The Darkness

by W. J. Lundy

  Jacob gripped the heavy fabric of the man’s vest and stumbled forward, kicking objects on the floor as he was guided down a long hallway.

  “Watch your step. The floor is covered with luggage, bags, and boxes of shit people left behind,” Murphy whispered.

  The trio continued on shuffling; the plods of their boots echoed in the silent hallway. A latch popped and Jacob recognized the sound of a door squeaking open and items on the floor sliding as the door was pulled outward, into the hallway.

  “Stairs are clear,” Stephens whispered back.

  Jacob was led ahead and around a corner; the echo of their footsteps changed and the space now smelled of cleaning solvent. He heard the door latch behind him and a white light clicked on. Murphy had powered up a weapon-mounted flashlight and was surveying the stairwell. It was clean—the floors polished and the walls still vibrant with fresh paint.

  “Place must’a had power when they were pulled out… probably used the elevators,” Stephens said. He reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out a long length of chain he’d salvaged from the front doors. He looped it through a pull handle and secured the other end to a handrail. He reached over and snatched sets of zip cuffs from Jacob’s tactical vest then locked the ends of the chain in place. He tested the stability of the hasty lock and nodded his approval to Murphy.

  Murphy turned and, holding his light up the stairwell, slowly patrolled forward. The heavy fire door at the second floor was locked, and one look told them it would be difficult to open with the crowbar. They stood near it, listening but found only silence. They continued up to the next floor, which was also locked. Murphy began to round the corner to enter the landing that brought them to the fourth floor but stopped and stepped back. He pointed ahead to the next floor’s fire door—it was slightly ajar.

  The sound of a glass bottle being knocked over rattled across a tile floor from above. Jacob crouched and held his breath as the sound of footsteps echoed into the stairwell. Murphy reached his hand forward and clicked off the light. A dim, soft glow emanated from the open door. Murphy knelt down and took a long lunging step round the corner, squaring up on the exit above. Stephens quickly moved forward, grabbing an angle and covering the other soldier from the corner.

  “Who’s there?” Murphy called out, causing Jacob to flinch with surprise; he hadn’t expected the soldier to announce their position like that.

  Sounds of scrambling above and muffled voices reached Jacob’s ears and the light went out. Jacob clutched the handrail and strained his ears to pick up the sound of Murphy’s boot treads slowly ascending the staircase.

  “Don’t ya’ll come up here—I’ll blow ya’ll back to hell where ya come from!” a woman’s voice shouted.

  “Now hold up!” Murphy said. “We’re not here to hurt anyone!”

  “Ya’ll ain’t dragging me off; you’ll have to kill me first!”

  Stephens moved up the steps, holding a palm up to Murphy as he passed. Murphy nodded his approval. “What the hell you talking about, lady? We ain’t the darkness!”

  “The hell you ain’t; now get to stepping before I come at you with this twelve gauge!”

  “Lady, you ever seen one of those things in an argument?” Stephens said; his voice lower.

  After a pause the woman answered, “Well, no, I guess I haven’t.”

  “Ma’am, now I’m coming up; if you shoot me… well, you’re gonna have some explaining to do to my momma,” Stephens said.

  Still staying in the cover of the stairwell, Murphy stepped ahead and followed close behind Stephens while Jacob held back on the rail. He watched as the light came back on and a shadow cut across it. Stephens stepped up the stairwell, the soft light outlining his form as he cautiously took the steps one at a time. Jacob observed as Stephens let go of his rifle and, letting it hang slack from the sling, stepped to the landing at the top of the stairs. He put his hands up and extended them into the hallway.

  “Okay, see my hands? I don’t intend no harm on y’all. I’m coming in, okay?” Stephens said, speaking calmly.

  “Yeah, I see ‘um,” the woman answered.

  “Nana, just put the gun down,” a younger man’s voice called.

  Stephens continued to extend his arms as he walked into the hallway. He stepped clearly into the light and held his hands up, the soft light illuminating his face and uniform. Garbled words were exchanged in soft voices. Then Stephens peered back into the stairwell, looking at Murphy and Jacob, and said, “You can come up.” Murphy lowered his weapon and waved Jacob forward.

  Chapter 15

  An elderly grey-haired woman stood looking at them suspiciously, a shotgun tightly gripped in her hands. A young man walked past her and greeted Stephens enthusiastically. “Good to see you, brother. Where’s everyone else? When are we leaving?”

  Moving Jacob ahead, Murphy stepped out of the stairwell to stand beside Stephens and looked back into the dark hallway. He tried to close the door behind him but found it was stuck open.

  “Mr. Carson broke the door when the elevators went out. Door was locked from the inside, and it was the only way to get back up here,” the young man said, watching Murphy’s attempts to secure the entrance. “He was supposed to come back for us… but never did.”

  “What’s your name, kid?” Stephens asked.

  “Tyree,” he answered.

  “Tyree, why didn’t you all leave with the others?”

  The young man placed his hand on the older woman’s arm. “Nana, you can go back inside,” Tyree whispered.

  She looked at the strangers and shook her head at them before turning and walking back down the dark hallway. Near the end of the passage, she stopped and threw them one last scowl before disappearing into an apartment.

  The young man looked back at Stephens. “My papa has been ill for a while and he can’t walk; he’s in a chair and needs oxygen. When the folks came to get us on the bus, they didn’t have an ambulance or a wheelchair for him. The police said they’d send someone, but they dint.”

  “This place was locked up tight. Boarded and chained,” Murphy pointed out.

  Tyree nodded his head. “That was Mr. Carson, the landlord. He stayed back with my grandparents to help them out after they got everyone else out. Nana and Papa were the only tenants left in the building. He watched over them ‘til me and my cousin got here. Carson locked us in, sealed up the building, and went for help.”

  “When was this?” Murphy asked.

  “Bout three days ago, maybe. After the electricity shut off,” Tyree said. “You all thirsty? We got water… food.”

  “Thank you, I could use a bite. We’ve been on the move since yesterday,” Murphy answered.

  An explosion in the distance roared outside and shook the building, causing the windows at the ends of the hallway to rattle. Jacob stepped back and put his hands to the wall.

  “It’s okay. That shit’s happening a lot, but this ol’ building is tough; it ain’t falling down anytime soon,” Tyree said as he turned to walk toward the apartment at the end of the hall.

  Stephens glanced over at Murphy. When all Murphy did was shrug his shoulders, Stephens sarcastically smiled before stepping off to follow Tyree. Murphy started to follow as well when Jacob reached out a hand and grabbed his forearm. “What are we doing? We need to keep moving.”

  “Relax, we’re just stopping long enough to get eyes on the area, and we’ll be on our way,” Murphy said, pulling away and following Stephens.

  Jacob stood looking down the dark hallway; every apartment door was partially opened, and the windows at each end of the long hallway had been covered with paper. He turned and glimpsed back at the broken door as explosions outside made an ominous rumbling sound that crept up the stairwell. Listening to the growling echo up the stairs and the trembling as the building protested the concussion of every bomb drop, Jacob suddenly realized he was alone in the dimly lit space. Shaking himself, he quickly moved out after his friends.

  Jacob r
eached the apartment the others had entered and, slipping quietly through the open door, paused in a small hallway. The apartment was neatly made up and well kept. Family pictures covered the walls and Jacob recognized Tyree in several of them—as a young boy sitting on a sailboat and holding a fishing pole, group photos of happier times, but most notably, his high school graduation photo, enlarged and holding a prominent spot above a large maple bench.

  Jacob followed the voices he could hear to the end of the small hallway. He walked into a living room where an elderly man, wearing an oxygen mask, lifted a hand to wave. Jacob forced a smile and returned the gesture as younger man, possibly late teens, moved from the kitchen and looked Jacob up and down. “You a cop?” he asked accusingly.

  Jacob sighed and shook his head. “You know, I’m going to have to get a new tailor.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” the kid asked.

  “Means I found this gear in the back of a cop car. I’m not a police officer,” Jacob answered.

  “Cool, because I got warrants,” the kid said.

  The old man snapped the oxygen mask from his face, the sudden movement catching Jacob’s eye. “James, will you shut up? The police ain’t sending nobody out here to arrest you for speeding tickets.” The old man looked up at Jacob. “Pardon my grandson; he tries to play tough, but he’s harmless.”

  “Papa, will you stop? We don’t owe these folks any explanation,” James said, looking embarrassed.

  “Child, hush, and go get this fella something to eat,” the old man ordered.

  Jacob let his arms relax, still not used to the weight of the rifle and tactical vest. Seeing his discomfort, the old man offered him a seat. Jacob moved across the room, pushed aside crumpled blankets and pillows, and sat at the corner of a sofa. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back as the weight relaxed from his back.

  “Sorry about the mess; the boys been staying with us and we ain’t got a lot of room,” the man said.

  Jacob scanned the space; it was a humble apartment—heirloom furniture, sofa and chairs, a small dining table for two just outside of the kitchen door. The windows had heavy blankets pulled over them, sealing out the light. The apartment door was open, but Jacob could see where furniture had been pushed against it at one point.

  Following Jacob’s stare to the front door, the old man said, “We used to keep it closed up but we leave it open ’cause the floor is empty now and the doors downstairs is all locked. Might need to change our policy, though, considering you folks just walked up on us like that.”

  James returned to the room and eyed Jacob suspiciously before handing him a plate and a small plastic cup. “Here, it’s just water and a grilled cheese.”

  Jacob accepted the plate. “Been a bit since I had a hot meal; thank you.”

  “I wish I had more for you. Y’all can call me Ernest, or Ernie; most my friends do. Gas is still on up here; keeps the stove going. Some water pressure from the tank on the roof, but not sure how long that’ll last.”

  Jacob took a long drink of the water. He looked at Ernie and nodded. “It’s good; thank you, sir.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “I’m Jacob.”

  The old man turned his head, stretching to see into the kitchen. “Listen, Jacob, I know what’s happening out there. I been hearing what they say on the radio.”

  Jacob looked to the old man. “I don’t have answers, if that’s what you’re asking—” He stopped as the sound of an explosion rattled the windows and shook the building.

  The old man shook his head. “I’m not looking for that, Jacob. I need you to get the boys out of here. I already talked it over with the wife; we won’t last out there, especially not on those streets... not in no shelter either. We’ll be okay up here; we got food and water and can get by for some time on our own. I need you to promise that when you leave, you’ll take the boys.”

  Tyree walked into the room. “Papa, I already told you we ain’t leaving without you, so stop bothering this man.”

  “You got to; these folks will need your help, anyhow.”

  Jacob looked at Tyree and noticed the others were now moving out of the kitchen.

  “How, exactly, would we need their help?” Jacob asked.

  “They know the streets. You’ll find that the roads are all blocked. These two can get you in and out and up to the island—I know that’s where you all are headed; no other reason for you to be up this far.”

  Murphy stepped into the room, raising a hand as he swallowed. “What do you know about the roads being blocked?” Murphy asked. He took a seat next to Jacob, holding a half-eaten sandwich.

  Ernie grinned and pulled back a blanket on his lap. He had a small handheld police scanner. He held it up and clicked it on; hearing nothing but static, he powered it back off. “It was alive with reports up ‘til about four hours ago. That’s when the fire department called in for help. We heard their distress calls; said they were pulling back to the south. Later, those men out front, they got shot up and their vehicles wrecked.

  “That street out front will get you killed. You’re gonna have to stick to the alleys. These boys can help you.”

  Tyree raised his hand and stepped closer to face Ernie, moving behind his chair and leaning over his shoulder. “I told you, Papa, we ain’t leaving. Now stop this.”

  “It's okay, Ty,” the old woman said. “Your grandfather and I already discussed it; it’s all been figured on. You know I can’t go running and jumping over no fences, and no way I’d go an’ leave him here alone. When you get to the island, you can tell ’em where we be and they’ll come back for us. I got plenty here to take care of your Papa.”

  Tyree looked down and shook his head, then stepped away while looking toward the hall and staring at the door. James moved from the kitchen and hugged the woman. “Don’t make us go, Nana,” he said, his voice breaking.

  The old man cleared his throat and looked back at Jacob. “Now, y’all can take what you need. The boys scrounged up plenty from the empty units, but you need to be going quick. It’s been quiet for a couple hours, but you can bet it won’t last.”

  “Wait!” Murphy said loud enough to silence them. “Tell me about what happened out front; you saw it?”

  Tyree turned away and looked at Murphy. “I saw it… I was on the roof.”

  “Who did it, and how?”

  “It was a bunch of trucks and a school bus; they was driving down the center of the street, then the people… you know them, the ones on the news—”

  “The Darkness,” Stephens said.

  “Yeah, it was them. They come out and filled the street. They was pushing at the vehicles; you know, crowding around them and trying to open the doors to get in. But the trucks didn’t stop; they just kept going, slowly pushing them out of the way. Then it was like… shooting from everywhere. The trucks tried to speed up through the crowd, but more of ’em—these different ones with guns—they started shooting. The army guys, they started shooting back.

  “Well, one of them things had a bazooka or something because it blew a hole right through one of those tanks out there; the one out front.”

  Stephens nodded. “Yeah, and then what?”

  “Well, mostly the vehicles kept going right through it, leaving that one out front to burn. Later, some helicopters flew by and I waved to them from the roof, but they didn’t stop. When I looked back at the street… they was all gone… every last one of ‘em.

  “I still been seeing them. Right before you showed up, a group moved down the street, all carrying rifles. A woman ran to them for help… they tackled her and drug her off.”

  “Where did they take her?” Stephens asked.

  “I don’t know. Just gone… up the street somewhere.”

  “You think you can get us to Northerly Island through all of that?” Murphy asked.

  “No… no way. Not through the city—too many people and too many places for them to get at us. You’re talking te
n miles on foot. If it was that easy, I would have already tried.”

  “So think about how you would go now. How would you go if you had to, without being seen?”

  “Go to the lake,” Nana said.

  Murphy looked at her. “Yes, ma’am, that’s where we want to get.”

  “No, I mean straight to the lake; you could go through the Oak Woods Cemetery and then to the harbor,” Nana said.

  Murphy looked at her, then back to Tyree.

  Tyree nodded his head. “She’s right. It’s only a couple miles if we cut through the graveyard.”

  Stephens chuckled. “For real man? You want to go through the friggin' graveyard? In the middle of the night?”

  Murphy put up a hand, silencing Stephens as he got to his feet and stepped toward Tyree. “Take me to the roof and show me the route.”

  Chapter 16

  Jacob followed the others back down the hallway, into the stairwell, and out a roof access door. Jacob used a sleeve to wipe his forehead; it was raining again and hot. The humidity made the air feel heavy and sweat instantly built up under the vest on his back. The rain drizzled in and tapped at the rubber and pea-stone surface of the roof as Tyree led them to the north corner. Just before he reached the end, he crouched low and waited for them to gather around.

  “I’ve seen them down there all around those streets. So watch yourself,” Tyree said, before turning back and moving slowly toward the edge. He moved right to the end, and then squatted back on his heels behind a stubbed wall that ran the perimeter of the roof.

  Jacob hung back as Murphy scooted next to Tyree and looked out over the edge. “What am I looking at?” he whispered.

  Tyree reached into a light backpack he’d carried with him up to the roof and pulled out a red collapsible toy telescope that he handed off to Murphy. Murphy looked at it in his hand. “Really? How old are you, man?”