Darkness on the Edge of Town

by Brian Keene

  Our guilt vanished. Maybe it was the darkness, or maybe it was just our own primal urges. Whatever it was, we surrendered.

  After that, it was easier to just go with the flow.

  And go with the flow we did. Russ and I didn’t get into brawls with anybody, but we did holler at a few people, and Russ shoved some middle-aged dude who got in his face over which one of them had reached for the last package of toilet paper first. The guy wore thick glasses and one of the lenses was cracked. Russ told him that if he didn’t back off, he’d crack the other lens. Wilting, the man turned away and mumbled about checking the employee restroom to see if there was any toilet paper left there. I glimpsed a smile on Russ’s face as he walked away. It matched my own.

  I’d brought along an old canvas gym bag, and Russ had two big suitcases. All of the grocery carts had been taken, so we commandeered a flat cart from the rear of the store and went foraging. We filled our bags first, then sat them down on the cart and piled more stuff on top of them. We concentrated on things that would last awhile, rather than perishables, but as we passed by the meat department, Russ grabbed some steaks and pork chops that hadn’t gone bad yet.

  “What are you gonna do with those?”

  He smiled. “Cook them on top of my kerosene heater.”

  “You’d better do it tonight. They’ll be spoiled by tomorrow.”

  “Then I guess you and Christy better come up for dinner tonight and help me eat them.”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Cool. Maybe I’ll invite Cranston, too. He’s been holed up in his apartment. It’ll do him good to get out.”

  “I don’t know, Russ. He seems pretty scared.”

  “We’re all scared. Might as well be scared together.”

  We rejoined the communal ransacking, filling our flat cart and bags with canned vegetables and fruit, tins of sardines and tuna and other pro cessed meats, jars of pickles and olives, dried goods like cereal and crackers and rice, canned soups, instant oatmeal, powdered milk, bottled water and soda, juice from powdered concentrate, batteries, matches and lighters, first aid supplies, various vitamins, toiletries (except shaving cream—remember, I told you earlier, some idiot had looted all of that already), and anything else we could find. We avoided the pharmacy because it was being ransacked by a rough-looking group. I snagged an entire case of those instant noodles—the freeze-dried ones that come in those cups that you just add water to. I also remembered to get some of the tea that I’d had at Russ’s the night before. A lot of the shelves had been picked through, and there was much hustling and elbowing, but we still managed quite a haul. We cut through the produce section, and I took some bags of potatoes and onions, hoping that as long as I kept them cool, they’d stay good for at least a few weeks. I thought about grabbing a charcoal grill and some bags of charcoal, but couldn’t find any. Either they’d already been taken, or the store hadn’t had any on display, due to the time of year.

  As an afterthought, we turned down the greeting card aisle and I stopped in front of the paperback rack. It was one of the only sections in the store that wasn’t besieged with people. I guess that during the end of the world, people don’t have time to read. That was fine with me. I grabbed dozens of paperbacks—romance, mysteries, horror, westerns—anything that I thought might appeal to Christy or myself. Shrugging, Russ followed suit, and took a few men’s adventure novels and some magazines—everything from Newsweek to Modern Bride.

  I was bemused by his magazine selections. “I didn’t think you were much of a reader. At least, not of bridal magazines.”

  “Sure, I read. I prefer nonfiction and sci-fi, but I guess I’ll need to start reading whatever I can get. There’s not much else we’ll be able to do, as long as the power’s out. And when I’m done, I can use them for kindling. Or toilet paper.”

  “Yeah, but Modern Bride?”

  He grinned. “It’s not too late for me, Robbie. I might still get married again some day.”

  Laughing, we headed for the exit. The cart was noticeably heavier than when we’d started. Someone had propped open the automatic doors, and a throng of people moved in and out. It was getting really hot inside the store, and I wished the air-conditioning was working. There was no breeze. It occurred to me that I hadn’t felt the wind since the darkness had come.

  A disheveled guy in a dirty leather jacket tapped me on the shoulder as we pushed our flat cart toward the doors. I flinched, expecting trouble. He must have seen me tense up, because he apologized with a nervous chuckle.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook you.”

  “It’s okay. Can I help you?”

  “The batteries are all gone,” he said. “Did you guys get any?”

  I nodded, unsure of his intentions.

  “Want to trade something for them?” With his flashlight, he motioned to his own shopping cart, which was overflowing with stolen goods. “I’ve got all kinds of stuff here. What do you need?”

  I winced. His breath smelled like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in the last day. But then again, neither had I.

  “We’ve got everything we need,” Russ said. “Sorry, man.”

  “Oh, come on. I only want a few. Let’s make a deal. See, my kids are bored and all their toys run on batteries. I just want enough to keep them occupied until things return to normal. They can’t go to school and I don’t let them go outside. They’re just sitting around inside the house all day, climbing the walls. You know?”

  We nodded without responding.

  “My daughter has this Dora the Explorer doll,” he continued. “You know, the cartoon? It walks and talks and plays music when you turn it on, and she’s run the batteries down.”

  “I’m sorry,” Russ repeated. “But we can’t spare any batteries.”

  I started to push the cart past the man, but he stopped us. He shoved his flashlight between his arm and side and reached into his pocket. Russ and I both jumped, expecting him to pull out a knife or a gun. But he didn’t. Instead, it was his wallet. His hands shook as he fumbled with a few crumpled bills.

  “Please? I can pay you. I’ve got money. Just give me four triple A’s. I’ll give you twenty bucks. How does that sound?”

  “No.”

  “No? How about forty bucks, then?”

  “He’s telling the truth,” I said. “We really can’t spare any.”

  “Fifty! Now come on, fellas, you’re not going to turn down fifty dollars for four little batteries are you? You’d have to be crazy not to take a deal like that. It’s for my daughter.”

  I fought back my annoyance. “Look, even if we could spare some extra batteries, money’s no good. I mean, look around you. It’s not like anyone’s paying for this shit. And as for the stuff in your cart, we already have all we need. You’ve got nothing we want.”

  “Well, what do you want?” He sounded defeated. “Just tell me that.”

  “Got some gasoline you want to trade? We could use that. Or kerosene, maybe?”

  “No. I tried filling up my Explorer earlier, but the pumps are down, what with the power being out. Nobody at the station knew how to siphon it from the tanks.”

  “Well, there you go.” I tried pushing the cart away, but again, he stopped me.

  “Please…”

  “Let go of the cart, dude.”

  “But this is all I’ve got. If money is no good, then what the hell am I supposed to barter with?”

  “I don’t know. Look, not to be rude or anything, but that’s your problem. Have you checked the convenience stores, or the pharmacy?”

  He nodded. “They’re just like this. Worse than this, even. Packed with people and almost empty already. The 7-11 had so many people crowded around it that I couldn’t get anywhere near the store. The cashier was screaming at them all, but nobody was listening. I saw some guy pushing a shopping cart down the street. It was full of cans of shaving cream. Isn’t that weird?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s pretty weird. What did he look
like?”

  “I don’t know. He was naked, so I didn’t want to stare at him. I think he might have been crazy.”

  “How about the hardware store?” Russ asked. “Have you tried there? They have batteries, too.”

  “No.” The man shook his head in frustration. “That’s all the way on the other side of town, and I don’t want to leave my wife and kids home alone for that long. All I need is four. Two, even. I can make due with two. It’s for my daughter.”

  “Yeah,” Russ replied. “You told us that already.”

  “Well, then help me out. Please?”

  The urge to punch him came over me suddenly, and its intensity was frightening. Fist clenched, I stepped toward him, intending to pop him right in the mouth. I saw it clearly in my mind. Me hitting him. Him hitting the floor. And then Russ and I stomping him until we heard his ribs snap, one by one. Until the broken shards jutted from his skin. Until we felt his teeth shatter beneath our heels. Until he coughed blood. Until his nose caved in and his eyes popped out. Until he stopped his fucking whining, after which we’d help ourselves to the contents of his shopping cart. Until he was dead. Mangled.

  Pulped.

  The images sickened me, but at the same time, they were exciting, too. I remembered what Christy had said the night before—how she’d gotten turned on when she thought about hurting me. I licked my lips and took another step. The man must have seen something in my expression or body language because he stopped talking and hurried away with his cart.

  Struggling with the competing impulses, I quickly dug through our loot and found a pack of batteries.

  “Hey,” I called after him.

  He turned and I tossed the package at him. The guy in the leather jacket flinched. Then his eyes widened in surprise. He caught the pack, fumbled with it, almost dropping both the batteries and his flashlight, and then glanced back up at me. His eyes were still wide, his expression one of stunned confusion. Sweat stood out on his brow, visible in the dim light.

  “Th-thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

  “My what?”

  “Your name.”

  “O-ollie. Ollie Griffin.”

  “Mine’s Robbie, and this is Russ. Introduce yourself next time, Ollie. Names are important. They were always important, I guess, but they’re even more important now. They help us know each other.”

  “Yeah?” His look of confusion grew.

  “If we know each other,” I explained, “then it’s harder to get mad when we disagree about something, and if we don’t get mad at each other, this situation will go a lot smoother for everybody. No need for things to turn violent. Know what I mean?”

  He nodded slowly. “I think I do. It’s been eating at you, too, hasn’t it? You’re having visions? Urges?”

  I nodded.

  He sighed. “Thank God. I thought I was the only one.”

  “Nope. We’re all in this together.”

  I pushed our cart toward the door. Russ stared at me, incredulous, and then hurried to catch up.

  “The fuck, Robbie?”

  “What?”

  “What did you do that for?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I didn’t give him your batteries. They were out of my share.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the batteries. I’m just surprised. I thought for sure that you were gonna kick the shit out of him.”

  “So did I.”

  “I sure felt like it. I got this weird headache, throbbing right behind my eyes. All I wanted to do was kill the son of a bitch. Took everything I had not to jump him.”

  “Me too. But we didn’t, so it’s all good.”

  “But why didn’t we? Both of us had the urge to. Why didn’t we act on it?”

  “Because human beings aren’t supposed to act that way.”

  Russ laughed. “You really believe that, Robbie?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe we’re subconsciously trying to make up for yesterday, with that mother and her baby taking our car. Maybe the darkness hasn’t completely claimed us yet.”

  Then we went outside, and it was still dark, and I wondered if maybe we were just clinging to hope because we hadn’t yet realized that it had claimed us after all. My spirits plummeted.

  Russ must have noticed my mood. “And another thing?”

  “What?”

  “That was the worst Robert DeNiro impression I’ve ever heard.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Back there. ‘We’re all in this together.’ Somebody’s watched Brazil one too many times.”

  “It’s a good movie. What can I say?”

  We took turns pushing the cart. It was heavy and bulky and the wheels kept jamming every time we hit a branch or a stone or a crack in the sidewalk. Our stuff tumbled off of it several times. We passed other people—looters, like us, or frightened individuals looking for information, promises that help would arrive soon, or just a friendly face among the crowd of strangers. Some of them made small talk. Others ignored everyone around them. Some of the people looked dangerous. Most seemed scared, and one or two were almost catatonic, shuffling by like zombies, oblivious to everything else. I was a little surprised that no one tried to stop us. I mean, here we were, pushing this big-ass cart loaded down with stuff. Stealing from us would have saved someone a lot of time. A few passersby eyed our loot, but none made a move to take it. Maybe they were just as frazzled as we were, or maybe the .357 strapped to Russ’s hip was a deterrent. I don’t know. Whatever the reason, I was grateful.

  One guy stood on the roof of his house as we passed by, shining a powerful, handheld spotlight—the kind that cops and hunters use—into the sky. The darkness swallowed the beam, just like all the others, but the man kept at it, staring longingly at the sky. We could hear him weeping from the sidewalk.

  “They’re out there,” he shouted to no one in particular. “They’re out there, waiting.”

  “Who?” Russ hollered.

  “The aliens. They’ve been studying us for years, determining our weaknesses and probing our defenses. Now they’ve done this.”

  Russ followed the man’s gaze and shivered.

  “You thinking about the stars again?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It really freaks me out, man. After everything that’s happened, I think that scares me the most. I could always count on the stars to be there, you know? No matter what kind of a day I had, no matter how much shit life shoveled on top of me, I could come home at night and the stars would be waiting. But not anymore.”

  “No,” I agreed. “Not anymore.”

  “They’re out there,” the man on the roof shouted again. “They’ll be coming soon. This is the endgame.”

  I gave the cart a shove and we walked on.

  “You think he could be right?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “That guy back there, up on his roof. You think he could be right about this being aliens?”

  Russ shrugged. “Fuck it. Why not? It would make about as much sense as anything else I can come up with. Aliens. Government conspiracy. Who knows?”

  When we got to the corner, we heard shouting. A man ran past us. Then another. Then two kids. Then a woman with her children. A crowd of people was clustered on the sidewalk and spilling out into the street. We tried to push our way through, but more people turned and ran past us.

  Russ grabbed the arm of a passerby. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  “The clerk inside the 7-11 started shooting people!”

  “What?” Russ glanced around. “Why?”

  Too late, I remembered what Ollie Griffin—the guy from the grocery store—had told us.

  “They were looting,” the man said. “The clerk told them they had to pay, but the crowd just swarmed the frigging store. It was chaos. They swooped in and just started loading up on things—knocking displays over and breaking glass. He kept trying to stop them, but for every person he caught, five more rushed past him wi
th their arms full. So he went behind the counter and pulled out a gun and opened fire. He dropped a bunch of people.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  The man pulled free of Russ’s grip and hurried away. He hadn’t gone more than five steps when we heard a shot. The crowd scattered. Most of them were screaming or shouting. A few were laughing. Russ and I ducked low, glanced at each other, and then backed away with our cart.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he yelled.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice!”

  Another blast went off, making me flinch. The crowd’s screams increased.

  Russ frowned. “That’s somebody different.”

  “How do you know?”

  “That first shot sounded like a pistol. The one we just heard was a shotgun.”

  “Maybe somebody returned fire?”

  “I don’t think we should stick around to find out.”

  We cut down a couple of side streets and alleys, making sure to stay clear of the 7-11, and then got back on our path. There were no more gunshots. Eventually, the shouts and cries faded. After we’d gone a few more blocks, Russ took over for me and pushed the cart. We were both sweating, but it wasn’t overly hot. Wasn’t cool either. In fact, the temperature didn’t seem to fluctuate much at all. It remained just about what it had been when the darkness first arrived.

  “I wish it would rain,” I said. “Maybe if a strong enough storm came through, it would blow the darkness away.”

  Even as I said it, I knew that I didn’t believe it. My words rang hollow. I was just making conversation, trying to change Russ’s mood the way he’d changed mine.

  “It was supposed to rain yesterday,” Russ said. “At least, according to the weatherman. We were supposed to have scattered showers and thunderstorms all week. But we’re not. I don’t think the rain can get through…whatever that is.”