by Mark Gordon
Chapter 20
A Visitor in the Dark
As night fell, the rain became steadier. Matt listened as it peppered the tin roof and gushed through the downpipes, filling the water-tanks. He was cold, so he lit the fire and stared blankly at the flames and tried to imagine a life without his parents. It was difficult. He knew that he had enough resources to keep himself alive physically, but where would he get the emotional nourishment that came from being part of a family? He had no choice but to venture out tomorrow in search of other survivors. Being a hardened and anti-social loner might look cool in the movies, but Matt was mature enough, and scared enough, to know that it just wasn’t him. He needed companions.
Despite his bleak mood, Matt was hungry. It dawned on him that he hadn’t eaten for days, and working the farm all afternoon had given him an appetite. He microwaved some lasagne, which he shared with Elvis, and then sat on the couch and tried to formulate a plan for his uncertain future. More than ever, he wished his father were here because he would know what to do. Matt idolised his dad in the same way that all sons looked up to genuinely good men, and despite the fact that they argued occasionally, were great friends. They had the same sense of humour and a taste for action movies (which his mother couldn’t stand) and they loved nothing better than sitting on the couch together with a packet of chips watching a football match. On the farm they worked together as a team, and when they went in to town Matt could see the pride in his father’s eyes as he introduced his son to other farmers. Never being able to ask for his advice again was terrifying. “What should I do, dad?” Matt said aloud to the empty room, as tears welled in his eyes. Feeling useless and childish, the boy lay down on the couch and pulled a cushion over his face, thinking that if he could stop the tears he could stop the pain.
He dozed off, and when he opened his eyes and pushed the cushion from his face, Elvis was standing at the front window staring into the blackness. The rain was heavier now.
“What’s up boy?” he asked. “Do you need to pee?”
Matt went to the front door and held it open so the Labrador could go outside and do its’ business, but the dog remained at the window. Matt closed the front door and made sure it was locked as Elvis maintained his silent vigil. Matt joined him at the window, but the light from the front porch only illuminated a small area of grass in the front yard and beyond that there was nothing but darkness. The only sound he could hear was rain pattering steadily on the roof. “What’s up boy? You’re not freaking out on me are you?” The dog’s instincts had been good over the last few days so Matt had a niggling feeling that he should be wary. He went to the kitchen, and grabbed the shotgun from the table, before taking it back to the living room where he leaned it against the window frame. Elvis hadn’t moved. Next he went around the house to check that he had locked all of the doors and windows before flicking off the lights, including the one on the porch. He went back to the front window to watch.
As Matt’s eyes adjusted to the dark, the view outside became slightly more visible. While everything was still only varying shades of black, there was at least some differentiation between the clearing around the house and the bush beyond. For ten minutes he stood side by side with Elvis, straining his eyes, but could see nothing other than darkness and rain. “Come on Elvis, this is silly. It’s too dark out there. Even if something were wandering around we wouldn’t see it. Relax.”
But the dog held its’ position.
Matt turned a lamp on and went back to the couch to consider tomorrow’s strategy, which would see him drive to Carswell to search for survivors. It was only a thirty-minute drive and had a larger population than Millfield, so there might be a chance of finding somebody there who had escaped the 'virus. If he left early in the morning, there would be plenty of time to get there, look around and come home before it was dark. With that decided, it was time for bed, because tomorrow, like all of his days now, would be difficult. He stood up and headed to the window to get the shotgun before Elvis knocked it over, and as he did the dog barked, startling him severely.
Something was out there.
“Come on boy, enough of this shit. Let’s see what’s out there.”
He opened the door and stepped onto the covered porch. Elvis followed Matt outside and stood beside him, alert, as he scanned the bush beyond the yard. Was something moving out there in the trees? It was so hard to tell with all the rain. Elvis barked again.
“Stay!” he commanded.
The last thing Matt needed was his only friend to be savaged by a wild boar, or worse. There it was again! A shadow was moving through the trees. Shit! What was it? Matt knew that it wouldn’t be a survivor out there in the bush in this weather, so it was either feeders on the prowl for fresh meat, or a feral pig stumbling around. He hoped it was a pig. There it was again! Another movement, perhaps a little closer this time - something was definitely moving through the trees towards the farm! Matt’s eyes were beginning to play tricks on him as he tried to follow the progress of the shadowy figure. This was ridiculous! He couldn’t stay out here all night on the porch, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he thought those beasts were converging on the house. He decided to do what his father would have done. He went inside and grabbed the flashlight from under the kitchen sink and his dad’s waterproof parka from the coat stand near the front door. He went back outside onto the porch and surveyed the night while pulling on the coat.
“Come on boy! Let’s check it out."
As Matt stepped from the illuminated porch into the darkness of the yard, he felt as if he were leaving the safety of a ship for the dangers of a turbulent and mysterious ocean, as thousands of raindrops filtered through the flashlight’s beam. He headed down the path towards the front gate and propped the light on the top of the gatepost so that its’ beam pointed at the area where he had seen the movement. The gate creaked as it swung open and Matt paused, hands gripped tightly on his shotgun as he scanned for the intruder. Elvis whined beside him.
“It’s okay boy. Just stay close.”
He left the gate open behind him as he walked slowly toward the dense, wet scrub. He was beginning to believe that this was turning out to be a pointless exercise when something rustled in the bushes at the edge of the forest. Matt pointed the shotgun in the direction of the sound, just as the figure appeared, almost magically, half hidden in a clump of bushes only ten paces before of him. It wasn’t a feral pig, Matt realised fearfully, as he raised the shotgun and tightened his finger on the trigger. Then in a moment that was profoundly and deeply horrifying, the creature in the shadows took a step forward, triggering a macabre sense of recognition in the boy.
“Dad?”
The creature that had once been Matt’s father exploded from the trees and charged silently and brutally at his son. Matt stood motionless in shock as the beast moved in for the kill. There was no time to get into position before the feeder would rip out his throat with its teeth and bare hands. Matt was about to be savagely attacked and devoured by his father. Then Elvis was moving; snarling as he leapt at the creature, knocking it to its' knees before it had a chance to strike. Matt snapped out of his trance, raised the gun, and pulled the trigger. The blast caught the creature full in the chest, and sent it sprawling to the forest floor. Despite its’ extensive injuries, though, it still managed to get to its’ feet and came at Matt once more. He fired the second shell. He couldn’t miss from such close range, and once more the feeder hit the muddy forest floor writhing in pain, its’ breathing ragged and irregular. Matt knew that it was near death. The boy stood over the dying body of his father.
“I’m sorry Dad. I’m so sorry. Why did you come back? You should have stayed away.”
Matt slumped to his knees and lifted his father from the mud. He hugged him with all of his strength, moaning like an injured animal, as the body went limp in his arms. His scream became one with the rain and the dark as he felt his hero’s final breath ebb away.
