by Sean Platt
“What is it?” Marina asked.
Acevedo closed his eyes, continuing to stare at his cuffs, just as he’d been doing through much of their trip.
What the hell? Does he think he’s a Jedi?
More thumps, this time harder, and from both sides, rattling the van as if it were between giants playing kick the can.
Marina wasn’t sure what was outside in the night, but her mind flooded with images of black, fluid-like creatures descending on the van from all sides — The Darkness, the same Darkness that had infiltrated Steven.
The driver’s side window imploded.
Marina screamed, pulling at her handcuffs, hard, trying to slide out, near certain that if she tugged any harder, she’d tear her left hand off at the wrist.
She looked over at Acevedo, still staring at his cuffs as if trying to will them open.
Something black appeared in the left corner of her vision. Marina turned to look and saw thick black, ropy strands circling their way into the van’s driver side, as if searching for something.
The vials!
She pulled harder on her cuffs, heart thumping so fast Marina wasn’t sure it could go faster without exploding, killing her in an instant.
The clicking grew louder, not just outside but inside — as if coming from the alien’s ropy appendages.
It must be using some sort of radar mechanism to locate the vials — or us.
The strands encircled one another, melding, growing thicker and certainly more formidable. Its tip, now one instead of many, turned to them, that awful clicking filling the van.
Marina screamed as it seemed to see them.
The van shuddered as the aliens pounded the sides, their pelting echoing off the walls, blending with the clicking to create a chaotic chorus of madness and nightmare.
The Darkness grew closer, the appendage inching toward Marina.
She looked at Acevedo. His eyes were closed, as if he were meditating, like that might prevent the creatures from tearing them apart.
She screamed, “Father!”
His eyes opened.
Acevedo’s cuff fell from his wrist. How he’d managed to open them, Marina couldn’t tell.
He bolted forward in the cabin, dived to the floor, and rolled between the middle seats, beneath the writhing black tentacle.
Acevedo grabbed the second shotgun from the rack, turned it upward, and fired at the alien’s slick black flesh.
The Darkness reeled back, its broken tentacle retreating as screams erupted from all sides outside the van.
Acevedo looked up, met her eyes, seemingly as surprised as she was that he managed to momentarily scare the creature back.
He did it!
Marina thought Acevedo would take the gun and perhaps go rescue Keenan and Luther. Instead, he turned, looked in the glove compartment for the vials, nodded, then turned back to Marina.
“We’re getting out of here.”
“What?” she yelled.
“What about the agents?”
“They’re on their own.” He threw the van in reverse. Dark, ropy strands appeared in the front window while Acevedo raced backwards. “This is our chance.”
“Our chance for what?”
Acevedo kept the van in reverse as The Darkness raced after them like rippling fields of black wheat in an angry wind.
“Our chance to finish what we started.”
Acevedo slammed on the breaks, and began to spin the van around.
The black tentacles began to close in.
The van’s tires struggled to find purchase in the dirt as the tentacles closed in from behind. While she couldn’t see them, Marina could hear their awful clicking growing louder.
Dozens would reach out in seconds, and likely race around the van and through the broken front window to overtake Acevedo and Marina.
“Come on, you cocksucker!” the priest said, pumping hard on the accelerator.
The van kicked forward and then found speed.
Marina listened as The Darkness shrieked and clicked.
Sounds grew mercifully distant as Acevedo put the pedal to the floor and raced forward into the night.
Marina was glad to be away from the aliens but couldn’t help feeling guilty for leaving the agents to die.
Acevedo, seemingly to sense her consternation, said, “There’s nothing we could’ve done.”
He was right. She wouldn’t know how to fight something like The Darkness even if her left hand wasn’t still cuffed to the seat.
“Just be glad we made it out alive.” He looked in the rearview and sighed with relief.
Marina couldn’t share it fully. Though she’d escaped the agents and the aliens, she had yet to escape Acevedo.
And as she stared at the priest, Marina couldn’t help but wonder if she was in worse hands now than before.
Fifty-Five
Edward Keenan
Ed fired two shots, one for each of the infected, right into their chests.
Ms. Sampson screamed, turning toward Ed, eyes glaring. “You shot them!”
Ed heard the aliens’ sick clicking coming from outside.
The Darkness appeared, seeping through the bedroom’s broken window — not more infected humans, but dozens of tendrils from Its true alien form.
“Get down!” Ed shoved Sampson to the ground, lifted his shotgun, and fired into the largest mass where most of the tendrils seemed to diverge.
The tendrils vented a scream and scurried back out the window.
Ed heard chaos outside — more clicking, screams, and thumps against the van. This was an assault. The Darkness had somehow found them here and was going after the vials.
“Luther!” he shouted into his jacket mic, hoping the agent was still alive.
Ms. Sampson peered up from behind her fingers and cried, “What was that?”
“That’s what’s in the vials. Now where did you put it?”
Two shotgun blasts exploded in the living room.
Ed turned to see Luther standing over another pair of infected corpses.
“All clear in the living room,” Luther said.
Ed heard movement behind him, followed by the sound of Sampson choking.
He turned to see The Darkness that had been in her neighbors forcing itself into Sampson’s mouth, infecting her.
She cried out, hands scraping at her lips, trying to pull at what was essentially a liquid form, like trying to stop a waterfall with a fishing net.
“Damn it!” Ed raised the shotgun and blasted Sampson in her head.
Luther stared down at the woman’s corpse, eyes wide, then looked up and raised his gun at Ed, or something behind him.
Ed dropped to the ground. Luther fired three more shots at a mass of writhing Darkness.
Luther connected, but not enough.
The Darkness broke into four separate branches. Two limbs were slapped by the blasts and fell onto the bed in wet chunks of oozing blackness. The other two kept moving, like tentacles, melding into a single razored limb that shot forward straight into Luther’s gut.
It tore through him, slicing into Luther then spreading through his body before Ed could do anything.
Luther’s face filled with panic then pain. “Get out!” he screamed, dropping his gun and clawing at the tentacle.
Ed wasn’t sure if Luther was warning him to get out before the alien took over or begging the alien to leave his body.
Either way, Ed barely had time to raise his shotgun before Luther’s intense eyes were on him. He swung one of his massive limbs at Ed, knocking him back onto the bed, and sending the shotgun from his hand.
Luther leaped, landing on top of Ed and pinning him to the bed. Luther, now even stronger because of the alien form coursing through him, grabbed Ed’s jaw with one hand while prying his mouth open with the other.
“Let us in,” hundreds of voices said in unison. The black liquid flowed as if weightless from Luther’s maw towards Ed’s parted mouth.
“N
o!” Ed scratched, squirmed, and kicked, trying to free himself from Luther’s grasp.
He couldn’t budge the behemoth.
Ed could barely move his head. Luther held Ed’s mouth open and let the black, wiry tendrils hanging from his mouth creep closer.
The Darkness was inches from Ed’s mouth, squirming like worms eager to burrow into his body.
Ed bit hard on Luther’s fingers. The taste of hot iron flooded Ed’s mouth, but the big man held tight.
Tendrils poured down Keenan’s throat.
But then as quickly as they entered, they pulled themselves out, as if Ed’s mouth was infected with something repugnant.
The Darkness fled back into Luther’s throat. He released Ed with one hand, only to punch him in the gut with the other.
Ed gasped, then fell to the floor on top of Ms. Sampson’s corpse. He glanced up at the big man, wishing he could get the alien out without murdering him but knew of no way to cure the infected. Ed continued to lie there as Luther turned away from him, searching the room, clicking as he did.
He’s looking for the vial.
Ed wished the woman had found the vial before he had to bring her down. As it was, he had no clue where to find the damned thing. Her bedroom was lined with bookcases, two dressers, and a closet stuffed with boxes.
Ed had an idea: he could continue to stay down and play dead or injured and wait for Luther to find the vial, assuming The Darkness had some special ability to sense it.
Ed closed his eyes, lying on the floor beside the bleeding corpse, playing dead as Luther stomped around the bedroom, making that horrible clicking, searching for what The Darkness had come for.
Ed wondered how The Darkness had found them. How It had known he was here for the vials. Perhaps It had Its own version of Paola It was using to search for the missing vials.
Luther ripped the closet door from its track and threw it aside where it banged into a bookcase, knocking it to the floor.
Not one for subtlety, that one.
Luther ripped at boxes in the closet, grunting. A shotgun blast exploded outside. Ed hoped that Luther had given Marina and Acevedo a gun before leaving them alone in the van. Otherwise, he’d have more bodies on his hands, and more aliens to fight off outside.
Luther continued tearing through boxes as Ed impatiently waited.
To play possum while all hell was breaking loose outside was gutting him. He needed to get up, go outside, secure the other vials, and protect Marina and Acevedo.
But if he got up before Luther found the vial, he might never get the last one.
He couldn’t risk moving. Yet.
Luther will find the vial soon.
Luther suddenly stopped throwing boxes.
For a moment, Ed thought perhaps Luther was onto him, and was coming back to finish him off.
Ed risked opening an eye to see Luther still facing the closet, holding a small black wooden box in his massive hands. He lifted the lid and cast his face in the vial’s blue glow.
Yes! He found it.
Luther closed the box, turned, and looked down at Ed.
Ed closed his eyes, hoping The Darkness wasn’t running some sort of body scan. Ed figured the alien inside his partner was capable of telling the difference between a dead human and one playing possum.
Outside, the van’s tires were kicking up dirt.
Shit!
Luther ran from the room, drawn by the fleeing van.
Ed popped up, grabbed the shotgun, and followed his partner out of the room.
No time for regrets or second thoughts. Ed raised the barrel and fired into the back of Luther’s skull, sending him dead to the ground.
Ed grabbed the box with the vial, and searched the camper through the open front door.
There were no infected, just waves of Darkness in its raw form pursuing the van down the dirt road.
Ed hoped that Luther had freed their prisoners before leaving them. Otherwise, God only knew who was driving the van, or what happened to the priest, Marina, and, of course, the other vials.
Ed couldn’t stick around to find out — he had to get out of there before The Darkness realized he had a vial and it returned to salvage whatever victory it could on this night.
Ed raced out of the RV and along the path toward a camper, bright in the distance. In front of the camper, a Harley.
Ed hoped he wouldn’t have to kill anyone else to get it.
Fifty-Six
Marina Harmon
They’d been driving for nearly an hour before Acevedo finally pulled into a gas station on the side of the highway.
He crawled into the van’s rear and looked down at Marina’s cuffs. “I can’t find another key, so you’ll have to sit tight until I can find something to pick those.”
“What do you mean? Why don’t you use your Jedi mind power or whatever the hell you did to get out of yours?”
“I could try, but it might take forever. It’d be easier to get a paper clip or soda can to make a shim, then work on it that way.”
“How the hell did you do that?”
“I told you the vials have an effect on you over time. I noticed some abilities the longer I held onto the vials — moving stuff with my mind, hearing people’s thoughts. Nothing big, and it’s off and on, but I got lucky back there, I guess.”
“So is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. I mean, you said you didn’t even know about the vials until recently, right? Maybe you weren’t close enough for them to exercise any influence over you.”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel anything. So, what’s the plan now? What are we going to do? We have four vials instead of six, right? That guy drank the one, and we didn’t wait around for Keenan to come out with the other. Is that enough?”
“It’ll have to be for now.”
“So, what are you planning? Do you think maybe we ought to give them to the government?”
Acevedo laughed, then stopped when he saw in Marina’s eyes that it was a serious suggestion.
“Wait? You really want me to hand the vials over to them? You know what they’d do with this kind of power, don’t you?”
“I don’t know, maybe fight The Darkness and win?”
“You really think that? You, of all people, I would’ve thought you’d know better than to trust the government. All the trouble they put your father through because of the church.”
“He invited plenty of those problems on himself, and we both know it,” Marina argued. “Besides, Keenan saved my life and didn’t have to. Hell, you would’ve been dead if Luther hadn’t saved you back at Beef’s house. And you just left them behind. What kind of priest leaves innocent people to die?”
“Innocent?” Acevedo laughed. “Need I remind you that that innocent G-man put a gun to you and punched you in the face to coerce us to cooperate with him? I think someone here’s getting a case of Stockholm Syndrome, identifying too closely with the bad guys.”
Marina shook her head. “I’m not identifying with anyone. But at least they had a plan. They knew what to do. They have resources. We only have us. And in case you missed it back there, I’m not exactly a fighter.”
“How do you know they have plans? Did they tell you about them when I wasn’t listening? Did they tell you what they were going to do other than get the vials?”
“No. But neither have you. You’re acting like God will personally give you directions or something.”
Acevedo met Marina’s eyes, no longer laughing, his harboring a sadness that Marina wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.
“I have a plan,” he said, “and I know what I need to do.”
“What?”
“I have to find the vessel and kill it.”
“The vessel?”
“Yes, The Darkness is hiding inside a human. I’ve seen him before, and the vials will show me where he is.”
“You’ve seen him before? Who is he?” Marina asked. “Do we have a name?”
“Yes,” Acevedo said. “I’ve been dreaming about him since I got the vial. His name is Luca Harding.”
Fifty-Seven
Brent Foster
Brent stared at the TV’s clock: 10:30 p.m.
When the hell is Desmond coming home?
It was late, and Brent wanted to get Ben home and to bed. He was pretty sure Teagan wanted to get home, too. They’d promised Desmond that they’d stay with Mary. But that was late last night. He hadn’t counted on Desmond staying at the facility all day.
Sure, there was a ton to get done, and Desmond was pretty much the island’s number two, just under Director Bolton, so he had plenty on his shoulders. Still, Mary had just lost her daughter. And while they weren’t married, Desmond and Mary were a couple, and the closest thing Desmond had to family — so why the hell wasn’t he here in her time of need?
Ben was sleeping in Paola’s bed, with Teagan’s little girl sleeping beside him.
Brent hoped Desmond would return before Mary emerged from her room. He wasn’t sure how she would react to their kids sleeping in her daughter’s room so soon after her death.
Brent looked at Teagan passed out but sitting up beside him on the couch, her neck at an awkward and uncomfortable-looking angle. She’d not only lost her closest friend on the island but also her roommate. Still, she didn’t have the luxury of wallowing. Grief was expensive when a young child was counting on you, so she seemed to be shoving her response deep down, as low as it would go.
Brent could relate. He’d barely had time to process his wife’s death before they’d hit the road with Ed and crew.
Holding it together, maintaining a strong facade, was tough, and sometimes felt impossible.
That wasn’t to say Brent didn’t grieve for Gina, but it was usually in the dead of night, while alone in his bed. But he, like Teagan, had to stay strong. Ben was counting on him. The five-year-old had been surprisingly resilient, sometimes making it an entire day without crying for his mom, wondering when she’d come home.
While Brent thought his son had understood death after he explained that Mommy had gone to heaven, the boy sometimes seemed to forget that his mother was dead. It was worst when Ben was tired and cranky. He’d cry, “I want Mommy.”