When Darkness Falls

by Chanda Stafford

  Thump!

  The truck swerves to the side, brakes screaming. Esme shrieks, and I grab her to keep us from getting thrown against the side of the truck. Boxes crash against me, stealing the breath from my lungs. The truck tips sideways, and rocks precariously from side to side, but doesn’t tip all the way over. Terror rises up my throat, but I refuse to let it show. I can’t let Esme see how upset I am. I may not work at the camp any longer, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel at least somewhat responsible for the younger girl.

  “What happened?” Esme’s voice is suddenly small and innocent, totally different from the lonely girl I’d encountered just moments before.

  “I think we hit something, probably a deer. I’m going to see if I can find the flashlight.” Unease flits through my senses. It had to have been a deer. They’re all over around here. But wouldn’t a deer get blasted apart if it hit a truck like this? It doesn’t make sense. It must have been a huge deer to stop the truck.

  “Hurry,” Esme says. “I wanna get out of here.”

  I give her shoulder one last awkward pat, before I crawl toward the back of the truck. After a few frustrating moments of fumbling around the tipped-over boxes, my hand bumps against the flashlight’s round barrel.

  “Found it!” I wave it in the air, feeling relieved. Now that I can see where I’m going, I stand up and carefully make my way back to Esme.

  “Are you all right?” I crouch down next to her.

  She nods, the brightness of the flashlight casting an eerie glow on her face. “I’m fine. What are we gonna do?”

  I paint my most confident smile on my face, even though I feel anything but. “I’m sure the driver will come and check on his cargo in a few minutes. Then we can get out and call for help.”

  She sniffles again, and I can’t tell if she’s still crying or if she doesn’t believe me.

  “Wait here. I’ll see if I can get ahold of the driver.”

  “Okay.”

  The front of the truck rocks from side to side as I creep toward the rear. Maybe the driver’s jacking up the front end of the truck to replace a blown tire. I press my ear to the metal wall, but I don’t hear anything.

  “Hello?” Still nothing. Stupid. Of course the driver can’t hear me from in here.

  As the seconds tick by, I feel along the bottom of the gate for a handle or a strap. Eventually, my scrabbling fingers snag against the edge of the strap the driver used to pull the gate closed. I jam my fingers under the thin lip of the door, ignoring the metal biting into my flesh, and strain to pull it free. I jerk on it with all my strength, but it’s such a small piece of fabric, I can’t get a good grip.

  “Dammit!”

  I tug on the strap feverishly. Esme whimpers, and I turn to shine the light in her direction. “It’ll be okay. I’ll get the door open.”

  She hiccups her assent.

  As I pull with all my strength on the frayed strap, the metal door screams in protest, and I cringe. After it opens a few inches, I pause, chest heaving. “I seriously need to get in shape.”

  Flattening myself to the bottom of the truck, I peer out into the darkness, but I can’t see the driver. All I see are trees. The same damn trees covering every inch of this stupid place.

  As I push myself to my knees, a low growl echoes through the night. I scramble away from the door, heart pounding.

  Thump!

  Something heavy crashes into the side of the trailer, rocking it back and forth. I stifle a shriek and brace myself against the wall; waiting for it to tip over and fall all the way into the ditch, but we remain upright.

  “Are you all right?” Esme calls. She tries to stand up, but stumbles when another thump, bigger this time, shakes the trailer. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” I shine the light toward her, illuminating her frightened face. “Maybe it’s a bear or something.” Whatever it is snarls a deep-throated, guttural sound.

  “Bears?” she screeches and shrinks into the shadows.

  “They don’t usually come near people,” I say, forcing bravado into my voice, as if my words will convince the both of us. “I’m sure it’s just passing through.”

  From the cracked roll up door, I can hear the driver curse and then scream a high-pitched, primal sound that chills me to the core. I scramble away from the gate until I’m against the wall, arms wrapped around a sobbing Esme.

  “Shhh,” I beg her. “Be quiet.” My heart batters against my ribcage so hard, I swear it’s going to break free. She’s got to stop making noise, or that thing out there will hear us and find a way inside. She hiccups and buries her head into my shoulder in response.

  At last, silence returns. “Do you think he’s okay?” Esme whispers.

  We listen for seconds that feel like hours, until the crickets résumé their nightly serenade.

  “What are we going to do?” Esme looks at me, her eyes enormous and dark against her pale skin.

  “I—I don’t know.” I glance at the door again. Surely someone will drive by soon and wonder why the truck is sitting cockeyed on the road and investigate. But even as I tell myself that, I know it’d be foolish to wait for some passing motorist with a good heart to stop. There isn’t a lot of traffic after dark, and we could be waiting here for hours.

  Even though I know it’s pointless, I try the walkie-talkie again, but, of course, there’s no response.

  “I’m scared.” Esme hugs her knees to her chest, her tangled blonde hair clinging to her cheeks.

  “We’re going to be all right.” I eye the gate again. We can’t stay here all night. Whatever attacked the driver might come back.

  I take a deep breath. “I’m going to go for help.”

  “You can’t leave me!” Esme shrieks. “What if the bear comes back?”

  I shine the flashlight on my face in what I hope is an encouraging smile and not one reminiscent of the horror movie. “I’ll hurry. I’m going to try and flag down a passing car.”

  She eyes me, dubiously. “What if no one stops?”

  I shrug, trying to keep from shaking in my tennis shoes. “They will, trust me.” I hand her the flashlight. “Here, keep this with you.”

  Esme sniffles and clutches the flashlight to her chest. “Okay.” Her gaze travels to the narrow slit of moonlight shining in from the gap.

  I ruffle her hair. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? No matter what you hear, unless it’s my voice, stay hidden. It’s much safer that way.”

  “Please be careful.”

  “I will.” I crank open the liftgate and squeeze out of the truck before slamming it shut behind me. A low growl rumbles through the stillness from the trees. I freeze in my tracks. It’s still here.

  I race across the road and into the dense trees lining the side of the highway. Hopefully the creature is still somewhere near the truck and won’t follow me. I turn back the way we came. If I see headlights, I’ll jump out and try to flag the car down.

  Branches snag my hair and clothes, slowing me down. I’m making too much noise crashing through the undergrowth, but I can’t help it. I’m not a hunter, and I’m not someone who spends much time outdoors unless it involves sunbathing.

  My lungs are about to explode, so I stop, gasping for breath, legs trembling. All around me spindly pine trees reach for the sky, punctuated by brilliant twinkling stars. At ground level, clumps of ferns and brush surround me. There are no signs of civilization, although we can’t be too far from town. The truck hadn’t traveled that far before wrecking.

  “Idiot,” I mutter. “Just watch. Someone will find the truck and rescue Esme and then will have to come after you.”

  Legs aching, I limp to the side of the road and start walking along the shoulder. Headlights pierce the darkness before me, and I dart into the middle of the road, waving my arms and jumping up and down. The car swerves around me slowly and then speeds up, racing away into the darkness. I stomp my feet in frustration. I’m a teenage girl, not an ax-wielding psychopath! The next
vehicle does the same. At this rate, it’ll be dawn before I successfully flag someone down.

  A truck turns the corner behind me, and I start waving my arms. My pulse races when it slows down. This person’s actually stopping.

  The driver of the small dark pickup truck idles next to me and rolls down the window. “What in the hell are you doing out here?” Ian asks, raising his eyebrows at me.

  “Taking a walk, what does it look like?” My sarcasm barely covers my surprise.

  “Get in.”

  “Fine.”

  “What are you doing out here?” he asks, and I hop inside.

  “One of Phoebe’s campers ran away. I found her in a delivery truck, but the driver drove off before we could get out. The truck got into an accident and . . .” I glance at Ian. Would he still want to help if I told him the truth? “I think something attacked the driver. I left to go get help, but Esme stayed behind so she’d be safer.”

  Ian taps the steering wheel and pulls out onto the highway. “Jesus Christ, Austen. Don’t you know how to stay out of trouble?”

  I point down the road. “Come on, we have to go before that thing comes back.” In the back of my head, I hear the truck driver screaming. “Hurry!”

  “I’m hurrying,” he says. “How did you end up in the back of the truck?” He shifts his truck into drive and pulls out onto the road.

  “I was looking for Esme. She ran away from the camp.” I shudder at the memory. “It . . . it was terrible.” I quickly tell him the rest of the story, sparing none of the details. Any bit of information might help Ian figure out what did this.

  “Yet you still left that girl alone.” His voice is flat, emotionless.

  Anger rises within me, stiffening my spine. “One of us needed to go for help.” I meet his glare with my own. “Besides, I shut the back of the truck before I left. I also gave her my flashlight for a weapon.”

  Ian returns his attention outside. “I suppose.”

  “What are you doing out here this late, anyway?”

  He chuckles. “I was wondering if you’d ask. Contrary to popular belief, I do leave the confines of the lighthouse every once in a while. Once a month or so I take a couple days and go downstate. Mostly for glassblowing supplies, but also for anything I don’t want to buy online.” He shrugs. “Traveling is easier at night, too.” He casts me a sideways glance. “Less distractions, for the most part.”

  I flush, the heat creeping up my neck. “It’s not like I planned this.”

  The corners of his mouth twist into a wry smile. “I know. It’s a good thing I found you, though. I doubt you would have gotten much farther on foot.”

  “Do you think I would have gotten lost?”

  “Or attacked by whatever stopped the truck. Most predators are not the type to pass up an easy meal.”

  “How do you know so much about this thing? I don’t even know what it is.”

  Ian spares me the barest of glances. “I encounter wild animals quite often out in the forest.”

  “I never should have left the truck.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessarily true.” He guides the truck around a curve. “It was a gamble either way.” A large truck leaning onto the side of the road appears out of the darkness. “Is that it?”

  I nod. He pulls behind the truck. “Wait here. I’m going to check on the girl first and then see about the driver.”

  I grab his arm. “Shouldn’t we call the cops?”

  He digs around in his pocket and pulls out an ancient flip phone before tossing it on my lap. “Here, be my guest. Good luck getting any reception.”

  “This keeps getting better and better.” I flip open the phone as he pulls out a flashlight from under his seat. He’s right. There aren’t any bars. It’s about as useful as my waterlogged phone.

  He rummages around behind his seat and pulls out a shotgun. My eyes widen. He notices my surprise and shrugs. “I believe in being prepared. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he says and gets out of the truck.

  After Ian disappears around the side of the delivery truck, I look around for a weapon but find nothing. Great. I’m basically a sitting duck. The sound of the driver’s screams replay in my head, and I get out of the truck. I’ll be better off outside with Ian and the shotgun.

  “I thought I told you to wait in the truck.” He scowls when I scurry after him.

  “If there’s something out there, I’m following the guy with the gun.”

  “Let’s get this thing open then.” He hands me the shotgun and searches around the bottom of the gate until he finds the strap. Then he wrenches the gate up a couple of feet, the metal squealing in protest.

  “Esme, are you in there? My name is Ian, and your friend Austen is here with me. You can come on out, it’s safe.”

  “You came back!” Esme hurtles through the opening and wraps her arms around me so tightly I can hardly breathe. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “I told you I would.” Her hair muffles my voice. “I always keep my word.”

  Ian wipes his hands on his jeans and extends one to the younger girl. “Are you all right?”

  Esme takes his hand tentatively, her eyes wide. “Yeah, I’m . . . I’m fine.” When he releases her, she spins toward me again. “I’m so sorry. I never should have tried to run away. I thought . . . I thought you got attacked, too.”

  “Speaking of which,” Ian says. “I need to see if I can figure out what happened. Why don’t you take Esme to the truck. There should be a can of soda and some crackers in the glove box.” He takes the shotgun from me.

  “Thanks again for getting me out of there.” Esme’s voice trembles, but the look she gives him is full of hero worship.

  I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. I’m the one who risked her life to save Esme’s, not Ian, after all.

  “No problem.”

  After I give him back the shotgun, Esme grabs my arm and drags me toward the pickup. “Let’s go.” Ian watches us until we’re safely inside before turning away to look for the driver.

  Esme flips open the glove box and digs around to find a couple of semicrushed packets of crackers. “What do you think happened?” she mumbles, her mouth full.

  I make some noncommittal sound and try to keep an eye out for Ian. “He probably hit a deer and went for help and got lost.” Guilt gnaws at me, but I can’t tell her the truth. I don’t think she could handle it.

  She raises a dubious eyebrow at me. “I don’t think deer scream like that.”

  “I don’t know, maybe he saw a bear or something and ran away.” I fiddle with the contents of Ian’s glove box, which consist of a handful of fast-food napkins, some salt packets, and a tire gauge, until I can’t handle waiting any longer. “I’m going to go out and check on Ian. Lock the doors behind me.”

  “You can’t leave me again!”

  I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just for a few seconds so I can see if he needs any help. Besides,” I say with what I hope is a grin on my face, “Ian has the keys, so we can’t go anywhere without him anyway.”

  “Okay.” Her voice is small, but I can tell she’s trying to sound strong. After I shut the door behind me, she slams the lock into place.

  Careful not to make a sound, I creep around the side of the truck in the same direction Ian had disappeared. I’m so focused on keeping an eye on the trees and brush around me, that I don’t see Ian until I stumble into him, lose my balance on the wet ground, and skid down into the ditch.

  With a heavy sigh, Ian offers me a hand. “You don’t listen very well.”

  I scowl as he pulls me to my feet. “That’s what my mom says.”

  “You should have stayed in the truck. It’s dangerous out here.”

  “Yeah, well, with what happened to my dad, I don’t feel safe anywhere.” I try to brush the mud from my pants, but it just leaves streaks. It has a rusty, metallic scent. Maybe the truck sprung a leak. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.” I
flush under his arched eyebrow scrutiny.

  “I appreciate the gesture.” Ian taps the shotgun on the ground. “But I’m fine.” He turns away from me and scans the ground with his flashlight.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Get back in the truck, Austen.” His voice is steely and commanding.

  Instinctively, my body moves to obey, but I push past him instead. And here I thought he knew me well enough to know I don’t take orders very well. “You know, my mom said the same thing and . . .”

  In the flashlight’s glaring beam, the ground is awash in dark-red blood. The side of the trailer, the cab, and even the trees and bushes glow with a wet, sickening sheen. My gaze travels down to my hands, and I realize it’s not mud I’m covered in. It’s blood.

  “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.” Air heaves in and out of my lungs in great gulping gasps. “The driver.” I close my eyes, but memories of the screams and the growls fill my head with bloody bodies and animals tearing people apart.

  “You should have stayed in the truck.” Ian scans the bloody scene before us. “No one should have to see something like this.” In the flashlight, his eyes are black, deeper than the night.

  “What about you?”

  “I’ve seen worse.” Ian sweeps the underbrush near the scene with his flashlight beam, but aside from the blood, there isn’t any trace of the driver.

  Something inside me tells me I don’t really want him to elaborate. “Do you think the truck driver’s still alive?”

  “With that much blood loss?” Ian shakes his head. “It’s unlikely, but I’ll still call for help. As much as I’d love to search, I can’t do it with you and the girl here.”

  “I can help,” I say, weakly.

  He points at the ground before me. My eyes land on a spot that looks like a huge animal track pressed in the bloody dirt. “With that?”

  I shudder. He’s right. “What kind of animal did this?”

  Ian lightly kicks a heavy tree limb wedged under the truck’s front bumper. “The kind that’s smart enough to set a trap.”

  My blood chills. No animal, except for chimpanzees and monkeys, if the National Geographic channel is correct, know how to set traps. What’s really out there?