by Brian Keene
“Tony. Tony Giovanni. Ever see the commercials on the local cable access channel for Tony the Tow Truck Driver?”
“Sure.” I began humming the cheesy, familiar jingle.
“Yep.” He grinned. “That’s me.”
I glanced at the cab. “But this isn’t a tow truck.”
“No, it isn’t. This is my other truck. Can’t pay the bills with just towing—not in Walden, at least. I also do short hauls as an independent driver. Somebody stole my tow truck this morning. I spent all day driving around town, looking for it.”
“That sucks. Did you find it?”
He shook his head. “No. And no sign of it, either. If it’s still here in Walden, then it’s stashed inside a garage or something.”
“Any ideas who stole it?”
“Who knows? Maybe somebody that wanted to get out of town, but didn’t have a car of their own. I don’t know. I parked it out in the street in front of my house, same as I’ve done for the last fifteen years. I always lock it, of course, but I’ve never had any trouble. Nobody ever messed with it before. This isn’t Richmond or Norfolk. It’s Walden.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “I mean, it’s still Walden, but things are changing.”
Tony whistled. “You don’t have to tell me. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I saw today while I was driving around.”
“We saw it, too.” I told him about what Russ and I had encountered at the grocery store and what happened on the way home. By the time I was done, I’d relaxed enough to join him inside the cab. He had a CD player. Travis Tritt played softly. I’ve never been much of a country music fan, but at that point, I was so grateful to hear any kind of music I didn’t mind. I relaxed a little and tried to enjoy the song. Tony offered me a cigarette and I accepted. The nicotine rush was instant. It felt good.
“I drove by the grocery store at one point,” Tony said, “and saw the crowd pouring out of there. You guys are lucky you got there when you did. I imagine it’s pretty much empty by now. The crowd got meaner later in the day. When I went by, I drove slow because I was checking out the parking lot, looking for my truck. So I got a good look at everything that was going on. There were lots of people fighting. And I saw a young couple being robbed at gunpoint. Some guys were taking all the stuff out of the couple’s shopping cart and loading it into their pickup truck. Made the couple lay down flat on the blacktop while they did it. There were people all around them, but nobody did anything to help. They didn’t even watch. Just went about their business.”
“Did you try to help?”
He sighed. “No. There were more of them than there was me. I was outnumbered and outgunned. And even if I hadn’t been…”
“You just didn’t feel like it, right?”
Tony’s brow furrowed. “You judging me?”
“Not at all. I’ve felt that way, too. Yesterday, I had a chance to stop a mother from taking her baby past the edge of town. Instead of doing that, I let her go. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. All I know is that a feeling came over me, like nothing mattered. For a moment, it all just felt so futile and fucking hopeless, you know?”
Tony nodded. “I do. I thought it was just me. Thought maybe I was losing it.”
“If you are, then so are the rest of us because my friends felt it, too.”
“Any ideas what’s causing it?”
“The darkness, I guess. Other than that, no.”
“How can the darkness make us feel that way? It’s not like it’s a living thing.”
“Have you been out there to the edge of it yet?”
“Yeah. Like I said, I drove all over Walden today.”
“Did you…see anything when you reached the darkness? Hear anything?”
Tony nodded. “You know when they test the Emergency Broadcast System on radio and TV? That really long beep? And then they tell you that it was just a test and had it been a real emergency, blah blah blah?”
“You heard that?”
“Yeah. That sound has always given me the willies, ever since I was a little kid. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the seventies and eighties, during the end of the Cold War. I remember watching ‘The Day After’ when I was a kid. Been afraid of the Emergency Broadcast Signal ever since. Always thought it meant the world was ending. Several times I’ve had nightmares about it. Woke me up from a dead sleep, shaking and sweating. Here’s the weird thing, though. When I heard it today, it was only at the town limits. Each time I drove back into Walden, the sound stopped. So it had to have been coming from somewhere in the dark. And with the radios and stuff dead, I know I wasn’t getting it through them. Whoever was broadcasting it, the sound was loud enough to hear inside the cab of the truck and from all directions. Didn’t matter which side of town I was on—north, south, east, or west. The noise was there each time.”
“Did you see anything? Maybe someone from the past or something? A loved one?”
Tony frowned. “No. Just the signal. Why?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“You taken a good look outside lately, man? I’m ready to believe a lot of shit I wouldn’t have believed in last week. Try me.”
Realizing that my cigarette had burned down to the filter, I rolled the window down far enough to toss it out onto the sidewalk. Then I rolled the window back up again and took a deep breath. I thought about asking for another cigarette but decided against it. I didn’t know how many he had left or when he’d be able to get more. Instead, I told him what had happened.
“The day before yesterday, my girlfriend, my neighbor, and me went out to the edge of town. Each of us saw somebody from our past. My neighbor, Russ, saw his ex-wife. Me and my girlfriend saw dead people.”
“You mean ghosts?”
“Not exactly?”
“Zombies?”
“Oh, come on.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”
“Well, you did say they were dead.”
“They were. But they weren’t zombies or ghosts. The versions of them that we saw in the darkness weren’t real. It wasn’t them. It was something else, trying to trick us.”
“What about your neighbor’s ex-wife? Was she dead, too?”
“She was alive, at least before whatever it was that happened…happened. He doesn’t know if she’s alive now.”
“So was she real? The version he saw out there?”
“No. It wasn’t really her. She was just another illusion.”
“And since all three of you saw this, I guess we can’t chalk it up to your imagination.”
“No, we can’t. And we’re not crazy either.”
“I wasn’t saying you were. Sorry if it sounded that way.”
“No, it’s cool. I know you weren’t. In truth, I almost wish we were. Then maybe this shit would make more sense.”
“Well, if it’s crazy you want, just stick around. The whole damn town is going nuts. You wouldn’t believe some of the other shit I saw today.”
“Like what?”
“Well, there was a fat naked guy standing in the middle of the street, clutching a beer and shouting at anyone who would listen to him. I had to swerve to keep from running the stupid son of a bitch over. He didn’t even blink. Saw another guy chasing a dog with a rake. A little kid—couldn’t have been more than eight or nine—swinging a kitten by the tail. No sign of his parents. He was just going round and round in a circle. The cat was screaming. Not howling, but screaming.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. And that ain’t all. I saw a woman jogging with her iPod—except that she was covered in what looked like either mud or dried blood, and she only had one shoe on. Lots of looting. People taking shit from other people’s houses. There was a guy standing in front of the comic book store wearing a mask and a bedsheet tied around him. Guess he finally gets to play superhero. And I saw a couple doing a sixty-nine in a front yard, oblivious to anything going on around them. Probably the weirdest thing, though, was this guy I saw pushing a shopping cart fill
ed with nothing but cans of…”
I held up my hand and stopped him. “Let me guess. Shaving cream?”
Tony laughed. “How did you know?”
“He seems to get around.”
“Well, it doesn’t sound like you and your friends are doing that yet, so I’d say you’re not crazy.”
“Yeah. But something doesn’t seem right. I mean, sure, we’re in a bad situation. This is like some 9/11-style shit. But doesn’t it seem like people are wigging out a little too soon? It’s not like we’ve been trapped here for months or anything. I’ve heard of cabin fever, and I know stress does strange things to people, but this seems…extreme.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. Maybe it’s some kind of chemical attack. You know—they pipe gas into the town or something. Make us all go insane.”
“We thought of that, too. The Sons of the Constitution or Al Qaeda could certainly pull off some shit like that. But if so, then wouldn’t the government have responded by now? Wouldn’t the National Guard or somebody have come rolling into town?”
“Maybe we’re quarantined.”
I paused. “Shit. I never even thought of that. If we were quarantined, that would explain why nobody has come into town since it happened.”
“Well,” Tony said, stifling a yawn, “whatever it is, you guys be careful. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”
“Worse than naked fat guys in the street? Impossible.”
We both laughed, and then we shook hands. I invited Tony to stop by again if he wanted to and showed him which apartment was ours. He thanked me and said that he’d take me up on the offer. Then I excused myself and told him I had to get back to Christy. I paused as I stepped out of the cab.
“So can I ask you one more thing, Tony?”
“Sure. Ask away.”
“Why were you sitting here? You never did say.”
He shrugged. “I was just trying to figure out what to do next. This seemed like a quiet street compared to some of the others. Figured it was a good spot to do some thinking. Maybe I’ll take another drive around town. See if I can find my tow truck. If not, maybe I’ll go back out to the outskirts and see if the emergency broadcast signal is still there.”
“Be careful, dude.”
“Yeah, you do the same.”
I went back upstairs. Christy was awake and asked me what had happened. I told her about Tony and everything he’d seen during the day. Then we curled up next to each other, spooning. Her warmth felt good. We didn’t fight or argue. We just lay there. She pressed her back against my chest and I rested my hand on her hip.
We went to sleep in the dark and woke to the same.
Eighteen more people died while we slept. One of them was from natural causes—diabetic shock.
The others were murdered.
When I looked outside the next morning, Tony and his truck were gone.
The darkness deepened.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After a quick breakfast of granola bars and dry cereal washed down with cold instant coffee, I decided it was time to try my plan. The first thing I needed to do was round up some more recruits. I’d forgotten all about mentioning it to Tony the night before and was disappointed in myself. He would have been a good person to have come along. He’d seemed levelheaded and interested in getting to the bottom of our situation. Instead of him, I now had to settle for whoever I could find out in the street.
Christy stayed inside the apartment. She was cordial to Russ and kissed me good-bye, but I could tell that she was still pissed off. She didn’t try to stop me, but she didn’t wish me luck either.
Russ and I went downstairs, woke up Cranston, and convinced him to come with us, assuring him that he’d be safe. He agreed. Apparently, after being cooped up inside his apartment, the old stoner was starting to get cabin fever.
The three of us walked outside. I had a weird moment where I held my hand over my brow, anticipating that I’d have to shield my eyes from the glare of the morning sun. It was always bright around that time of morning, glinting off rooftops and cars. But after a second, I realized what I was doing and lowered my hand. Cranston and Russ stared at me quizzically but didn’t say anything. I grinned, embarrassed. Then we stepped onto the sidewalk. Across from us, a trash can had fallen over, spilling its rancid contents onto the pavement. A dog was rooting through the debris. It had a collar and tags around its neck, and looked well-groomed and well-fed. Probably someone’s pet. But when we approached it, the dog growled like a feral coyote, baring its teeth and lowering its ears and tail. We stopped in our tracks. With one last snarl, the dog turned and ran away.
“You think it’s impacting the animals, too?” I asked Russ. “You know, like it did us the other day?”
He shrugged. “Could be. Or maybe they’re just reverting to their normal uncivilized state, too.”
We started down the street. I noticed that a few of the buildings had broken windows or doors hanging open—their hinges and locks popped. They hadn’t been like that the day before. I was sure of it.
There were five teenage boys hanging around the burn barrel on our street corner. Even though it was daytime, smoke and shadows obscured their faces until I got closer. One of them was occupied with a handheld video game system that still had power, and his attention was totally focused on that. But the rest of them looked up as Russ, Cranston, and I approached. One of them, a white kid whose baggy jeans hung low enough to expose three-quarters of his boxer shorts, stepped forward.
“’Sup, dog? What you need?”
I tried to hide my smirk. I had nothing against the dude’s fashion sense or slang or intentional grammar-mangling. I’ve had plenty of friends who did the same thing. But two things were immediately obvious to me. One, if I wanted these guys to help us, I’d have to convince this de facto leader, and two, their leader was an idiot.
“What’s up,” I returned the greeting. “You alright?”
“We solid, yo. Just chilling. Know what I’m saying? Got to wonder who these three dudes are, steppin’ to us on our corner, though.”
“Sorry for intruding.”
“So what you want? You here to break bad? Know what I’m saying?”
“Not really,” Russ said. “You sound like you’re auditioning for The Wire or something.”
The leader scowled. “What you mean?”
“I mean that I don’t understand a goddamned thing you just said. What language are you speaking?”
“The fuck you been smoking, old man? You looking to get your ass stomped?”
I interrupted, before Russ could reply. “We need some help. I asked around and heard that you and your crew are some good people to have guarding your back.”
He grinned. “Word. People sayin’ that for real? It’s true. Our set rules this motherfuckin’ street. Don’t nothing go on without us knowing about it. Know what I’m saying?”
I thought about pointing out that before the darkness came, the only place he and his friends ruled was maybe the high school—and even that was doubtful. I swallowed my laughter and tried to appear impressed.
“I’m Robbie. This is Russ and Mr. Cranston.”
“’Sup.” He nodded at Russ and Cranston, then motioned to his buddies. “I’m T. This is Irish, Stan the Man, Mad Mike, and Mario.”
All of them mumbled greetings, except Mario, who didn’t look up from his game. T slapped the back of his head, and he almost dropped the unit.
“Where your manners, dog? Say hello, motherfucker. Be polite and shit.”
“Yo, Tucker! You gonna make me blow this level! Been trying to get this shit for two days.”
“Fuck that game. And how many times I got to tell you? Out here on the street, you call me T. You feel me? Do I call you Phil? No, I call you Mario, motherfucker. So don’t be calling me Tucker anymore. Tucker is dead. Know what I’m saying? Tucker was my slave name.”
Russ cleared his throat. “Slave name?”
“Damn straight.”
Cranston seemed bewildered. “But…you’re white.”
“Shit.” T snickered. “You think I don’t know that, yo? Hell yeah, I’m white.”
“Don’t you think that calling yourself a slave might be disrespectful to those who are actually descended from slaves, man?”
“See, you thinking in terms of color, old hippie dude. We need to move beyond that.”
“But you’re talking about slavery,” Cranston persisted. “You’re making light of one of the most horrendous things ever perpetrated by mankind.”
“Slavery don’t know no color, yo. And I ain’t making light of it either. I was a slave to my parents and shit. A slave to my motherfucking school. A slave to all their fucked up rules. Know what I’m saying? But my parents ain’t come home from work, and school’s out forever, so now I’m free. I ain’t a slave no more.”
Cranston opened his mouth to respond, but then he shut it again and simply stared at the teen. He looked bewildered. Russ looked annoyed. I thought it was funny, myself.
T turned to Mario. “We got visitors. Say hello, stupid. Don’t be a dick.”
“’Sup.” Mario, aka Phil, turned back to his game.
“We need your help,” I repeated. “You interested?”
“Yo, we for hire, if the price is right. Know what I’m saying? What you need done? And, more importantly, what you paying?”
“All in good time. First, I need to round up a few more people.”
“For what?”
“You’ll see.”
We didn’t have to wait long. The street began to fill, as people woke up and crept outside, staring up at the darkness with resignation—as if they’d hoped it would be gone. Many of them went back inside and shut their doors. Others snuck off into the shadows, probably foraging. A few of them gravitated toward us, looking for gossip or news. I noticed that nobody came out of the houses with broken windows or doors. I wondered if they’d been deserted before the looters had broken in, and if not, if there was anybody inside, injured or dead.
When we had about two dozen people within earshot, Russ hopped up on the hood of a parked car, raised his arms, and got their attention.
