Out of the Dark: An apocalyptic thriller

by Ashlei Hawley

  “Run,” Melissa whispered to her game character self. She didn’t know what was happening in the game or even what the shadow creature was, but she knew enough to want her character away from the shadow-cloaked graphic representation of Trevor. Some wild stray thought convinced Melissa that if the shadow thing got her character, it would be able to reach through the game and snatch away the game player, as well.

  Either her character didn’t want to or couldn’t follow the six-year-old’s advice. She stood beside her in-game pet monster and faced off against the uninvited avatar.

  Dialogue appeared on the screen in a black and white box.

  Toot: Growls.

  Though Amy wanted to laugh at how cute Melissa’s name for her monster pet was, her eyes were trained on what was happening in game. Something told her this was not a scene the game was programmed to perform.

  Another dialogue box arose as the previous one dissolved:

  Trevor: Hello, Mel.

  Melissa’s reading capabilities weren’t the best, but she could recognize those words. “Trevor…”

  At hearing her son’s name, Laura became even more worried. “Amy, what’s going on?”

  As before, neither Amy nor Melissa heard Laura’s words. The speed of the Aveo had dropped to under fifty miles per hour. Sam had checked his speed back, as well, and shifted lanes so his driver’s side was against the passenger side of the Aveo. Because his truck was too tall, he couldn’t see into the car his wife was driving. He wanted to know why they were slowing down, but didn’t want to stop. They weren’t far enough away from the burning gas station yet for him to be comfortable with a stop.

  Amy read the next dialogue box that appeared from underneath its fading predecessor and hoped Melissa wasn’t advanced enough in her reading capabilities to do so, as well.

  Trevor: No matter where you run, no matter where you go, someone will find you. Someone will bring you to me, and I’ll tear apart your insides. I’ll drag you down to Hell and you’ll burn forever. These stupid fuckers can’t keep you safe for long. They’ll have to get out of the car, go into the snow and the dark, and one of my legion will come. You’ll be stolen away and you’ll come to me as a gift, as simply a thing, a token of flesh to be burnt beyond recognition and devoured. I am here for your soul, Melissa Walker, and I. Will. HAVE IT.

  Though Melissa couldn’t read most of what the entity currently in control of her game had threatened, dread spilled into her chest like a choking river of stinking sewage. Heat bloomed in her eyes, in her head, and her vision blurred with tears.

  “Just don’t look at it, Melly Bean,” Amy urged as she tried to turn the screen away from the small girl. She didn’t want Melissa to see anything else that was coming, because she was sure there was more to be seen. Somehow, she hoped to learn about the enemy they were facing, the army they’d be hiding from, through whatever was communicating with them in a child’s game turned occult communication channel.

  Melissa wanted to do what Amy suggested, but she couldn’t take her blurry gaze from the computer screen. The last large set of nasty words had hovered on the screen for a long time. When they finally faded, Melissa saw that avatar claiming to be Trevor had become more of the shadow entity instead of a pixelated lookalike of her brother. It glowed with black and purple light and shifted upon itself. It produced a horned head, with a mouth full of fangs, and this image stayed instead of fading back into the vaporous form. Arms extended from the sides of the creature, hooked with giant talons and powerfully muscled.

  The shadow creature grew many times bigger, completely covering up the avatar which it had been attached to. Its clawed hands seemed to reach out of the screen, as though Melissa had the 3D capabilities of the device turned on. She never used them, though, so it seemed to both of the girls that the entity was actually trying to come at them through the screen.

  They leaned back together, both trying to avoid being touched by the demonic clawed hands.

  Instead of using a dialogue box, the creature coming out of the game actually spoke. The voice did not replace the dissonant chords but instead acted like a jumbled, jarring melody set atop the uneasy mood music. The creature’s hateful, purple streaked black eyes glared at Melissa, and then at Amy.

  “You, the uncorrupted, will be offered as the final penance from the hands of man. There is nowhere you can run where we won’t catch you; nowhere you can hide where we won’t find you. I am the Bringer of Wounds and I will destroy your bodies, your minds, your souls. I will tear you apart and feed you to the dogs of this world, then present your souls to my Lord and Master. With your demise, the realms of man will crumble. Your blood will pen our writ, our passage, into the forsaken kingdom of God and we will bring despair and agony eternal. By the last of the last days, you will be taken into the dark.”

  The shadow claws receded. Within the game, the creature took Melissa’s avatar in hand and tore her apart. First one arm, then the other. Her torso was torn from her legs, with the lower half flung away into the snow-veiled trees. Now holding only a lolling head resting on the dismembered trunk in hand, the Bringer began to eat.

  Eyes finally able to be torn away from the screen, Melissa scrambled back into her booster seat, curled up, and began to cry.

  In the black truck, though the boy was still asleep, Austin and Sam heard Trevor Walker chuckle.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Armani’s journal

  I think about the girl in the video, Jess. If she would have lived, if the video showed her escape instead of her demise, I might feel more promise for our group. As it is, we are the lost wandering through a maze within the realm of Perdition. I feel like someone will one day find this journal, and feel the same crushing depression on their soul as I have for the video of Jess. Am I chronicling our journey toward death, I wonder? Or does true safety finally await us somewhere down this road?

  After the butcher had been dispatched, gathering supplies from the bulk store was almost offensively easy. Gwen sat near her dead wife, stroking Molly’s hair and ignoring the fact that blood had pooled around them and soaked into her clothing. She could easily change into something from the store, if she planned to move from Molly’s side at any time in the near future.

  Armani hoped he’d be able to get her to change and to leave. He didn’t have an abundance of confidence that he’d be able to convince her to do anything, especially leave Molly’s body behind.

  He crouched down next to her and folded his hands between his knees. He made sure to avoid the blood.

  Gwen had refused to let Kirby cover the dead woman when he’d tried. She hadn’t fought or raged against him but the heavy burden of guilt, sorrow, and defeat in her voice made him hesitant to force the issue. He’d left her alone with Molly and her thoughts while the others gathered up all the supplies they thought they needed and then some.

  “You want to leave her here, don’t you?”

  Armani didn’t know Gwen had been aware of his presence. He nodded to answer her inquiry.

  “Can’t we bury her? Or do…something? I don’t want to just leave her here.”

  “Fire,” Armani suggested. “We could make a pyre to send her off.”

  Upon hearing the group leader’s suggestion, Kirby moved forward from behind the deli counter. “We can’t, Armani. We don’t have the time.”

  Armani gave the younger man a stern look, but Kirby held firm. “We have all we need. The sun is going to set soon. If you want to get to the church and have any hope of securing it even moderately before the night comes, we have to leave now.” Looking at Gwen, he said, “I’m sorry, Gwen. I am. I liked Molly. She didn’t deserve this and she doesn’t deserve to be left but if we waste any more time…”

  Kirby trailed off and stepped back. He’d made his argument.

  “Well,” Armani said. “What do you think, Gwen?”

  She leaned forward and kissed Molly on the cheek. A smear of blood came away on her lips as she moved back and stood. />
  “I’m sorry, babe,” she whispered before she turned away and walked toward the clothing department.

  Armani sighed heavily and reached a hand out for the blanket Kirby held. Watching Gwen walk away, Kirby let Armani cover Molly as he murmured, “Damn,” under his breath.

  With their vehicles and fifth wheels stocked full, Armani’s group headed to the church. Though they’d only lost Molly, each of the trucks seemed to resonate with the mournful tones of her death. While they drove, the group members ate cakes and cookies, brownies and bread that had been baked the day of the Onset and sealed in plastic wrap and sturdy containers. The baked goods were still moist and chewy but tasted no better than mouthfuls of ashes and dirt. Instead of a celebration of their plan working as they’d hoped, they each held a soundless wake for one of their own lost too soon.

  When they reached the church, no one was as excited as they wanted to be. They exited their vehicles silently and began to unload the vital supplies first. If it got to the point where the sun had dipped below the horizon and they didn’t have everything in the church that they wanted, they would leave the remainder of the supplies in the vehicles until the next morning.

  The church was a foreclosed property back on the open market. From the door handle hung a small metal box with number keys on the top.

  “Lock box,” Armani pointed out. “There’ll be a key inside.”

  Dave stepped forward, crowbar in hand, and slid the slender end in between the door handle and the curved metal of the key-holding box. With one quick jerk, he snapped the device off of the door handle.

  Armani held his hand out and caught the destroyed lock box in one hand. He pried the pieces of metal apart and wrested the key from the box’s interior.

  “You look like you’ve done that before,” Armani commented as he slid the key into the lock and turned. The door popped open smoothly and a breath of cool, stagnant air flowed from the inside of the place.

  “I’m just a regular old criminal,” Dave teased as he picked up the stack of supplies he’d taken out of his and Kim’s car. He walked them through the door and placed them as quietly as he could on the floor before he pulled out his flashlight and switched it on.

  Though they had taken a look at the exterior of the house and had found no broken windows or doors which would indicate the presence of the corrupted, Armani, Dave, and Kirby fully intended to check the entire place out, top to bottom, before letting the others come inside.

  Armani and Kirby already had their own flashlights on when they stepped inside. They trained the beams on the floor, not wanting to alert others to their presence if there were corrupted eyes nearby or within.

  “How should we do it?” David asked in a voice slightly louder than a whisper. He shivered as cold wind from the outside swept in to explore the slightly warmer front hallway of the church.

  “It’s an open layout,” Armani explained as he moved forward with a confident stride. “You have the main sermon area to the left, a kitchen, and two smaller rooms to the right of us. This is the staircase down, where there will be two bathrooms, three classrooms, a second kitchen, and three storage rooms that may or may not be cleared out. I say we do a sweep of the top floor first, then each room downstairs. As soon as we clear it, we get moving on getting things in here.”

  Kirby looked out the window against the back wall, which peered into an enclosed porch area they’d already deemed unoccupied. The tall pine trees outside obscured the sun from his sight, but the sky was still a fiery orangey pink above the treetops. Darkness had not descended in full yet.

  Dave held his crowbar in a swinging stance as they moved. If a door was closed, Armani swung it open, backed away, and allowed Kirby to step forward. He handled the gun and flashlight combination as though he’d participated in such an activity before. Every door they pushed open, they were met with empty rooms. Some were devoid even of basic furniture or closet doors. The sitting areas were at least stocked with couches and chairs on which they could lounge if they stayed for a while.

  The top floor was cleared in record time. The sky hadn’t even taken on another, darker hue by the time the three men descended the stairs into the lower floor.

  Because of the stairs, Armani didn’t open the door leading to the basement hallway. Dave pulled it open for Kirby to point his flashlight beam and gun barrel down.

  Kirby took a moment to wipe his slick palm on his pants and brush his dampening hair from his eyes. Not seeing anything almost made him more nervous than if they had to deal with a corrupted right off. He was relatively sure the other men felt the same way when he heard Dave take a sharp breath in and let it out with forced slowness. Armani stood behind them, not wanting to move into the narrow corridor.

  Eventually, they did move. They had to.

  They came upon the first doorway immediately; tucked almost directly to the right of the stairway entrance. Dave pushed the door open and Kirby pointed in. A bathroom done in pale pink tile greeted them. The flashlight beams reflected off a mirror on the wall and the shiny walls of the tiled shower and bath. Not wanting to compromise their vision, they checked the small room quickly, with their flashlights pointed down at the maroon, almost brown, carpeted floor.

  Moving along, they cleared the next two rooms with no issue. They were devoid of anything from corrupted to carpeting. The floors were light blue, paint laid over concrete that had thread-thin cracks over parts of its surface.

  “Is it just me,” Kirby whispered, “or is this shit starting to freak everyone else out, too? No one being around. Every room being,” he paused to allow Dave to nudge a door open with his foot, then finished in a defeated tone, “empty…” Kirby backed away, lowered his gun and light, and looked at Dave and Armani for their answers.

  Armani pulled the door closed with a sigh. “It certainly stretches the nerves.”

  They cleared the basement with the same result as the upstairs rooms. Nothing. No one. The entire world had the feel of a funeral parlor. Without their voice or movement, they were overtaken at once by the hush of what seemed to be a respectful silence to honor the dead.

  “Don’t take it for granted,” Armani said as they returned to the upstairs and began the process of lugging everything into the church and constructing their barricades. “Though it may seem like no one is around or interested in us, I have a feeling we’ll spike on at least one creature’s radar when the night falls.”

  Eric shivered at Armani’s words as he watched Dave get Kimberly situated with their son. Brooke and Ivy sat near the exhausted woman, who could barely keep her eyes open long enough to finish feeding Alec. If not for the worry lines gouged into their faces and the air of refugees around them, they may have looked like a sweet family camping out in the living room on a pile of blankets and pillows.

  “How much is left?” Eric asked Armani as he followed the group leader back out to the vehicles.

  “Some of the food, bedding,” Armani answered distractedly as he handed things out to Eric. “We need at least one case of the waters to take in for tonight. Grab an extra gallon of the distilled water for Kimberly while I’m thinking about it.”

  Eric put one hand on the back of Armani’s arm and waited until the other man turned to face him before he spoke again. “Armani, we’re going to be safe here, right?”

  Armani frowned and looked back at the door to the church. They hadn’t left it open. Dave was on the other side watching for them to return. Armani had asked him to lock it. With his hesitation apparent, he’d done what Armani asked.

  “We’re the only uncorrupted,” Eric continued as he hefted the water and placed a bag of unidentifiable supplies on top of it. “I don’t want to leave my sister and her family but…now that they’re safe, should we try to find somewhere else to wait this thing out?”

  “Is that why you insisted on coming to get the supplies with me?” Armani asked. Instead of reprimanding, his tone sounded amused. “We can’t leave them, Eric. Do you feel th
reatened by any of them?”

  Eric shook his head as they began to walk back inside. The bedding had been removed from the two large trailers they’d confiscated from the RV dealership. The process of getting them had been fully uneventful and had not prepared them for the devastation they would encounter in the bulk goods store.

  “I’m not afraid,” Erin answered under his breath as David let them back inside. “I just worry, is all.”

  “With the state of things the way they are, I can’t blame you.” Armani handed half of his load to David, who walked the heavy bags to one of the rooms on the top floor.

  “The things inside the other people here,” Eric began as he stood from placing the case of water on the floor. “I don’t trust what’s inside them. It isn’t the people worrying me. I love Kim. I love Alec. I care about the people you’ve brought together. I just…”

  Eric trailed off and kicked at a corner of the carpet that had been lifted from near the tiled entryway.

  Armani smiled. “We have to trust that the people here are strong enough to fight the things inside of them. If we leave, what message would that give them? What hope would they have to push back this tide of darkness?”

  Dave waved to the men as he walked back toward the main room, where Kim had finished feeding Alec. They both slept in a pile of blankets and pillows, with Brooke and Ivy resting nearby.

  Eric gestured with his head to his walking brother-in-law and said, “I trust Dave, otherwise I would have beat his ass instead of letting him marry my sister. It’s not even about them.” He gestured empathically to the people either barricading or already sleeping. Kirby and Gwen were well into having all of the windows on the first floor covered with wood or other materials to keep them from being seen and, hopefully, safe from the corrupted who might attempt to get inside.