Into The Darkness

by Doug Kelly

“Do you want to tell Richard now?” asked Dylan.

  “Where is Richard?” Kevin replied.

  Dylan stood up and looked around. “He must’ve gone up the embankment to see where we’re at.”

  “Go check on Richard while I get some firewood. If it rains, we’ll need it dry,” said Kevin, as he stood up and stretched his tired body.

  Dylan looked at the dark clouds covering the sky. He still could not tell if it was going to rain, but he did know he should find Richard. Dylan walked up the embankment to look toward the road across the bridge. Before he reached the top, he heard Richard’s voice. It sounded like he was trying to talk to someone. When Dylan reached the top of the bridge, he saw Richard walking toward the road from a fencerow that was near the bridge and parallel with the road. On the road was a young boy riding a bicycle and holding a fishing pole. Richard was waving his hands at the boy, walking towards him, and telling him to stop. Richard startled the boy, and he quickly turned his bicycle around and peddled away.

  “Richard, stop!” said Dylan, as he jogged toward Richard.

  Richard turned and walked back toward a damaged section of the fence and waited for Dylan.

  Dylan jogged up to where Richard was leaning on the damaged fencerow. “You scared the crap out of that kid, Richard,” said Dylan, short of breath and exasperated.

  “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to get an idea of where we are.”

  “Let’s just stick to our plan and avoid people. We don’t need any more trouble, okay?”

  Richard agreed. Both men looked beyond the fence, noticing that there were cattle in the pasture. They could see a house in the distance.

  “Cattle ranch,” said Dylan. “I bet that kid came from that house.”

  “Look over there, Dylan. What is that?” asked Richard, pointing toward a large bush on the other side of the fence.

  “Something is dead over there,” said Dylan. His eyes were squinting at a carcass that was barely hidden behind a bush. He looked at the damaged section of fence next to them and realized that the barbed wire had been cut. He easily jumped the remaining bottom wire in the damaged section of fence and walked toward the bush to have a closer look. Richard followed him. The two men discovered the remains of a cow that had been neatly butchered in the field, and another cow that did not have much more than the entrails removed. Both were freshly killed; there was no stench of rotting flesh.

  Richard gave the carcass a quick kick and said, “Looks like the rancher gets to eat steak every night.”

  Dylan stared at the butchered cattle with a puzzled expression. He looked back at the damaged fence and then over to the farmhouse in the distance. “There’s something wrong with this picture, Richard.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone poached the cattle. That’s why the fence is damaged. Someone cut the wires on purpose. The damaged fence made it easy to get the butchered meat to the road. They must’ve got spooked and left the other dead cow to waste right here,” Dylan said, as he looked around nervously. “We need to get out of here and take our chances with the storm. I’m going to tell Kevin what just happened.”

  “Go ahead. There’s nobody around.” Richard withdrew his knife, testing the sharpness on his fingernail. “I’m going to cut a few steaks for us before I go anywhere. I’m starving.”

  Dylan shook his head. “Bad idea. I’m getting out of here.” Dylan stepped through the damaged section of fence and jogged back toward the embankment under the bridge. At the top of the embankment, Dylan looked down toward the river and saw Kevin stacking firewood. Dylan took a few steps down the slope and then cupped his hands to his mouth to amplify his voice and yelled down to Kevin. “Hey, we have to go. We’re next to a cattle ranch and it looks like someone has been poaching the cattle. I think we should move downstream.”

  Kevin dropped the bundle of wood he was carrying, pointed to the sky, and yelled back up the hill to Dylan. “It looks like bad weather is on the way. We have some cover with this bridge. Where’s Richard?”

  “There is a freshly killed cow up there. He thinks he’s going to cut some steaks off it. I told him that was a bad idea. We should go now. A kid on a bicycle saw us up there, so we aren’t a secret anymore.”

  Kevin looked down at the pile of wood and then back up at the dark clouds to contemplate the situation.

  Dylan quietly waited for Kevin to respond as he considered their options. Suddenly, a noise broke the silence. It sounded like a rifle shot. Dylan quickly, yet cautiously, went back to the top of the embankment to check on Richard. Dylan looked across the unfamiliar horizon, but did not see Richard standing anywhere. Kevin had just gotten to Dylan’s position at the top of the embankment. The two men stood behind a protruding section of concrete from the bridge’s foundation.

  “I can’t see Richard,” said Dylan. Dylan pointed in the direction of the butchered cattle. “He was over there when I walked away.”

  Kevin strained his eyes in the direction of the cattle. “Maybe he’s hiding. I would’ve got low if I heard a rifle. There’s a large bush over there. Maybe he’s past that and we just can’t see him.” Kevin took a deep breath, cupped his hands to his mouth, and was just about ready to yell Richard’s name.

  “Hold it. Don’t make any noise. I don’t want to give away our position. Let me low- crawl over there and look around. That bush will cover me from the ranch house at this distance, if that’s where the shot came from.”

  Dylan crawled along the swale between the road and the fencerow. He occasionally stopped and looked back at the bridge to see Kevin peering from behind its concrete foundation. As he got closer to the damaged section of fence, the carcasses, and the large bush, he became more cautious. He stayed lower to the ground and moved even slower. Near the bush, he stopped and felt the small of his back, where he had tucked his pistol, and took a deep breath. He inched up next to the bush and concealed himself from the ranch house. Apprehensively, he changed to a kneeling position and was about to peer around the bush when he heard a faint sound of a horse galloping across the pasture. He reached for the pistol and chambered a round as the sound from the horse’s hooves became louder. Dylan tried to separate some of the branches to peer through the bush, to no avail. If he wanted to see what was approaching, he would have to peek around the bush and risk being seen. Dylan held the pistol in his right hand and lay prone on the ground. He slowly moved to the edge of the bush and saw a mounted horse approaching. He leaned his body further and saw that the rider was holding a rifle. Suddenly, he realized that Richard was lying on the ground, opposite of Dylan’s position and just a few feet away. Richard was in plain sight of the approaching rifleman.

  “Richard, you have to move,” Dylan whispered desperately from behind the bush. “That man has a rifle. Move Richard, get up, you have to move, Richard,”

  There was no response from Richard. Dylan slid back behind the bush and listened to the horse’s gallop turn into a slow trot. The horse stopped on the opposite side of the bush, Dylan could hear the horse breathing, and the sound of the saddle leather as the rider adjusted his position. He now feared the worst for Richard. Dylan thought he was most likely shot and the rancher was riding out to inspect the target. Dylan got a lump in his throat when he heard the horse slowly moving around the bush. The rancher spurred the horse and it turned around suddenly. Dylan startled the man, so the man immediately tried to bring the rifle to his shoulder. Dylan jumped up into a firing stance and was raising the pistol toward the rancher’s chest as the rancher’s rifle levelled at Dylan in the same instant. In the rancher’s haste to shoulder his weapon, he accidentally spurred the horse just before he pulled the trigger. The startled horse reared, and the rifle discharged harmlessly into the sky. The bullet from Dylan’s pistol knocked the rancher backward and out of the saddle. The frightened horse galloped away with the rancher’s foot caught in a stirrup. Dylan stared at the horse’s retreat and the sight of the rancher’s body reacting with each bump in
the ground as the horse galloped away. Dylan took a step toward Richard’s body, knelt down, and felt for a pulse. There was no pulse. Richard was dead.

  Dylan looked up and saw Kevin running toward him with the rifle. As Kevin got closer, he slowed his pace, but his breathing was labored. Kevin tried to speak as he gasped for air. “I saw what happened. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, Dylan.” As he got closer to Dylan, he could see that Richard’s dead body was concealed on the other side of the bush. He stared in disbelief with wide eyes.

  Dylan moved closer to Kevin and said, “There was nothing you could have done, and now there is nothing we can do for Richard. We need to go.”

  Kevin agreed and slowly walked backward and away from Richard’s body as he stared at the carnage.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the heat of the late afternoon sun, the men met the river’s edge at Omaha. They stepped out of the rafts onto loamy soil, and dragged their belongings into the concealment of a small grove of trees. Shrubbery helped to conceal the rafts after they covered them with tarps and buried them with dirt from the riverbank. Dylan stepped back, adjusted the fit of his rifle, and paced around the three buried rafts.

  “Does it look good?” asked Kevin.

  “It looks good. But I don’t know about the clouds coming in. If we get a bad storm, maybe strong winds and rain could blow the cover away.” Dylan pointed to the horizon. Dark clouds were visible and the air was thick with humidity. The skies looked like rain was on the way and the distant wall of clouds looked ominous.

  Kevin put on the backpack and adjusted the straps. “If it rains, the dirt will get heavy. I don’t think it’ll blow around. It should stay concealed.” Kevin removed his pistol, verified that there was no cartridge in the chamber, and engaged the safety.

  Dylan came back around the rafts, and spoke as he did. “I’m worried about dogs, too. I can only imagine how many dogs are loose now. They’re going to form packs and prowl around, hunting. If they get near our equipment, they may smell the food we left in the rafts. What if they dig it out and tear apart our rafts?”

  “We don’t have any other options. If someone stays to watch this stuff, we’re split up. That’s not a good idea, either. Let’s hurry, get in and get out,” said Kevin, as he was adjusting the heavily loaded backpack for the search to find his wife.

  Dylan, scanning the urban landscape with cautious eyes, asked, “Which way?”

  Pointing in a westerly direction, Kevin said, “Follow me.”

  The tall buildings of the downtown area were just beginning to silhouette in the setting sun. One of them was still smoldering from a recent fire. Other billows of smoke, from sporadic fires in the area, could be seen in the distance. Kevin pointed in a direction that would take them out of the loamy soil and onto rough open grassland near a railroad-switching yard. Walking through the massive rail yard would put them directly on course to enter the concrete jungle ahead of them. The two men walked away from their buried rafts and out of the sandy dirt toward the railway complex. After spending so much time rowing and paddling on the water, walking on the rough ground felt awkward. Their pace was cautiously slow as they advanced, carefully scanning the path ahead and frequently checking what was behind them.

  Kevin stopped walking and looked at Dylan briefly, then turned and looked back at the river. He said, “I never did thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Getting a plan together that worked. Look how far we’ve made it.” Kevin paused and pointed toward the city. “I made it home alive, and you offered to get me out of this place and will let me stay with you, too. If all this hadn’t happened just like it did, I can’t help but think I would have ended up like Richard.”

  Dylan visibly cringed at the thought of what happened to Richard, and said, “Don’t thank me for anything. We’re a team and I’d like to think we’re just working together for survival. As for Richard, what’s done is done. I don’t want to talk about it. I‘m more interested in getting your wife, and then getting out of here. I’m happy we’re here, but don’t forget, the journey isn’t over. We have quite a distance left to go and I’m not with my family yet.”

  Kevin adjusted the backpack and looked toward the city. His body language said he was finished talking. Nothing else was said as they continued to walk toward the railroad tracks. A large pile of debris, mostly composed of railroad ties, was in their path, obstructing the view ahead. As they walked around the stack of railroad ties, Dylan saw something moving in the distance. He saw motion around the stalled railroad cars. There were miles of stranded freight cars in this complex. It must have served as a railroad hub. Dylan extended his arm and gestured for Kevin to get behind the stacked railroad ties.

  “I see movement ahead. There’s a lot of motion behind the railroad cars. Get the binoculars out of the backpack,” said Dylan, in a hushed tone.

  Kevin had already slipped the backpack off and was getting the binoculars before Dylan was finished asking for them. Dylan peeked into the open backpack as Kevin was removing the binoculars.

  “Hand grenades. You aren’t kidding around today. How many did you bring?” Dylan asked.

  Kevin answered silently with two fingers. He pointed to Dylan and then to himself indicating one for each.

  Dylan smirked. “Nice of you to share,” he muttered, as he turned the binoculars toward the stalled railroad cars. “I see people. They must be raiding the freight cars. Some are on top of the cars. It looks like they’re throwing something out…it’s too small to see what it is. Here, take a look around.”

  Dylan handed Kevin the binoculars. Just as Kevin began to focus, they both heard the sound of firearms coming from the direction of the railroad cars. Kevin quickly lowered the binoculars and looked around.

  “I heard it. It’s coming from straight ahead. That’s right in our path,” said Dylan, angrily.

  Kevin pointed to an alternate direction to get to his apartment and wife. They needed to keep moving to avoid traveling in the dark of night. He had just begun to explain the detour to Dylan when dozens of people from behind the railroad cars began to run in their direction.

  Dylan tapped Kevin on the shoulder and pointed to the obvious. Kevin had already seen the throng headed toward them. Dylan chambered a round in his rifle and placed the stock against his shoulder. “Get ready…stand your ground, Kevin.”

  “Hold it. They aren’t running at us. They are running away from something. They must be running from the shots we heard,” Kevin said, as he put his hand on Dylan’s rifle and lowered the barrel.

  “You’re right, Kevin. Look at them. They look sick and weak; they must be starving. There are children out there, too. We got caught in the middle of something. We need to go, now.”

  As the people fled from the railroad and got farther away, they began to scatter in different directions. Dylan and Kevin remained hidden behind the railroad ties. A middle-aged woman and a young boy continued in their direction. The woman was running as fast as she could, but appeared to have an injured leg. She was limping badly. The young boy tried to help her move as she leaned on his shoulder while running away. In their panic, the woman and boy did not notice the two men hiding behind the railroad ties. She could not run anymore and wanted to hide there. When the starving pair got near to the pile, Dylan and Kevin stood up. The woman instantly stopped, frozen in fear, as she saw the two men with a rifle and a pistol, directly in front of them.

  “Please don’t kill us,” the woman pleaded. The young boy began to cry. “There’s so much of it. We just need a little coal to boil water and cook what little food we have.”

  Dylan looked at the woman’s leg. She had been shot. Both the woman and young boy were covered in black coal dust. “Lady, we’re not going to kill you,” said Dylan, as he pointed the rifle down.

  “If you’re hiding from someone over there, you better get on the other side of this pile,” said Kevin.

  The young boy stopped crying and looked
up at the woman, who was still frozen with fear.

  “Lady, you and the kid better get over here.” Dylan motioned to their position behind the pile of railroad ties. “You better sit down.” He then gestured toward the wound on her leg.

  The sound of additional gunfire, closer this time, brought the woman out of her trance. She hopped on her good leg toward the two men and collapsed on the ground at their feet. “I thought you were going to kill us for taking the coal out of the coal cars that are stuck on the tracks. There’s an armed gang that’s hoarding everything. They shoot to kill. I’m lucky to be alive.” Her eyes squinted. “You aren’t one of them?” Emotion overcame her, and she began to cry uncontrollably. “They already killed my husband...his father.”

  “An armed gang shooting innocent people? That’s not good,” mumbled Kevin to himself, as he looked back toward the railroad tracks.

  Dylan knelt down next to the woman and gently put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about your husband.” He paused. “We need your help. Tell us about this gang.”

  “They look just like you, men with guns. Except they wear a red cloth, like a bandana, tied around their upper arm.”

  “I need to know where—” Dylan started, but Kevin abruptly cut him off.

  “We have company. Two headed this way. Red armbands,” said Kevin, peeking around his cover.

  “Shhhh…they don’t know we’re here. Keep it together and stay quiet,” whispered Dylan to the woman and her son.

  The woman nodded and her son sat next to her and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

  Kevin peeked through a gap in the railroad ties and watched the two strangers walking their way. One man had a rifle and the other had a shotgun. The rifle appeared to be a .22 caliber. Kevin knew that a .22 caliber bullet could spin around in the body and leave a nasty wound. The shotgun would be dangerous at close range, accuracy not required. Kevin leaned over to Dylan and whispered, “They look too casual. It looks like they are telling each other jokes. What are they doing?”