Fade To Black (Into The Darkness Book 2)

by Doug Kelly

  Large stones and the bridge’s concrete foundation broke the current into eddies. An old hedge tree, with strong wood for bow making, spread the shadow of its branches across the water. The branches, heavy with hedge balls, did not bend. Aquatic plant life partly hid the muddy bank on the farther and shallower side. On that side of the stream, a dog was lapping the water to quench its thirst, and timidly watched them walk along the trail. The moment they made eye contact, the dog ran back into the undergrowth of the woods, tail tucked neatly between its legs.

  A mourning dove called in the forest not far away. Then a quail flew away suddenly with a loud clapping of wings. Dylan listened. His hunter instinct told him that something was moving there. His eyes quickly shifted about the forest vegetation and tried to focus just past the glossy leaves of a holly bush. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the bush and walked slowly towards it. He was relieved to see that the glossy leaves had created a mirage of someone’s eyes watching him. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued down the trail.

  Songbirds flew a little way back from the path as they passed, and began to sing again on their new perches. The whistling of other birds came from farther away, and the melody of the morning songbirds became louder as they advanced along the trail. For a distance, the paved bike trail seemed broader than it really was because someone had cut down the large trees that had lined the trail. The remains of their rotten trunks disintegrated where they stood, as nature reclaimed the timber back into the soil of the woods.

  Farther on, they passed through thickets of brush, trees with dense and tangled undergrowth, and twisted, thorny bushes. Under the foliage, they could hear squirrels, rabbits, and other furry creatures of the woods scratching at the dead leaves and twigs scattered on the ground.

  The green shoots of late-summer vegetation were still pushing their way through the dead foliage of the previous year. Out from these bushes, a rabbit occasionally ran and bounded across to the other side. In certain spots, where there were few trees and the forest chiefly consisted of bush, they could see some distance away on both sides, and also the blue sky above. The trees grew so close together in some areas that they destroyed themselves. The lower branches rubbed together and died, allowing the two travelers to see between the trunks and past the woods into the surrounding parkland.

  Kevin removed his backpack and took the binoculars from it. He looked through the gap in the trees and saw a sheet-metal building, a parking lot, and some playground equipment. They decided to get a closer look at the building. Rather than carry their heavy backpacks up the hill, they hid their equipment under a willow bush and walked through the clearing. A fleet of pickup trucks came into view, parked neatly in a row beside the metal building. The playground equipment was next to the fairway of a small golf course. The fairway grass was still relatively short in comparison to the meadow and had not yet become infested with weeds.

  Dylan pointed to a sign at the parking lot’s entrance. They were at a county maintenance building for the Parks and Recreation Department. It was a one-story building with a gable roof. The corrugated metal siding was a glossy white, and the building appeared new. The roof was also metal, but a light blue color. There were three garage doors, all closed, and the building only had one window beside the entrance. The entrance was a gray metal door with three stainless steel hinges on the right side of the doorframe.

  At the building, Kevin tested the door and window. Someone had locked them. Dylan noticed that the steel door had the same type of hinges as the door by the swimming pool at the Community Center. They rummaged through the beds of the parked trucks and found a tire iron. They used this to remove the door’s hinge pins and the door came off the frame. Light from a skylight illuminated the building’s interior, and the men went cautiously inside. In front of them was a truck elevated by a hydraulic lift. On the wall was a photo of a scantily clad woman on a calendar advertising a certain brand of tools. Beside the calendar was a clock with its hands frozen in time at the exact moment the pulse had blanketed the Earth.

  Dylan looked to his right and froze in disbelief. Parked in the far corner was a small tractor. Dylan’s jaw hung open as he thought about the plow that was still in Tom’s barn and how, with the two pieces of machinery, they could begin farming next year. Dylan silently lifted a finger and pointed to the tractor as he looked at Kevin.

  “I see it,” Kevin answered.

  Dylan’s disbelief broke. He smiled and dashed for the tractor. Laying down his rifle, he leaped onto the dusty seat and found the key in the ignition. He searched for the clutch, made sure the transmission was in neutral, and turned the key. The motor sputtered. He quickly pushed down on the accelerator and turned the key again. The motor sputtered, ran roughly for a moment, and then died.

  “Can you open one of the garage doors?” asked Dylan. “I need some more light.”

  Kevin went to the closest door, unlocked it, and threw it upwards. Light rushed in.

  With the additional light, Dylan found the choke and pulled back on the plastic knob. On the third try, the motor came to life. Steel-blue smoke hovered over the vertical exhaust pipe. Ecstatic, Dylan turned the key to kill the motor. He removed the key from the ignition and jumped from the tractor. Dust billowed about his shoes.

  “What do you want to do?” asked Kevin.

  “We have to take it. We can store it in Tom’s barn.” Dylan paused as he remembered what John had told him yesterday. We need fuel. Dylan took the key he had clutched so tightly, and thrust it deep into his front pocket for safekeeping. “Look for gas cans. Anything we can put fuel in.”

  “Where’s the gas?”

  “We’ll get it from the trucks in the parking lot.”

  Kevin exited the building to search the perimeter.

  Dylan began to survey the building, searching in drawers and under tables. Suddenly, from behind the building, he heard Kevin scream, “Dylan, come quick!” Dylan grabbed his rifle and sprinted through the open garage bay, nearly slipping when he turned the corner too fast. Behind the building, he saw Kevin pointing in disbelief at what he saw. It was a fuel pump. Dylan lowered the rifle.

  “Fuel,” said Dylan, almost not believing what he saw.

  “There has to be an underground tank,” said Kevin.

  “Yeah, maybe hundreds of gallons.”

  The men scoured the ground with eager eyes; their minds hungered for fuel like their stomachs hungered for food. They noticed a small round steel cover on the asphalt parking lot. Using the same tire iron, Dylan lifted the cover and vapors of petroleum filled the air. He slid the cover back over the hole and it went flat with the asphalt.

  “We’ll get this tractor and as much fuel as we can carry on the way back. I have the key. If anybody else finds it while we’re gone, it’ll be that much harder for them to steal.” Dylan scattered some dirt on the underground tank’s metal cover to camouflage it. “Let’s get that door back on the building and get out of here.”

  They placed the door back into its hinges and pounded the hinge pins back into position to secure the door. Dylan hid the tire iron in a shrub, and they walked back to the willow bush where they had hidden their backpacks.

  Kevin tilted his head back and took a drink of water while keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings, scanning for unseen dangers. The wind had increased from the morning and some young sapling trees, closer to the shoreline, swayed in the breeze. From the corner of his eye, Kevin caught a flash of white from behind a swaying sapling. He turned to look more closely, tapping Dylan on the shoulder and pointing toward the lake. The young tree swayed once more, and Dylan saw it. A large, brilliantly white object was behind the trees on the shoreline of the lake.

  With backpacks secured, they traversed to the shoreline. They passed bushes and low branches, ankle deep in soft, decaying wood, hidden from sight by thick vegetation. Birds flew away from their roosts with a loud flapping of wings. Their calls resounded continually as they flew away. It was apparent that
a large flock of them nested there.

  Near the lake, the forest changed into a different variety of trees. Blackberry bushes covered the ground in the open places. Rabbits, which they saw occasionally, leaped into their burrows, and the passing of a skunk momentarily halted their travel.

  They stopped at the shoreline to find a small boat with twin hulls. It was a catamaran, stuck in a cove. Quickly growing aquatic vegetation held it in place. The fiberglass boat was glossy white. A metal framework held the double hulls together under a deck of netting, and the mast rose from the center of it all. The sail was wrapped tightly around the mast, and the boom swung perpendicular to it.

  “This doesn’t take gas,” said Kevin.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Let’s cut it free. We can save a hell of a lot of time using this thing.”

  “I don’t know how to sail.”

  “How hard could it be?”

  Dylan pondered the question as he looked at the boat. It was a simple design, one sail and a rudder. How hard could it be? Dylan held a finger to the air. “Not much wind down here.”

  “Good, it’ll give us time to figure this out.”

  “Here goes nothing.” Dylan tossed his backpack onto the deck netting and began to slash away the cattails and reeds that held the craft in place in the shallow water. Kevin climbed onto the boat to lift the rudder from the water. He pulled it toward himself, causing the rudder to pivot on a hinge and come up out of the lake. Kevin unfurled the sail, and Dylan pushed with all his might. Slowly, the light boat began to slide off the muddy bank and into deeper water.

  By the shore, it was so calm that the trees reflected perfectly in the water and the few fallen willow leaves floated in place. On the lake beyond them, there was a ripple where a faint breeze touched the surface. The opposite shoreline reflected the day’s sunlight, and swallows skimmed the water along it. Dylan’s mind went to the beauty of the water’s graceful expanse.

  When Dylan felt the boat move on its own, he climbed a hull, pulled himself onto the netting, and sprawled across the boat’s deck. It was made of netting like a hammock, and felt very comfortable to his weary bones. Dylan’s final push had launched the vessel, and they left solid ground for the beauty of the water. Kevin hoisted the sail. The gentle breeze filled it, the sharp hulls began to divide the ripples, a bubbling sound arose, and as Kevin steered due north, straight out to the open water, a soft breeze carried them away.

  The ducks saw the boat coming and hardly moved at first, but when the boat continued to bear down on them, they flew up and far away, descending to the other side of the lake. After they had sailed past the spot where the birds had floated, they felt as if the lake was their own.

  The opposite shoreline teemed with life. Crows came down for mussels, and waterfowl swam in and out among the plant life. Muskrats nibbled at the cattails, and bass basked at the edge of the weeds. Spotted sandpipers ran along the shore. A snapping turtle waited by a log for the morning sun to rise higher and warm its body.

  The boat moved more rapidly as the wind came now with its full force over the trees and into the valley of the lake. Although just a light, southerly breeze, it impelled the nimble, fiberglass vessel more swiftly than expected. They passed some shoals and inlets.

  Reclining in the stern, with his hand on the rudder, Kevin’s consciousness drifted away. Physically awake, he was aware of the boat, the lake, the sunshine, and the sky, but he mentally slumbered. It was rest for a tired man, after the misery, exertion, and excitement of his recent journey, and acclimation into a new home. It was rest, intense rest, for body and mind. He could not believe that he was back on the water, and it was too soon for any nostalgic reflections from the river. The pressure of the water against the rudder’s handle and the slight vibration of the fiberglass were all that kept him from really falling asleep. He knew better than to leave the rudder unattended. It required a firm grasp, and that effort restrained his drowsiness.

  Dylan stood with one hand firmly grasping the mast, the sail in front of him completely unfurled and swollen with the breeze. He stood scanning the shoreline with the binoculars in his other hand, feet spread wide for stability on the netting underneath him.

  There was barely a cloud in the sky, nothing but wisps of cirrus clouds at the highest altitude. Kevin peered hypnotically into the dark water for any glimpse of fish. If there were any fish, he could not see them through the waves, which were sufficiently large, though the wind was light, to make the double hulls gently rise and fall. To see fish, a calm surface was necessary. Kevin stopped looking into the water, and cast his gaze to the unfamiliar shoreline.

  Dylan pondered what they would do at the end of the lake and what they should do if they came upon anyone inhabiting the area they explored. Dylan stopped debating these questions in his mind when he realized the wind was falling.

  As the sun went past its zenith, the wind fell to a weak breeze. The breeze became so faint and intermittent that Kevin let the rudder go. The sail hung low and no longer bellied out, as small ripples from the hulls rolled under the netting. The sun bore straight down and made the heat on the water feel intolerable, and the light reflected from the water increased that sensation. They made some shelter from the sun by partly lowering the sail, so that the canvas could act as an awning, and gradually, the waves weakened in volume and frequency until the surface was almost still.

  “Did we make a mistake?” asked Dylan.

  “Just wait for a breeze,” replied Kevin.

  “How long will that take?”

  “Couldn’t tell ya.” Kevin shaded his eyes with one hand and judged the distance to the closest shore. “I can tie a rope to my waist, get in the water, and swim towards the shore.”

  Dylan groaned. “I don’t know about that.” He lifted a wet finger to the air and felt how still it was. “Shit, go ahead. The east shore looks closer, and that’s where we were walking anyway.”

  Kevin stripped to his underwear and tied a rope from the front of the boat around his waist. He plunged into the dark water and began to swim toward the shore. His hands pulled at the water and his feet kicked. The boat’s movement was barely perceptible. Dylan tried moving the boom to reposition the sail, but it remained limp. He tried to use the stock of his rifle as a paddle, but his effort was mostly symbolic. Kevin gasped for air as he flailed in the water. The sight of his friend struggling in the lake became more than Dylan could endure.

  “Kevin, you’re tired. Bring it in.”

  Dylan extended his hand downward when Kevin got close to the boat, and helped lift his friend’s tired body onto the netting. Kevin sprawled in the sunlight to warm and dry himself. While Kevin was face down on the netting, he stared at the surface of the water and noticed small ripples coming back. He got up and dressed, realizing that the sail had begun to lift with a small breeze. Dylan had fallen asleep. Kevin shook

  Dylan’s shoulder, and he quickly snapped back to consciousness.

  Kevin took to the rudder, and Dylan rotated the boom to the position that most inflated the sail. They moved forward slowly. The shoals, inlets, and muddy bank began to move away again. Kevin turned the rudder to steer the craft closer to shore.

  More waterfowl swam along the shoreline. Bullfrogs and leopard frogs dove into the reeds. A coyote lapped at the water’s edge, disinterested in the white fiberglass hulls skimming across the water. Finches chirped from the branches near the shore. A field mouse dashed into the undergrowth as the coyote tried to pounce on it. Dragonflies of different sizes and colors darted in the air about them. A snake swam across an inlet, oscillating its head from side to side. Swallows swept over their heads. Just underneath the hull, in the shallow water, carp foraged the muddy bottom for a meal.

  They followed the shoreline, only occasionally going more toward the middle, due to the lake’s convoluted shape and the depth they perceived it to be. At some locations, the water seemed shallower, judging by the quantity of reed and cattail,
and the distance they protruded from the shoreline.

  As the sun sank lower, the breeze increased considerably and sped up the sailing. Not used to the speed, they occasionally grazed the willows near the water’s edge and drug a hull on the shoreline’s muddy bottom. Not wanting to crack the hull, and with the wind now gusting, they confidently steered toward the lake’s middle and sped forward with the strong wind now at their backs. They welcomed the wind because it would enable them to make great progress before evening. If the strong breezes continued, they knew they had made the right decision and would cover both shorelines in less than a day.

  The sharp prows of the boat cut swiftly through the waves, a light spray occasionally flying in their faces. The wind blew pleasantly. In the cloudless sky, swallows and swifts veered about. On the water, a flock of geese moved aside to let them pass.

  In the distance, to the north, they could see the dam come into view. They were near the west shoreline, so they began to maneuver toward the center. The wind increased and the craft seemed to skip across the water. They were very close to the dam. The metal railing, which lined the road’s edge on top of the dam, came into view. At the same time, they saw the boat ramp belonging to a lakeside community appear on the east side of the lake. Houses came into view, and they saw people along the shoreline and around the homes. They needed to avoid contact, only wanting to observe their surroundings. From the mast, Dylan gestured to the shore and shook his head. Then he pointed away, indicating he was ready to turn the boat and tack into the wind to get away from the area. Kevin understood and nodded.

  The boom came free from its restraints just as Kevin abruptly turned the rudder. The sail went limp as it changed position, but then it quickly snapped full in the quick breeze. The boom had swung away from Dylan’s control, and with the abrupt change in the rudder, the catamaran began to tip. As it turned, the wind pushed against the sail harder, and the boat tilted more. Simultaneously, Dylan and Kevin felt the vessel lift from the water. They grabbed their backpacks, jumped onto the airborne hull, and tried to hold it down with their weight, but it was too late. The mast of the tilting boat hit the water, abruptly stopping it and thrusting them overboard, and then the catamaran completely tipped over. The inverted hulls bobbed in the waves. Dylan and Kevin emerged from underwater and began to swim for the boat ramp. They heard three shrill whistles that summoned a flat-bottom boat from the dock. Two armed men leaned forward at the prow of the boat as two oarsmen rowed it toward Dylan and Kevin.