The Darkness

by W. J. Lundy

  “Come on, mister, you got to open this damn door!”

  “What did you do? You brought them here!” Jacob shouted.

  Sounds of shattering glass erupted from downstairs.

  “I have to help them; when I get back you need to let us in!” Frank yelled.

  Jacob heard Frank running down the stairs yelling, “I’m coming, Joey; hold on, boy!”

  The yelling continued, Frank’s voice no enraged shouting to the others. Jacob turned to his wife sitting behind him. “Get Katy to the attic.”

  “Come with us,” Laura pleaded.

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Jacob moved closer to the door to listen. He heard the screams outside and more glass breaking below, followed by a shotgun blast. He ran to the closet where Laura was struggling to get the barely conscious Katy up the shelving. Jacob took his daughter from Laura and helped his wife up the shelf, using his shoulders to try to boost her up. He climbed as high as he could, then passed Katy to Laura through the hole in the ceiling and scrambled up after them. The house was shaking violently as he pulled himself up through the ceiling joists. He quickly moved to the center of the attic and kept his wife and daughter behind him as he looked over the access hole.

  “We have to help them,” Laura said, her voice trembling.

  “There is nothing we can do for them,” Jacob whispered.

  Jacob shook his head and grabbed his wife and daughter in a tight hug as he listened to the screams below. Gunfire from the first floor, barely audible above the roar of the things bursting into his home, found its way through the rooms. The walls shook as it felt like hundreds of them must be pouring through his house. Jacob watched nervously while the ceiling joists swayed and rattled under the load of the things below. He left his wife’s side and crawled across on his belly to the gable vent, wanting to see how many there were. He pressed his eye against the opening and peered into the street.

  The front yard and the street were filled with them. Shoulder to shoulder, they crowded and pushed their way into his home. The house heaved and shook with protest in rhythm to the movement of the mass. Jacob watched in fascination as the screaming suddenly stopped. The creatures halted their forward momentum and slowly withdrew. As quickly as they had massed, they collectively dispersed back into the shadows. The remaining ones in his home slowly bled back into the street. Jacob saw a tall man cradling the young girl’s body, then another carrying the boy. Several others vacated the home before he witnessed the gruff man called Frank being dragged away.

  “Where are they taking them?” Jacob whispered.

  ***

  Thunder filled the night air as bold lightning strikes flashed in the distance. The flashes filled the bedroom with light through the gaps in the drapes, a strobe of patterns that played tricks on his mind as he watched the door. Laura was curled into the fetal position beside him, cradling Katy as they slept in the center of the bed. Jacob held the rifle in his hand, splitting his time watching the bedroom door and peeking through the window. He tried to sleep, but every slap of thunder thrust him awake so hard it made his chest hurt.

  Two hours had passed since the things left the house without even trying the second floor, never even moving to the steps. They kept all of their focus on the visitors below, and the pack left with them in their clutches. Jacob had watched them move away and vanish from the street, leaving things as if they’d never been there. He’d then waited until he was sure the things were gone before returning his family to the bedroom.

  Jacob lay on the bed, listening to the sound of raindrops beating on the roof, the cadence slowly increasing as the storm intensified and moved over them. He let his feet touch the floor and moved to the window. Pulling back the drapes, he saw that the street was filling with water. Without power, the pumps would be down and basements would soon backup. The cars were still there; the dead man’s body hanging out and soaked in the pouring rain. He looked across the street at the ruins of Smitty’s home.

  Jacob thought of Frank’s story of the evacuation at the school. How he had to go back for his nephew himself. There was no rescue; they had to do it on their own. “Nobody’s coming,” he whispered. “Nobody.”

  A stirring in the bed snapped his gaze from the street. He turned and watched as Laura propped herself up on one arm and looked at him. “Anything?” she asked.

  Jacob shook his head and closed the drape before walking back to the bed. He sat down lightly at the edge, close enough that Laura could put an arm on his shoulder. A loud rolling of thunder rattled the house, and Jacob flinched with the noise. “Come to bed; lie down with us,” Laura whispered. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  Chapter 5

  There was a distant, low rumbling noise and muffled voices when Jacob opened his eyes. He imagined it was a dream until he heard them again, along with the growl of a diesel engine. He jumped from the bed and hurried to the window. Down the street, he saw a small military convoy moving slowly and deliberately. Green painted trucks, with men walking along beside them, headed in Jacob’s direction. The convoy stopped just in front of his wrecked car.

  A Humvee, with a man standing in the turret over a large machine gun, led two large transport vehicles. As soon as they stopped, more soldiers dismounted the vehicles and stood near the curbs with their rifles out. Ignoring the destroyed homes, another group of soldiers ran to the remaining intact front doors, pounding on them and calling out for survivors.

  Jacob watched in amazement as homes that he’d presumed were abandoned opened their doors. People were guided out and they hurried to line up at the backs of the trucks. Soldiers tossed in bags and helped men, women, and children climb steps to board the vehicles.

  Rescue! They’re here! Jacob thought.

  “Now! We have to go now!” Jacob yelled, jumping to his feet and waking his wife.

  Grabbing the cordless drill, he removed the screws from the door as quickly as he could.

  He grabbed the rifle, slung it across his back, and placed the pistol in its holster. His wife was fumbling with the backpack. Jacob grabbed it from her and put it over her shoulder, then lifted Katy. He grabbed Laura by the wrist and pulled her behind him as he ran for the stairs. He rushed for the already open front door, weaving through the overturned furniture and stepping over the remains of the splintered front door. Jacob worried when he saw that the trucks were nearly full. He called out and caught the attention of a soldier who was near his porch.

  “Show me your eyes!” the soldier ordered, aiming the rifle.

  Jacob stopped and raised his hands staring at the soldier. “We’re okay, we are all fine.”

  The soldier looked them over and pointed a gloved finger at Katy lying in Jacob’s arms. “What’s with the little one?”

  “She is just sick; she needs a doctor.”

  The soldier stepped in and looked at Jacob closely then down at Katy. He frowned sympathetically and nodded his head. “Okay. Quickly, we gotta keep moving.” The soldier then yelled over his shoulder, “We got three more over here.”

  Jacob rushed his wife and daughter ahead of him to the back of the first transport. A soldier was just beginning to close the canopy. “Sorry, sir, this one is full; try the other truck.”

  Jacob looked at the man in shock. He knew there would be no arguing with him so he grabbed his wife’s arm and dragged her to the second transport.

  The soldier had already removed the stepladder and closed the gate, but when he looked at Jacob and Katy, his mouth dropped upon seeing the sick girl. “It’s okay. We can make room. Lift her up!” he said, locking eyes with Jacob.

  Jacob lifted his daughter at the back gate. Someone grabbed her and pulled her on board the truck. He could hear Katy’s screams as he lost sight of her. He hugged his wife and went to lift her over the tailgate. From above, a man in a flannel shirt put his hand in her face and pushed her away. “Truck is full, man!” he yelled.

  A second soldier stepped forward, put a hand
on Jacob’s shoulder, and said, “It’s okay; you two can walk with us.”

  “My daughter is alone in there,” Jacob yelled. “Just let my wife on.”

  He turned and looked at Laura. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you,” he said before he lifted her again.

  The soldier helped lift Laura, and as she grabbed the top of the truck’s tailgate, a woman on board grabbed her hand and tried to help pull her in. The man in flannel again came forward; he tried to peel Laura’s fingers from the gate then went to push an open palm to her face. “I said the truck is—”

  Not allowing him to finish, Jacob let go of his wife and grabbed the man’s wrist. He lifted his leg to the tailgate and pulled back.

  The flannelled man lost his balance and tumbled head first from the bed of the truck and out to the street. Hitting hard against the pavement, he lay motionless. Jacob watched as his wife was lifted up and over the tailgate. A soldier moved Jacob aside and began fastening down the canopy as shots erupted from behind them. Jacob spun to see a black-eyed man sprinting toward them, but—already—soldiers were online, firing. Jacob watched as the thing dropped and rolled to the ground as more fast-moving runners came into view from down the street.

  “Go, go, go,” a soldier yelled, slapping the side of the truck. He then turned Jacob around and, pushing him forward, said, “Let’s go, friend, keep up.”

  Jacob stared as the truck slowly moved away. With the gunfire erupting all around him and not knowing what else to do, he chased after it. He watched as the soldiers fell in beside him, turning often to check their rear for pursuers. They were moving fast but not fast enough; the truck was pulling away and the mob was closing on them.

  Jacob heard screams of agony as the swarm overcame the man in flannel. The soldiers stopped; one of them grabbed Jacob and turned him toward the center of a quickly forming protective ring. Jacob looked at his surroundings and realized he was the last civilian remaining on the street, encased in the human shield provided by this group of soldiers. Hearing the screams and seeing the black eyes approach, Jacob swung the rifle from his back and held it tightly in his arms.

  “Make ’em count, boys!” a soldier yelled.

  The soldiers fired with chaotic precision. Jacob watched them take quick shots into the crowd and work as a team, covering each other as another reloaded. Jacob moved to an edge and prepared to fire but was quickly pushed back to the center. Once the initial wave was cut down, the men were back on their feet, shouting orders, and directing Jacob in the direction the trucks had gone. The mob began to close in again; Jacob saw the Humvee as it circled back over the sidewalk and lawns. Its engine at a high roar, it raced past them and skidded to a stop in the street. With the Humvee shielding them from the advancing swarm, the big gun on its roof let loose a barrage. A thump, thump, thump resonated from the big gun up in the turret, ripping the charging mass apart.

  Following the soldiers, Jacob ran and took cover behind the Humvee with two other men. The big gun cut down wave after wave of the charging forms while other soldiers covered the sides and backs. The gunfire became deafening; it disoriented Jacob, and he put his hands to his ringing ears. When the gunner stopped firing, the street was suddenly quiet. Jacob turned and saw through the billowing blue smoke that the transports had moved on in the chaos.

  The tight mass of soldiers began reloading magazines while holding their position and watching the surrounding neighborhood. Jacob felt lost in the group, and he looked to the soldier next to him. The man was middle aged—maybe late thirties—and looked like he hadn’t slept for days. His weather-beaten face was dirty and stubbly with the makings of an early beard. He wore a tattered army uniform; the sleeves were torn, and there was a long rip in one pant leg of his trousers. The man’s knees and elbows were covered in dirt and blood.

  “Where did they go?” Jacob asked.

  Pushing loose bullets into a magazine, the soldier replied, “Back to the park. We’re staging folks there before moving everyone north.” The soldier finished with his task and looked up at Jacob. Seeming to notice the way Jacob looked him over, he continued, “Yeah, I ain’t much to look at; it’s been a rough week.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

  The solder waved his hand, dismissing Jacob’s apology. “You know, I saw what you did back there,” the soldier said. “The man on the truck.”

  “I won’t apologize. He wouldn’t let my wife on the truck,” Jacob said.

  “Yeah… he was an asshole. I’ve lost a lot of good men the last few days. I won’t be shedding any tears for that one,” the soldier replied and then extending a gloved hand. “By the way, my name’s Murphy.”

  Jacob returned the handshake. “I’m Jacob.”

  Murphy gripped Jacob’s hand firmly and pulled him in close so the others couldn’t hear. “Listen, I ain’t gonna sugarcoat this for you. They’ll be back and when they come, they’ll come hard. You need to get that weapon up and be ready to use it; do you understand? You can’t cower.”

  “I got it,” Jacob said, suddenly unsure of himself and missing the security of his second-floor safe zone.

  More screams erupted from all around them, signifying the things were out there roaming the backyards of the homes.

  “Well, that didn’t take long,” Murphy said under his breath. The soldier then rose to his feet and yelled as he brought up the rifle, “Lock and load, boys—it’s time to pay the bills!”

  The mob had somehow managed to completely surround their position. Instead of coming back at them from down the street, they had slipped through the backyards and were pouring at them from between the houses. The turret gun opened up, sweeping and hitting everything it could, and the soldiers on both sides of Jacob fired their rifles. Jacob pulled the .22 rifle tight to his shoulder and took aim before pulling the trigger, switching targets until his only magazine was empty. Then he drew the handgun from its holster.

  The deranged things had gotten in close. He watched as a soldier was hit from behind and knocked to the street. A black-eyed man tried to drag him away, and as another soldier went to his aid, he was quickly taken down with him. More climbed over the hood of the Humvee and swamped the mounted machine gunner from behind. The gun fired wildly, the gunner refusing to be taken down without a fight.

  Jacob looked up the street in the direction the trucks had moved. He stood and contemplated running after them. His hands were shaking with fear. His ears were ringing from the close proximity of the gunshots, the screams blocking out his thoughts. He raised his pistol when he saw another wave of the mob closing on him. He aimed straight into the chest of the closest one and fired until the slide locked to the rear.

  They were all over him now; they leapt and tackled him to the ground, then more piled on. Jacob tried to fight back but was pressed against the pavement with his head turned to the side. He could feel the things tugging at his legs, trying to drag him off. He heard the clang on the street beside him and recognized the round metallic object that was rolling in his direction. He closed his eyes tight and waited for the explosion he was sure would come.

  Chapter 6

  The ceiling was made up of evenly spaced old wooden beams; holes had been drilled through them and strands of wire were stretched between each timber. Heavy wooden floorboards with small breaks between them allowed bright light to filter in. The rays cut his pupils, causing them to contract; he closed his eyes. He heard heavy footsteps above him and clomping of heavy feet. Scattered dust drifted through the beams of light and he watched pieces of earth slowly fall until they touched his face. He lay staring at the ceiling as if in a dream; his eyes open and aware, he stayed immobile waiting for his body to catch up with his brain.

  Suddenly, Jacob jerked and stiffened as the feelings of pain and fear filled his body. He tried to sit up—until agony shot through his shoulder and hip. Jacob looked down and saw that a green field dressing covered his wounded side. He felt the pressure of a heavy hand on his chest.

&nbs
p; “Whoa there, big guy; just relax,” a soothing voice whispered.

  “Wha… where am I? Where’s my family? Where are Laura and Katy?” Jacob asked, breathing heavily. Still struggling to sit up, he knew he needed to relax but couldn’t fight off the fear. His heart was beating out of his chest and he felt the sweat gather on his forehead.

  The soldier scooted closer and Jacob recognized the face of Murphy, the soldier he had met on the street. “I need you to stay quiet; okay, buddy?” Murphy whispered as he pointed to the ceiling. “Can you do that for me?”

  Confused and angry at being spoken to like a child, Jacob glared at the man. He wanted to get to his feet, to escape, to find the trucks. He needed to get to Laura and Katy.

  Jacob was about to protest again when he heard more hollow, heavy steps on the plank floor above. They slowly faded and were followed by a loud slap of a screen door. Against a far wall, Jacob saw a tall black soldier standing on an old crate and looking out a narrow window. The man turned and looked back in his direction.

  “They gone, Sergeant; all of ’em. Just moved back down Oak Street.”

  “Shit. That’s the third time they’ve been through this house; not sure how long our luck is going to hold,” Murphy whispered.

  Jacob moved his good arm behind him, pushed, and forced himself into a sitting position. Feeling bolts of pain fire through his trembling body, he scooted so that his back rested against a rough block wall.

  “You said Oak Street? Where the hell am I? What happened back there?” Jacob asked.

  Murphy looked down at him with concern. “You need to relax. Just chill for a bit and let those wounds set up. You took some frag from that grenade.”

  The other soldier walked away from the window and sat against the wall near Jacob. “It was superficial, but damn, you’re a bleeder. I patched you up and ended up using all the damn med kit on your ass,” the soldier said.