Day of Darkness

by LC Champlin

  “Wait.” Nathan caught her elbow. “I want to keep gunshots to a minimum. Both of you see what you can find for weapons. Check the yards for tools or poles. Even 2x4s and rope are better than nothing. Also—”

  “We’ll get the people who are training in Marlin Park,” Jo finished.

  “Exactly.”

  They sprinted off as Nathan kept watch. The grip of the Glock, square like the boards he may have to use against the cannibals, felt solid in his hand. He raised the binoculars again, heart slamming itself against his fractured ribs, sending shocks of pain through his chest. The Dalits on the other shore dwindled, most floating in the water before the sea wall.

  Then the black bobbers that represented their heads began to drift farther into the channel. They stayed together, no more than four or five feet apart.

  “You know,” the fisherman murmured half to himself, “it’s like those news clips where people make a human chain so they can rescue a dog from a river, or a kid caught in a riptide.”

  Not blinking, Nathan shifted his stare from the monsters to the angler. “Cohesive units.”

  Chapter 20

  Huddle

  Eye of the Storm - Watt White

  The cannibals continued to drift, reaching the channel’s center seventy yards away. They began to straighten their line. Now it truly did resemble a human—or inhuman—chain.

  “Look.” The fisherman pointed to a dock a hundred yards down from the Dalits’ location.

  The view through the binoculars shook as Nathan rotated toward the new target. Clenching his jaws and tightening his grip steadied it. Another cluster of cannibals had begun lowering themselves in the water. These moved with more speed and intention than the first group.

  With the horde from the apartment complex finally in the water, the cord of oil-drooling monstrosities cut itself free from land.

  Nathan hit the PTT again. “Anyone who is responding to my first message and heading toward Marlin Park, gather as many people who can fight as possible. Bring your spears and ranged weapons.”

  “We couldn’t find much,” Amanda panted, slowing to a halt beside him. She held two spades.

  Josephine joined her, also wielding a spade. “We need to carry these everywhere—” She broke off as she spotted the line of cannibals. The creatures began to retract their chain, bunching together in a loose assembly. “My God! It’s like those disgusting ant rafts in Africa during the floods.”

  “And it’s about to dock.” Leaving the Glock in its holster, Nathan took a spade from Amanda. He would burn through his ammunition and draw more of the creatures if he tried to fire on each Dalit. Thank God he’d taken a pain pill earlier; wielding a polearm would not please his ribs.

  Running footsteps behind—The self-defense class and their instructors jogged into the lot. They carried homemade spears, as well as sports equipment and garden implements. Some wore loops of rope over their shoulders.

  “Perfect timing,” Nathan called as he waved for the reinforcements to join him. “See those objects bobbing toward us? Those are cannibals.”

  The team members exchanged nervous glances.

  What could they use in the immediate vicinity to stop the horde? What did he have? A park, a soccer field—Of course! “You four.” He pointed to a flock of teens at the end of the line. “Get the soccer goal nets. Go!”

  Faces as pale as the cannibals’ and eyes just as wide, the young people scurried away.

  “Holy fuck,” someone groaned. “This must be what the Germans felt like at Normandy.”

  Ignoring the comparison, Nathan pushed to the front of the group. “Make a line like you practiced today. Let’s go.”

  The people spread out, weapons ready.

  “Why don’t you just shoot them?” a woman at the end of the line asked, leaning forward to make eye contact with Nathan.

  “That will just bring more,” someone answered.

  The boat of invading cannibals neared, floating toward the southwestern end of the park—and the defenders. People cleared their throats or coughed but otherwise remained silent.

  The thunk of the boat against the neighboring house’s dock echoed. The instant it touched, Nathan advanced with spade out. Not a boar spear, but it would do.

  The Dalits eyed him.

  Ssssssaaaaahhhh.

  “Come on, you bastards.”

  The cannibal closest to the dock—who wore the jeans, flannel shirt, and baseball cap of a recreational fisherman—leapt onto the boards.

  No sooner had it made landfall than Nathan darted in with the shovel. It caught the creature in the philtrum, splitting teeth from gums and shearing the nose off. The face hung from a strip of flesh at the forehead and flapped against the skull. Blood, thick and dark, gushed from the raw meat. But the attacker didn’t slow. Bending its knees, it regained its balance.

  As Nathan chambered for another strike—keeping the handle close to his body so as to use his hips rather than abs and by extension ribs—the other two monsters hopped onto the dock, mouths open and oil splattering the boards. They dropped to all fours and began heaving like drunks working up a vomit.

  Nathan retreated as Amanda and Josephine stepped up beside him. Their expressions and the set of their stances showed no fear, only determination. Behind them, the self-defense class gathered. Even pacifist Californians would occasionally rise to the threat if pressed far enough. At least, these did.

  “Knock them in the water,” Nathan ordered. “Trip up their feet. On three. One, two, three!” The trio lunged, each member taking the cannibal nearest them. The garden implements flashed in the sun as they found their marks.

  Nathan yanked the shovel back, the shoulder of the blade catching the cannibal’s ankle. Elbows against his sides, he ignored the pain.

  Three splashes. Rather than flailing or sinking, the Dalits rolled onto their backs and floated like corpses, eyes on the sky.

  Shouts from the residents. What the—Shit. The raft of cannibals had come within ten yards of shore. At least a dozen of them composed the mass, kicking their feet to propel themselves while holding each other’s arms. The hissing intensified as they neared land. Red-orange eyes smoldered, without emotion yet more chilling than any glare of hate. They held a single-minded purpose: to destroy.

  “What are we supposed to do now?” Amanda asked as Nathan jogged toward the group of defenders.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  Chapter 21

  Big Uglies

  Invincible - All Good Things

  “Listen,” Nathan ordered. “Form a spear phalanx like the soldiers in the Middle Ages, like you practiced. Put the butt of the spear in the dirt and brace it at forty-five degrees.”

  Amanda and Josephine fell in along the line. “Come on!” Waving the people over, Amanda leaned back, into her shovel’s handle.

  “Five of you”—Nathan glanced at the class—“stand behind and stab between us. You’ll be in charge of keeping them from breaking through the line.”

  The teens sprinted back, two goal nets in tow. The PVC frames made them unwieldy to transport.

  “Excellent work. Now tie the ends together to make a long net.”

  “Where do you want it?” panted one of the girls holding the requested item. Ah, the girl who’d asked if she could have more water at the combat class.

  “You.” Nathan selected four of the larger members of the line. “Each of you grab a corner. Get in front of us. Brace the frame ends against the trees.” The trunks flanked the defenders. “Go!”

  The four jumped to obey.

  “Teens, two of you get on each end of our line. Beat the hell out of any cannibals that try to come behind us. Keep moving. And for the love of your lives, do not get any of their body fluids on you.”

  They trotted off to take cornerback and safety positions on the line of scrimmage. They looked less frightened than they had before they completed Operation Goal Net. Earning
success worked wonders for confidence.

  The first members of the cannibal raft dragged ashore. Waterlogged, they squelched and sloshed up the gravel beach. The hisses took on a low, cautious quality as their owners stared about, moving their heads rather than their eyes.

  The lead Dalits dropped to all fours.

  “Watch out!” Nathan yelled. “They’re going to vomit. Line, take two steps back.”

  The oil splattered onto the grass a safe distance from the phalanx.

  “Now?” asked a net holder, an overeager man in his mid-thirties.

  “No!” Amanda barked before Nathan could say the same.

  “Let them get closer,” Josephine added.

  “On my mark.” Leaning back to better seat his spade, Nathan dug his Nikes into the dirt. One, two, three, four. In theory, he could take out at least half of the creatures with his Glock. If he did exceptionally well, and his ribs behaved, he might annihilate them all. But the amount of shots would make the place sound like a shooting range. Besides, if the people here executed a successful defense, the morale of the neighborhood would skyrocket.

  Two cannibals broke from the back of the raft, one darting to each end like hellish wide receivers.

  “Teens, look sharp.” And use sharp implements.

  The first kid on the left locked up, his weapon shaking in his grip. But his comrade shoved an improvised spear into the enemy’s torso. Not a good location, but it slowed the charge and saved the other boy’s face from the cannibal’s swipe.

  “Get him in the head,” the impaler barked at his frozen companion. “It’s gonna eat your fucking brains!”

  This broke the kid’s paralysis. His makeshift spear—a kitchen knife duct taped to the end of a 2x2—lanced into the cannibal’s left eye. When he yanked the weapon free, the Dalit crumpled, blood oozing from its socket.

  On the other side, the two teenage girls set upon the cannibal with the gusto of Berserkers. Their spears flashed in and out, halting the cannibal under their rain of blades.

  “Don’t let it splash you,” Josephine called.

  They really should have personal protective equipment kits, just as the Israelis carried gas masks.

  Ahead, the mass surged toward the defenders.

  “Net! Now!” Nathan commanded.

  Braced on her polearm, Amanda glanced from one side of the net to the other. “Push them out. We’ll do the rest.”

  The nets shoved forward, lopsided.

  “Even it up!”

  Goal! The cannibals charged into the webbing, but the defenders began pushing back. Nathan waved the line forward. “Up! Everyone else, headshots. Aim.”

  Garden tools and homemade spears began to thrust. Like a threshing machine mowing a field, the group plowed ahead. The cannibals fell in ranks, piling up on the other side of the net. In less than a minute, the defenders had dispatched all invaders.

  Black oil flowed in rivulets that joined in streams, then mixed in the Belmont Channel’s waters.

  “Talk about toxic waste,” commented one of the teenagers.

  A wave of heat and cold washed down Nathan’s spine. What if the oil contaminated the water? Would the evaporation that occurred in the desalination chambers clear the water of the contagion? Would boiling?

  Shouts of victory went up. People slapped each other on the back and wiped sweat from their faces. Gasping for breath, a few people stared at the heap of meat.

  “Well done,” Nathan announced. “But remember, in victory, tighten your helmets. There are more cannibals in the channel.”

  Reality quieted exultation.

  Amanda stepped up. “This victory won’t be the last.”

  “With more enemies comes the opportunity for more victories,” Nathan added. “The cannibals won’t win.”

  Raising her shovel, Josephine crowed, “We are Redwood Shores!” How easily you turned to we when you fought side by side.

  Group morale stabilized, Nathan turned back to the approaching cannibal raft. Seven Dalits. Why did so many of the oil-pukers decide to attack now? They could have meandered along the other side of the peninsula and eventually found their way south, but these seemed to have a goal with a deadline. But what important date were they about to be late for?

  “Mom!” Amanda’s radio spat.

  “Denver?” Maternal panic crackled under the word.

  “Mom, the cannibals in the garage are acting weird again. They’ve got their backs to each other. They’re hissing at the sky. They look like those coyotes from the Wild West.”

  “Get away from them.” Glaring across at the cannibals as if they could take the wrath she wanted to direct at Denver, Amanda shook her head. “I told you not to go near the garage.”

  “But, Mom, they’re really loud. We can hear them all the way outside. That’s why we came over.”

  “Get back inside, Denver. You and your sister. Taylor? Get her back to the Singhs.”

  “I’m trying, Mom!”

  “Coyotes?” echoed Josephine, brushing her hair back. “Wait, what if—”

  “Of course!” Nathan snapped his fingers. “Maybe that’s why the cannibals are so determined to reach us.”

  “Cohesive units,” Josephine breathed.

  Chapter 22

  Slobberknocker

  Day of the Dead - Hollywood Undead

  Nathan put his hand out for Amanda’s HT. Brows lowered in confusion, she handed it over. “Denver, Taylor, it’s Nathan. Do you copy?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Good. Bang on the garage door. Distract the cannibals. We need them to stop hissing.”

  “Um, okay.” Excitement charged Denver’s voice.

  A long shot, but one that might hit the mark. Even if it didn’t stop the horde, it would prove the cannibals couldn’t summon their brethren from a distance.

  After returning Amanda’s HT, he started toward the new raft of cannibals.

  “Do you think this will work?” she asked, joining him.

  “We’re going to see.”

  Time to rinse and repeat. “All right, everybody, get ready. We’re going to do the same thing. You four with the net”—he gestured to them—“run it through the water, but don’t get your handhold areas wet. Everyone else, wash your weapons as well. And remember, do not touch where they’ve hit the cannibals.”

  The residents shuffled over to comply. They completed their task in under a minute.

  “Make one line.” Wave toward the beach near the dock that the first three cannibals had mounted. The boat-riding Dalits had drifted to reinforce the raft of seven, making it ten.

  “Hey!”

  Nathan glanced back to find the fisherman, who’d retreated behind the defenders, keeping watch with binoculars from a safe distance.

  “There are more of them hanging around on the other side.”

  Shooting a frown at the cannibal reinforcements, Josephine growled. “Shutting down those five in the garage had better work.”

  The security forces formed a line again, this time with more efficiency. When the mob made landfall, the residents stood their ground with confidence.

  The monsters hauled themselves onto the beach, water streaming off them. They looked even more lamentable than usual: half-drowned and deflated. But the water failed to make them any less of a threat.

  Halting several yards in front of the humans, the first four cannibals swung their heads from side to side, taking stock of their adversaries.

  The rear rank drew up while still shin-deep in water, their attention on the mound of mutilated flesh and oozing oil.

  Ssssssaaaaahhhhh!

  The hissing intensified, emanating from every cannibal. Louder, louder—

  “What are they doing?” Amanda whispered. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

  Wrinkling her nose, Josephine adjusted her grip on her spade. “They look like they’re trying to figure out what to do.”

  “Don’
t give them too much credit,” Nathan warned. “But don’t underestimate them, either.” He swallowed, throat dry. His people had performed well, but would they last?

  The Dalits spread along the beach, forming a long, loose line. Then the three central cannibals stepped back. Each side of the line shuffled in to close the gap.

  The defenders shifted and muttered.

  “Hold the line,” Nathan ordered. “Keep your attention on them.” The idiots would get everyone killed if they didn’t keep their heads in the game.

  Two of the rear cannibals dropped to a crouch and grabbed each other’s wrists. The third retreated, then dashed forward. Its foot landed in the stirrup its cronies formed with their hands. They thrust upward, using their powerful quads to send their comrade into the air like an acrobat. While the contagion decreased their mental capacity, it heightened their strength—like adrenaline, PCP, or Flakka.

  Before anyone could say a word, the cannibal thudded down behind the net. However, it landed at the business end of a wall of spears.

  “Amanda, Josephine, with me. I’ll take the head shot.” One, two, three—Ready, aim, shovel.

  The three spades struck the cannibal: Nathan’s to the face, Josephine’s to the right upper chest, and Amanda’s to the left knee. The monster hit the ground with a hiss. Black blood pulsed from the lacerations. Finish it! Shovel thrust to its face, between the eyes. Ah, the satisfaction of a job well done.

  In the back of Nathan’s mind, golden eyes surveyed the scene with approval as he scraped the shovel blade off on the beach.

  “Back up.” He waved everyone beyond the range of the jumpers. But this allowed the cannibals more room to maneuver on dry ground.

  “You three and you three.” He volunteered the end defenders. “Go out five yards from us laterally.”

  They looked confused but followed instructions.

  “Net holders, go forward, then pull back.”

  The center of the cannibal line followed, as if a magnet drew the iron in their blood.

  “Side groups, go wide and try and hit the ends of their line. Push them toward the middle.”