by W. J. Lundy
Jacob looked down, letting his hand tenderly touch the bandage. “Thank you… I guess. Wait, where… where’s my family?” Jacob stuttered.
“They’re safe; I’m sure they made it back—” Murphy started to say before Jacob interrupted him.
“Then you don’t know!” Jacob said his voice rising.
Murphy raised a finger to his lips and pointed at the floor above. “I said you need to be quiet.”
Stephens shook his head, watching Jacob complain. “Fools, man… we never shoulda stopped for that last set. We’d be back on the base behind the walls if we’d just kept going. Hell… I should have never reported to duty at all. I should have stayed home.” The soldier swung his head down to hold it in his hands. “I’d be downstate right now, quiet and comfy.”
“Cut it, Corporal; our job is to collect civilians, not take care of our own asses,” Murphy said.
“Man, that’s bullshit. Who gonna care for all them civilians now, with Second Squad gone?” Stephens muttered as he looked down and dug through a small pack. He reached in, pulled out a small bottle of water, and handed it to Jacob. “Here, drink this down. You lost a lot of blood, need to replace those fluids.” Stephens reached back into his bag and removed Jacob’s pistol. “Take this too. I topped off the mag for you. I seen you in action back there. Next time, slow down and aim; you’d have better luck with it.”
Jacob held the pistol in his hand. Ignoring the water, he said, “I don’t understand how I got here? Who are you?”
“Hmmh,” Stephens grunted. “Some appreciation that is… Guess you took a hard thump to the grape. Yeah, I’d be jacked up in the head too.”
“Dammit, just tell me what in the hell is going on. Where’s my family?” Jacob shouted, trying again to get to his feet.
Murphy put his hand up, silencing Jacob. “I already told you, your family is safe. I think so anyway; the base is locked up tight and those things haven’t gotten in yet. Now… like I said before, you need to chill. If those wounds get to bleeding again, we’ll be stuck here.”
Jacob exhaled loudly, his frustration growing. “Where is here?”
Jacob watched Murphy reach into his pack and pull out a brown plastic pouch the size of a large book. He used his knife to open the package, and then dumped smaller packages on the floor in front of him. “We’re in the basement of a house on Oak. You should be more grateful, seeing as how we carried your ass… well, Stephens did mostly—”
“You’re welcome,” Stephens sounded off. “You heavy as hell too, ya know… wouldn’t kill you to do some PT, lose some of that gut.”
Jacob looked down and removed the cap from the bottle he was holding. “Oak Street? That’s only three blocks over from my house.”
“Like I said, you heavy,” Stephens answered, glaring.
Murphy pointed at the window. “We barely made it in here, as it is. We were able to cut down the last wave. The grenade helped, but we had to move before they rebounded—they always fucking rebound. You’re damn lucky we decided to take you with us.”
“I’d ha’ left ya if it was up to me,” Stephens said, shaking his head. “Hell, Sergeant here, guess he figures better to take you with us than fight you later.”
Jacob stared at him blankly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means every time we lose someone, they come back as the fucking darkness.”
“The darkness?” Jacob asked.
“Those, things, whatever the hell they are,” Stephens said, moving away to a far wall and dropping down against it. He pulled his rifle into his lap and cradled it.
“What is it? The Darkness… is it like a sickness?”
“Hell no; it’s an actual thing, like a whole new person,” Stephens muttered, shaking his head.
Jacob, again, found himself losing his patience. “You’re talking nonsense!”
Murphy looked up from the bag in his lap and pointed at him. “I won’t warn you again to keep your voice down. I can tape that mouth shut, if you’d prefer it.” Murphy dug into the plastic pouches in front of him and tossed Jacob a sealed package. “Eat this; you need the calories.”
Murphy put his knife back into a sheath on his belt. “It’s not a sickness; it’s… it’s something different.”
Jacob took the package, flipped it over, read the pound cake label, and set it on the floor next to him. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood for cake.”
“Then go ahead and eat it, because that shit is in no way cake. If you’re going to be strong enough to travel with us, you need to eat,” Murphy ordered.
Jacob took the foil package and ripped off the top. He looked at the yellow brick inside, and then looked back at Murphy. “I’ve seen them close up. The black eyes, the dark mouths, and their blood… it… it was like oil,” he said quietly.
Stephens grunted. “That’s cause they ain’t people; they the darkness. We already told you that.”
“What does that mean?” Jacob asked, frustrated and looking at Murphy as he pulled the yellow brick from the wrapper.
“The Darkness, Zulus, Marble Eyes, Boogie Man—whatever you call them, it’s all the same,” Murphy said, spooning through his meal. “They are not us, not anymore.”
Murphy opened a drinking tube hanging from his vest and sucked water into his mouth, taking a long swallow. He stared at Jacob, then looked at Stephens who was leaning against the wall. “You been cut off since the beginning of this, huh?”
Jacob nodded. “We haven’t left the house since the sirens turned on. I saw the early news reports about the rioting and the PSA to shelter in place,” Jacob said, breaking off a hunk of the brick and putting it in his mouth. He made an odd face and took a long swig of water to wash down the substance.
Stephens pulled his rifle away from his lap. “Damn PSA; shoulda told people to run, get as far away as you can. Now we got so many pockets of people trapped in the city and they just waiting to get taken… soon they’s all be gone, be one of them.”
“So what are they?” Jacob asked.
Stephens spit on the floor near his boot. “I don’t know what they are,” he said, his voice rising. Catching himself, he turned back to Jacob and spoke in a low voice. “Doc Jersey, our medic, he cut one open after we killed it. No guts, man, just a black jelly glob all up in their bodies. We tried taking one prisoner… yeah, we captured and hog-tied its ass. They strong, but they ain’t no supermen. This thing was weird, though; the damn thing screamed until it died. We didn’t do a damn thing to it. It just fucking died, man. Then it dried up like a choked-out fish.”
“It’s true; they shrivel up… like dehydrate,” Murphy said.
Jacob’s jaw dropped, not understanding but seeing a connection. “The ones I killed; the blood, it shriveled and dried up too, like old paint—”
There was a loud thump on the floor above as a door slammed open. Stephens held a hand up and put a finger to his lip. Jacob looked up at the ceiling and watched the shadows as a figure walked over the planks. It paced through the house and then quickly left again.
Stephens quietly got to his feet and stepped lightly to the window. He looked out to search the street, then moved back to his position and looked down at Murphy. “Sergeant, we can’t stay here. That’s the fourth time they checked this place. They know we’re close.”
Chapter 7
Jacob stood pressed against the wall with Murphy to his front. He was blinded in the night and kept a hand on Murphy’s shoulder so he could be guided by him. Stephens had already cleared the basement doorway and advanced out into the shadows to scout the way ahead. They were waiting for his signal to proceed outside. A low clicking sound came to Jacob’s ears and Murphy turned, looked at Jacob, and waved him forward. The soldier then stepped off, pulling Jacob behind him. Once in the doorway, they pressed back against the wall. Jacob looked around, trying to orient himself before stepping up the concrete steps to the outside. He was shocked to make it up them without falling on his face.
; Murphy moved quickly along the side of the house, then knelt beside a tall bush. He looked back at Jacob and lifted his night vision goggles from his eyes. “You all right?” he whispered.
“I can’t see anything,” Jacob whispered back.
“Just keep a hand on my back until your eyes adjust… You good?”
Jacob nodded even though the pain in his hip seemed unbearable and was causing bolts of burning spikes to shoot to his spine. Not wanting to stop, he clenched his teeth and whispered back, “I’m good.”
“Okay then; Stephens is just ahead. I know you can’t see him in the dark, but it’ll get better as we go. Just stay close and keep your mouth shut, walk when I walk, stop when I stop, and if I run… try to keep up.”
Murphy stepped off briskly, hugging the front face of the house and moving south in the direction that Jacob knew would take them to the park. They stayed away from the sidewalk—crouching beside shrubs, moving between cars parked in driveways, and sometimes jumping a fence. When they came to a cross street, Stephens would duck near the corner of a house to wait for Murphy and Jacob to bunch up behind. Murphy would slap the tall man’s shoulder and he would dart across the street, the sound of his boots slapping the pavement and filling the dead air.
A signal invisible to Jacob’s naked eyes was received and Murphy got back to his feet, dragging Jacob behind him. As promised, his night vision slowly improved as they traveled. He was able to make out the shapes of houses, then objects in the yards. Now he could see nearly everything up to a short distance, and Jacob slowly recognized the neighborhood they were in. He often used this route as a shortcut when going to Katy’s daycare.
The streets were lined with well-manicured lawns on both sides. Many of the homes here looked untouched; the doors remained closed and windows were in place. Jacob found that more and more of the driveways were absent of vehicles as he traveled the neighborhood. Were they evacuated? Jacob pondered as he passed another long, empty driveway. They rounded the corner of a tall brick-faced house and suddenly, a bright floodlight filled a front yard. For a moment, Jacob could see the crouched figure of Stephens freeze just before he sprinted out of sight and vanished.
Jacob was turned back by Murphy before being rushed to the side of the house. They knelt down next to the side of the home in a dark shadow and away from the light. Murphy flipped up his goggles and raised his rifle to search the area lit by the floodlight. He scanned left and right as the area, again, suddenly went dark. Murphy pulled the rifle back into his chest and dropped his goggles. He crouched lower and pressed his body against the wall.
Jacob couldn’t contain himself and whispered, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing; probably just one of those damn solar security lights, tied to a motion sensor,” Murphy answered. “Come on, follow—”
A loud sound of feet falling on the sidewalk silenced Murphy. They both pressed tight against the brick house as several figures passed by within yards of their position. The Others moved beyond them, and the floodlight kicked on again, lighting the neighboring yard but this time, also illuminating six figures. They stood together but randomly spread across the yard—not searching, just standing in the center of the brightly lit space.
Murphy pushed Jacob back around the corner then skirted ahead of him to lead the way to the brick home’s backyard. They moved up a narrow walkway that brought them to a tight stone path between the house and a detached garage. Murphy moved through it with Jacob close behind. They rounded a stack of overflowing metal trashcans, then dropped low in the grass and continued on to the far side of the yard where they met up with a tall picket fence.
Murphy low-walked the distance to the fence and knelt down with his back to the wooden slats. They were now directly behind the brick house and all the way to the back of the lot. Next door was the home with the solar light in the front yard. Behind them, over the fence, was a narrow patch of high grass and trees that divided the lot from the home on the opposite side of the block.
Murphy had pulled his goggles down and was looking ahead at the brick house. He then lifted his rifle and probed the area of the neighboring backyard. “Three more of the damn lights up there by the roof,” he whispered.
Three quick shots, followed by two more, blasted from the front of the neighboring home. Murphy leapt to his feet, turned, and pulled Jacob up beside him. “Time to keep up,” he said and took off running toward the neighboring fence. When he got there, he let his rifle hang from a sling and cupped his hands, providing a step for Jacob.
“What are you doing?” Jacob asked.
“I’ll give you a boost. Get over and don’t stop until you hit the next yard.”
“But the lights—” He was interrupted by a long scream and volley of gunfire, this time farther away.
Murphy flexed his arms. “Let’s go; you’re wasting time!”
Jacob shook his head and lifted a foot into the soldier’s grip. He stood up and grabbed the top edge of the fence as he felt Murphy pushing him up and over. He cleared the top lip of the fence and fell hard to the grass on the far side. He scrambled back to his feet; the pain in his hip sent electrical shocks up his left side. Jacob had just stepped off in the darkness with his hands in front of him when the backyard exploded with bright light.
Three bright halogen lights, attached to the roof’s gables, kicked on simultaneously. Jacob looked directly into one, filling his vision with spots and momentarily blinding him. He heard Murphy thump to the ground beside him and felt a hand shove him forward.
“What are you still doing here?” Murphy yelled. “Run!”
Murphy again shoved him forward, causing him to almost trip. He ran past Jacob with his rifle up, sweeping the yard as he bolted to the opposite end. He nearly crashed into the fence when he stopped and aimed toward the front yard to wait for Jacob to catch up. Murphy, again, dropped the rifle to the sling and dropped his cupped hands. Without argument, Jacob lifted a foot to the gloved hands and felt himself being lifted up and over the fence. Again, he dropped fast to the other side and landed hard as he impacted with the ground.
Gracefully, Murphy dropped down beside him and pulled Jacob to his feet by the back of his shirt. Once more, they were up and running through backyards—fortunately ones without fences. Murphy slowed to a jog, then to a brisk walk. He kept his rifle up as he continued forward and scanned ahead. At the corner lot, Murphy stopped and moved in closer to the back of a home. He paused just off a back patio that led up to a room filled with furniture.
Murphy held up a hand, halting Jacob, then pointed a finger at the patio door. Walking low with his back to the wall, he approached the patio. As Jacob watched, Murphy lightly walked up the steps to a large deck before he crept to a sliding patio door. Moments later, the door slid open and Murphy waved Jacob forward as he disappeared inside. Jacob took a deep breath and followed the soldier into the home.
The patio door opened into a dining room dimly lit by the floodlights from down the street. The space smelled of death and rotting food. A round wooden table held a carton of milk that was knocked over; its spoiled contents splashed across the table and onto the floor. Jacob closed the door and followed Murphy deeper into the house. In the living room, they found piled luggage and an open closet with coats and shoes spilling out.
“They left in a hurry,” Murphy whispered as he walked to a partial wall banking an open staircase. He pulled back a curtain to allow more of the light to pour in and peered into the front yard.
“Is Stephens out there?” Jacob asked.
“Somewhere… he’s smart; he’ll find a tidy spot where he can watch for us.”
“Why did he fire, you sure they didn’t get him?”
Murphy clenched his jaw, looking to the front yard. “They might have gotten the jump on him, but more likely he was providing a diversion for us—”
A noise near the front of the house caused Jacob to drop down and pull his elbows in. Murphy heard it too and dropped the curtain. In one
fluid motion, he spun on his heels, pressed his back to the wall, and brought up his rifle. Murphy looked across the room at Jacob and pointed to the kitchen. Jacob nodded then turned and moved quietly across the floor to get behind a kitchen island. He knelt down, his head just out of sight.
An already partially open door squeaked as it swung inward, bleeding more light into the room and backlighting the cabinets over Jacob’s head. More noise echoed through the space with the sound of a vase or pot being tipped over and rolling loudly across a hardwood floor. Jacob squatted lower as he heard wet shoes squeaking on the waxed wood floors. They moved closer and seemed to stop just beyond the kitchen. After a short pause, they moved again and stopped at the island. Jacob could hear the thing’s breath and the rustle of its clothing as it moved its hand over items on the island. A glass was knocked over; it rolled across the island’s surface and dropped to the floor, shattering at Jacob’s feet.
A shard of glass slid and rested against Jacob’s boot; it rattled and chimed with the shaking of his knee. He held his breath and tried to stop his trembling. Finding it impossible, he steeled his nerve, gripped the pistol, and rose to face whatever was there. He stumbled as he stood too quickly and caused blood to rush from his head. His already weak knees taking him off- balance, Jacob dropped a hand to the island to steady himself as he looked into the blackened eyes of a broad-shouldered man. He was wearing a collared work shirt with one sleeve ripped free, a pink and black tie still knotted around his neck.
The thing looked through Jacob like it was focusing on the wall behind him. Its lips curled back to reveal glistening ivory fangs and blackened gums. Suddenly, the thing’s arms shot out. Reaching for Jacob, it lunged forward over the island. It opened its mouth to yell but was halted by Murphy leaping from out of the dark and landing on the thing’s back. Murphy quickly wrapped his forearm around its mouth to block the scream from escaping. Pulling a knife with his free hand, he shoved the blade into the creature’s neck. Together they flew over the island and crashed into Jacob, the three of them dropping hard to the tile floor.
