Darkness Wakes

by Tim Waggoner

  Aaron thought of how he’d hallucinated his father. His alarm must’ve showed on his face, for Caroline reached out and patted his hand.

  “Don’t worry. Like we told you, you’re still in the initial stages of adjusting to the Overshadow’s touch. I’m talking about people who’ve been touched dozens, maybe even hundreds of times.”

  “What … happens to them?” Aaron asked.

  “Some become so unstable that they’re asked to leave Penumbra and never return. These excommunicates call themselves the Forsaken. We refer to them as Dements.” She gave Aaron an embarrassed smile. “Not the most complimentary of terms, I’ll admit.”

  “And you think the bald man who assaulted me yesterday is one of them?”

  “I do. I don’t recognize him from your description, but I’m sure I’d know him if I saw him.”

  “What did he want? I mean, why bother me? I hadn’t even been to Penumbra yet.”

  Caroline shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. But if he’s demented, his motivations might not make sense to anyone but himself. My guess is that he’s been watching the club and saw you try to open the door the other night.” She smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. We heard the knob turn, and when I saw you the next morning, I put two and two together. This man must’ve followed you home and kept you under surveillance. When he saw me visit you at work, he must’ve guessed I’d invite you to the club and then he approached you. As to why he wanted you to spy on us, I’d guess he simply wants to get back inside Penumbra — they all do — and hearing some juicy details about your visit would be as close as he could get. You haven’t seen him again, have you?”

  “No, and believe me, I’ve been keeping an eye out for him.” The idea that Scab-Head had been stalking him creeped out Aaron big time. The guy was nuts and could be capable of anything.

  “I’ll tell the others tonight, and we’ll all watch out for him. Try not to worry, though. Dements are usually harmless enough. They just want to be touched by the Overshadow again.”

  Despite Caroline’s words, it didn’t sound like she thought dements were all that benign. Her voice sounded angry … and scared.

  They finished off their second drinks, and Aaron’s head was spinning by the time he put his empty glass down on the counter. Some of it was due to the alcohol, but most of it was caused by everything Caroline had told him. So much information swirled around in his brain, too much to sort out right then. He had so many questions: What had happened to Caroline’s parents? How had she eventually learned about the Overshadow and become a member of Penumbra? Was she lying to him about his being fine — was he already dementing? What did Scab-Head really want from him, and were there other Forsaken out there somewhere? But one question rose above all the others, and it was the one he now asked.

  “The man I saw you take into Penumbra two nights ago … the young guy with the striped shirt. What happened to him?”

  Caroline looked at Aaron for several moments without answering. But then there was no need for her to speak; the look in her eyes told Aaron what he wanted to know. He remembered something Caroline had said to him last night when she’d driven him home. And that was after just a rabbit. If you thought tonight was something, wait until … She’d never finished the thought, but now Aaron had a terrible feeling he knew what she’d almost said.

  “You used a rabbit last night only because it was my first time. You were testing me, weren’t you? You wanted to see how I’d handle the Overshadow’s touch … and how I’d feel about having to sacrifice a life to the goddamned thing!”

  “Please, Aaron, calm down. It’s not like you think.”

  Caroline reached out to take his hand, but Aaron jerked it away. He was about to tell her that he was through with her, with Penumbra, and definitely with the Overshadow. But just thinking this caused a wave of weakness to wash over him and his gut to spasm painfully.

  Shit! Just like crack; one hit and I’m already hooked!

  “We having a little lover’s quarrel over here?”

  Aaron wasn’t at all surprised when he looked up and saw Mr. Muscle-Shirt standing there. The man wasn’t looking at Aaron, though. His gaze was fixed on Caroline. Even so, Aaron couldn’t help feeling that it was his place to respond to the man’s implied challenge.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re fine,” Aaron said in a tone that he hoped made it clear that he was really saying Fuck off, asshole.

  Muscle-Shirt didn’t take his gaze off Caroline as he responded. “Maybe, maybe not. What’s the lady got to say about it?”

  Caroline gave the loud mouth a cold glare. “The lady says that it’s time to go.” She got off her stool, and Aaron also rose from his seat. He took a ten out of his wallet to pay for their second round of drinks and dropped it on the bar. Caroline then put her hand in the crook of Aaron’s arm and together they walked past the idiot in the muscle-shirt. Aaron knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t resist giving the man a smug look at they walked away. As Caroline and he drew near the exit, Aaron heard a couple people laugh and call out taunting remarks to Muscle-Shirt.

  “Man, Bryan, that was harsh!”

  “Forget it, man! She’s outta your league!”

  “Way out!”

  More laughter, some of it good-natured, most of it not.

  Aaron had a bad feeling and he urged Caroline to move a little faster. They reached the door as the laughter was dying down, and Aaron risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Muscle-Shirt — whose real name evidently was Bryan — still stood at the bar, hands clenched into fists as his sides, face crimson with fury.

  He started toward the door.

  Then Aaron and Caroline were outside and heading away from the bar down the strip mall’s narrow sidewalk. Deja Brew’s door slammed open behind them, and Aaron looked back to see Bryan come out. The man stopped and pointed toward them.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted. “I’m not through with you yet!”

  They weren’t that far away from the man, so there was no reason for him to shout. Unless he was doing it so the customers still inside the bar could hear. What was the point of trying to save face if no one knew you were doing it?

  “Just ignore him and keep going,” Caroline said, not bothering to keep her voice low, as if she didn’t care if Bryan heard. No, as if she wanted him to hear.

  “Let’s head for our cars,” Aaron said. “We can’t lead him to … you know.”

  “Goddamnit, I am talking to you two!”

  Before Aaron could react, he heard the sound of boots pounding concrete, then felt Bryan’s hand clamp down on his left shoulder. Aaron tried to shrug off the man’s grip, but he was too strong and too pissed, and he swung Aaron around to face him. Caroline lost hold of Aaron’s arm, but she also turned around and stood next to him, so close their shoulders touched.

  Bryan leaned forward until his face was only inches away from Aaron’s. “What is your fucking problem? You think you’re too good to talk to someone like me, someone who actually works for a living? I’ve seen your type before, yuppie trash out slumming in a blue-collar bar, whispering snide comments about all the troglodytes around you and laughing your asses off after you leave.”

  Aaron had assumed that the man was drunk, but though his breath was redolent with beer — not to mention the Mexican food he must’ve had for dinner — Bryan’s words were crisp and clear, with no slurring. Either he was one of those drunks who never sound like they’re wasted, or he was stone-cold sober. Aaron would’ve preferred Bryan be a roaring, stumbling drunk. The two shots of vodka Aaron had downed had given him a pleasant buzz, which he knew meant he was at least tipsy. If it came down to a fight — and Aaron was afraid that’s exactly what was going to happen — he’d much rather go up against someone more drunk than he was, preferably someone on the verge of losing consciousness altogether.

  “We just stopped in for drinks, that’s all,” Caroline said. “We have as much right to drin
k in there as you do.”

  “That’s not how I see it, darlin’,” Bryan said. “I’ve been going to Deja Brew a few times a week for over three years now. That makes it my place. And you don’t come into my place and disrespect me in front of my friends.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic,” Caroline said. “You hit on me, and I wasn’t interested. What’s the big deal?”

  For a moment, Bryan looked confused, as if he hadn’t counted on Caroline using logic against him. But he quickly recovered. “The big deal is that if you’re going to turn a man down — and why’d you pass up a stud like me for a weasel-dick like him is beyond me — you do it with respect.” He paused then, and a sly look came over his face. “I’ve seen you around, darlin’. That’s why I came over to talk to you. You drive that white Infinti over there, don’t you?” He pointed in the direction of Caroline’s car. “Like I said, Deja Brew’s my hang-out spot, and I’ve seen you pull into the parking lot — sometimes when I’m sitting at the table by the window, sometimes when I’ve stepped outside for a smoke. A couple times I’ve seen you go into a door down there.” He nodded in the direction of Penumbra. “I don’t know what you do in there, but I’ve seen others go in, so I know that whatever it is, you don’t do it alone.”

  Bryan’s mouth stretched into a grin, and the anger left his eyes to be replaced by lust. “How about you invite me to your private party tonight, princess? If you do, I promise to forget all about what happened in the bar. Hell, I’ll even take back everything bad I said about no-nuts here.” He gave Aaron a wink. “Course, if you insist on being antisocial and don’t invite me, maybe I’ll start spreading the word about your secret playground. All sorts of folks will come knocking at your door then, too many for you to ignore. A secret’s not much use when everybody knows it. So what do you say? Do I get to tag along tonight?”

  Aaron heard the Dad-Voice say, Are you going to let the fucker get away with this? He’s trying to blackmail you! Aaron even thought he saw a hazy outline of his father’s form standing close by, scowling. Then, as if a switch had been thrown somewhere within Aaron, cold fury took hold of him, and he stepped toward Ryan.

  “Respect this, asshole!”

  Aaron reached out and grabbed Bryan’s neck, squeezed, and then with all his strength shoved the man toward the building’s brick wall. The move took Bryan by surprise and the side of his head struck the brick with a sickening hollow sound, like an overripe melon being dropped on concrete. His eyes sprang open wide, then rolled white as his body went limp. Aaron released his grip, and Bryan collapsed to the sidewalk and didn’t get up. Aaron looked at the spot where Bryan’s head had hit the brick and saw a bloody smear the size of a half-dollar. As if seeing the blood was a trigger, the fury instantly drained out of Aaron, leaving him feeling sickened by what he’d done.

  Don’t be a pussy. He deserved it.

  Aaron didn’t look in the direction of the Dad-Voice because he was afraid that doing so would cause the hallucination to fully manifest. If that happened, he feared he wouldn’t be able to make it go away again.

  He was a vet, not an MD, but he knew how to take a pulse. He knelt next to Bryan. The man looked so much smaller lying there, more like a child masquerading as a man. Aaron placed two fingers against Bryan’s carotid artery and was relieved to find a pulse. It seemed strong enough, but Bryan was out cold and the side of his head was bleeding. Aaron figured some damage had been done, but he had no way tell how severe it was.

  He looked up at Caroline. “I left my cell phone in my car. Do you have yours?”

  She shook her head, her expression unreadable. She didn’t seem upset, but otherwise Aaron couldn’t tell what she was feeling. He stood.

  “You stay with him, then. I’ll go back into the bar and use their phone.”

  Before he could take a step, Caroline grabbed hold of his arm. “What for?”

  “Are you kidding? He’s hurt! We have to call an ambulance!”

  “Let me go get Phillip. He’ll know what to do.”

  “We don’t have time! For all we know, he might be dying right now!”

  Aaron heard the edge of hysteria in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. Never in his life had he committed an act of violence like this, and it horrified and sickened him. But more than that, despite Caroline’s assurances in the bar, he was afraid that what he’d done was another sign that he was starting to dement.

  “Please, let me go get Phillip. He’ll be at the club by now, I’m sure of it. Promise me you won’t do anything until I get back.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “Promise!”

  Before Aaron could answer, she let go of his arm, slipped off his pumps and left them lying on the sidewalk as she turned and started running toward Penumbra.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Aaron remained crouching next to Bryan’s unconscious form, hoping no one would choose this moment to walk out of the bar or drive into the parking lot. He had the feeling that someone was standing close by, but when he looked around, he saw no one. Still, he sensed a presence — his father’s presence — and he wondered if it was possible to have an emotional hallucination instead of a visual or auditory one. He tried to get a read on how his father was feeling, whether he approved or disapproved of what his son had done to the bastard who’d just tried to blackmail Caroline, but he couldn’t tell.

  Stop thinking like that, he chided himself. Dad’s dead, remember? Whatever you think you sense, it’s just another aftereffect of the Overshadow’s touch. It’s not real.

  “That’s a fine thing to say about your own father.”

  The words seemed to come from right next to Aaron, so close he could’ve sworn he felt the speaker’s breath on his ear. But when he turned to look, no one was there. Aaron heard the sound of someone approaching. He turned, half-expecting to see his father, but it was Caroline and Phillip. They ran up to him — Caroline still in bare feet — and Phillip lost no time in crouching down next to Bryan’s other side.

  “Help me get him up, Aaron.”

  Phillip grabbed hold of Bryan’s right arm, Aaron took the left, and together they managed to hoist man up.

  “We’re going to carry him to Penumbra,” Phillip said. “If anyone sees us, hopefully it’ll look like we’re just helping out a drunk buddy.”

  Caroline bent down to pick up her shoes, but she didn’t put them back on. “Better if no one sees us at all. Let’s get going.”

  With Caroline leading the way, Aaron and Phillip began half-carrying, half-dragging Bryan down the sidewalk toward Penumbra. The man’s feet slid on the concrete and his head lolled forward, giving Aaron his first good look at Bryan’s injury. His hair on that side was a blood-sodden mess, and there was a concave depression in his skull, as if his head were a partially deflated beach ball.

  As they moved past doors and windows of businesses that had been deserted for the night, Aaron’s attention was caught by the darting and diving of insects clustered around the fluorescent lights in the parking lot. He looked up and saw moths the size of owls circling the lights, wings a blur as they beat furiously to keep the large insects aloft. Each of the gigantic creatures had misshapen, dented heads and blood dripped from their wounds, pattering softly to the ground like crimson-black rain.

  Aaron started to ask Caroline and Phillip if they saw it too, but he kept his mouth shut. Of course they didn’t see it since it wasn’t really there. It was just another hallucination, and Aaron didn’t want Caroline and Phillip to think that he was dementing, especially if he really was. He took his gaze off the oversized insects and concentrated on holding up his side of Bryan.

  As they reached Penumbra, the fuckle door opened and Wyatt stepped out. The cop held the door open for them as they carried Bryan inside, and then — after a quick scan of the parking lot to make sure no one was watching — Wyatt shut and locked the door.

  Someone was watching, though. From his chosen vantage point across in the Speedy Lube parking lot across the street, Gerald ha
d witnessed everything through the lenses of his binoculars. This was an unexpected development, but one Gerald thought he could turn to his advantage. All he had to do was remain patient and wait for his chance.

  The back of his Beetle was empty tonight. Depending on how things went, he might need the space. He’d just have to see.

  He trained his binoculars on the fuckle door, watched and waited.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Spencer said. “We can’t make an offering of him. He’s injured, and you know the rules …”

  “The rules were made up by my father,” Caroline snapped. “I know them better than anyone. Besides, you can see for yourself that this man is in the prime of his life.”

  “Except for the divot in the side of his skull,” Gillian said. She knelt next to Bryan, who now lay on the black Naugahyde couch, still unconscious, a folded towel tucked beneath his head more to soak up any blood than to provide comfort. “It’s been a few years since I was in med school, and I’m an ophthalmologist, not a head-trauma specialist. But it’s my professional judgment that he’s not going to make it.”

  Gillian wiped her blood-stained hands on Bryan’s muscle shirt and stood. She exchanged looks with Phillip, and though Aaron couldn’t be certain, he had the sense that Gillian was lying, or at least overstating the severity of Bryan’s injuries. The others stood in a half circle around the couch. Everyone was clothed; Aaron assumed they hadn’t had enough time for any of them to get undressed before they’d brought Bryan inside.

  “It’s a shame, too,” Gillian continued. “I really would’ve liked a chance to play with him a little before we serve him up as tonight’s main course.”

  Aaron glared at the others. “I can’t believe you’re actually contemplating feeding the poor bastard to the Overshadow. A rabbit is one thing, but a person …”