Dark Genesis (Shadow and Shine Book 1)

by Danial Hooper

  Greg responded, “Project is on hold, Small Fox. Just waiting for a chance. Where is Guardian 2?”

  The code names were rad, and Mickey especially loved his; Mickey was called ‘Night Hawk’. He picked it himself. Greg was ‘Doctor’, since he was at the pharmacy. Edie was ‘Small Fox’. Jenna was ‘Kitty’. Asher and Ben were ‘Guardian 1 and 2’. Harry was ‘Red Dog’. He couldn’t remember Shelly’s, but it had something to do with a bird, and Lynn’s was ‘Bat’ because, well, he was blind. Mickey and Lynn were the only ones to laughed, but no one made them change it. They were for radio use only, just in case anyone else might be creeping over the lines. They didn’t want to give over any personal information for protection sake. It was dumb, since the wolves didn’t really care about who you were, but it was Edie’s idea and Greg made everyone do it.

  “Just spoke with Guardian 2. He is rotating between our room and Red Dog’s. How nice? He should be back at our door in a few minutes,” Edie replied.

  Greg shook his head and spoke again, “Guardian 1 is here. All safe and sound.”

  The static on the radio clouded out Edie’s voice when she started to reply. A surge of energy came and the CCTV turned off, followed by all of the rest of the power at the pharmacy. Once again, they were left in the dark without electricity. All but one flickering light in the locked up pharmacy hanging overhead. Something, or someone, caused this.

  -

  Dirt sprinkled through cracks of the concrete ceiling as the steady beats from above echoed through the long tunnel Tink and Mona walked through. The cracks above grew with the noise as they continued towards Salt Lake City. Their only light was from an old lantern Mona found sitting at the entrance, already lit. Maybe someone was looking out for them, or maybe it was there from coincidence. Either way, this little light was better than nothing. Tink wasn’t going to ask questions like this to Mona; she was basically a mute since they entered the tunnel, and he was afraid of what her answers might be. All the doubts he had about his little sister, and yeah, there were doubts, were easy to forget when Tink was distracted by the rumbling above. Now it was about getting to where she needed to go and settle this thing. Tink should have brought a gun from his old stash, but Mona pre-packed his bag and they needed to go right away. Not that he was thinking clearly when they left.

  Tink should have brought a gun.

  Finally she spoke, “The end of the tunnel is where our story begins. We’re a mile away from the city streets.” Tink didn’t understand what she was talking about or why she was being vague. He wasn’t going to press though because through the faint light he could see Mona’s eyes swell up with tears. His baby sister was afraid but kept going. Tink wasn’t going to say anything to break her down.

  Maybe cracking a joke would work. “So… will there be a big, comfortable bed when we get there?” he asked and nudged her.

  “There’ll be a recliner but not much sleep. Tomorrow, maybe. The night is going to be a hard one, and Tink, you need to be ready.”

  “Ready for what?” he asked.

  As the words came out of his mouth, Grady came to mind. When his uncle first recruited him, he said the same thing, “Tink, you need to be ready when I say to be ready. And only, when I say to be ready.” Grady was all about control. Tink was the perfect person for his uncle’s squad because Tink was always ready. If he put his mind to something, anything, it got done. That’s how Tink operates.

  Mona sped up to a jog and said through heavy breathing, “I need you… to be ready… to see some stuff… bad stuff…. way worse than anything… you saw with Grady… okay?”

  Tink began running too and the lantern began swinging up and down with each of his strides. He could see the dirt walls leading up to the white rocky ceiling above. It gave him chills. He said, “Oh okay… that doesn’t help… but I will… I will be ready. Unless… Reba… the crazy gas girl… is coming back… then it’s a good… idea for me… to be not ready”

  “She’s a puppy… compared… to what… we’re gonna… deal with,” Mona said. They continued running for another few minutes before Mona finally slowed down. She wasn’t out of breath, unlike Tink. He was ready to pass out. The air felt thinner here than it did in Chicago. Not that he did much running in Chicago either.

  Mona spoke calmly, “I need you ready to act when I tell you. This is going to be real dangerous, and every moment is going to come down to how well you listen and how quick you move. We can either save a lot of lives, or lose them. Or die ourselves. Up there, on the streets, there are people who want to kill you. If they catch me, it will be way worse than death. That stuff Reba said about killing me, that’s what they want, and they’ll do it if we slip up even the slightest. I know a lot things about what’s supposed to happen, but it means nothing without acting at the right time.”

  “What if I act before you tell me?”

  “Then we die.”

  Since starting this trip Mona has said things that made Tink’s jaw drop while he froze in his tracks. None of them were this crazy though. She continued walking as he stood shocked holding on to their light. She kept going into the darkness and almost disappeared before he finally was able to ask, “Why is this happening? Tell me something, anything. I need an answer.”

  She stopped but did not turn back, and answered, “Honestly, Tink. I don’t know, but I think we will find out eventually. I think by the end of all of this, we’ll know why we were chosen, but even if we don’t, even if we never know why, I need you to believe me when I say you were chosen. Me and you, Tink. Together as a team. Chosen.”

  “We’re like a couple of Black Neos, huh?” Tink said.

  “That’s right, red or blue pill.”

  -

  Asher listened as the numbers of wolves thinned out until the streets were empty, and the beat of their steps was no more than an echo. They left Salt Lake City and erased Asher’s hopes to exterminate them at their home base. Tomorrow his little brother would badger him about the missed opportunity and the failure because of sympathy. Ben’s act of being cordial towards the group would wear off by then, and Asher was afraid of what act would follow. This could be really bad.

  Then again, what if Ben decided to take on every one of the migrating wolves by himself? Was he arrogant enough to try to pull that off? Yes. Yes, he was. He would not worry about growing tired, nor would he worry about losing ground; Ben believed he was the perfect killing machine kept alive only by his new purpose of destroying the ones who killed his wife. Despite the abilities, there were too many to defeat. Salt Lake City had over a hundred thousand people, and if Ben jumped into the middle of them, how long before he was swallowed by their numbers?

  Asher needed to make sure his brother was not doing something to get himself killed. Mickey and Greg would be fine; they were behind a reinforced steel curtain meant to protect against crazy intruders, and those intruders ditched town. Asher’s services were not needed by these two, and their trap had been a waste of time. Ben would need his big brother.

  “Guys, I’m sorry, but I need to go.” He said to Mickey and Greg. Mickey started to say something, but caught himself and held back. Greg nodded in approval.

  Asher was out the door and onto the streets running through the thick fog. He could barely see his feet as he danced around the mounds of cars. He tasted the thick pieces of ash; it matched the smell of burnt popcorn from the tar in room 314.

  The taste distracted him from his run and opened his other senses to his surroundings. Hidden in the midst of the fog, something was breathing. Fast. Abrupt. And close. A wolf was hiding nearby, no, more than one. The urgency of his need to get to Ben was enough of a distraction to allow the wolves time to surround him. They were somewhere in the white distance, listening to him move, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Already Asher’s heart rate had spiked. They could hear his heart as well as he heard theirs. He couldn’t distinguish how many of them there were, as each heartbeat was synchronized between the pack. They we
re one wolf, separated by flesh and bone, united by the darkness.

  The fight was about to come, and it would not be like the others. They somehow crept up on Asher and trapped him. They were thinking differently than before, already adapted to their past failures. Asher too had developed over the course of the day. He felt the temperature change in the specific directions of each individual wolf. He felt their black mucus in the air. He felt the ashes from the sky cascade over his opponents. They may have learned, but he had developed a keener sense of existence than they were even capable.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Asher could hear as the floating dust particles were disrupted by a sixth wolf leaning into a sprint. It was going to be the first to attack. Its descent began but not before Asher, who now felt time slow at an exceptional rate, could finish counting the surrounding pack.

  Six.

  Seven.

  Eight.

  Nine.

  Nine in all. All large, judging from the circumference of bursting dust. The shovel head in his left hand would drive perfectly into the neck of his first runner. He could dip under the swings of two attackers, and then use the first dead as a shield from the third’s reach. It would be like the beginning of a perfectly orchestrated dance. The first few steps were pivotal to the remainder. If a dancer could find a rhythm early, then it was all momentum from there.

  He stuck the spear end into an ear, chin, and eye respectively, while three wolves failed in attempts to clip Asher’s face. He was reacting to their movements with simple jabs while his opponents were throwing haymakers. The dance began with perfection. Four dead wolves in a matter of seconds.

  The scratch on pavement of shoes sprinting sounded from behind him. No time to look, this killer had the advantage and closed in. Its broken fingernails crawled against Asher’s ear down towards his jugular. Instead of blocking, Asher thrusted the spear in an upwards direction behind him and killed the attacker before the scratch reached his vein. Five dead.

  He drove the spear to his left under an armpit but did not land a killing strike. He pulled it out aggressively and brought the wolf in close as it continued frantically swinging at his face. The ashes bounced off of its fingertips and onto his cheek. Asher’s counterpunch landed on the base of the beast’s throat, collapsing the neck of the sixth wolf, just before the seventh large body crashed into him and plowed him into the ground.

  The weight crushed against him. It must have been over three hundred pounds of large beast planted on Asher’s lean frame. In a hammered first, the behemoth slammed downwards onto Asher’s nose. The landing fist put a cloud of darkness over Asher’s vision. The behemoth raised his hand again as Asher grabbed the spade and shoved it through the base of its jaw. The behemoths arms fell limp. Seven dead.

  Asher took a deep breath and began to roll the heavy body off of him, but the remaining two jumped on top with scattered and feral attacks. He kept the behemoth’s body covering his while he shielded his head like a boxer taking shots on each side. One thing had not changed about them; they didn’t pause. Asher thought of his brother, hoping Ben could sense him and come. Ben would have disposed of the group easier, with more brutality. Asher needed him now. He needed someone. He needed his brother. Pinned underneath a three hundred pound beast, he was stuck.

  -

  The banging at the door woke Harry up and gave him a headache. Whoever was knocking better brought coffee or good news. How long had he been sleeping? The closed blinds were dark enough showing it was still nighttime. He eased out of bed and thought about throwing on his pants before answering the door. If it were one of the women, it would be better if he didn’t open up in his whitey tighties.

  “Hold your horses, I’m coming. I’m coming,” he said.

  Ben was on the other side of the peephole, standing in the hallway relaxed and patiently waiting for Harry. The desire to ignore him and hide under the bed replaced his desire to answer. Maybe he would go away. Maybe he was checking in for a second time tonight. Maybe he was worried. Another knock came with a fist instead of knuckles. Ben’s stupid eyes were looking in the wrong direction of the peephole searching. Harry looked for his hatchet or anything else to use for protection. Ben wouldn’t show up without a reason. He had checked in once already, so he had something else in mind.

  “Roooooom service. Housekeeping. You need new sheets? Fresh towels?” Ben said looking again in the peephole. His eyeball took up all of Harry’s view. “Old man. I can hear your heartbeat. Quit staring at me, and open the door.”

  Harry’s words trembled out of his mouth, “What are you doing here?” He wanted to sound strong, but the quiver betrayed him. At any time, Ben could slam his giant hammer through the door and do whatever he came to do.

  “I’m checking in. Thought I would come in and look out your window for a bit,” he said.

  Both of them knew it was a lie. Harry looked at the door handle, feeling the déjà vu of his time on the roof. Would there be a struggle to open the door? Could he build a door stop like they had on the roof? Maybe. But it would not hold Ben back.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, old man, it is not worth it,” Ben said. “I’m not going to ask again. Open the door, or I will open it.”

  Harry said the only word he could think of, “No.”

  “Come on, Harrrryyy.” Ben replied. Harry saw him stomp his feet acting like a little boy. “Let me innnnn. I left my room key outside 342. Are you going to make me go back and get it? Let me in, man. I just want to talk.”

  “About what?” Harry said and searched his room for the hatchet. Courage swelled inside of him as he watched the door. Ben was wrong to be here. Nothing he could say would work. Even if he wanted to make a friend with Harry, Harry wasn’t interested. Not with a freak like Ben. He was done with this group. “Why are you here?” Harry asked again.

  “I want to go on a field trip.” Ben replied.

  Harry thought of his desires to leave everyone. He wasn’t leaving with Ben. No way. No how. He wanted nothing to do with anyone from Salt Lake City. He was going to get his own fresh start away from everyone here, and that meant a field trip on his own.

  “Not interested.”

  “Harry. Open the door. We are going on a field trip. Either you’re coming with me nicely, or I’m dragging you. But you’re wasting my time old man.”

  “No!” He yelled at the door. Ben wasn’t going to move him. He wasn’t going to bully Harry into doing something he didn’t want to do. No way. No how.

  The door handle jiggled. “Last chance…”

  “Go away.”

  Harry stared at the handle as it twisted to the right. The steel bent as Ben continued rolling it in circles, until the handle snapped off. “I asked nicely, Harry.” He somehow pulled it out from the other end and looked through the hole where the handle used to be. “Did you think the door would keep me out? I mean, really?” He pushed the door open and walked through.

  “I’m… I… No…” Harry searched for the words. His hatchet fell to his side as he was too confused and afraid to even think about attacking. “Please, I’m begging, don’t do this.”

  Ben’s eyes scanned Harry up and down. His expression was disgusted. “Harry, come on. Put some pants on, let’s talk like civilized men, okay? I don’t want to have this conversation when you look like this, do you?”

  “Why are you doing this?” Harry didn’t budge. He was too afraid. His eyes welled up as he looked at Ben and his big hammer. “What are you going to do to me? Why?”

  He smiled, “Because,” His eyes traced down to the floor where his pants were laying. The lines on his forehead held sweat on each row while a thick vein pulsed on his neck. He looked like he was ready to explode, but acted relaxed. “Because. Because. Because. Because. Do really you need an answer? Will it make a difference? Will you follow me if I tell the truth? Would you believe me? Maybe it would hurt more to know why th
is is happening. How often, in your worthless life, has there been a point where you were grateful to know the truth? Aren’t lies easier? The truth is like a bad pill for trash like you. But if you’re going to cry about it, fine.”

  Harry wiped his eyes. He waited for Ben to continue as Ben looked around the room. He was different now, like he took the mask off and was finally showing his real face. Harry knew this was in those brothers. They were evil. Ben was the first, but he wouldn’t be the last. Harry was the first fly caught in the spider’s web. He was going to die. He was going to die without pants.

  “Okay. You’re not getting it. Bah bah, Red Sheep. Quit staring and put your pants on. This is really gross, you’re a mess. Put your pants on and I will explain, okay?”

  Harry would never put pants on again if it kept this stupid freak away from him. His dark grey scrubs were close enough for him to reach, but Ben wasn’t going to make him put those on. Harry would rather strip down naked than talk anymore.

  Ben reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand, yanking his thumb back in a quick motion and snapping it in the wrong direction. It took a moment before the pain registered, Harry looked up at his broken thumb drooped down with his fingernail touching his wrist.

  “Ah!” Harry shouted. Ben smiled again. “Ah! Ah! Ahhhhh!” The kindling of pain rose on his hand. “Ahhoowwwweeeee.”

  “Pants.” Ben said and pointed at Harry’s scrubs. The pain was horrific, but he walked over and carefully put them on. His arm was hot, he couldn’t use it as he awkwardly dressed. He got his legs in, and shimmied the pants up his body, but he couldn’t work the button.

  “I’m not going there. You’ll just have to keep pulling your pants up.” Ben said. He handed Harry his shirt, which was laying by the door. It was easier to put on.

  “Please. Don’t do this.” Harry replied. He wanted to wet himself. He wanted to scream. He wanted to stick the backside of his hatchet into Ben’s eye. There were so many things he wanted to do, but going outside with Ben was not one of them. Again the failure of not being able to find the bullets haunted him. Even if he could have found one piece of ammo, he would be able to shoot it right in this freak’s face and save himself. Instead, he has a ruined finger and no hope. No way. No how.