The Darkness (7 page)

Chapter
6

The ceiling was made up
of evenly spaced old wooden beams; holes had been drilled through them and
strands of wire were stretched between each timber. Heavy wooden floorboards
with small breaks between them allowed bright light to filter in. The rays cut
his pupils, causing them to contract; he closed his eyes. He heard heavy
footsteps above him and clomping of heavy feet. Scattered dust drifted through
the beams of light and he watched pieces of earth slowly fall until they
touched his face. He lay staring at the ceiling as if in a dream; his eyes open
and aware, he stayed immobile waiting for his body to catch up with his brain.

Suddenly, Jacob jerked
and stiffened as the feelings of pain and fear filled his body. He tried to sit
up—until agony shot through his shoulder and hip. Jacob looked down and saw that
a green field dressing covered his wounded side. He felt the pressure of a
heavy hand on his chest.

“Whoa there, big guy;
just relax,” a soothing voice whispered.

“Wha… where am I? Where’s
my family? Where are Laura and Katy?” Jacob asked, breathing heavily. Still
struggling to sit up, he knew he needed to relax but couldn’t fight off the
fear. His heart was beating out of his chest and he felt the sweat gather on
his forehead.

The soldier scooted
closer and Jacob recognized the face of Murphy, the soldier he had met on the
street. “I need you to stay quiet; okay, buddy?” Murphy whispered as he pointed
to the ceiling. “Can you do that for me?”

Confused and angry at
being spoken to like a child, Jacob glared at the man. He wanted to get to his
feet, to escape, to find the trucks. He needed to get to Laura and Katy.

Jacob was about to
protest again when he heard more hollow, heavy steps on the plank floor above.
They slowly faded and were followed by a loud slap of a screen door. Against a
far wall, Jacob saw a tall black soldier standing on an old crate and looking
out a narrow window. The man turned and looked back in his direction.

“They gone, Sergeant; all
of ’em. Just moved back down Oak Street.”

“Shit. That’s the third
time they’ve been through this house; not sure how long our luck is going to
hold,” Murphy whispered.

Jacob moved his good arm
behind him, pushed, and forced himself into a sitting position. Feeling bolts
of pain fire through his trembling body, he scooted so that his back rested
against a rough block wall.

“You said Oak Street?
Where the hell am I? What happened back there?” Jacob asked.

Murphy looked down at him
with concern. “You need to relax. Just chill for a bit and let those wounds set
up. You took some frag from that grenade.”

The other soldier walked
away from the window and sat against the wall near Jacob. “It was superficial,
but damn, you’re a bleeder. I patched you up and ended up using all the damn
med kit on your ass,” the soldier said.

Jacob looked down,
letting his hand tenderly touch the bandage. “Thank you… I guess. Wait, where…
where’s my family?” Jacob stuttered.

“They’re safe; I’m sure
they made it back—” Murphy started to say before Jacob interrupted him.

“Then you don’t know!”
Jacob said his voice rising.

Murphy raised a finger to
his lips and pointed at the floor above. “I said you need to be quiet.”

Stephens shook his head,
watching Jacob complain. “Fools, man… we never shoulda stopped for that last
set. We’d be back on the base behind the walls if we’d just kept going. Hell… I
should have never reported to duty at all. I should have stayed home.” The soldier
swung his head down to hold it in his hands. “I’d be downstate right now, quiet
and comfy.”

“Cut it, Corporal; our
job is to collect civilians, not take care of our own asses,” Murphy said.

“Man, that’s bullshit. Who
gonna care for all them civilians now, with Second Squad gone?” Stephens
muttered as he looked down and dug through a small pack. He reached in, pulled
out a small bottle of water, and handed it to Jacob. “Here, drink this down.
You lost a lot of blood, need to replace those fluids.” Stephens reached back
into his bag and removed Jacob’s pistol. “Take this too. I topped off the mag
for you. I seen you in action back there. Next time, slow down and aim; you’d
have better luck with it.”

Jacob held the pistol in
his hand. Ignoring the water, he said, “I don’t understand how I got here? Who
are you?”

“Hmmh,” Stephens grunted.
“Some appreciation that is… Guess you took a hard thump to the grape. Yeah, I’d
be jacked up in the head too.”

“Dammit, just tell me
what in the hell is going on. Where’s my family?” Jacob shouted, trying again
to get to his feet.

Murphy put his hand up,
silencing Jacob. “I already told you, your family is safe. I think so anyway;
the base is locked up tight and those things haven’t gotten in yet. Now… like I
said before, you need to
chill
. If those wounds get to bleeding again, we’ll
be stuck here.”

Jacob exhaled loudly, his
frustration growing. “Where is
here
?”

Jacob watched Murphy
reach into his pack and pull out a brown plastic pouch the size of a large
book. He used his knife to open the package, and then dumped smaller packages
on the floor in front of him. “We’re in the basement of a house on Oak. You
should be more grateful, seeing as how we carried your ass… well, Stephens did
mostly—”

“You’re welcome,”
Stephens sounded off. “You heavy as hell too, ya know… wouldn’t kill you to do
some PT, lose some of that gut.”

Jacob looked down and
removed the cap from the bottle he was holding. “Oak Street? That’s only three
blocks over from my house.”

“Like I said, you heavy,”
Stephens answered, glaring.

Murphy pointed at the
window. “We barely made it in here, as it is. We were able to cut down the last
wave. The grenade helped, but we had to move before they rebounded—they always
fucking rebound. You’re damn lucky we decided to take you with us.”

“I’d ha’ left ya if it
was up to me,” Stephens said, shaking his head. “Hell, Sergeant here, guess he
figures better to take you with us than fight you later.”

Jacob stared at him
blankly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means every time we
lose someone, they come back as the fucking darkness.”

“The darkness?” Jacob
asked.

“Those, things, whatever
the hell they are,” Stephens said, moving away to a far wall and dropping down
against it. He pulled his rifle into his lap and cradled it.

“What is it?
The
Darkness
… is it like a sickness?”

“Hell no; it’s an actual
thing, like a whole new person,” Stephens muttered, shaking his head.

Jacob, again, found
himself losing his patience. “You’re talking nonsense!”

Murphy looked up from the
bag in his lap and pointed at him. “I won’t warn you again to keep your voice
down. I can tape that mouth shut, if you’d prefer it.” Murphy dug into the plastic
pouches in front of him and tossed Jacob a sealed package. “Eat this; you need
the calories.”

Murphy put his knife back
into a sheath on his belt. “It’s not a sickness; it’s… it’s something
different.”

Jacob took the package,
flipped it over, read the
pound cake
label, and set it on the floor next
to him. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood for cake.”

“Then go ahead and eat
it, because that shit is in no way cake. If you’re going to be strong enough to
travel with us, you need to eat,” Murphy ordered.

Jacob took the foil package
and ripped off the top. He looked at the yellow brick inside, and then looked
back at Murphy. “I’ve seen them close up. The black eyes, the dark mouths, and
their blood… it… it was like oil,” he said quietly.

Stephens grunted. “That’s
cause they ain’t people; they the darkness. We already told you that.”

“What does that mean?”
Jacob asked, frustrated and looking at Murphy as he pulled the yellow brick
from the wrapper.

“The Darkness, Zulus,
Marble Eyes, Boogie Man—whatever you call them, it’s all the same,” Murphy said,
spooning through his meal. “They are not us, not anymore.”

Murphy opened a drinking
tube hanging from his vest and sucked water into his mouth, taking a long
swallow. He stared at Jacob, then looked at Stephens who was leaning against
the wall. “You been cut off since the beginning of this, huh?”

Jacob nodded. “We haven’t
left the house since the sirens turned on. I saw the early news reports about
the rioting and the PSA to shelter in place,” Jacob said, breaking off a hunk
of the brick and putting it in his mouth. He made an odd face and took a long
swig of water to wash down the substance.

Stephens pulled his rifle
away from his lap. “Damn PSA; shoulda told people to run, get as far away as
you can. Now we got so many pockets of people trapped in the city and they just
waiting to get
taken…
soon they’s all be gone, be one of them.”

“So what are they?” Jacob
asked.

Stephens spit on the
floor near his boot. “I don’t know what they are,” he said, his voice rising. Catching
himself, he turned back to Jacob and spoke in a low voice. “Doc Jersey, our
medic, he cut one open after we killed it. No guts, man, just a black jelly
glob all up in their bodies. We tried taking one prisoner… yeah, we captured
and hog-tied its ass. They strong, but they ain’t no supermen. This thing was
weird, though; the damn thing screamed until it died. We didn’t do a damn thing
to it. It just fucking died, man. Then it dried up like a choked-out fish.”

“It’s true; they shrivel
up… like dehydrate,” Murphy said.

Jacob’s jaw dropped, not
understanding but seeing a connection. “The ones I killed; the blood, it
shriveled and dried up too, like old paint—”

There was a loud thump on
the floor above as a door slammed open. Stephens held a hand up and put a
finger to his lip. Jacob looked up at the ceiling and watched the shadows as a
figure walked over the planks. It paced through the house and then quickly left
again.

Stephens quietly got to
his feet and stepped lightly to the window. He looked out to search the street,
then moved back to his position and looked down at Murphy. “Sergeant, we can’t
stay here. That’s the fourth time they checked this place. They know we’re
close.”

Chapter
7

Jacob stood pressed
against the wall with Murphy to his front. He was blinded in the night and kept
a hand on Murphy’s shoulder so he could be guided by him. Stephens had already
cleared the basement doorway and advanced out into the shadows to scout the way
ahead. They were waiting for his signal to proceed outside. A low clicking
sound came to Jacob’s ears and Murphy turned, looked at Jacob, and waved him
forward. The soldier then stepped off, pulling Jacob behind him. Once in the
doorway, they pressed back against the wall. Jacob looked around, trying to
orient himself before stepping up the concrete steps to the outside. He was
shocked to make it up them without falling on his face.

Murphy moved quickly
along the side of the house, then knelt beside a tall bush. He looked back at
Jacob and lifted his night vision goggles from his eyes. “You all right?” he
whispered.

“I can’t see anything,”
Jacob whispered back.

“Just keep a hand on my
back until your eyes adjust… You good?”

Jacob nodded even though
the pain in his hip seemed unbearable and was causing bolts of burning spikes
to shoot to his spine. Not wanting to stop, he clenched his teeth and whispered
back, “I’m good.”

“Okay then; Stephens is
just ahead. I know you can’t see him in the dark, but it’ll get better as we
go. Just stay close and keep your mouth shut, walk when I walk, stop when I
stop, and if I run… try to keep up.”

Murphy stepped off
briskly, hugging the front face of the house and moving south in the direction
that Jacob knew would take them to the park. They stayed away from the sidewalk—crouching
beside shrubs, moving between cars parked in driveways, and sometimes jumping a
fence. When they came to a cross street, Stephens would duck near the corner of
a house to wait for Murphy and Jacob to bunch up behind. Murphy would slap the
tall man’s shoulder and he would dart across the street, the sound of his boots
slapping the pavement and filling the dead air.

A signal invisible to
Jacob’s naked eyes was received and Murphy got back to his feet, dragging Jacob
behind him. As promised, his night vision slowly improved as they traveled. He
was able to make out the shapes of houses, then objects in the yards. Now he
could see nearly everything up to a short distance, and Jacob slowly recognized
the neighborhood they were in. He often used this route as a shortcut when
going to Katy’s daycare.

The streets were lined
with well-manicured lawns on both sides. Many of the homes here looked
untouched; the doors remained closed and windows were in place. Jacob found
that more and more of the driveways were absent of vehicles as he traveled the
neighborhood.
Were they evacuated?
Jacob pondered as he passed another
long, empty driveway. They rounded the corner of a tall brick-faced house and suddenly,
a bright floodlight filled a front yard. For a moment, Jacob could see the
crouched figure of Stephens freeze just before he sprinted out of sight and
vanished.

Jacob was turned back by
Murphy before being rushed to the side of the house. They knelt down next to
the side of the home in a dark shadow and away from the light. Murphy flipped
up his goggles and raised his rifle to search the area lit by the floodlight.
He scanned left and right as the area, again, suddenly went dark. Murphy pulled
the rifle back into his chest and dropped his goggles. He crouched lower and
pressed his body against the wall.

Jacob couldn’t contain
himself and whispered, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing; probably just one
of those damn solar security lights, tied to a motion sensor,” Murphy answered.
“Come on, follow—”

A loud sound of feet
falling on the sidewalk silenced Murphy. They both pressed tight against the
brick house as several figures passed by within yards of their position. The Others
moved beyond them, and the floodlight kicked on again, lighting the neighboring
yard but this time, also illuminating six figures. They stood together but
randomly spread across the yard—not searching, just standing in the center of
the brightly lit space.

Murphy pushed Jacob back
around the corner then skirted ahead of him to lead the way to the brick home’s
backyard. They moved up a narrow walkway that brought them to a tight stone
path between the house and a detached garage. Murphy moved through it with
Jacob close behind. They rounded a stack of overflowing metal trashcans, then
dropped low in the grass and continued on to the far side of the yard where
they met up with a tall picket fence.

Murphy low-walked the
distance to the fence and knelt down with his back to the wooden slats. They
were now directly behind the brick house and all the way to the back of the
lot. Next door was the home with the solar light in the front yard. Behind
them, over the fence, was a narrow patch of high grass and trees that divided
the lot from the home on the opposite side of the block.

Murphy had pulled his
goggles down and was looking ahead at the brick house. He then lifted his rifle
and probed the area of the neighboring backyard. “Three more of the damn lights
up there by the roof,” he whispered.

Three quick shots,
followed by two more, blasted from the front of the neighboring home. Murphy
leapt to his feet, turned, and pulled Jacob up beside him. “Time to keep up,”
he said and took off running toward the neighboring fence. When he got there,
he let his rifle hang from a sling and cupped his hands, providing a step for
Jacob.

“What are you doing?”
Jacob asked.

“I’ll give you a boost.
Get over and don’t stop until you hit the next yard.”

“But the lights—” He was
interrupted by a long scream and volley of gunfire, this time farther away.

Murphy flexed his arms.
“Let’s go; you’re wasting time!”

Jacob shook his head and
lifted a foot into the soldier’s grip. He stood up and grabbed the top edge of
the fence as he felt Murphy pushing him up and over. He cleared the top lip of
the fence and fell hard to the grass on the far side. He scrambled back to his
feet; the pain in his hip sent electrical shocks up his left side. Jacob had
just stepped off in the darkness with his hands in front of him when the
backyard exploded with bright light.

Three bright halogen
lights, attached to the roof’s gables, kicked on simultaneously. Jacob looked
directly into one, filling his vision with spots and momentarily blinding him.
He heard Murphy thump to the ground beside him and felt a hand shove him
forward.

“What are you still doing
here?” Murphy yelled. “
Run
!”

Murphy again shoved him
forward, causing him to almost trip. He ran past Jacob with his rifle up,
sweeping the yard as he bolted to the opposite end. He nearly crashed into the
fence when he stopped and aimed toward the front yard to wait for Jacob to
catch up. Murphy, again, dropped the rifle to the sling and dropped his cupped
hands. Without argument, Jacob lifted a foot to the gloved hands and felt
himself being lifted up and over the fence. Again, he dropped fast to the other
side and landed hard as he impacted with the ground.

Gracefully, Murphy
dropped down beside him and pulled Jacob to his feet by the back of his shirt.
Once more, they were up and running through backyards—fortunately ones without
fences. Murphy slowed to a jog, then to a brisk walk. He kept his rifle up as
he continued forward and scanned ahead. At the corner lot, Murphy stopped and
moved in closer to the back of a home. He paused just off a back patio that led
up to a room filled with furniture.

Murphy held up a hand,
halting Jacob, then pointed a finger at the patio door. Walking low with his
back to the wall, he approached the patio. As Jacob watched, Murphy lightly
walked up the steps to a large deck before he crept to a sliding patio door.
Moments later, the door slid open and Murphy waved Jacob forward as he
disappeared inside. Jacob took a deep breath and followed the soldier into the
home.

The patio door opened
into a dining room dimly lit by the floodlights from down the street. The space
smelled of death and rotting food. A round wooden table held a carton of milk
that was knocked over; its spoiled contents splashed across the table and onto
the floor. Jacob closed the door and followed Murphy deeper into the house. In
the living room, they found piled luggage and an open closet with coats and
shoes spilling out.

“They left in a hurry,”
Murphy whispered as he walked to a partial wall banking an open staircase. He
pulled back a curtain to allow more of the light to pour in and peered into the
front yard.

“Is Stephens out there?”
Jacob asked.

“Somewhere… he’s smart;
he’ll find a tidy spot where he can watch for us.”

“Why did he fire, you
sure they didn’t get him?”

Murphy clenched his jaw,
looking to the front yard. “They might have gotten the jump on him, but more
likely he was providing a diversion for us—”

A noise near the front of
the house caused Jacob to drop down and pull his elbows in. Murphy heard it too
and dropped the curtain. In one fluid motion, he spun on his heels, pressed his
back to the wall, and brought up his rifle. Murphy looked across the room at
Jacob and pointed to the kitchen. Jacob nodded then turned and moved quietly across
the floor to get behind a kitchen island. He knelt down, his head just out of
sight.

An already partially open
door squeaked as it swung inward, bleeding more light into the room and
backlighting the cabinets over Jacob’s head. More noise echoed through the
space with the sound of a vase or pot being tipped over and rolling loudly
across a hardwood floor. Jacob squatted lower as he heard wet shoes squeaking
on the waxed wood floors. They moved closer and seemed to stop just beyond the
kitchen. After a short pause, they moved again and stopped at the island. Jacob
could hear the thing’s breath and the rustle of its clothing as it moved its
hand over items on the island. A glass was knocked over; it rolled across the
island’s surface and dropped to the floor, shattering at Jacob’s feet.

A shard of glass slid and
rested against Jacob’s boot; it rattled and chimed with the shaking of his
knee. He held his breath and tried to stop his trembling. Finding it
impossible, he steeled his nerve, gripped the pistol, and rose to face whatever
was there. He stumbled as he stood too quickly and caused blood to rush from
his head. His already weak knees taking him off- balance, Jacob dropped a hand
to the island to steady himself as he looked into the blackened eyes of a broad-shouldered
man. He was wearing a collared work shirt with one sleeve ripped free, a pink
and black tie still knotted around his neck.

The thing looked through
Jacob like it was focusing on the wall behind him. Its lips curled back to
reveal glistening ivory fangs and blackened gums. Suddenly, the thing’s arms
shot out. Reaching for Jacob, it lunged forward over the island. It opened its
mouth to yell but was halted by Murphy leaping from out of the dark and landing
on the thing’s back. Murphy quickly wrapped his forearm around its mouth to
block the scream from escaping. Pulling a knife with his free hand, he shoved
the blade into the creature’s neck. Together they flew over the island and
crashed into Jacob, the three of them dropping hard to the tile floor.

Murphy held on until the
thing stopped moving then rose above it, continuing to stab at the base of its
neck. When the black-eyed man finally stopped twitching, he pulled his arm away
and rested back on his ankles. Jacob struggled below them and pulled himself
clear. Murphy dropped back to his rear and scooted until he was across the
kitchen, pressed against the refrigerator. Jacob continued to crawl away toward
the light then rolled to his back and looked up at the ceiling.

Breathing hard, he pushed
himself to a sitting position and nursed his wounded hip. The thing’s head was
turned in his direction; its blank eyes seemed to glare at him as the black,
oily blood drained from its neck onto the tile floor. Jacob looked across the
kitchen at Murphy, who reached up and ripped a decorative towel from the
refrigerator handle then used it to wipe the blade of his knife.

Murphy rolled to his
knees and climbed to his feet. He pulled open the refrigerator door then looked
away as a stench hit him. He looked back and, cupping a hand over the end of
his flashlight, looked through the fridge again. Pulling out a bottle of water,
he closed the door and twisted the cap from the bottle. He drank half of it and,
on his return to the living room, tossed the rest to Jacob as he walked past
him.

“Get up; we’ve got to
move,” Murphy whispered.