, or whatever it is out there. Like we’ve been shifted somewhere else,” Winslow said.
“Not to sound like a broken record, but what do you mean by cut off from the rest of the world?” Sam asked. “The town seems to be functioning okay.”
Winslow squinted at him. “You slept through the night.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s still night,” Sam said.
“Did all of you sleep through the night?”
“A lot of people did,” Griffin said. He rested a hand on Winsl
ow’s shoulder as if to say ‘thanks, but I’ll take this from here.’ People began to gather around, drawn in by the conversation.
“While some of you were sleeping last night, the church bell began to ring, just like you heard a little while ago. The air shimmered. The fireworks in Ashland disappeared. And the world outside Refuge...changed. We went to the edge of town, to the south, down past the National Guard Depot. The road ended at a desert. Sand as far as you could see. Sheriff Rule found Phillip Beaumont’s abandoned car with his wife still inside it.” Griffin took a deep breath. “Dead,” he added, making no attempt to sugar-coat it.
A woman gasped.
Griffin proceeded to tell the assembled residents a horrible tale of sand creatures, kidnappings and flying bird-things. The story ended with Sheriff Rule’s death.
Sam found all of it very hard to swallow, but he knew Griffin and Rule were as close as family. He wouldn’t sully her memory by making a mockery of her death. Plus the badge on Griffin’s chest lent credence to his outlandish tale. But others weren’t as easily convinced.
“Bullshit,” someone cried out.
Griffin replied by taking out his phone and opening an image. He turned it around to the group. It was a shot from Main Street, in broad daylight, except the sky was red, and in the distance was a desert and a towering structure. “I know many of you will find this hard to believe. You slept through it. But this was the view from Main Street—” He pointed toward the street, “—right over there, just a few hours ago. And then, this.” He swiped his finger across the phone, switching to a similar image, but instead of a desert, there was a lush jungle. “And now we’ve got darkness and falling ash.”
“So...” Sam looked Griffin in the eyes, searching for a trace of doubt. “What you’re saying is that we’re—that Refuge—isn’t on Earth anymore?”
“That’s the simplest way to put it,” Griffin said. “Yeah.”
“With Rule gone, who’s in charge?” Dana asked, accepting the news with surprising ease.
Refuge Book 2 - Darkness Falls Page 2