The Darkening (A Coming of Age Horror Novel) (The Great Rift Book 1)

by Christopher Motz

  With the extra time, Danny put more effort into his wardrobe. He wasn’t exactly popular with the ladies, but ever since his skin had cleared up, they’d begun taking notice. Aware there’d be girls in attendance that night, he figured it couldn’t hurt to look his best. He settled on baggy jean-shorts and a thin, black t-shirt. Before leaving the house, he splashed his shirt with his father’s cologne for good measure.

  The heavy inner door opened and Brent’s mother, Margaret, peered out, clad in a skimpy but flattering sundress. Cool air breezed past her, giving Danny a brief respite from the heat. Brent’s air-conditioner ran without fail from May to early September, turning his house into something like a meat locker.

  “Daniel, how are you? Brent’s just about ready, I’ll tell him you’re here.”

  “Thanks, Margaret.”

  “Would you like to come in? Have a glass of iced-tea?”

  “No thanks, I’ll just wait here. We’re gonna be leaving in a few minutes, anyway.”

  “You boys have fun,” she said, winking knowingly before stepping back inside and closing the door.

  Busted, he thought. Margaret knew more about their secret festivities than she was letting on.

  Danny turned and sat on the concrete steps, watching as a sparrow landed on the roof of Bachman’s Car Wash, carrying a twist-tie in its tiny beak; a chipmunk scurried across the street and ducked into a small hole beneath a rock; an Acme trailer crawled into town followed by a line of cars driven by hot, angry commuters. It was a typical day in Elmview if not for the added bonus of being homework-free for the next three months.

  Danny zoned out, watching buzzards circle over the mountain when the screen door opened loudly. Brent exited the house wearing a pair of blue gym shorts and a white Queen t-shirt with some creepy robot on it. Brent was a huge Queen fan regardless of how much his classmates and friends made fun of him for his taste - or lack thereof - in music. It wasn’t quite Danny’s thing, but over time he grew to enjoy most of it… except for that awful disco record. Only Brent could possibly find merit in that garbage. Danny called it ‘The Forty-Five Minutes of Hell’ album.

  “Are you dressed like that because you want to be a virgin for the rest of your life? If so, you’re doing a hell of a job.”

  “What? Are you kidding? The ladies love Freddie Mercury.”

  “Maybe for fashion tips.”

  “Besides,” Brent interrupted, “I can always take off my shirt, but you’re stuck with that face!”

  “You take off your shirt? There’s something no one wants to see.”

  They bent over with laughter just as the crossing gates descended, blocking the street. The ringing of the warning bell always made Danny feel like he was at the carnival, like he’d just won something and had to collect his prize. A diesel engine roared past, towing a dozen empty coal cars. Oily smoke and hot wind washed over the boys as the train passed, rhythmically banging and clanging on its way to some unknown destination.

  “You ready to make our appearance?” Brent asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so. What is your mom doing home? I thought you said your parents were going out. She totally knows we’re up to something.”

  “They’re going out tonight and won’t be home until tomorrow afternoon sometime. I told them we were going to the arcade.”

  Danny sighed and shook his head. “You should have told me the plan. Do you think I put on cologne just to play Gradius? I’m safe with my parents… they’re so used to me being over here they don’t even question it anymore.”

  “That’s because as soon as you leave the house, they sneak up to your room and wrestle naked on your bed.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Danny said. He punched Brent playfully in the arm and jumped to the sidewalk. They began the trek across town, talking about random nonsense that teenage boys often revel in: music, girls, sex, sports, television, movies, and assorted current events. They stopped at Marge’s Corner Store to grab two cartons of Jungle Juice before heading over to Mason Street, where the party sounded like it was already in full-swing.

  As they approached the gate, Brent slowed his pace so that Danny was first in line. It’d always been one of Brent’s phobias to enter an unfamiliar place or mixed crowd without a buffer. For being such an extrovert, this strange behavior was something Danny never fully understood.

  “Ladies first,” Brent joked.

  Danny obliged by opening the wooden gate and entering the large backyard. On the left was an in-ground swimming pool, surrounded by girls in clingy bikinis showing off their flawless bodies to anyone who wanted to see. Brent looked at the exposed flesh and smiled from ear to ear.

  Kids thrashed in the water as The Rolling Stones ‘Let’s Spend The Night Together’ blared from a stereo on the patio. The metallic clang of horseshoes mingled with the loud shouting of guys playing a game of flag football. The smell of grilled meat hung in the air. It was a hive of activity.

  In front of them stood a small pavilion with two picnic tables covered in a variety of different finger foods: trays full of lunch meat and cheese, crackers and chips, salsa and dip and a wide assortment of fruits and vegetables. A large cloth banner hung from the rafters, its hand-written message stating ‘Congratulations Sophomores - Class of 1988!’

  Danny noticed several familiar faces watching the jocks play football; shirtless, sweating and grunting like animals during rutting season. Brent grinned at Danny and patted his soft midsection. “Why show it off when I can maintain the mystery?” He glanced at the guys in the yard, rippling with muscle and tanned skin, and sighed enviously.

  Mark’s uncle stood in front of a large stainless steel grill, holding a pair of tongs in one hand and a can of Milwaukee’s Best in the other. He’d removed his shirt to expose a beer belly that extended ten inches in front of him - wiry, black hair covered almost every inch of his body.

  “Hey boys,” he shouted, motioning to them with his tongs. “Come grab a burger and a dog.” He side-stepped and spilled half his beer before recovering. He smiled at them and swallowed a mouthful of beer before poking at a burnt hot dog. “Best fucking dogs around boys! Made with real dog meat!” Laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever said, he spilled more of his beer down his chest.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Danny said. “We’re going to get some drinks first.”

  “Damn right you’re going to get drinks first. I knew I liked you boys, you have priorities. The good stuff is in the blue cooler. The girly drinks are in the red one. You’re not going to get any girly drinks are you?”

  “No sir,” Brent said in his best adult voice. “We’re gonna get some manly adult drinks and get manly adult drunk.”

  Mark’s uncle looked at him blankly for a few seconds before erupting into laughter. His face turned red and his sizable gut bounced up and down, closer and closer to the hot grill. Giving an animated thumbs-up, he turned and went back to tending the burgers.

  “Apparently someone was boozing for breakfast this morning,” Brent whispered.

  Danny nodded in agreement and walked to the blue cooler, pulling out two ice-cold cans of beer and handing one to Brent. Everyone had a drink in their hand, so he and Brent would follow their lead. It was one of the first laws of Peer Pressure 101: do what everyone else is doing.

  They cracked open their beers in broad daylight like two adults. It was liberating. Danny couldn’t wait to be twenty-one to experience the bar scene in all its glory. In the meantime, Mark’s uncle dropped his beer and sang along tunelessly to an old Tom Jones track.

  “Hey guys, how are you doing?”

  Danny turned quickly, nearly spilling his own beer in the process. Samantha Bayonne stood three feet away holding a colorful mixed drink in a small glass wet with condensation. She wore a multi-colored, two-piece bikini, her long brown hair bound in a ponytail, skin glistening with sunscreen.

  “Uh, I’m okay,” Danny answered. He glanced at her breasts and her tanned skin and forced himself to look u
p and make eye contact. He saw her around school before, but with her being a Freshman, he never really talked to her. The second rule of Peer Pressure 101: don’t associate with underclassmen. “How are you?”

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll be better after a few more of these.” She held out the glass and laughed as ice cubes tinkled musically. Her smile was open and unguarded, showing off a set of perfectly white teeth. Danny was instantly attracted to her.

  “Hi, I’m Brent.” He offered his hand and smiled. She took it in her own and gave it a light shake. Her skin was soft and warm. “I thought since my buddy here is obviously terrible at small talk, I’d just jump in and say a few words.”

  “Thank you for saving the day,” she said.

  “I’m not bad at small talk,” Danny added.

  Samantha giggled and sipped her drink. “Of course not, I think you’re doing just fine.” Danny spied the small dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. Freckles ran across the bridge of her nose and across her shoulders. Her blue eyes met Danny’s hazel ones without wavering.

  “Well, it was nice talking to you. I’ll be at the pool hanging out with my friends.” She reached up to brush several errant strands of hair from her forehead. “Come over and say hi later, okay? I’ll be here all night.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Danny said. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll see you guys later.”

  As she walked away, they noticed the way her hips swayed, the way her legs moved, the way her ass filled every inch of her bikini bottom.

  “Let’s get it on,” Mark’s uncle sang at the top of his lungs. “Let’s GET IT ON.” Danny couldn’t imagine a more appropriate song at that moment. The FM radio gods smiled down on him. The grill master kept pace with Marvin Gaye - although completely out of key - throughout the rest of the song before breaking into Bob Seeger.

  Danny and Brent walked off to drink their beer in the shade as more and more people entered the yard. The sky turned a beautiful shade of purple and the stars slowly winked into existence, taking their familiar places in the summer sky. People lit Tiki torches, the pool lights came on, the grill cooled. Mark’s uncle fell asleep in the hammock shortly before ten o’clock.

  Couples made out in the grass and around the pool, their inhibitions lowered by alcohol and tempered by unrelenting sex drives. Danny looked for Samantha and nearly missed her sitting twenty feet away, talking with a few of her friends. She’d let her hair down and wore a light tank-top over her bikini. She caught him watching, smiled, and quickly waved before going back to her conversation. Danny felt the blood rushing to his face, thankful for the darkness disguising his embarrassment.

  The night went on, and the booze crept up on Danny like a tiger hiding in the bushes. His body tingled, his head whirled. He tried standing but found it to be an impossible task. He stumbled into Brent and nearly knocked them both to the ground.

  “I should talk to Samantha,” Danny slurred, polishing off another drink. “First, I need another beer.”

  “I think we’ve both had enough,” Brent said. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He put the can to his lips but missed the mark, wearing more of his drink than he ingested. Laughing, he fell into his chair and mumbled incoherently.

  “The night’s still young,” Danny said. He looked around the yard, hoping to spot Samantha, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. People were nothing more than blurry smudges moving in the shadows. He sat on the lawn chair and drifted away into a warm, fuzzy twilight.

  I really should go talk…

  Danny was snoring before he could finish the thought.

  ***

  The slate-gray sky hung low and motionless.

  Danny reached out and touched the rough stones and sand beneath him. He didn’t remember passing out on the ground, but there was a lot he didn’t remember about the previous night. He and Brent would have to compare notes.

  Sitting up with a groan, he licked his dry lips and ran a hand through his hair. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

  “What the hell did we do to ourselves?” he asked. “My head is killing me.” His voice sounded strange… distant and quiet. He cleared his throat, feeling his gorge rise. Twenty feet away he spied Brent sprawled in the dirt. He laughed half-heartedly. “We must’ve tied on a good one. This is why they say drinking is bad for you.”

  Brent didn’t answer.

  Danny stood, the hard-packed ground crunching beneath his feet. He spat several times to get the nasty flavor of stale beer and cigarettes out of his mouth. “I’m never doing this again,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m officially on the wagon.”

  Still no response from Brent. He’s completely out of it, Danny thought.

  “Come on, get your lazy ass up, we have to get home. What the hell time is it?” He looked at the sky but couldn’t see the sun through the thick cloud cover. It could’ve been noon or seven at night.

  Danny walked to meet Brent and saw why he wasn’t answering; it wasn’t him, just a jumbled pile of clothing. Brent’s shirt, shorts, and shoes sat in the dirt, covered in dust and reddish-brown splotches that looked like dried blood.

  He stood over the discarded clothes and pushed them around with his foot.

  What the hell’s going on here?

  Danny looked at his surroundings, paying attention for the first time. Gone was the pool and the horseshoe pits; gone was the green grass and the house; gone were the teenagers who should’ve been sleeping off the effects of their first booze party. He was alone.

  In every direction, dry, cracked hardpan stretched to the horizon. To the east, four hundred yards away, stood a line of tall, broken pine trees signaling the boundary of a great, dead forest. As he watched, one of the blackened trees tilted and fell to the ground in a yellow cloud of dust that hung in the air like poisoned fog.

  “Brent, where the hell are you?” His trembling voice sounded alien. Sweat broke out on his forehead as a second tree crashed down. One by one, a dozen trees noisily rocked back and forth as if caught in a storm; branches broke free and fell to the ground; rotted trunks snapped, toppling like a line of dominoes.

  Something huge and unseen approached from the depths of the broken forest.

  “What do you want?” Danny asked.

  The answer came to him on a heavy, hot gust of wind that blew dust into his burning eyes.

  You’ll find out soon enough.

  “What? What will I find out? Who are you?” Danny whispered the last with tears in his eyes. “What’s happening?” he shouted.

  “Wake up you noisy bastard.”

  Danny sat up and nearly fell off his chair. People stood here and there, watching him with half-lidded eyes as he stood and brushed the front of his shirt. The air was cool and smelled of wet grass; the sky was just turning pink in the east. Brent looked at him with a smirk on his face, half startled and half amused.

  “What?”

  “I said get up. You woke half the people here, dummy. Everyone’s looking at us. Must have been one hell of a dream.”

  “I don’t know. If it was, I don’t remember,” he lied.

  “You were shouting in your sleep.”

  The other teenagers, growing bored with the show, returned to their spots on the ground. Some went back to sleep while others gathered their belongings. One jock wretched loudly into a rose bush. Mark’s uncle snored quietly in his hammock, oblivious to the renewed activity.

  “Holy shit. We got hammered last night,” Brent said.

  “Yeah, I guess we did.” The desolate landscape and the nightmare forest slowly faded, but the fear remained. Danny’s skin felt clammy, and the hair was standing up on the nape of his neck. Twice in two days, he thought. Please, not again.

  The grill was cold; shriveled chunks of hamburgers and hot dogs lie discarded on the warming rack. Plastic cups, cigarette butts, random articles of clothing, and at least three separate puddles of congealed vomit littered the grass. Danny looke
d away, fighting his own urge to puke.

  The one thing he didn’t see was Samantha, and for that he was grateful. He didn’t want her thinking he was a nutcase. He put his head in his hands and groaned. “Let’s get back to your place or I’m gonna sleep here all day.” He took a few shaky steps before ironing out the kinks in his legs.

  “I’m with you,” Brent said.

  They opened the heavy gate and began the walk to Brent’s. It was the first full day of summer vacation and Danny was experiencing the worst hangover of his life. By the time they reached Brent’s, Danny had forgotten most of his dream. They shared Brent’s bed, sleeping well into the afternoon.

  It was after four when the boys showered and got dressed. They ate a few bowls of Rice Krispies, feeling less like dog shit and more like themselves. They played Nintendo for the rest of the afternoon before Danny went home for dinner. He went to bed early, still fighting through the last shreds of his hangover. He slept through the night and woke refreshed at six o’clock, ready to start early and put his terrifying nightmare behind him.

  Chapter 2

  Danny stood on Brent’s porch, buzzing with energy, wondering what adults looked forward to when there was no more summer vacation. Did they have fun at all, or did life end at thirty? He wouldn’t know until the year 2000, a time that felt a thousand years away, when everyone would have a flying car and a robot to vacuum the floor. His mind wandered as Brent stepped out and closed the door. He wore his glasses, which always made him feel like a dork.

  Brent clapped his hands together and smiled. “So what are we doing? Let the games begin.”

  “What about the tunnel? Haven’t been there in a while.”

  “Boring. We’re not twelve anymore.”

  True, they may have outgrown the old train tunnel, but there’d always been an attraction to possible danger. When they were younger, they’d often spent the entire day there, awaiting the exhilarating moment when a train would make an appearance. Two summers earlier, a loaded diesel engine came around the bend, entering the tunnel before they had time to react. They ran as fast as their legs would allow, laughing and full of nervous energy as they jumped the tracks. They scattered like rats in the single beam of the engine’s headlight and hugged the cold, slimy walls as it roared past with inches to spare.