The Dark Ones

by Anthony Izzo

  He brought her to the door and gave it a kick and it banged open. Dragging her inside, he kicked the door closed behind them. The room smelled of oil and gasoline and she got a whiff of the type of orange soap that David had sometimes used to get his hands clean after a dirty job. Now he shoved her to the ground and she wound up on her rump on the concrete floor.

  Again he pointed the gun at her. “Take your clothes off.”

  “No.”

  “Take them off.”

  “Make me.”

  He kicked her in the ankle and the pain shot up her leg. “Do it or I’ll hurt you worse.”

  She backed up, crawling on the floor, until she bumped up against a large tire. “You touch me and I’ll make you pay.”

  “That’s it,” he said.

  In one swift move he was on top of her, shoving her to the ground. He still had the gun, but was pinning her arms to the floor. She kicked her legs, thrashing her head back and forth. He ground his crotch against her and she tried to buck him off. The idiot still wore the bandanna. He sped up his grinding. “How’s that feel?”

  He slid up and down against her pelvis. Damn it but he was heavy and she tried to force him off by thrusting against him, hoping to separate herself from him. He began grunting and panting and raised his head up, eyes squinted shut. It was then that she saw her chance. His face was only a few inches from hers. The bandanna separated from his chin.

  Raising her head, she bit down on his chin, clamping hard. She put every ounce of anger into the bite, pinching the skin between her front teeth until she tasted blood. Then she jerked her head to the side, tearing a strip of flesh from his face and spitting it out. Yelling, he rolled off her and she got to her feet. He was on his hands and knees, one hand examining the wound. She took the opportunity to kick him square in the face and he sagged sideways.

  She considered stomping him more, hoping to incapacitate him, but that might give him a chance to grab her. She bolted out the door and darted down the first path she saw, heading back toward the gate.

  Behind her, the door slammed and she heard him yell, “I’ll find you, you fucking bitch!”

  She wouldn’t have much time. She sprinted, the rows of cars towering over her.

  I need to hide. I can’t outrun him, she thought.

  Up ahead the tail end of a white Ford jutted out from the pile of cars. The trunk was open and she figured she could jump in and hold the lid closed and hopefully he would pass by her.

  She reached the Ford and climbed in the trunk, which smelled of sweat and dirt. Luckily no critters had taken up residence in the trunk. Rats and pigeons made for lousy roommates. She lay down on her side, reached up, and held the trunk lid shut, leaving enough room to breathe and allowing a sliver of dirty light to enter the trunk.

  She heard footsteps on the gravel, crunch-crunch. He wasn’t running, as she had hoped. Her hands began to tremble, and she took a deep breath. Stay still, stay still. He’ll walk right by. If you move, and he sees you, you’re dead.

  Now the trembling went up her arms and she hoped she wasn’t jiggling the trunk lid. The footsteps came closer and stopped.

  He began to whistle. Now his feet, clad in brown work boots, came into view. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. She was aware of the blood—his blood—on her mouth.

  “Where did you go?” she heard him say. “Toward the gate, that’s where I’d go if I were after me. Yes I would.”

  Not only is he a rapist, he holds bad conversations with himself.

  He stood there a moment longer. Sara reminded herself to breathe.

  She opened her eyes and saw the boot-clad feet walk away, slowly at first, then gaining momentum. She heard him yell, “I’m coming to get you!”

  Sara waited in the trunk until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Cramps began to form in her calves. The muscles in her back tightened. Something jagged dug into her back. She guessed she had stayed there for half an hour. When she thought he was gone, she raised the trunk lid and climbed out. She jogged in place for a few seconds to shake out the cramps.

  She had to get back to the gate.

  She started in the direction of the gate, snaking along the junked cars. She looked at her watch, surprised that it was midafternoon already. This was one place she wouldn’t want to be trapped at night.

  As she moved along, she heard voices in the distance, this time calling “Sara!” She stopped and listened. The call came again, a woman’s voice. Laura had come for her. There were two other male voices. She hoped they weren’t gang members.

  Sara moved through the rows. A couple of times she heard tinks and pops in the metal, expecting Tim to come charging out at her, but finally she made it back to the pile of twisted I-beams where Tim had initially thrown her on the ground.

  She could see the gate in the distance, and beyond that the street, cloaked in a gray haze created by the black mist.

  She hunched down by the pile of steel. Her body ached from being cooped up in the trunk and thrown to the ground numerous times. The palms of her hands stung. But she was almost out. She scanned the yard between her and the gate, looking for him.

  She was about to go when she noticed the glow. It came from her right side, and was warm and bright. Coming from the other side of the pile. She went around and saw it shining out from the rusted steel beams.

  Kneeling down in the light, she could see the stone tucked away in the rubble. There was a gap where the I-beams leaned against one another, and perhaps ten feet into the rubble was the Everlight. The glow diminished somewhat, but there was no doubting it: The stone David described had been found. How had she miss it earlier? Being dragged around by a rapist didn’t offer many opportunities for examining the surroundings, she supposed.

  She began to crawl in the opening, on her belly, using her elbows to drag herself forward. Five feet to go. She reached out her hand.

  Someone grabbed her ankle and she was dragged backward. She tried digging in for purchase, but he was too strong and she was out of the rubble and on her belly and being pinned to the ground. “Should’ve left while you could,” Tim said. “Now I’m gonna take my time, see what’s up that pretty little ass of yours.” He slapped her on the rump.

  How could I be so stupid?

  He was straddling her and began to roll her over when she heard another voice say, “Get off her, Cunningham, or I’ll pop you.”

  Tim stood up and the next thing she knew Laura was kneeling at her side and helping her up.

  “Are you okay? He didn’t, did he?”

  Sara shook her head. “Almost. I fought him off one other time and got away.”

  “Good girl,” Laura said, and hugged her tight. Sara buried her head in Laura’s shoulder and the tears came.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Laura said.

  They stood up, Laura keeping her arm around Sara. She saw two guys with guns, one young and dark haired. His eyes were dark and intense and he was looking at Tim like pulling the trigger on that gun might make him real happy. The other man was fiftyish and wore a patched flannel coat. He held his gun at his side.

  The younger guy said, “He hurt you?”

  Sara wiped the tears from her cheeks. She felt like a fool. “No.”

  “I should do it,” the young guy said.

  “You do and Parrish will cut you down.”

  “Milo, go over and make sure he doesn’t have anything in that sweatshirt pocket. I’ll watch him.”

  Milo, the older one, went over and jammed his hand in the sweatshirt pocket. Tim didn’t struggle. Milo pulled out the revolver and took it back over to the younger guy. “Piece of crap, going after a girl like that,” Milo muttered.

  “Find something to tie his ass up with,” the younger one said.

  Milo rummaged around the piles until he found a few lengths of thin steel cable. They made Tim sit down and Milo bound his hands behind his back, then his feet, while the young one covered him with the gun.

  “We’re walk
ing out of here. I don’t want you going back and telling your boys we hurt you, maybe have an ambush waiting for us.”

  “You’re a dead man, Mike.”

  “Go ahead. We’ll be gone.”

  “We need to find the stone,” Laura said.

  “I did. It’s in there,” Sara said, and pointed to the pile of beams.

  Milo and Mike exchanged puzzled looks.

  Sara ignored them and got down on hands and knees. She crawled into the pile and managed to snag the Everlight, which now gave off a soft yellow glow. As she crawled back out, she examined it. The light in the stone appeared to be fading.

  She rejoined the others.

  “What’s that?” Mike asked.

  “It’s not very bright,” Sara said.

  “You mind filling us in?” Milo asked.

  She didn’t feel like talking right now. Her eyes were puffy and raw from crying. “You tell them.”

  Sara listened as Laura gave them an abbreviated version of David’s story regarding the Everlight and how they needed it to destroy Engel.

  “So what does that thing do?”

  Sara held the stone in her palm. Its glow had faded and it pulsed weakly. “It can destroy Engel.”

  “Demons, huh?” Milo said.

  “I still say it’s a terrorist thing,” Mike said.

  “You saw them, Mike. You see the cloud around the city. It’s definitely not terrorists.”

  “Seems farfetched.”

  “I saw them. Down on Allen. Those things ain’t from this world,” Tim said.

  “Shut up,” Mike said. “Look, demons or not, we need to get out of here. We’re going downtown, going to hole up in the top floor of the HSBC. You should come.”

  Milo added, “You don’t want to be caught outside at night.”

  “Crazy story or not, you two seem okay,” Mike said.

  “Don’t you believe your own eyes?” Laura asked. “You’ve seen them, right?

  “At a distance. They could be anything, guys in costumes.”

  Sara rolled her eyes. She wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural, but she didn’t understand how anyone could deny the existence of the Dark Ones. Not after seeing them in action. “Then watch this.”

  She stuck the stone in her pocket and walked around Mike and Milo, who turned to watch. Raising her right hand, she fired a blast of light into a junked Jeep. It hit the fender with a pop-hiss and the Light sparked and left a scorch mark on the rusted paint.

  “What did you just do?” Milo asked.

  “That’s some freaky shit,” Mike said.

  “It’s part of being a Guardian, like she told you.”

  Sara removed the stone from her pocket. It was shiny and black. No light radiated from it at all now. “Look,” she said, and held it up.

  “We’ll have to hope the Reverend finds us,” Laura said. “Its power is gone, like Dave said.”

  “And hope he brings the other stone,” Sara said, and placed the stone in her pocket.

  What little hope she’d had for escaping this mess began to fade.

  “We’ll take shelter with you two. Based on what David said, we can’t face Engel without the stone,” Laura said. “And thank you both for helping.”

  “You’re welcome,” Milo said.

  “Wasn’t nothing,” Mike said.

  As they walked away, Sara took one last look at Tim, now on his side and straining against the cables to free himself. She was slightly ashamed of herself for having a vision of a wrecked car falling from the pile and crushing Tim into the gravel.

  CHAPTER 27

  When they reached the street, Parrish and two of his goons were waiting at the gate. Mike directed them where to find their buddy and told them he didn’t want any shit, so Parrish and the other two had gone in looking for Tim. He must’ve caught Parrish in a somewhat charming mood. Parrish was a lowlife gangbanger, but Mike suspected even he didn’t condone Tim trying to rape the girl, so he agreed to go in and get his boy and let it go for now.

  They reached the Hoolihans’ porch to find Debbie standing at the railing. “Mike, it’s your mom.”

  “Keeping her warm?”

  “Where were you?”

  “Saving Sara here in the junkyard.”

  “She passed, Mike. I’m sorry.”

  “Did she ... say anything?”

  “Her breathing got real labored. She was hard to understand, but she said to tell you you’re still a good boy.”

  Gone. And he was off on a half-assed adventure. He turned and faced the others. “I’m going in to be with her for a few minutes. Nobody come in.”

  He climbed the porch steps and went in the house. The only sound was the ticking of a chime clock. He made his way into the living room. She was on the couch. The afghan came up to her chin. Her head lolled to one side and her mouth hung slack. She looked so pale. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek and the skin was cool. Then he knelt at the couch and bowed his head. He reached under the afghan and took her hand. He sat that way for a while, watching and holding her hand.

  Someone came up behind him. He looked around. It was Debbie. “How are you?”

  “I told everyone to stay outside.”

  “You don’t want anyone to see you like this.”

  “So what if I don’t?”

  “She seemed like a nice lady.”

  “She was good. Better than me. Better than the rotten shit son of a bitch she had for a son.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “Should’ve been here, that’s all.”

  “You did what you could. It was good of you to bring her back here, get her meds.”

  “Least I did something, huh?”

  Debbie came and knelt beside him. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She seemed like a sweet girl. He appreciated it. “There’s one thing.”

  “Name it.”

  “Her rosary and cross. They’re next door. Right rear bedroom. The rosary is on the long dresser. The cross is over the bed. Could you bring them?”

  “You bet.”

  She left and came back a few minutes later with the glass rosary beads and the silver crucifix that seemed to weigh five pounds. It had been brought from the Old Country by his great-grandfather and had hung in every O’Donnell house since 1918. He took the items from her and removed the afghan. Then he folded her hands best he could and wrapped the beads around them. He set the crucifix on her chest.

  He said the Our Father, a Hail Mary, and the Glory Be. It was the first time he had said those since he was eleven or twelve. Debbie stood silently behind him. Then he kissed his mother’s forehead one more time. “I hate to leave her here.”

  “There’s nothing else you can do.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Not to totally change the subject, but I packed some grocery bags filled with food for the road. I hope your neighbors won’t mind.”

  Mike cracked a grin. “They don’t have much choice, do they?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “It’s getting late. We should go,” he said.

  He turned and took one last look at his mother’s corpse, thinking he could have done better for her. When this was over, he would see she got a proper burial. And a mass. If they made it back.

  Laura found herself squeezed in the extended cab’s backseat between Sara and Debbie. They had put the grocery bags, along with some flashlights and candles, in the truck bed. Milo drove and Mike sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window.

  They traveled in the late afternoon shadows, which were made darker by the mist surrounding the city. On the way to the 190 ramp, they passed a few houses that had plywood over the windows and doors, the residents hoping to ward off an attack. They got on the elevated highway and Laura watched the sun descend through the film of the cloud.

  As they rolled along she looked out at the HSBC arena, which still smoldered. They passed the abandoned Mills Shoe Factory and she had to
glance twice because she thought she saw a line of bodies impaled on spears outside the big loading door. It made goose bumps dance on her arms.

  “How you doing?” she asked Sara.

  The girl only shrugged her shoulders and looked out the window.

  “We’ll be safe for tonight. You can get some rest.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You want to talk about anything?”

  “I miss Robbie.”

  “Robbie?”

  “Boyfriend.”

  “Same grade as you?”

  “I don’t want to talk right now, okay?”

  She left the girl alone with her thoughts. Hopefully that creep in the scrap yard hadn’t damaged her. If he had managed to rape her, Laura would have taken Mike’s gun and shot him between the eyes.

  She watched the sun. It descended a few more notches in the sky. She craned her neck to see up and out through the windshield. The cloud seemed to be gaining speed, swirling. Parts of it were darker than others. It had been fairly static during the day and now there seemed to be activity within. They were getting ready to move. “Hey Milo, step on it. We don’t have much time.”

  “It’s not dark yet.”

  “I think it’s close enough. Look at the mist.”

  Milo leaned forward a bit, head over the steering wheel. “It looks like it’s moving around.”

  “Am I right?”

  The truck lurched forward, Milo pressing it toward the exit ramp.

  Engel stepped into the doorway of the mill and looked at the black mist that hung over the city. He waved his hand, and from the mill, two of his soldiers dragged Charles outside.

  “Bring him here.”

  Engel looked at the wretch. Mouth caked with dried blood. Shirtless and bruised. He was pathetic.

  “Why don’t you get it over with? Kill me. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “I want what’s out there,” Engel said, and swept his hand toward the city. “I want the girl.”

  “She’s strong.”

  “The light went out in that stone you buried with me. That is why I’m free. There’s nothing that can stop me.”

  “Then why kill her? Why not send your barbarians across the country, then the world?”