Day of Darkness

by LC Champlin

Rodriguez herded her partner toward the cruiser.

  “Come.” Albin pulled Bridges to his feet and spun him toward the Tacoma.

  Inside the truck, Judge whined and barked. She had chewed a chunk of upholstery from the front seat. Ah, to be a dog and relieve one’s frustration by simply destroying foam and fabric.

  As the men belted in, the convoy began to accordion into movement. Despite every effort to the contrary, Albin’s eyes shifted to the human wreckage along the route. Carnage like that from a Third-World genocide littered the road. But the convoy had resumed its forward momentum. Nothing else mattered to the government. They lacked the resources, training, and fortitude to deal with a disaster of this magnitude.

  The people had brought it on themselves in a way, but in disasters, people often lost their heads. Albin’s gaze lingered on a corpse whose head had turned to a pudding of blood and gray matter.

  “I . . .” Bridges’s voice caught in his throat. Eyes closed, he raised a trembling hand to his brow. Then he buried his face in his palms and let out a long, hissing breath.

  In the back seat, Judge growled as she resumed chewing on the upholstery.

  Albin locked his eyes on the cruiser ahead. His heart kept time with the flashing lights. Just keep moving forward. Keep your head.

  Chapter 7

  Herd Mentality

  Flesh and Bone - Black Math

  Nathan held his hand up, signaling his companions to stay still. “Amanda,” he breathed, “get the Nelsons’ garage door open. Close it when we lure the cannibals inside.”

  “How are you going to get them—”

  “We’ll drive them home.” He gave her a smirk.

  Beside him, Josephine nodded slightly, her stance defensive. “I think I understand.”

  “Good. Get in the truck first. I’ll follow.”

  “Someone needs to be bait.”

  “No.”

  “I’ve done it before.” She shot him a look of defiance.

  “Fine. I don’t have time to argue.” They didn’t need another death, especially not hers. However, she had a point: bait improved any fishing expedition.

  She remained in the bed of the truck while Amanda and Nathan eased to the pavement. Keeping the vehicle between her and the cannibals, Amanda worked her way down the street.

  When she neared the Nelsons’, Nathan stepped forward and clapped his hands. “Over here, you bastards! Come get me.”

  Five white faces snapped toward him. Their shoulders dropped as their heads pressed forward for a better look at their prey. Why didn’t they charge?

  Four days ago, the cannibals had twitched and spasmed, barely able to cross the street at a shamble. Yesterday, they moved at a lope and worked as pack hunters. Today, they could launch over walls and cooperate on a previously unheard of scale. God have mercy on tomorrow.

  The Dalits spread out, the central cannibal advancing with knees bent and torso forward as if ready to tackle. Its companions fanned out from either side for a pincer maneuver.

  Josephine took up the swine call. “Up here! Come on!”

  While she banged on the roof of the truck, clapped her hands, and waved her arms, Nathan slid into the Sierra’s cab. Behind, the Nelsons’ garage door opened. Excellent.

  He edged the vehicle closer to the Dalits. Then he swerved left. They tried to spread out to prevent him from rolling their line. He shot the vehicle around behind them and along the opposite side of the street. They watched, some dropping to all fours.

  He stopped fifty yards ahead of them. “Now I have your attention.”

  The Dalits broke into their lion lope. They split: two to one side, three to the other. They pursued as Nathan rolled toward the Nelsons’ at fifteen miles an hour. Too fast and he would lose them. Too slow and he would lose Jo.

  Speak of the devil, she slid through the open passenger-side window as he stopped a few yards past the Nelsons’ driveway. The creatures sped toward them.

  “Roll it up, Jo!”

  “I am!” The window slid upward.

  In the side mirror, the lead cannibal dropped to a crouch. Its comrade accelerated, planted a foot between the other’s shoulders. It shoved off, using the kneeling cannibal as a launching ramp.

  Thud!

  The bastard landed on the truck bed just as the window sealed.

  Thud-thud!

  Two more cannibals leapt onto the bed. Their rust-orange eyes bulged from their sockets as they considered their options. Or appeared to. The last two cannibals diverged, one to either side of the vehicle, as if they knew that the doors could open.

  “Holy shit!” Josephine looked over her shoulder, her eyes as wide as the cannibals’.

  His heart rattling in his ears, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth, Nathan put the vehicle in reverse and guided it into the garage. The cannibals in the bed dropped to all fours at the movement, while their comrades bobbed beside.

  When the nose of the vehicle crossed the threshold, Amanda appeared ahead. She yanked the garage door down.

  At the movement, the cannibals sat up. The two on the ground moved toward the door, but the steel barrier closed an instant before they reached it.

  Twilight enveloped the garage. Hissing and shuffling with the occasional bump and thump broke the silence. The vehicle rocked as if weathering a crosswind as they shoved along the sides. The door handles rattled.

  With the morbidity that rivets the eye to a traffic wreck, Nathan stared at the cannibal that attempted to wrench his door open. Her—it’s—face twitched as if small electrical shocks ran over it, making the muscles undulate. Pupils dilated, the eyes appeared almost completely black, with only a thread of the hellfire-orange iris. Drool the color and consistency of crude oil dribbled from the corner of its mouth and nostrils. Short, dark hair hung across its forehead, brushed its shoulders. It wore the tunic-style shirt common to middle-class thirty-somethings who wanted to recreate the fashion but not the rampant drug use and STDs of the ’60s and ’70s.

  On Josephine’s side, another female worried the door. Nathan didn’t bother to study the bastards at the rear window. Once you’d seen one oil-drooling monstrosity, you’d seen them all. It didn’t matter what they had been, only what they’d become.

  “Now what?” asked Josephine, her attention on the cannibal at her window.

  “That’s up to Amanda.” Nathan leaned back, tapping the steering wheel with his thumbs.

  “Do you think this is really going to work? I mean, is this neighborhood going to survive? We don’t have much food, drinking water, or guns. The police are gone.”

  I know. He swallowed as a flush came over him. “Suggestions?” As usual, she offered criticisms with no cure. Unlike Albin.

  “I don’t think evacuating was right either.” She sighed. “There is no good answer.”

  “It’s not about doing right and wrong anymore; it’s about doing what’s necessary to survive.”

  The cannibals in the truck bed began scratching at the window, trying to slide their fingernails under the seal.

  “The natives are growing restless.” Jo wet her lips as she watched the Dalits.

  “Josephine.”

  “Yes?” His tone and the use of her full name drew her complete attention.

  “Until Albin comes back, I’m going to need your help more than ever. I don’t mean dealing with the media, either. Amanda is an exceptional leader, and she cares about this neighborhood, but she lacks our experience.”

  For no apparent reason, the cannibals began to hiss.

  “Nathan.” She placed a hand over his as she held his gaze. “I believe in what you’re doing. You’re trying to help these people and the world. I think Albin just needs some time to recover. I know you miss him, but don’t let it distract you from your role here. Perhaps he’ll get support from the government while he’s out, or find us resources.” She meant her smile to encourage, but it only communicated anxiety.
<
br />   Miss him? Anger, confusion, and loss churned in Nathan, making acid climb up his esophagus. “Thank you.” He patted her hand with his free one. “You don’t know how much this means to me.” Of all his pack members, Jo had ranked at the top of his Most Likely to Desert list. So much for expectations.

  The truck rocked as the cannibals in the back jumped out. Then it leaned left as all five Dalits pushed one side.

  “That’s it.” Nathan reached for his HT.

  Then the service door to the house opened behind them. A garbage can bounced in. “Hey! Hey, get over here, bastards.” Amanda!

  At the movement, the cannibals approached the doorway. They paused, then lunged through.

  Jo pushed her door open. She sprinted for the service door. Slam! Now the Dalits thumped about in the laundry room.

  She moved to the front of the truck and raised the garage door. Freedom! Once the Sierra cleared the threshold, she closed the barrier.

  Nathan stepped out of the vehicle as his cohorts converged on him. “Well done, both of you.” He gave them a grin despite his split lip.

  “What are we going to do with them now?” Jo wondered. “The Goats used them as distractions, but we’re not invading anybody.”

  “Don’t worry.” Nathan smiled. “They won’t go to waste.”

  Chapter 8

  Captivity

  Hollow Vessels - Lifewalker

  The sun had set, its work done, but much work remained undone at Redwood Shores. Nathan sat at the Musters’s kitchen table, studying the list of residents’ names. A skeleton of a resume, including hobbies and interests, accompanied each name.

  “I must say,” he remarked to Amanda, who sat across from him, “if I had to choose a location to be during a disaster like this one, and I couldn’t stay in my home territory of New York City, Silicon Valley would be my next option.” Save for the lack of firearms.

  The second-in-command smiled. “We have quite a pool of talent.”

  “I need you to assemble the people whose names I’ve marked, and any others you think will be useful. We’ll meet tomorrow morning and discuss our plans. Is everyone ready in their homes for the night?” The people had gathered with two or three families to a house for protection. Like a flock of birds, they reasoned that more eyes equaled more security.

  “The hatches are battened down.” Then her assurance faded. “Nathan, do you think they’ll ever get this handled?”

  “Of course.” Sometimes people needed to hear a lie to save their sanity. “We’re going to see that it’s handled. The next item on the agenda after we get food, water, and defenses sorted out is using those files that Red Chief was so interested in selling.”

  Once they unlocked the mystery of the cannibals, they could broadcast the frequency pattern to gain control of them. With the abominations at his command, he could reestablish order in the Bay Area one neighborhood at a time, but slowly enough to avoid government attention. If Uncle Sam ever recuperated enough to retake the throne, Nathan would hand over control—albeit grudgingly—and come out as the big damn hero.

  “I don’t know.” She brushed her hair from her forehead. “The scientists here might be able to get into their offices, but the power’s still out, and most of their coworkers have either fled or . . .” She didn’t need to finish the rest: turned into cannibals.

  Leaning forward, he placed his hands over hers on the table. “You need to have faith in what we’re doing, Amanda. The people in Silicon Valley have solved monumental problems. It was in Menlo Park that Google came to be. Oracle’s buildings are practically in our backyard.” He gestured toward the northwest. “There are more bioresearch, pharmaceutical, and software development companies in Redwood Shores’s general area than there are in most countries. All the pieces to the puzzle are here.”

  She gave him a wan smile. “They might be here, but I think the dog’s chewed up a few, and we lost the box top.”

  He sat back with a chuckle. “One step at a time. Nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Achievement through ardor.” He frowned despite himself; Albin cited this motto from time to time. Why did he leave—

  “Mom!” The neon-haired Denver bounded into the room. Her sister Taylor followed, worried.

  “What is it?”

  “I was outside—”

  “I told her not to, Mom.”

  “The cannibals in the garage are making a weird noise.”

  Shit. Why couldn’t they behave like zombies in the movies? With a grunt, Nathan pushed from his chair and headed for the door.

  Amanda followed. “Girls, stay inside and keep the door locked.”

  Hand on his Glock, Nathan ventured into the darkness outside. He deployed his P2X Surefire flashlight. The neighborhood appeared quiet, with the residents observing the self-imposed curfew. No one wanted to be out unless absolutely necessary.

  Finding the street clear, he approached the Nelsons’ house. True to Denver’s report, a hiss like radio static emanated from the garage. Normally the Dalits only made the sound when they approached their prey or tried to communicate with one another. Or so it appeared.

  He raised the Glock to compressed ready against his right pectoral. It eased the pain in his ribs. Behind him padded Amanda, who carried a Louisville Slugger. In her hands, it lived up to its name.

  They moved to the side window, which they’d boarded up that afternoon. Given the cannibals’ new physical and group coordination, it proved wise to err on the side of caution.

  After easing up to the window, Nathan put his eye and flashlight to a gap in the planks. Inside the garage, the five cannibals sat in a circle, their backs to each other. Their formation bore an eerie resemblance to a pentagram, as if they attempted to summon an Old One from another dimension. If only drawing a circle of salt around these creatures would bind them.

  Heads back, they hissed. They timed their breaths so that no two ran out of air at once. This kept the signal at maximum strength, so to speak.

  “What are they doing?” Amanda whispered. “Are they trying to call more affected?”

  What a comforting thought. Nathan tapped on the board, but they ignored him.

  He motioned for Amanda to go around to the door. When she began rapping on the steel, the hissing stopped as the cannibals lowered their heads. Did the sound interrupt them, or had they already achieved their purpose? Their sudden silence sent a chill to Nathan’s bones.

  He needed to find the solution to this plague ASAP. Whatever had transformed them might continue to evolve. They might go the way of computer-game monsters and morph into a boss that made him wish for the standard monsters.

  He drew his HT. “Everyone on watch, this is Nathan. Be extra vigilant for cannibals. Some may be coming our way.”

  A chorus of confirmations followed.

  Amanda returned to his side. “Maybe this is like a death rattle. They might be like fruit flies and live only a few days.”

  “I won’t get my hopes up. This is a man-made contagion, one designed for a specific purpose. Nature can never be as cruel as humankind.”

  “But we don’t know if it’s doing what it’s supposed to, or if it’s gone rogue. You know as well as I do that many inventions don’t come out as expected.”

  “Or as in programming, even when you eliminate the code’s syntax errors, there can still be logic errors.”

  “Logic in the affected?” She continued to use the media’s politically correct term for the cannibals.

  “Logic in their creators.”

  “I don’t know much about DNA, but I know even one error in one gene can cause the entire organism to change.”

  They fell silent as they studied the cannibals.

  “I wonder,” Amanda murmured as the cannibals continued to sit with heads down, “do the affected dream?”

  ++++++++++++

  Outside the Musters’ home, Nathan completed his patrol of the perimeter. When he returned to the front p
orch, he eased down onto the top step. For safety reasons, he had agreed to reside with the Musters, making the guest room his own.

  His gaze remained on the surroundings as he reached into his shoulder satchel. He withdrew a tablet-like device. The ReMOT. He powered it on. The main screen appeared with all its status indicators, which made as much sense as the controls of an alien ship. But since they all read Inactive, perhaps it didn’t matter.

  A button titled Control occupied the right side of the screen. His thumb tapped it, automatic after performing the action at least twenty times today. Another screen opened with the heading: Subject Activity. Below it, buttons for increase, decrease, and target. Gray. Inactive. “Still dead.” His grip on the edge of the device tightened. Only hope of them coming online prevented him from smashing the device against the stairs.

  Chapter 9

  Sanctuary

  All Fall Down - One Republic

  Bridges paced before the table at which Albin sat. “Welcome to the government: hurry up and wait.”

  On the floor, Judge had taken this idea to heart: half awake, she lay with her chin on Albin’s foot.

  Steepling his fingers before his lips, Albin gazed at the wall in front of him. “Even if Director Washington had addressed our case the instant we arrived, the CDC still requires a health examination and a six hour quarantine for new civilian arrivals.”

  “At least we’re almost done.” Grimacing, Bridges tore off the bandage from his arm’s venipuncture site. “Stupid protocol. They don’t even know what to look for in our blood.”

  The remainder of their journey to the command center at San Francisco International Airport had gone without incident, save for a few cars that the military needed to usher out of the restricted lane. None of the government personnel had spoken of the slaughter.

  Now the trio occupied an interrogation room the Transportation and Security Administration employed in their harassment of travelers. The trio awaited the verdict from Director Washington of the Department of Homeland Security. They had already completed their written statements on recent events. The situations had the flavor of waiting for processing at a detention facility, though Albin had only television shows on which to base this assessment.