The Darkness After: A Novel

by Scott B. Williams

  “Do you think they’ll be inside asleep? How will we get to Lisa and Stacy if they are?”

  “I don’t know yet. We’re just going to have to get there first and watch the houses and trailers without being seen, see if they are doing anything. If they are inside, it will be more difficult. We may have to create a diversion to draw them out. All we can do is get up there and see what’s going on.”

  When the amount of moonlight reaching the forest floor was sufficient to allow them to move quietly, they decided that it would be best to go all the way on foot, rather than try to paddle part way up the branch. He pulled the canoe a few yards upstream so that it wouldn’t be visible from Black Creek and tied it off to a tree.

  April checked to make sure she had a round chambered in her rifle, and Mitch slung the bow over his shoulder. They nodded in silent agreement to move out. Mitch led the way forward, keeping the shotgun at the ready in case of any surprises along the way. He asked April to stick close behind him and to try to step where he stepped since she was unskilled in stalking and would not know how to pick her steps through the undergrowth, especially at night. By keeping her close behind him, he could also gently release the springy branches that he frequently had to bend out of the way so they could pass, without risking her getting slapped in the face by one.

  They moved like this for maybe ten steps at a time, before stopping to listen, sometimes pausing several minutes before moving again. He knew this would seem excruciatingly slow to April, who had lived at the pace of the city all her life, but this time a careful approach was more critical than it had ever been on any hunting trip. It was a matter of life or death.

  Before leaving the canoe, they had already agreed on complete voice silence. Not even a whisper was permitted except in the direst emergency. Keeping her that close behind him, Mitch could reach back to stop her with his free hand if they suddenly needed to freeze for some reason.

  By the time they had repeated this move-and-stop cycle maybe two dozen times, more than an hour had passed. Mitch stopped longer than usual and motioned for April to do the same. While they waited this time, they heard something else besides the usual night sounds of crickets and tree frogs. It was the sound of laughter off in the distance, a man’s laughter, followed by a shout in a different male voice. Mitch felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He tightened his grip on the shotgun, feeling the adrenaline rush brought on by certainty of an imminent fight.

  NINETEEN

  The sound of the distant laughter and shouting from out of the dark forest caused April to tense. Until now, this nighttime trek by canoe and on foot had only been a bit spooky. Now the reality of what they were about to do hit her in the face as she heard the echoing voices of what could only be the men from the Wallace place—the men who had brutally beaten Jason and taken Lisa and Stacy. She gripped the rifle tighter in her hands and hoped she would not fail under pressure—that she could continue to live up to the confidence Mitch had in her and not let him down when it really counted.

  Though she had been surprised at how well she had defended herself against the three men on the road and when facing that angry landowner’s rifle, this would be the first time she had ever participated in an outright attack on someone else. Mitch had stressed that in order to rescue the girls in this situation, they would have to strike ruthlessly and without remorse. They were outnumbered from the beginning and could not afford to let men such as these surrender. It would be far too risky to try to simply point guns at these men and demand they release the girls. April knew he was right, and knew all the rules had changed since the blackout. This was essentially war, and they had to do whatever was required in order to win. She just hoped she wouldn’t lose her nerve when it came time to pull the trigger.

  When they started moving again, Mitch led the way, pausing every third or fourth step to listen. April found that by walking carefully and deliberately, she, too, could move with surprising silence. The nearby running water helped, too, as its gurgling sound would drown out the noise of a minor misstep. The voices were intermittent, but every few minutes they heard them get louder and laugh. To April, it sounded like the men were likely drinking and carrying on. She figured it must be getting close to midnight, but without TV or other entertainment, they probably had little else to do out here.

  The voices became clearer as they painstakingly made their way closer, following the little stream. They were all men, from what she could tell. She didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad one that she didn’t hear any voices that could be Lisa’s or Stacy’s. Was it possible that they had already killed them? Maybe they never even brought them back to where they lived and had disposed of the bodies somewhere along the way?

  She quickly dismissed the thought. If that were the case, they probably would have done what they were going to do right at the scene of the roadblock and done the same to Jason. It surprised her that they left him alive. She assumed it was because they were confident he would not be able to make it anywhere for help, or else they were just incredibly stupid. Or maybe there were enough of them that they simply weren’t worried who found out what they were doing. She sincerely hoped this was not the case.

  The under story of the forest along the little stream was dense with bay thickets and other vegetation, requiring them to bend and weave their way through very slowly to avoid making noise. Because of this density, it was not until they were quite close that they could see the flickering flames of a fire. Mitch continued creeping closer and April followed. As they closed the distance they could see that the fire was situated between them and some buildings, the flames casting their light on what looked like a wooden cabin and, next to it, a narrow mobile home with white aluminum siding. Parked between the cabin and the trailer was an antique-looking truck. She couldn’t tell if it was a Ford or not, but she figured it was, and that it was proof these were the men who had taken it from Jason.

  Just inside the edge of the woods, she could also see an old camper trailer that looked like it hadn’t been on the road in years. But April wasn’t focused on any of these objects, not even the truck. From this distance she could clearly see the men who were laughing and talking, some of them standing and walking around the circle of firelight and others sitting on stumps or old chairs pulled up nearby. She did a quick count as she looked on—four standing and three sitting, unless there were others she couldn’t see in the shadows farther away from the fire. One of the men sitting on a stump had a rifle or shotgun across his lap. She saw a couple more long guns leaning against nearby trees. Most of them were drinking from what looked like beer cans but there was a liquor bottle being passed around, too. She didn’t see any evidence of the two girls or any other females in the camp. Mitch turned and crouched very close beside her to whisper:

  “Looks like at least seven of them. But I’m not ruling out the possibility there are more inside. If Lisa and Stacy are there, they’ll be in that cabin or the trailer home.”

  “Is that your grandpa’s truck?”

  “Yes. That’s the truck and those are clearly the men who took it.”

  “So, how are we going to do this?”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking: They’re drinking a lot of beer and whiskey, it looks like. I’ve already seen one of them walk off into the woods behind that old camper; you probably noticed that, too. If I can get in position to use my bow to take out the next one who steps away from the fire to relieve himself, that’ll be one less to worry about when the shooting starts. The main thing I want you to do is make sure your rounds don’t go into that cabin or trailer. We can’t risk hitting Lisa or Stacy. It would be better if you circle around to one side so that when you have to shoot, you’ll have a clear line of fire without the buildings in the background. I’m going to sneak in closer straight ahead. I think I can get within thirty yards of them and still be in the cover of the woods but have a clear shot with the bow.”

  From where they were now, near the small stream, the l
and rose slightly to where the buildings and the fire were. It appeared that the side to the right of the buildings was a bit higher still, and the clearing around the trailer only extended some thirty or forty yards before ending in the edge of the woods. Mitch suggested April work her way around to that side, where she could shoot in the direction of the fire but parallel to the trailer and cabin to decrease the risk of hitting anyone inside.

  “But what about you? How am I going to know you’re out of the way?”

  “You’ll know,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to fire a shot until I start using the shotgun. When I do, I’ll still be well away from the fire and in the woods. You’ll probably see the flash from my muzzle blast. What I need you to do is concentrate on taking out any of them that try to take cover or get inside the buildings. I’ll take care of anyone who heads for the woods. But like I said, I’m going to wait until one of them leaves the fire and use the bow first. I know I can take out one, maybe even two, before they know what’s happening. You better go now, and get in position if you don’t have any more questions. They may get tired and go inside any time.”

  “Okay, I’ll do my best. Please be careful, Mitch.” April reached out and put an arm around him, hugging him quickly. He did the same, pulling her close for a second and whispering a quick “thank you” in her ear for helping him.

  “Remember, just two or three steps and stop, look, and listen, then move again. We’re too close now to be in a hurry.”

  April nodded and started on her slow, meticulous stalk around to the uphill side of the camp. With each step she moved in slow motion, trying to feel the ground beneath her foot to make sure there was no branch or twig that would snap under her weight before putting it down. It seemed to take forever as she stepped and stopped, working her way around through the woods, staying deep in the shadows, but always close enough that she could see the fire and the men around it. They continued their conversation and laughter, oblivious of any danger. They probably thought they were immune to any retribution for what they’d done since everybody was focused on their own survival and law enforcement officers were few and far between. If they knew one of the girls was the daughter of the wildlife officer who had given them so much grief in the past, they must have gotten it out of her that he was not in area, otherwise they would be more cautious. But there was no way of knowing anything now. It was all just speculation until they searched the buildings and found out for sure whether or not the two girls were on the property.

  April knew that Mitch wouldn’t be able to see her beyond her first few steps. He had told her in advance he was going to estimate when twenty minutes had passed, and then he would assume she was in position, as he planned to be by that time as well. When she finally reached a point where she could see the men and fire with nothing behind them but woods, she decided she had gone far enough. The back walls of the cabin and the trailer were maybe twenty feet from the fire. She had a clear line of fire that would allow her to shoot any one of the men from where she was without any danger of hitting either building, unless of course by the bad luck of a ricochet. There was no way to completely eliminate that risk, though; all she could do was take careful aim and make each shot count.

  She positioned herself beside the trunk of a thick pine tree and settled down on one knee to wait. She would use the tree to steady the rifle, as her dad had taught her—he’d always said it was better to use any kind of rest than none at all, if possible. She checked that she had a clear shot by bringing the rifle up to position and aiming it at each of the men in turn. The firelight lit them up and made each face stand out in the dark. Hitting any one of them would be a piece of cake, but April still wondered how hard it would be to actually pull the trigger when the time came.

  As she watched, one of the men took a deep swig from his beer can, draining it dry before tossing it empty into the fire. He then said something she couldn’t hear to the others and walked away from the circle, straight for the old abandoned camper at the edge of the dark woods right near where Mitch was supposed to be. April felt her stomach tense into knots and her hands begin to shake. It was about to begin.

  * * *

  She followed the movement of the man until he disappeared into the shadows. Just as Mitch had predicted, they were drinking a lot and it was inevitable they would all be making trips into the woods to relieve themselves. She wished she could see Mitch and the man whom would likely be the first to fall to his deadly arrows, but it was just too dark everywhere beyond the reach of the firelight and the man was on the other side of the camper now anyway. She waited and tried to control her breathing as she watched. If nothing happened, the man should be back in under a minute to get another beer and get back in on the joking and laughing with his buddies. But at least a minute went by, and he did not re-emerge from the dark woods. She waited and watched to see what the others would do. They were apparently oblivious at first, but minute after minute went by, and finally she heard a shout. It was from one of the men at the fire:

  “Hey, Travis, what’s taking you so long? You need some help finding it, or what?”

  At this the rest of the men laughed. Another one yelled out something she couldn’t quite make out, and they all laughed even harder. There was no response from the man behind the camper. Mitch must have been successful. She had not heard a thing—not the twang of a bowstring or the thwack of an arrow hitting flesh, and she knew that if she couldn’t hear it from where she was, the others certainly couldn’t over their loud carrying on and the crackling of the fire. She was watching with the rifle braced against the tree and ready, her gaze just above the iron sights and her finger resting on the flat steel of the trigger guard, ready and waiting.

  “C’mon, Travis, what the hell are you doing?” It was the same man who had called out before. April couldn’t tell much about his features from this distance, other than that he was tall and lanky, his face bearded and dark under the shadow of a baseball cap. When he got no response this time, he threw his own empty can down and picked up what looked like a shotgun leaning against the tree beside him. With the gun carried loosely in one hand, he walked away from the fire and disappeared from her view behind the camper just as the first one did. The others didn’t bother to stop what they were doing, other than one who made a comment she heard clearly: “That’s it, Charley. Go give him a hand!” This brought a roar of laughter that the second man behind the camper seemed to ignore.

  April almost stopped breathing as she waited to see what was going to happen next. She moved her finger from outside the trigger guard to let it rest momentarily on the trigger, and then moved it back out again. As she did so, she moved her sights from one man to the next, wondering which one she would shoot first when the time came. She didn’t have to wait long. Someone from the fire yelled again: “Charley! Travis!” The man who had been sitting on the stump with a gun across his lap got up and took a step toward the woods.

  April saw him pause in midstride, then drop the gun and clutch at his chest. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew before he hit the ground that he had fallen to an arrow. If Mitch had already shot the first two, as she was sure he had, then that was three out of seven already down! The remaining four around the fire scarcely had a chance to see why the one had fallen before the night was shattered by the thundering roar of Mitch’s 3-inch Magnum 12-gauge. The panic and confusion that ensued made it difficult for her to tell which of the men had been hit and which were still threats. She aimed as best she could and started pulling the trigger. All but one of the men were down in a matter of seconds, and he was trying to crawl under the trailer to take cover, having no idea which way the attack was coming from. April aimed again and squeezed the trigger. She saw him collapse but she fired two more rounds to make sure.

  Her ears rang from the rifle reports when she stopped shooting and she heard little else. Mitch’s shotgun was silent and not one of the men who’d been sitting or standing by the fire was still moving. April was
about to step forward and call out to Mitch but a sudden scream froze her in her tracks. She raised her rifle again as a figure ran out to the fire from behind the trailers. She could see that it was a woman, and that she was dressed in nightclothes and unarmed. The woman fell to the ground beside the body of one of the men and wailed at the top of her lungs, oblivious of the danger of getting shot herself. April saw Mitch step from the woods into the circle of firelight, his shotgun at his hip and pointed at the woman. April stood and moved forward to join him, keeping her own weapon ready as she slowly made her way into the clearing.

  TWENTY

  When Mitch shot the first of the men who left the fire, he knew that if his aim was off and he didn’t kill him instantly, the man might cry out in pain or even make his way back to the others to alert them. To decrease the chances of that happening, when he drew the bow he aimed squarely at the man’s face, rather than his chest or neck, as he would have done if he were shooting a deer or other large animal with an arrow. He was confident in taking such a shot, because the distance to his target from where he was hiding was less than fifteen yards.

  The man had stopped just out of sight of the others and unfastened his belt and opened his zipper. Mitch knew he would be standing still for several seconds, and while he was, he would be silhouetted perfectly against the background firelight. There was time to concentrate on the shot as Mitch held the bow at full draw. He felt no uneasiness or shaking this time, as he had that first time he’d killed a man with his bow. These men had taken his sister, and that was enough to give him a clear conscience, even without the knowledge of what they’d done to Jason and their history of run-ins with the law.

  Unlike most modern bow-hunters who used modular broadhead hunting points with breakaway razorblade inserts, Mitch preferred a certain traditional style of hunting points made of steel that were very similar to the medieval bodkin points used for warfare by the English archers who had perfected his favorite style of bow. These heavier blades could be re-sharpened over and over again, and most importantly, would easily penetrate bone without breaking. Mitch had no doubt that if he placed the shot correctly, the arrow would penetrate into the man’s brain as surely as a bullet, which was his best chance of taking him down.