The Darkening

by Paul Antony Jones

  As if it had read his mind—And for all I know, Collins thought, it might just be able to—a scuffling sound came from the corridor. To Collins it sounded like someone smacking the flat of their hand against the wall. Was it trying to lure them to it, because that sure as shit wasn't going to happen.

  "No way! No goddamn way," Tyreese exclaimed, almost yelling.

  Collins followed Tyreese's stare.

  The vampire's head, gold eyes glinting in the apartment's meager light, had appeared around the corner of the room about halfway up the wall. The rest of the body followed as the vampire crawled across the wall near the ceiling like a giant white spider. Collins had no idea how it was doing it, but it was sticking to the wall. Maybe it's using the same talons it used on Tyreese, he thought, but there was no sign of any kind of damage to the wall. No, it was sticking to it somehow.

  From behind him, Collins heard Birdy begin to cry. Long, deep sobs, interspersed with the girl's gulping attempts to pull in air.

  Jesus, hasn't she gone through enough already? Collins felt an overwhelming surge of anger at the total injustice the universe had decided to hand down to the three of them, but in particular Birdy.

  Julio scuttled across the living room wall, pulling himself hand over hand as if the wall were made of ice, then crossed into the kitchen.

  Collins took a step forward and to the side, shielding Birdy, the Taser extended toward the creature that was now less than six feet away from where he stood.

  "When I shoot it, grab Birdy," Collins said over his shoulder. "Grab her and make a run for it."

  "No," said Tyreese, "we don't stand a chance out there."

  "You don't stand a chance in here, either," Collins yelled, his eyes were filling with tears, not of fear but of pure, unadulterated anger. "Just grab her and—"

  Julio jumped from the wall toward the Formica countertop.

  Collins flinched, his finger squeezing the Taser's trigger, and it fired, sending two darts attached by leads across the space between him and the vampire in less than a second. The darts struck the vampire in the meat of its upper leg and just above its hip. There was a crackling sound as the Taser discharged 50,000 Volts into the vampire's body.

  The effect was immediate, surprising, and devastating. The vampire crashed into the cupboards on the wall above the counter and fell hard to the floor, smoke rising from the two darts embedded in its body.

  Collins stepped closer, afraid that the wires connecting the darts to the Taser might be torn free the thing was thrashing so much. The vampire screeched a high-pitched wail of pain, its hands and legs whipping wildly through the air, slamming against the cupboards, its head jerking up and down as it thrashed against the floor. One leg connected with the detective's right shin and he yelled out in revulsion at the creature's touch. His leg buckled, and he almost went down, but he felt Tyreese's hands on his arm, supporting him. Collins's hastily assembled plan had been that he would give Tyreese and Birdy a chance to get out of the apartment, buy them enough time that they could make a Hail Mary run into the storm, instead, it looked as though they had stumbled across a new way to destroy these creatures.

  Both men stood side by side watching in fascinated horror as the vampire child continued to convulse and smoke. Eventually, the boy-vampire's screams subsided to a moan, its thrashing growing less and less violent with each beat of Collins's heart.

  "Ah, Jesus," the detective said, as blood the color of shadows began to flow from the convulsing kid's nose and bubble up from its mouth, but still he refused to release the trigger of the Taser. It's either him or us; that was what it boiled down to. Within seconds, a pool of the blood had begun to spread across the floor moving out in an arc.

  The kid's back arched one final time and then moved no more. It was as if the boy had suddenly been petrified; his body was rigid, his terrible jaws open wide in a silent scream of agony. One arm cocked above his head, the other frozen as it reached toward the two men.

  Collins finally released the Taser's trigger. He kept his finger on the trigger guard, ready to activate the weapon again if the vampire looked like it was going to recover. But after a few minutes had passed in stunned silence, the boy's body had not moved.

  "Is... is he dead?" Birdy's voice from beside Collins startled him back to reality.

  "Yes, I think he is," Collins said.

  "Good," Birdy said, with a vehemence that he should not have been surprised at but nevertheless was.

  The apartment stank of blood and scorched flesh.

  "Well that sure as hell wasn't in the movies," said Tyreese, quietly.

  "No shit," said Collins, prodding the vampire's corpse with the tip of his boot.

  •••

  Ten minutes later, Birdy, Tyreese, and Detective Collins were still gathered around Julio's still-smoking body. The pool of black goo had stopped leaking from his wounds soon after the boy died. The blood had already begun to congeal and crust over. Here and there across the dead boy's body, thin, translucent pieces of skin, blackened around the edges like diseased leaves, had begun to flake away, peeling up from the epidermis.

  "It almost looks like scales," said the detective, prying some of the skin loose with the tip of his pen.

  "Now do you believe us?" Birdy asked Collins, gazing down at him with pleading eyes.

  The detective did not look at her, he simply reached out his hand and placed it gently against the middle of her shoulder. "Yes, Birdy, I believe you."

  The three of them had gathered around the corpse, at first to ensure that it would not simply get back up again, but after the first few minutes it became obvious that Julio was well and truly dead, and their concern had been replaced by a morbid curiosity.

  "So, now we know two things that can kill them," Tyreese said. "You got any more charges for that thing?" He nodded at the Taser the detective still held in his right hand.

  Collins shook his head. "I only ever carry one cartridge," he said, "but..." he paused as he popped what looked like a printer cartridge off the front of the weapon then held the Taser in front of his face. He pulled the trigger. A white lightning bolt of electricity crackled between two metal studs at the front. Collins smiled darkly. "I can still use it as a regular stun gun. Good for fifty or so uses. So even if it doesn't have as dramatic an effect as the darts, it'll give them a nasty surprise."

  Tyreese nodded his approval. "We need to get out of here," he said flatly.

  "I agree," said Collins, all resistance to the idea having evaporated. "So, how do we do it? And where do we go?"

  Tyreese thought for a moment. "We've got to assume this outbreak or whatever you want to call it isn't localized to just this building or the area. It didn't just come out of nowhere, it's been a slow buildup, which means it's been spreading gradually, which also means it's probably spread much farther than we think. We need to get out of the city, head somewhere where there won't be as many people."

  Collins walked across the living room to the window. He pulled back the blinds and looked outside. The streets were awash with water. The city's storm drains were either blocked or unable to cope with the constant downpour from the storm. It didn't matter anyway; the result was the same, all the roads lay under almost a foot or more of water.

  "Roads are completely flooded," Collins said. "No chance of us making it on foot. We need a vehicle."

  "You're absolutely sure you don't have the keys to your car?" Tyreese asked again.

  "Like I said earlier, Mulroney drove us here," Collins said, sounding irritated. "She had the keys."

  Tyreese scowled and nodded.

  Collins pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. "There has to be another way to find a vehicle. What about neighbors?"

  "They keep themselves to themselves. I never bother them; they never bother me."

  Birdy was hovering near the refrigerator. Now she joined Collins at the table, pulled out a chair and sat. "What about the cops?" she asked.

  "What c
ops?" Collins questioned.

  "The ones I told you about, the ones that were shooting. They left their cars open and those twirly lights on top were working." She made a swirling gesture above her head with the index finger of her right hand. "We could use one of them, couldn't we?"

  Tyreese moved to the table and leaned against it. "Would the vehicles have keys in them?" he asked the detective who was now sitting upright in his chair. The paleness of the detective's face had been replaced with a bright red flush.

  "Maybe. Depends on how fast they got hit. But they're not going to be of much use to us over there. We still have the same problem we had when we tried to leave earlier. Those things are going to be waiting for us."

  "Yeah, but this time we have your Taser, we know that can kill them."

  "Well, that remains to be seen. I'd say the best we should hope for is that I might be able to disable them long enough for us to make a run for it," said Collins.

  Tyreese nodded. "And I can grab my stake from Birdy's... from the dead vampire in the stairwell."

  The two men regarded each other across the table.

  "It gives us a fighting chance," said Detective Collins, smiling grimly.

  "That's all I ever needed," said Tyreese, returning the smile. "Next question is where do we go?"

  "We have to assume that this whole area is infected, so we need to find someone in authority—military, police, fire—anyone that we can get this info to. 'Cause this outbreak needs to be contained fast."

  "And we need photos," said Birdy. "Or they aren't going to believe us."

  "Good idea," The detective said. "Use the cell phone."

  Birdy got to her feet, took Tyreese's cell phone from the counter, walked over to Julio's body and began taking pictures.

  With Birdy out of earshot, Tyreese leaned in closer to Collins and whispered, "But what if it's worse already, what if whatever this is has taken the city? What do we do then?"

  "We need to plan to get away from the most densely populated areas." The detective considered the problem for a moment. "I've got a brother, we don't talk much, but he's reliable. Lives in a town about sixty miles west of Las Vegas called Waterrock. We can head there. There's enough empty desert between here and Las Vegas, the chances of this having spread that far should be slim to none."

  "You hope," said Tyreese, grimly.

  "Yeah, I hope."

  "But that still leaves us with the problem of figuring out how we're going to get there," said Tyreese, leaning back into his chair.

  "I have a plane," said Collins nonchalantly.

  "You have a what?" Tyreese looked confused.

  "An aircraft, a plane." Collins mimicked the action of a plane taking off with the flat of his hand. "I always wanted to be a pilot, so when I got out of school I joined the Air Force. Didn't make the grade for fighter pilot school, eyes weren't up to it, but I still learned to fly light aircraft. I've got a plane. It'll fit the three of us."

  Tyreese looked unconvinced. "Where is it?"

  "Burbank. It's stored at a buddy's hangar at Bob Hope Airport."

  "And you can fly us out of here in this weather?" said Tyreese.

  Collins paused for a moment, considering the question, then nodded.

  Tyreese allowed a smile to crease his lips. "That still leaves us with the problem of getting to the airport. We still need a vehicle."

  There were a few more moments of silence between the two men, then Collins spoke. "I'm going to need you to stay here and watch over Birdy."

  Tyreese's smile disappeared. "No, absolutely not. We all need to go together."

  The detective shook his head adamantly. "It'd be stupid to risk us all."

  "What would be stupid would be one person trying to make it down those stairs when we know what's waiting for us."

  Collins drew in a deep breath. "You'll only slow me down."

  "Bull. Shit. I didn't hear you complaining when I saved your ass out in the stairwell."

  •••

  Across the kitchen, Birdy pretended she could not hear the two men arguing in whispers between themselves. As she continued to listen she became aware of a fuse that had been burning inside her—a slow burning fuse that had run its course. It had reached the emotional explosive at the center of her. She was a human pipe bomb, packed tightly with shards of pain, jagged pieces of hurt and sadness, all encased in a shell of vengeance. It would be a slow but terrible explosion if she did not find some way to defuse it.

  "I'll go," she said, her voice trembling.

  The two men continued to argue, oblivious to the emotional chain reaction taking place just feet from them.

  "I'll go," Birdy said again, this time loud enough that both men stopped and looked at her. She stood up from the table. "I'll go get a car."

  "Don't be stupid," said Tyreese, "You can't go out there alone. You won't last five minutes on your own."

  "I did just fine earlier," Birdy said, matter-of-factly.

  Collins must have sensed some kind of a change in her because his eyes narrowed. "You don't even know how to drive a car," he said, then added with a quizzical tilt of his head, "Do you?"

  Birdy shook her head, no she did not.

  "Well then," the detective continued, "there's nothing more to be said. I'm going."

  "No," Tyreese said firmly. "If you do this on your own you're going to put all of us in danger."

  And with that, the two men were back to their argument, dismissing the girl as though she were not even there.

  Neither man noticed Birdy as she slipped past them and headed to the living room. She pulled back the blinds, then opened the window. The rain was falling in sheets, she could actually see the waves of droplets in the air as the gusting wind caught the rain and blew it across the street.

  Birdy raised a leg up onto the windowsill, then turned and grabbed the wooden frame for support as she ducked her head back into the living room. "Hey! I'm going," she called across the room.

  Both men's heads turned simultaneously, both with almost identical looks of confusion, then shock.

  "Jesus, kid! Get back inside," said Collins pushing his bulk up off the chair and heading toward Birdy. Tyreese was just a step behind him.

  "Meet you downstairs," Birdy said as she pulled her hoodie over her head and climbed out onto the ledge.

  By the time the two men had made it halfway across the living room, Birdy was already gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Birdy shimmied out onto the two-inch ledge below the window. She reached for the drainpipe to her left and felt her fingers slip on its wet surface. If she had not had a tight grip of the window frame she would have fallen, that was for sure. She silently chided herself.

  The storm lashed the side of the apartment so hard that rain bounced off the stucco and stung the skin of her face. The gutters were full to overflowing, mini-waterfalls cascading down to form a growing lake in the forecourt below.

  She carefully let go of the window and pulled herself out onto the pipe. Her sneakers slipped once, twice, before she finally found some traction, the treads no match for the water-covered stucco. She was already halfway down to the next floor when she heard Collins's voice from above.

  "Jesus Christ, girl. Get your sorry ass back up here right now," he yelled.

  She stole a quick glance and saw the detective's face staring down at her. Tyreese's bulk was squeezed in next to him, an arm outstretched toward her. She ignored him and turned her attention back to her climb.

  "Birdy... come back here right now." This time it was Tyreese urging her to return, but by the time she reached the second floor, the constant whoosh of the wind gusting past her and the thrum of rain drowned out the men's voices completely.

  Thirty seconds later and Birdy's sneakers touched what should have been solid ground. Instead she felt cold water lap over the edge of her shoes and instantly chill her feet. The water was at least three inches deep this close to the apartment building. It looked like oil in th
e darkness, thick black oil.

  Birdy released the drainpipe and crouched down in the shadows. The water quickly soaked into her jeans, turning them into cold clammy hands that lay heavily against her skin. A single streetlight near the security gate was still lit, but it flickered intermittently as if it felt it too should join its countless dead brethren. It gave off just enough light for Birdy to see across the forecourt to the road. Beyond that was the gully. At the other end of the gully, through driving rain so thick it seemed to hang in the air like a fog, she saw the flashing blue, red, and white lights of the cop cars.

  This is good, she thought. Birdy knew enough about cars to know that if the lights were still working then the batteries must still be okay which meant that the car would start. Right?

  There's only one way to find out, she thought. Birdy allowed herself two more seconds to make sure nothing waited in the semi-darkness for her, then took off toward the exit gate. There was no need to look back to check if Tyreese and the cop were still watching; she could feel their eyes following her.

  Her feet kicked up big plumes of water that quickly soaked the front of her jeans as she ran. God, it's cold. She ignored the discomfort and angled for the gate. When she reached it she paused, her hands resting against the cold metal of the handle. She quickly checked the street, then pulled the gate open and stepped out onto the pavement.

  A vicious gust of wind lashed at her, whipping up droplets of water from the lake that had once been a road. The wind forced itself through the leafless trees making their limbs creak and groan in protest, their branches rustle and whisper to each other. Another gust threw Birdy off balance for a second and she had to stop and lean into the wind or risk being blown flat. She held the hood of her jacket to her head. The material was sodden and felt heavy against her skull, her ears chilled as the wind tore past her.

  When the wind finally moved on Birdy stepped out onto the road, except it was impossible to tell where the road actually was. Where it had been might just as well be a river. Neither the pavement nor the road were visible beneath the inches of rainwater gathered on its surface, a broad expanse that stretched from the apartments across from Birdy to where she stood.