Instant Darkness

by Mark J Russell

  They walked on a couple of minutes before she spoke again, lowering her voice. “Remember, Corey, be careful not to get caught listening in on Gary’s conversations. He’s a suspicious little weasel, and he’s mean.”

  “Emma! You can’t go around calling your dad’s friends names.”

  “Why not? He is. He never gives anyone the benefit of the doubt. He’ll skin you alive if he thinks you are spying on him, so be really, really careful. Okay?”

  “Okay, I’ll be careful. But I can’t help if I’m passing by and I hear something, can I?”

  “You’ll have to do better than that. You’ll need a real excuse. Something someone else can back up. And not me, because he knows I would lie for you. And not Rae, because he knows you can manipulate her. It would have to be an adult, and preferably not your dad.”

  Corey’s eyebrows rose. “Not even my dad? That’s going to make it almost impossible.”

  “Your dad might work if it’s obvious that it’s not something he’d lie about.” She stopped in the path, and Corey realized they were almost at their destination. “Like we needed eggs for breakfast, something normal like that. Something that, if he questions you, he’s going to look like an idiot.”

  “Something one of us would normally do, only it just so happens it takes me past where he’s talking with your dad. This isn’t going to work. You know that, don’t you? Either I’ll find nothing out, or he’ll catch me, and I’ll be good as dead.” He pulled a finger across his throat.

  “Don’t be melodramatic, Corey. He wouldn’t out-and-out kill you—you’d have a fatal accident. That’s why you have to be so careful; he’d kill you and everyone but me would think it was the slip of a foot.”

  23

  Nick crawled out of bed in the early afternoon. He’d been exhausted and had fallen asleep quickly, but he’d been plagued by nightmares. Zombies, of all things, coming up out of the ground to pursue him. It would be laughable if it hadn’t hit so close to home. He told himself that the dead would be chasing Gary, as Nick hadn’t killed anyone, but he’d been party to it, and it weighed on him.

  There was no one in the house, so he showered and found his breakfast waiting for him on the counter. Cheese and bacon in thick-cut homemade bread, wrapped in brown paper. He slipped it into the pocket of his hoody. His stomach wasn’t feeling up to eating yet, so he drank some water and headed outside.

  He knew he should be with everyone else down at the end of the property, pouring cement or holding posts upright, but he didn’t want to deal with people at the moment. They’d managed all morning without him—they could survive a little while longer. He walked up the path to the drive and then past the garage and around the bend to the upper barn.

  The Guinea fowl were making a ruckus in the outdoor pen; they sounded like a dozen rusty gates being opened and closed over and over again. The hens who were sharing a pen with them paid them no attention. They were sunning themselves, spreading their wings, and a couple were rubbing their wings in the dirt. Nick took a second look. One hen was actually rolling around in the fine dust in the corner of the coop. He shook his head—who knew that birds were so amusing?

  He meandered inside the barn where the baby goats were gamboling around in their pen, making funny four-legged hops and jumping over everything, the water trough, the feed buckets, and even the other kids. Nick’s heart began to lighten a little. Such carefree little creatures, how could he not smile at them? He climbed the ladder into the loft to see the view that Corey had told him about. He walked to the large opening in the outside wall. It was the size of a double doorway, and the piece that could be used to close it was leaning against the wall, off to one side. It wasn’t attached like a door with hinges, and Nick supposed that was so you could close it even when the place was packed to the rafters with hay.

  He rested on a bale near the doorway window—there was probably a proper farming term for what that was. Hay door? He looked out on the world: one side was the drive surrounded in woods, and the other was open fields. He wondered which belonged to the farm, and then he noticed the fence. It ran along the nearest cornfield, which was huge, and was bordered on the far side by a creek or small river. He didn’t know what the difference was.

  The farmer on the far side of the creek hadn’t bothered to fence his property. And thinking of the places they’d passed on the way here, he couldn’t remember any of the fields being enclosed. Only the pastures where the cows or horses grazed had fences. The people around here hadn’t been preparing for the apocalypse. Wouldn’t have had the time or money to prepare, had they anticipated its coming. Abram had known it was coming; why hadn’t they?

  Maybe they didn’t think they needed fences around their land. Their neighbors were known to them, they were part of this community. They had the trust and assistance of their neighbors. A thing Abram would now never have, if what Gary had done came back to haunt them. Gary had probably ruined that for him, and he would need his fences and razor wire to keep out the irate townspeople who would happily lynch them all for Gary’s brutality.

  Nick cursed his mind for coming back to the memories of this morning. His stomach had started to knot up again. He pulled his sandwich from his pocket and broke off a piece of the bread. He chewed and swallowed it to give his stomach something to digest besides its own lining, but immediately regretted it. It sat like a lump and his belly threatened to reject it. He kept it down but felt worse instead of better, and decided he probably should go help with the fencing. After today, they’d be more vulnerable than ever to attack from the outside. Would anyone know it was them?

  As Nick descended the ladder into the main body of the barn, he remembered seeing Joshua’s car in the alley behind the store. “Damn,” he said, startling the birds. The goats ignored him, lucky creatures. If Joshua had seen them, then he would know who had killed the shop keeper. Would he tell? Probably. They’d never done him any favors. Leaving him to live in his car after he’d driven them here.

  He left the barn and walked down the hill, past the lower outbuildings and the firing range, and along the newly made path to the perimeter fence. He moved slowly, drawing out the time before he had to come face to face with Gary again. He noticed Emma and Corey’s footsteps in the damp earth—they’d traveled this way today as well. He felt slightly ashamed, leaving those children to associate with Gary when he couldn’t face him. He was a coward, he knew. He’d never liked confrontation and didn’t have the self-confidence to engage bullies. He was going to have to change.

  When he got closer to the work site, Abram was shoveling wet cement from a black plastic garbage can into the molds in the ground. Rae Ann, Corey, and Emma were each holding a metal fencepost steady in its hole, and Maggie was busy smoothing off the top of the wet curb while Shelly came along behind and set broken glass upright into the damp concrete. They weren’t kidding about keeping people out. Gary was nowhere to be seen, and Nick found himself relaxing. Of course, Gary would be skiving off work; he always had something better to do.

  Emma and Corey were chattering across the eight-foot stretch between them, each claiming they would have the straighter fencepost. They were smiling and relaxed, more relaxed than he had seen Corey since they’d arrived.

  He was just about to head down to where they worked when Gary came striding along the area they’d cleared from the other side of the compound.

  Nick couldn’t help it, he spun on his heels and started away, hoping nobody spotted him. How could he manage to live and work here if he was going to feel disgusted every time he set eyes on Gary? He glanced back and saw that Abram was handing the shovel over to the other man. Then Abram turned and followed in Nick’s footsteps.

  Nick kept going, not looking back now, hoping Abram wouldn’t call his name. He quickened his pace, stumbling over tree roots and stones, climbing the hill that ran down behind the house. He should have gone back the way he came, but the cleared path would take him right past them. Branches snagged him and dr
agged through his hair as he ducked under tree limbs.

  He glanced back to see if Abram was catching up with him, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he hadn’t been coming after Nick, after all. Maybe there was some errand that he needed to do, and the fact Nick had been there was only a coincidence. He slowed his pace and walked up the hill sedately, letting his heart rate drop and his breathing slow. He tried to find some peace in the sunshine filtering through the branches, the leaves only just beginning to unfurl. Spring came late to Vermont, he knew that, although he wasn’t sure how he knew. It was later here than it was at his home, just a couple of hours southeast.

  As the farmhouse came in sight, he wondered if he’d ever see his home again.

  Abram left Gary in charge of the concrete and followed Nick through the woods, but when it became clear that it wouldn’t be easy to catch the man, he walked to the perimeter and walked along the fence line, where the going was much more accessible. No point in racing; there was only one place Nick could be going.

  He reached the house in good time, but Nick wasn’t there yet, so he adjusted one of the chairs on the porch to face the sun and eased into it. You had to take your breaks when they came out here on the land. He closed his eyes and waited; he knew he’d be able to hear Nick before he came in sight—the man didn’t have the skill of quiet walking in the woods. A moose coming through the forest would’ve been quieter than Nick.

  And he was right; a few minutes later, he could hear someone coming through the brush. He was muttering and breaking branches as he went, making Abram happy he wasn’t walking through the orchard. He opened his eyes and watched Nick reach the path and climb the stairs without even looking up. He’d clearly had no military-style training at all.

  “Nick,” Abram said quietly, “have a seat.”

  He’d tried not to startle the man, but Nick jumped and nearly tumbled backward down the stairs. He righted himself and took a chair next to Abram in the sun.

  “What happened this morning?” Abram asked.

  “Not much,” Nick said. “We just got some things from the general store in town.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Nick. I could see by your face that something happened.”

  “It was nothing.” Nick’s eyes were fixed on the painted floorboards.

  “It wasn’t nothing. You were a wreck when you got back, and you're becoming more of a wreck as the day goes on.” Abram kept his tone in check. He might want to yell at Nick, but he didn’t think that would help produce results.

  “I’m sick, that’s all. I must have picked up a bug.” A leaf fluttered down from the gutter and landed on the armrest of Nick’s chair. He flicked it away.

  “You are not sick. Something happened out there.”

  “You can ask Gary—he’ll tell you.”

  “I believe that Gary told you to keep quiet.”

  Nick looked up and caught Abram’s eye. The sunlight hitting Nick’s face made his eye look strangely transparent. “I would be signing my children’s death warrant.”

  “I can protect you and your kids from Gary, but only if I know what happened.” Abram put all the warm feeling into his voice that he could.

  Nick shook his head.

  Abram continued, “I don’t care what happened, or what you did. We will take care of it. We’ll do what’s necessary to make reparations.”

  “Reparations?” Nick sounded hysterical. “How do you make reparations to a dead man’s family?”

  “You killed a man? It must have been an accident,” Abram said. “They’ll understand.”

  “It wasn’t an accident. He gave us the option to leave. We could have picked up our bags and left, but instead, Gary shot him in cold blood. He wasn’t even pointing his gun in our direction.” Nick held his head in his hands, visibly shaken to his core.

  “You must be mistaken,” Abram said. “Gary would never shoot anyone. Not to kill.”

  “I am not mistaken,” Nick said, shakily. “His finger wasn’t even on the trigger, and Gary shot him in the head.”

  “Was there anyone else there?”

  “Yeah. A woman.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  “She fled.”

  Abram shook his head. If this was true, then Shelly was right—Gary could get them all killed. He leaned forward and asked, “Do you think anyone followed you from town?”

  “I don’t think so. We left quickly. I didn’t see or hear anyone behind us.” Uncertainty flashed across his features.

  Abram was silent for a moment, then said, “We’ll have to double our watch. Put two people on during the night, and maybe have one person patrol the perimeter during the day. We can’t take the chance that they don’t know who we are.”

  “What are you going to tell Gary? How will you protect my kids?”

  “Nothing. I will tell him nothing, and neither will you. I’ll take care of this when the time is right.” Abram stood up. “I’d better go back now. Why don’t you stay out here in the sun for a while? It will do you good.”

  He left Nick on the porch and walked down the hill, deep in thought. What if Nick was right and Gary had killed a man in cold blood? Gary would never admit to it. But then, his old friend would have never killed. He was famous for talking himself out of situations. When had he changed? What had changed him? Why hadn’t he, Abram, realized that Gary was different?

  Abram felt low. Lower than he had in many years. If Gary was a killer, then having him here was a mistake. And there was only one way to rectify that.

  Corey and Emma had been released from their work duty and were on their way back up the trail toward the upper barn, where they were in charge of feeding the animals, when Emma stopped in her tracks and Corey ran right into her, knocking her over into the damp earth.

  “Sorry, Em,” he said, reaching over to help her up.

  She laughed and accepted the hand up. “You never watch where you’re going. I know that.”

  “Then why did you stop in front of me?” Corey brushed the dirt off her sweatshirt.

  “I thought I heard something,” she said, stopping to listen. “It’s gone now.”

  “What did you hear? A bear?” There were bears and moose, deer and coyotes in these woods, or so Abram had told them when they’d arrived. And those were just the larger animals.

  “Voices. I thought I heard voices.”

  “That was probably Rae and Dad up at the house. Come on, let’s get our chores finished so we can hang out before your dad finds out that Gary sent us up here on our own.”

  Emma was staring into the brush on the other side of the fence. “What’s that?” she whispered, pointing to a spot of bright red visible through the undergrowth. “I’ve never seen that before.”

  Corey peered through the fence and the bushes on the other side of the boundary. He could see a patch of color through the bare brambles whose leaves hadn’t popped out yet. Spring came so late in Vermont. “It’s probably an old Budweiser box. Or Coke. Coke boxes are red.”

  “Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be there. I’m going to go check it out. There’s no razor wire here yet, so this won’t take me long to get over and back.”

  “No, don’t. It’s not safe, Em. Remember, we don’t know what happened in town today.” Corey caught her shoulder, but she shook him off. “At least go tell your dad first.”

  “Tell my dad?” she said slowly, elongating the spaces between the words. “Why would I do that? You were just worried about my dad finding out we were alone.” She grabbed the fence with her right hand.

  “Please, Em, don’t.”

  “Corey, I haven’t had five minutes of fun since we got here. What’s it going to hurt for me to jump the fence and find the place the local kids come to drink beer? Maybe we can make a path so we can join them. My dad is always going on about community—we can make our own community. A ‘let’s get drunk and high’ community.” She grinned.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not what he meant. And putting
yourself in danger is not fun, it’s reckless.”

  She locked eyes with him, smirking. “How am I supposed to know what it feels like to be alive if I can’t be reckless? I’m rebelling, Corey. I’m sick and tired of being the good girl who doesn’t make waves. My whole life sucks. And since we don’t know when we’re going to see our friends again, we might as well make some new friends and have fun while we wait for life to get back to normal.”

  “You won’t be having much fun if you end up getting yourself killed. And you know they’ll blame me if you get hurt.”

  “I do know, so I guess you’d better join me.”

  She turned and reached up to secure her left hand.

  “Em. No,” he said and caught her arm.

  She shook him off. “I’m going.” She climbed the fence, gripping the wire with her fingers and shoving the toes of her sneakers into the holes. She dropped down on the other side and pushed through the brush, staying well clear of the brambles.

  “Crap,” Corey said and hurried after her.

  It took him longer to get over the fence—the toes of his boots were too big to fit in the holes in the chain link. He had to jump to catch the top railing and pull himself over using his arms. He fell flat on his back on the other side and scrambled up, searching for Emma in the undergrowth. He spotted movement and raced after her. “Em, wait up,” he called.

  “I found it,” she called back. “It’s a—”

  Her words were cut off with a strangled cry, and there was a flurry of movement.

  He ran forward and caught sight of two hooded figures hurrying away, Emma slung over the first person’s shoulder. He started to cry out but stopped himself. He went into full stealth mode, bent on following them until he could rescue her. But they moved quickly, darting between the trees with a speed that kept Corey on the run to keep up. They clearly knew the lay of the land, because he would go around a tree, swearing it was the exact same path they had taken, but he’d come up against a thicket of brambles or a boulder blocking the way and would have to backtrack. Three of those missteps and he’d lost them completely.