Into the Dark of the Day (Action of Purpose, 2)

by Stu Jones

  The boy took a few careful steps over the broken glass at the open entrance to the store. What had once been a hub of commerce for the small town of Okemah, Oklahoma, was now as empty as the town that surrounded it. The nearby buildings along West Broadway appeared ruined, their brick facades crumbling and covered in ash. The town was not big enough to have been targeted for a direct hit. Still, the backlash Okemah received from Oklahoma City, just seventy miles to the west, had been enough to destroy it. Thanks to the windswept fires and the madness of survivors fleeing the city, this town had not survived.

  Tynuk felt uncomfortable this close to civilization, but food was hard to come by without scavenging, and there was little to scavenge in the wastes. He resolved to venture into Okemah to stock up on whatever he could. Then he would head south from the town, looping well below the ravaged shell of Oklahoma City before heading back north and finally west to I-40. It wasn’t a perfect route, but he had no sun or compass by which to navigate. He had only an old map of the United States, which he used as a reference to locate large metro areas they needed to avoid.

  Just inside the store, Tynuk stopped and scanned the interior for threats, looking, listening, and smelling the musty environment. He glanced behind himself once more, accustomed to the beast watching his back. The creature’s absence left a void in his methods. Rather than come with Tynuk into the town, the beast had elected to hunt for his own food. Though scarce and usually scrawny, the occasional hare or prairie dog remained. The beast was picky like that, always preferring a live catch over food from a can. This didn’t worry Tynuk much because he knew his protector would come flying to him at the first sight or sound of danger.

  The boy scanned the half-burned, ransacked store, looking for a few canned goods to satisfy his groaning stomach. Moving down one aisle, he stooped to pick up a can of ravioli and two cans of refried beans. Another grab secured a tin of fish steaks. Four cans wasn’t a bad pull from one location. He decided to scan one last time and cut out. But just when he moved to leave, he heard the voices.

  Without hesitation Tynuk ducked low and scurried to the rear of the store, pressing his satchel to his side to prevent the cans from clanking. He slunk to the back of the store, where he climbed up some wooden, built-in cabinets to hide like a cat above the aisles. From his position, he remained hidden, with an unobstructed view. Tynuk watched as three men with guns entered, looking up and down the empty aisles.

  “I swear I saw a boy come in here.”

  “You’ve lost it.”

  The men laughed.

  “I haven’t lost it. I’m telling you, I know what I saw. A boy came in here alone.”

  “If he did, he’s gone now.”

  “Yeah, but are we willing to just let it go without looking?”

  Tynuk’s blood chilled as he listened to the whispers among the group.

  “Boys are tender. Good eating.”

  “Come out, boy!” one of the men shouted. “We have food, and we’ll share it with you. We’ll take good care of you.”

  More laughter followed as one of the men uttered, “We’ll take good care of you all right.”

  Tynuk shifted, his mind working through possible scenarios.

  Cannibals. Even with their guns, I can take all three without too much fuss, but I won’t try it unless my hand is forced. No windows. Nowhere to run. Maybe they’ll give up.

  Any well-laid plans evaporated as six more armed men entered through the front of the store, laughing as they came. Tynuk was good, but nine to one odds weren’t good odds for anyone, especially when at least six of the men had firearms.

  “Scouting us out some boy for supper, huh?”

  “Shh. If he’s in here, he’ll hear you, you stupid shit!”

  At the offense, the one man grabbed the other, and they began to tussle while the rest watched. There was no organization to this group. They weren’t in the same league as a gang like the Coyotes. These men had banded together out of convenience, desperation, and no doubt, because they were willing to eat people to survive.

  Tynuk knew this was his chance. He dropping down like a cat from the shelf, landing without a sound in a side aisle, and moved toward the front of the store. As he neared the cashier’s desk, he slunk behind it, pressing himself against the cheap particleboard shelving. He would wait for them to begin searching. When they neared the rear of the store, he’d make his move for the exit.

  Tynuk waited for the scuffle to subside, finally hearing clomping footsteps spread throughout the store. He waited for the men to distance themselves before he stood but saw that the two men had stayed at the entrance. Tynuk dropped low again, his mind spinning.

  I’m trapped now. They won’t leave without checking behind this desk. I can take those two, but not before the rest of them are on me. I’ll be shot in the back. Think! Don’t be stupid. Slow down and think.

  Tynuk was out of options, and just as he resolved to move with violence against the men, the haunting howl of his companion crept through the air and settled in his ears. A slow smile crept over Tynuk’s face.

  “What the hell was that?” one of the men at the door squeaked, as they both spun. The footsteps of the search party clomped down the aisles to the front of the building, the whole group muttering.

  “What was that?”

  “Coyote?”

  “Too big.”

  “Shh!”

  “What the hell was that? Did you hear that?”

  “Are there wolves around here?”

  “Not anymore, there aren’t.”

  “Shut the fuck up and listen!”

  In the silence that followed, Tynuk stood then vaulted over the counter, landing in plain view of the men.

  “That’s the sound of your death,” the boy said. He placed his fingers in his mouth and blew a sharp whistle to confirm his location for his partner.

  “Who…what the hell is this?” one of the men asked, motioning at the boy.

  “I told you there was a boy.”

  The mournful howl sounded again, closer this time. The cannibals shook with fear. A few of them raised their weapons toward Tynuk as he dashed into the shadows of the store. Flashes of gunfire rippled through the building as the men fired their guns in all directions.

  Tynuk rounded the aisle, staying low in the shadows as he watched a huge black mass of fangs and flying claws cut the stunned men to ribbons. The men screamed in terror, falling over one another as they tried to escape the blood and violence. None of the men could get a shot off at the furious creature, as they went running in a frenzied panic. It was over in seconds, long before Tynuk could get to the storefront to join in.

  Running forward, Tynuk came to a stop just as the man before him gasped his last breath, blood smeared across his face in a death gurgle. The boy furrowed his brow at Az and scolded, “I hope you had a good time out there. I almost got my goose cooked.”

  The beast tossed his head at the boy and yawned.

  “Oh, sure. It’s not a big deal to you. And by the way, what took you so long?” Tynuk asked, walking through pools of blood beside the hulking, wolf-like beast with blood splattered across his mane. The creature lowered his head in apology.

  “Okay. I accept, but only because you live up to your name, vigilant one.” Tynuk smiled and patted the beast on the flank.

  Az licked the bloody foam from his lips and drooled like a hungry dog. He bent to nose one of the dead men and looked back at Tynuk. It was easy for Tynuk to forget that the beast was still one hundred percent wild animal. To ask such a creature such as this to ignore a fresh kill while in a state of hunger—even if that kill was human—was foolish. Tynuk made a face of disgust but obliged Az with a wave of his hand.

  “If you must, but be quick. I’m ready to quit this place,” Tynuk spoke, as the hulking creature clicked his teeth and began to feast on the warm remains before him.

  TWENTY

  Courtland squeezed his way to the top of the narrow stairwell that led to t
he roof of the station. With each step, the metal rivets that held each stair in place creaked in protest at the giant’s full weight. Courtland mumbled under his breath, grumbling that nothing in this world had ever been built to accommodate him. Pushing the door to the roof open, he ducked, turned, and squeezed his way through the opening onto the gravel roof.

  He saw Dagen immediately, the man flat on his back, his crutches scattered as though he’d lost some great struggle with himself. An empty plastic jug of vodka lay just out of reach of his open hand. Courtland sighed as he strode over to the disheveled man, whose eyes were shut, his mouth agape. The slow and steady rise and fall of Dagen’s chest confirmed that he was in fact still alive.

  “So many demons for one man,” Courtland whispered, as he scooped his arm under Dagen and lifted his limp frame. “There are better ways to fight them, my friend. Let’s get you some help.”

  After stooping to grab the man’s crutches with his free hand, Courtland turned and headed back to the stairwell. It was a bit more of a puzzle, squeezing himself through while holding a full-grown man and a pair of crutches. After a few minutes of careful maneuvering, Courtland arrived at his destination, where he ducked his way through the double doors and into the medical bay.

  Courtland stopped. The sight before him, one of utter catastrophe. Residents of the station filled the room, some on cots, others lying on the bare floor, their bodies crowding the narrow walking spaces before him. The cries and moans of the wounded filled the small space. Courtland scanned the room and located Jenna. She stood up from a chair where Terry had been patching her up, a fresh bandage visible across her collarbone. Terry, who had once been a physician’s assistant at a local hospital, was the only other medic besides Jenna at the station.

  Courtland caught Jenna’s eyes. “Hey, I found him on the roof. He’s alive, but he’s out of it. It looks like he was trying to overdose on drugs and alcohol.”

  Jenna’s face was unreadable as she nodded her understanding. “All right. Put him on the floor there. When we don’t have any more critical patients, I’ll take a look at him.”

  Courtland put Dagen down where Jenna had indicated and turned toward the door. “Do you need anything else?”

  Jenna huffed and looked over her shoulder. She’d begun working on a man with a bad head wound. “We need a lot of things. You could help by generating a few prayers for us.”

  “Of course.” Courtland nodded and took a few steps before stopping, his eyes settling on the still, blood-covered form of Shana. Her eyes open, she stared at the ceiling. Her mouth moved, forming soundless words in the low light.

  Courtland turned back and called out to Jenna, “Is this Shana?”

  “Sure enough. She just showed up at the gate a few minutes ago.”

  “Did she say anything? Did she say what happened?”

  “It’s all incomprehensible, Courtland. She’s in shock. Whatever happened, it was bad.”

  Courtland watched the woman’s strange, silent incantations as she continued to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling. Maybe she’d recover. Maybe the Sicks would come again in the night, and she’d never get the chance to recover. Only God could know what was in store for them. Courtland shook his head and made his way to the hallway, seeking a reprieve from the moans and the persistent smell of festering wounds.

  Pushing through the doors, Courtland stopped momentarily, his bulky form blocking most of the main corridor as people came and went, squeezing past him. He turned and headed toward the front of the station, catching a glimpse of Kane, who carried an armload of wood, most of it broken furniture. Kane dropped the wood at the double doors and turned to Courtland.

  “Dagen?”

  “He’s alive but in a drug-induced coma or something. It looked like vodka and painkillers. I don’t know what his condition is. I left him in medical.”

  Kane scowled and shook his head. For once he refrained from speaking his mind. Not giving him a chance to reconsider, Courtland spoke, gesturing toward the busy people moving about. “What you got going on here?”

  “Fortifying the station, just like we said. Any potential entry point is being barricaded—doors, windows, even air vents. We’re improvising a lot. It’s going to be hard to secure everything as well as we’d like.”

  Courtland nodded. “And what about these windows here?” he asked, pointing to the six, unobstructed, ground-level bay windows in front of him.

  “Well, to be honest, we don’t have enough material to secure everything. With that in mind, this is going to be our choke point. Everything behind and above us will get some amount of fortification. Just like outside, we’ll set up two lines of defense—riflemen and pikemen. We just have to hope that the savage, mutant, freak instinct to go for the throat is stronger than their tactical reasoning—if they have any. This will be the easiest place for them to enter, so we’ll bottleneck them here in the lobby, make them climb over their dead to get in.”

  “Not bad, but why don’t we all just go down to the cellar with the children and ride it out down there?”

  “Well, two reasons. First, there’s not enough room for everyone, so we’d have to play favorites and choose who got to go in. Second, after they swarm the station, who’s to say they won’t make this their new home—camp out, put down roots, whatever? We’d be trapped down there with no resources. In the early days, I spent way too long in a fallout bunker. Trust me. That’s not how you want to go.”

  “Okay, so what can I do to help?”

  “Grab some of the trashed vehicles outside and move them in front of the bay windows here. That’ll help restrict their ability to just pour through.”

  “And then?”

  “We’ll double-check everything inside and out to make sure it’s all secure.”

  Kane paused as they both accepted cups of black water from Kris, who was making his rounds carrying a discolored water pitcher. Both men murmured their thanks, quickly drank the water from their cups, and handed them back to Kris.

  “Do you think it’ll work?” Courtland asked.

  “It has to. I don’t know what other choice we have.”

  “Then we’ll do our best, and the Lord will take care of the rest,” Courtland said with a smile, as he dropped a hand the size of a Thanksgiving turkey on Kane’s shoulder.

  Kane sighed. “I don’t have your faith, big man.”

  “You do,” the giant said, as he made for the double doors that led to the outside, “but you have to remember to trust in it again—just as you once did.”

  Shadows drenched the camp in a murky coolness as Susan pretended to busy herself in her tent with the meaningless task of arranging her meager possessions. As she did, she listened to a conversation she shouldn’t be hearing.

  “And?” Garrett asked, sounding exasperated.

  “And then we extort him. We have the guy’s wife and kids. What makes you think he won’t come for them?” Saxon replied.

  “We don’t know this guy, how he’ll react.”

  “Trust me, Garrett. The guy is probably some nobody who got lucky and happened to survive. He’ll come to bargain and beg for his family, and we’ll take him for everything he’s got.”

  “Assuming she told us the truth about his broadcast,” Garrett said.

  “She told the truth. You saw how terrified she was. Her kid’s life was at risk. The guy will come, and he’ll be so desperate to get his family back that he’ll have to square with us. That’s his only option.”

  “And when he’s square? We can’t just go and give him what he came for. I’m not giving the woman up. She belongs to me now.”

  Susan’s stomach twisted with revulsion. She took a deep breath to try to clear the sinking feeling of nausea and hate.

  “You won’t have to give her up. We’ll decide what to do with him when the time comes. It’s no rush. This is a sure thing. You heard the broadcast. They’ve stockpiled resources—resources that are ours for the taking.”

  “Right,” Garr
ett said, nodding. His head was just on the other side of the canvas. “Yeah, alright. Let’s do it.”

  She’d have to move sooner than she’d thought. The last thing she needed was for Kane’s life to be jeopardized because of her. Now that she knew Kane was alive, she wasn’t going to lose him again. She’d have to figure out how they planned to entice and entrap him. Then she’d have to beat them to the punch and pull their leverage out from under them. It was the only way. Failure wasn’t an option—not now, not after all this.

  The tent flap pulled back, startling Susan and sending a wash of prickly heat flowing over her face and shoulders. She felt as though her treasonous thoughts somehow had become visible. In the entrance to the tent stood Garrett and Saxon, both with malevolent grins on their faces.

  “Hello, love,” Saxon mocked. “Are you ready?”

  Susan surveyed the two men for a long moment before answering. “Ready for what?”

  “Ready to hear the voice of your long-lost husband, of course. You do want to hear his voice, don’t you? I’m sure he misses you and the children very much. Wouldn’t it just make your day to hear his voice?”

  Susan swallowed hard, then nodded her head. “Yes,” she whispered, as a runaway tear escaped the prison of her hardened eyes. “I’m sure it would.”

  He was good at waiting. It’s what he did—wait, hide, plot, scheme, and finally, when the moment was just right, act. Ever since the first time, it had come naturally to him, like a spider waiting for the perfect moth. It wasn’t something to rush. The spider was never rushed, and neither was he. He could wait as long as he needed to wait, enduring whatever he had to in order to be sure that his plan was successful, executed just the way he planned.

  Raith looked through the binoculars again, sweeping the station in the fading evening light. He picked at his yellow, rat-like teeth with a jagged, dirty fingernail and pressed his lips together. Earlier they had fortified every door and window from the ground level up. Now he could see little movement outside the station. It irritated him that he couldn’t monitor everyone the way as he wanted to, especially his baby-doll.