Into The Darkness

by Doug Kelly

  Mary impulsively sprinted toward Dylan, and as he slung the rifle over his shoulder, she grabbed him by his arm and stared hauntingly into his face. Her dilated eyes were bloodshot and full of fear. “He has a fever. I’m afraid…no…I’m terrified, Dylan.” She quickly glanced back at her husband. “He’s burning up.” Her voice began to tremble. “You have to get some medicine. You have to come back with some medicine, or I’m afraid he’s not going to make it.” She dug her fingers deeper into his arms. “You have to promise me. Promise me you’ll come back!”

  Dylan grabbed her shoulders and spoke confidently. “Relax. I promise I’ll come back. Just stay with Kevin. Just relax, okay?”

  Mary’s tight grip on Dylan’s arms began to loosen and she slowly let go. Turning away from Dylan, she cast her eyes toward the ground and folded her arms onto her chest. She grabbed the crucifix dangling from her necklace, and went to her husband’s side. She genuflected toward her husband, made the sign of the cross, and began a silent prayer.

  Ben whistled again. This time it was obvious that the whistle was for Dylan.

  “I’ll hurry,” said Dylan, as he began to walk away.

  Mary nodded and tried to force a smile as she waved the men on.

  Dylan walked with Ben through the cornfield, heading toward Ben’s house. Lucky darted in and out of the rows of corn, sniffing the ground as she made circles around them. The corn was wet from the morning dew, and by the end of the rows of corn, Dylan’s clothes were also wet, bringing a chill to his body. Emerging from the cornfield, he welcomed the morning sun and the warmth it would bring to him as his clothes dried in the breeze.

  Ben pointed toward a small corral by his house. There were two black horses saddled and ready to go, trotting freely in the corral. Near the corral was a well with a hand pump, a metal cup hanging from the handle. Ben pumped the handle several times and water splashed out of the pump. He drank several cups of water and offered the cup to Dylan, who did the same. Ben then let Lucky drink from the same metal cup and Dylan’s stomach turned. Ben saw the expression on Dylan’s face and said, “She’s family.”

  “I understand.”

  “Have you ridden a horse before?”

  “No,” said Dylan, as he began to walk toward the horses for closer inspection. As Dylan got closer, he noticed that Ben had left a pistol belt hanging from the corral’s gate.

  Ben grabbed the pistol belt and placed it around his waist. “This is going to be a baptism by fire for you, then.” Ben laughed. “Don’t worry, your horse is broke.” Ben opened the gate. “Follow me. Just do what I do, and you’ll be fine.”

  Dylan stood next to his horse and felt the coarse hair of its mane. He rubbed the horse’s jaw and neck. The horse was ambivalent, chewing on hay. He touched the saddle leather. It was stained and smooth from years of use. Ben’s horse had saddlebags that appeared full.

  “Ready?” asked Ben.

  “You first, I’ll watch.”

  “Put your foot in the stirrup, grab the saddle horn, then step up and swing your other leg around.” Ben demonstrated as he instructed Dylan and was immediately in the saddle. He pulled on the reins and positioned himself to observe Dylan’s mount.

  “You made that look easy,” said Dylan, as he shifted his rifle to his back, with the strap tight across his chest. Dylan placed his left foot in the stirrup and grabbed the saddle horn. He hesitated before he started to lift himself up into the saddle. With one of Dylan’s feet in the stirrup, the horse began to walk forward. Dylan fell to the ground, landing on his side. Only his pride was hurt.

  Ben laughed. “Faster next time, cowboy. That horse isn’t going to wait for you.”

  Dylan stood and brushed the dirt off his clothes. He took a deep breath and shook his head clear. With squinted eyes, he quickly looked around the corral. “Don’t you have a mounting block I could use?”

  “Mounting block? There’s no valet parking where we’re going. Let’s get moving, city boy.”

  Irritated, Dylan looked at the horse and its saddle with heightened determination. In one motion, he put his left foot back in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn, and swung his right leg over the horse. He was now on the black beast and holding its reins. Ben led them out of the corral and toward the dirt road, with Lucky at his side. He explained that they would follow the dirt road for several miles south until they reached blacktop. The blacktop road would take them east to a bridge over the river, and that road would take them into town.

  As the road into town became wider, the ruins of the town became visible to the riders. Dylan spurred his horse forward to be at Ben’s side. Although they saw no people, the evidence of what pillagers had done was everywhere. Stranded cars on the road had been looted, and all the businesses that they passed had succumbed to the same fate. They were in a commercial area. There were no houses. Every building, if it was not burned, had shattered windows, and all the doors were broken open.

  “Where is everybody?” asked Dylan. He changed the position of his rifle to his front as the horse slowly trotted along beside Ben and his mount.

  “Just businesses around here. They looted and left. I didn’t think it would look this bad.” Ben pulled his hat a little lower, held the reins with one hand, and kept his right hand close to his pistol. “Just ahead less than a mile is where we’re headed.” Ben pointed forward and then looked around to survey the damage to the area.

  At the next main intersection, Lucky ran forward and began to bark at an abandoned car. The dog circled wide around the car and began to bark at the back of the vehicle. Cautiously, Dylan and Ben guided their horses to the other side of the car and saw a decomposing body. Bullet holes riddled that side of the car, which explained the man’s death. The dog started to approach the corpse.

  “Get back, girl!” commanded Ben to the dog. He dismounted and walked toward Lucky, ushering her away from the dead body. His fear was that she might try to eat the corpse’s decomposing flesh. Pulling his horse behind him, he went to the dog and used his foot to turn her and get her to move away. Dylan stayed mounted on his horse and Ben stood by the dog.

  “I can see the strip mall and the shop we need to get to.” Ben pointed in the store’s direction. “Right there on the corner.”

  “What are we waiting for?”

  Ben lifted the flap on his saddlebag, revealing several sticks of dynamite. He explained to Dylan that he wanted to try to blow his way into a bank vault and pointed to the bank at the next intersection.

  Dylan shook his head. “I don’t want any part of it.”

  “You don’t have to.” Ben removed the dynamite and detonation equipment from his horse. “Just take my horse and dog with you. I know where you’ll be. I’ll meet you there.”

  Dylan leaned forward and grabbed the reins of Ben’s horse.

  “This will take me about as long as it will take you to get into the store and look around. Tie the horses tight to something, and get my dog inside. You’ll hear the blast.” Ben laughed.

  Dylan grumbled his disapproval again and led Ben’s horse away. The dog reluctantly followed Dylan to the strip mall. As he made his way toward the pet store, he passed by several abandoned cars in the parking lot. All of them had broken windows. At the end of the strip mall was the large pet store. All the windows were broken; it had obviously been pillaged and looted. In front of the store was a bicycle rack where he could tie the horses. After dismounting and tying the horses, Dylan nervously looked back toward the bank at the far end of the parking lot. It was not a big bank and Dylan could not understand the appeal of what Ben planned to do. What could he get? Money? Money had no value. Jewelry in a safety deposit box? Maybe jewelry would have some type of intrinsic value, but you cannot eat it. Jewelry would be worthless to a starving person.

  After double-checking the knots that held the horses to the bicycle rack, Dylan called Lucky into the store. Although the windows were shattered, allowing a breeze through the store, there was still a terrible st
ench of death that remained. The small rodents and fish were dead and rotten. The dog and cat food sections were scavenged clean. Dylan wondered if the looters had taken the food for their pets, or if they had become desperate enough to eat it themselves. Since most of the other cat and dog merchandise was gone, he surmised that they were still keeping their pets alive.

  The store was divided into departments. The dog section was the farthest from the front, then the cat section, pet toys, and near the front of the store was a large picture of a fish. That would be the section he wanted. Unfortunately, large metal shelves separated these sections, and the shelves had been toppled over and collapsed like dominoes in the direction of the store’s front, covering the fish section. Dylan would have to lift these shelves back to an upright position, starting in the back, to get to what was buried at the front of the store. The empty shelving was not very heavy, but it was awkward to move.

  Lucky left Dylan by himself as she patrolled the store. She methodically sniffed at almost everything, as Dylan worked his way toward the store’s front, lifting each of the metal shelves. As he lifted the last shelves, he glanced behind himself and noticed that Lucky had found a rope toy. She leaned forward with the toy and moved her head from side to side as a signal to play.

  Suddenly an explosion rocked the store, and reflexively, Dylan dove to the floor. Ben must have set off the dynamite. The explosion was loud, much louder than he would have expected at this distance. Lucky dropped the toy and whimpered in the explosion’s aftermath. Dylan quickly looked back to see that the shelving was still standing. He grabbed the rope toy and tossed it for the dog, then went to the broken store windows to get a view of the bank. From that distance, he could see that all the glass from its windows were gone, and smoke billowed out of the openings. Emerging from the bank was a man holding a hat with one hand and the side of his head with the other. It was Ben, stumbling as he made his way toward Dylan and the pet store.

  Dylan stood by the two horses and stroked their faces. The explosion had startled the horses, and he tried to calm the animals as he watched Ben approach.

  Ben made it to the storefront and, holding his hat in his right hand, bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees to lean forward. He was shaking his head back and forth.

  “It didn’t work. I got nothing, not a damn thing,” said Ben, in an unusually loud tone.

  “What did you expect to get?”

  Ben was looking at the ground in front of him. He did not see Dylan ask the question and could not hear him due to the ringing in his ears.

  “Hey!” exclaimed Dylan. “Can you hear me?”

  Ben looked up with a contorted face. “Sorry, my ears are ringing, I was too close. I can’t hear anything.” Ben cupped his ears with his hands and shook his head.

  Dylan did not speak, but motioned for Ben to get inside the store. With Ben inside, Dylan stayed out front momentarily to observe his surroundings. Ben had made a lot of noise. That might bring unwanted attention in their direction.

  Inside, Dylan found Ben sitting on the floor with his dog next to him. Lucky had brought him the rope toy and they were playing tug of war. Dylan pointed to the fish supply area. The toppled shelving had covered it so most of the area had been protected from the looters.

  “What are we looking for?” asked Dylan, as he pointed to the first aisle.

  Ben nodded and held up one finger. He did not want to speak yet. He walked to the fish section and began to sift through the bottles strewn on the floor. He grabbed each bottle and peered at the label intently. Ben kept frowning and tossing bottles in the corner. Then his mood changed, and he began to smile as he held up a bottle.

  “This is it. Get them all.”

  Dylan started doing the same. He looked at each bottle and tossed all those that he did not want into a corner. Methodically, they sifted through the debris and found at least twelve bottles of the medication they were looking for. During this process, Dylan noticed that Lucky had vanished. He looked around the store, but did not see her. He called her and she did not respond, so he headed toward the back of the store. Ben did not notice, and probably could not hear Dylan as he called unsuccessfully for the dog.

  Dylan was halfway to the rear of the store when he heard a low growl. It was Lucky. He saw her staring at the backroom door. Her lips were curled back, exposing her sharp teeth as she snarled. Dylan shouldered his rifle and back stepped toward Ben. He tapped Ben on the shoulder. Ben saw Dylan’s rifle and quickly grabbed his pistol. Dylan pointed toward the backroom.

  “Your dog is growling at the something in the back.”

  Ben squinted toward the back of the store and the backroom door. It was closed. He turned to the front of the store and scanned the parking lot with cautious eyes.

  “Look around, we could have company.”

  Both men carefully studied the parking lot. They stared at the silhouette of each vehicle. Finally, near the edge of the parking lot, Dylan noticed someone sticking his head up from behind the hood of a car.

  “I’ve got movement. Behind the black car, near the hood,” said Dylan, bringing his rifle to rest on a place where there was no glass in the front window and aiming at the target.

  “Can you get a shot?”

  “No, they’re behind the engine block.”

  Ben glanced back at the backroom door. It was partially open now. He tapped Dylan on the shoulder. “We’ve got company.”

  Dylan held a finger to his lips as a sign to be quiet. He motioned to Ben that he was going to stay at the front window to keep an eye on the fellow in the parking lot. Dylan balanced the rifle on the windowsill and stayed low.

  Ben slowly crept toward his dog. He whistled quietly and motioned for the dog to come toward him. Ben took slow, quiet steps toward the dog while he kept an eye on the backdoor of the store. He knew someone was back there because the door had been opened slightly, and dog’s warning gave their position away. Ben turned to see Dylan intently staring at the black car at the far edge of the parking lot. He was squinting with one eye, targeting the car in the rifle’s sights, not paying attention to Ben or the dog.

  Ben reached Lucky just as the backdoor of the store swung violently open. He heard voices in the backroom then, and in a loud, but young-sounding voice, someone yelled, “Just leave your horses! We’ll let you leave unharmed. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  The dog began to bark loudly toward the dark backroom. Ben was beside his dog and extended his hand around the dog in an attempt to restrain the animal. He held her and his pistol tightly, and then turned to make eye contact with Dylan. Dylan motioned for him to stay silent, and then pointed out the window indicating that he could now see the person watching them from the parking lot.

  “What’s it going to be?” shouted the voice from the backroom. “You’re trapped. Give up and leave. Now!”

  Ben looked back at Dylan again, shrugging his shoulders. Dylan pointed back out the window and motioned for him to watch. Dylan leveled the rifle on the front windowsill. The intruder outside was carelessly exposing his body and Dylan could see the barrel of a rifle. The two men were crouched low in the store, and it would be difficult for the intruder’s lookout to see them. The lookout recklessly tried to see into the store and in doing so had made himself a target for Dylan’s rifle. Dylan aimed for the torso and slowly pulled the trigger. There was a loud crack from his rifle and the lookout’s body slumped to the ground. Dylan looked back toward Ben and gave him the thumbs up sign.

  “Hey, I said don’t do anything stupid. Just walk away!” exclaimed the voice again from the backroom.

  Dylan slowly crawled over to Ben and his dog. Ben still had an arm around the dog in an effort to control her position. She wanted to lunge into the backroom and was barking loudly and viciously. Dylan put his hand on Ben’s shoulder for balance and partially raised himself from the floor. Dylan yelled toward the backroom. “You should leave before this gets bad for you. It’s not worth dying over.”

>   Dylan moved to the other side of Ben and the dog. He wanted to position himself closer to the backroom door. Dylan reached across Lucky for Ben’s shoulder to balance himself as he partially rose up from the floor again. He was going to yell toward the intruders in the backroom, but when Dylan moved his arm across the dog, Ben mistakenly thought Dylan was going to help hold her, so he let go, and Lucky sprinted into the backroom. Ben raised his body to lunge for her, but it was too late. She had disappeared. In that instant Dylan turned to look at Ben and saw his body tense and panic flood his face. Almost immediately, they heard yelling from the backroom, the sound of two shotgun blasts, and finally, the yelp of a dog. In the silence that followed, Ben’s panicked expression turned to anger. He sprinted toward the dark backroom holding his revolver forward, ready to fire. He entered the backroom at full speed and Dylan saw six orange flashes from his pistol, intermittently illuminating the darkness of the backroom. Screams and groaning were followed by silence.

  Dylan cautiously advanced toward the door to the backroom. The open door allowed for only a small amount of light to enter. Just past the door, Dylan could barely see the lifeless body of Lucky, Ben’s German shepherd. The dog had jumped into the shotgun blasts, with no chance of survival. Ben was kneeling by his dog. Behind Ben, further into the darkness, were two lifeless bodies. They were young men, probably teenagers, and lay sprawled on the floor. One had a shotgun on the floor next to him. The weapon was a double-barreled breach-loader. The kid had discharged both shells and did not get to reload before Ben entered the room, shooting them at point-blank range. Pain and damage of the bullet wounds had contorted their bodies.

  Dylan pushed the exit door to the alley open. Sunlight poured in, illuminating the carnage. The rays of light shone through the smoke and cast eerie shadows across the bodies. He checked outside the door and saw no one else. They were alone again in the bloody aftermath. A breeze came through the door that Dylan had propped open. It began to take the smoke and putrid smell of death away from the backroom, but could not remove Ben’s anguish over his dog. Dylan pulled the two bodies out the door and left them on the black asphalt. He then walked around to the front of the store where they had tied the horses, and put the intruders’ shotgun and rifle into Ben’s saddlebag. He scratched the two horses on the head and neck for a moment before he went back inside to retrieve the antibiotics.