The Dark

by Jason Brant

  “Lock the door!”

  Stephanie ran to the glass door, throwing the deadbolt into place. “This is only glass! She’ll just break right in.”

  She was right, but Aaron didn’t know what else to do. Running out into the darkness felt like sure suicide. They only had the one flashlight between them, and his car would be out of gas soon, if it wasn’t already.

  They were in a police station; there must be a gun somewhere.

  “Come back here with me! Help me look for a gun or a Taser or something!”

  Pulling drawers out of desks and rifling through cabinets, they began a frantic search for a means of defense.

  The front door rattled.

  Aaron spotted Psycho standing on the other side. A line of blood ran from her hairline, dripping from the end of her nose. Her hair had somehow become even more disheveled in the minute since he’d last seen her. She glared in at him, her tic going full speed ahead now.

  She shot out the glass.

  Her hand reached in, found the lock.

  Stephanie didn’t stop pulling out desk drawers, throwing their contents to the floor. They couldn’t find anything.

  Psycho stalked past the front desk, pistol raised, head twitching.

  They didn’t have anywhere to run. His flashlight sat on a desk between Psycho and them, too far to reach. Without it, they couldn’t go outside.

  “I knew you were one of them.”

  “We aren’t—”

  “Shut up, vile demon. I’m sending you back to the pit.”

  She pulled the hammer of the pistol back, sneering over the sights at Aaron as she took aim.

  Chapter 11

  Molly took the lead, trotting as best she could.

  Her back hips clearly pained her as she favored them more the further they walked.

  The spot of light ahead grew in size as they crossed another block, drawing closer.

  Walter shuffled beside Christy in silence. Not finding his daughter had taken a toll on him that showed with his every movement. His body language had changed. His shoulders slumped further than they had before, his eyes sagging, arms hanging limp by his sides.

  Christy didn’t know what he’d seen in the back of his daughter’s house, but it had broken the poor old man. He reminded her of her grandfather in many ways. Both were patient, thoughtful men.

  But there was a sadness in Walter’s eyes that she had never seen in her grandfather’s.

  She’d lost her grandpa when she was a young teen so her memory of him remained fairly strong. He spoiled the hell out of her, always giving her a new toy whenever he would visit. It drove her mother nuts. Because Christy’s father had abandoned Dee when she’d become pregnant, her grandfather had been the closest thing to a dad that Christy had ever known. Losing him to a heart attack scarred her.

  In many ways, the loss had kept her from ever doing anything of value with her life. He’d constantly pushed her to do her best, no matter what they were doing. His mantra had been that the sky was the limit. Oddly enough, it was the fear of not living up to her grandfather’s expectations that never allowed her to take any chances. She always held back. You can’t fail if you don’t go for it. She’d spent a semester at college before dropping out. A quick stint in pharmaceutical sales had ended very badly when she’d fallen for a client.

  This year marked her sixth as a waitress at a crummy little diner, serving artery-clogging sausage and pancakes. The irony didn’t elude her. She’d been stuck in a rut for so long that she couldn’t remember what it was like to feel content. For years she’d hated her job, knowing that she made shit for money, even as far as waitress standards go. Just working at a nicer restaurant would at least net her a better income, but she felt that moving from one waitressing job to the next would cement that as her profession.

  Christy knew how stupid that sounded, realizing that she made one horrible decision after the next. She would rather make less money at a crap job, than upgrade and become a professional waitress.

  Stupid.

  Prior to the death of Walter’s wife, he seemed like he might have been the same kind of fun-loving guy that Christy’s grandfather had been. She hoped that he could find peace with the loss – something she had been unable to do.

  Since leaving his daughter’s house, they’d had no other visits from loved ones, or whatever things wore their appearance. Knowing that those who called out to them from the dark were not family members changed everything.

  The relief of not seeing her mother again made Christy feel both guilty and sad. She wanted desperately to be with her mom, but she didn’t know if she could bear to see another evil caricature of her again.

  Molly stopped, mid step, ears up, nose pointed toward the light source ahead.

  They were less than a block away now – close enough to see that the light was on a commercial building, not a home. A parked car, headlights angled toward the front door, sat just off the street.

  Walter turned off his lantern.

  He grabbed Christy’s flashlight, angling the beam toward the ground.

  “Shhh.” He held a finger to his bearded lips, though he never stopped looking at the building that had power. “Something’s going on up there.”

  “What is it?”

  “I thought I heard some yelling.”

  “I didn’t hear—”

  Gunshots.

  Christy reached out, instinctively rubbing Molly’s head, hoping she would remain quiet.

  They stood in the darkness for several seconds, waiting for something else to happen.

  Someone appeared at the front door, locking it, peeking through the glass.

  A disheveled woman rounded the front left corner of the building. Her hair looked as if she’d stuck her finger in an electric socket. She was dirty and bloody, stalking across the space in front of the building.

  “She looks less than pleasant,” Walter whispered.

  The way that the woman moved was off. Her legs were stilted, her shoulders high. Anger, perhaps rage, pervaded her every action.

  “I think she’s going to hurt whoever is inside.” Christy squinted, reading the sign attached to the front of the building as the woman strode past it.

  “That’s a police department!” She tried to keep her voice low, despite her excitement. “They might be able to help us.”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Walter said. “Angry, armed women don’t usually parade around cops.”

  They watched as she shot out the glass of the door.

  “Yeah. Shit.”

  The woman worked the lock and stalked inside.

  “We need to help.” Christy started forward.

  “She has a gun. What are we going to do against that?”

  “I don’t know, but—”

  Molly sprang forward, sprinting from the safety of their light.

  “No! Molly!”

  Walter grabbed Christy, putting his hand over her mouth, muffling her cries.

  She struggled in his grip, desperate to help her dog. She couldn’t endure the thought of the darkness taking Molly the way it had Annie.

  “Quiet!” Walter hissed in her ear.

  Christy fought in his arms, tears wetting her cheeks and his hand.

  “Listen! I think I hear her running!”

  She stopped squirming.

  Held her breath.

  Somewhere ahead, unseen, Molly’s toenails clacked against pavement. Her pants were soft and rhythmic.

  The darkness hadn’t taken her.

  “She’s still here,” Walter whispered, removing his hand from over Christy’s mouth.

  “They don’t hurt animals?” Christy wiped at her face. She wanted to believe that Molly was still with them, but feared getting her hopes up. The darkness was tricky, malevolent. It wanted to fool you.

  “I guess not. I don’t think we can say the same about the armed woman down there.”

  In her panic, the thought of Molly being shot hadn’t even occurr
ed to her. The idea of surviving the nightmare they’d found themselves in, only to have her dog shot by some crazy lady, got her moving.

  Christy ran to the building.

  It had been months since she’d been to the gym and her muscles were tight and out of shape. She barely noticed the growing discomfort in her thighs as she hopped over a curb and sprinted up a sidewalk, heading straight for the front of the police station.

  Walter came up behind her, grunting and swearing as he tried to keep up. From her peripheral vision, Christy could see the soft glow of his lantern on the unkempt lawn to her left. An overturned tricycle sat in the tall grass, a ghastly reminder of what had happened.

  Molly reappeared ahead. She ran into the circle of light at the front of the police station. The German shepherd slowed as she approached the front door and leaped through the broken glass, disappearing behind a desk just past the entrance.

  Shouting came from somewhere inside.

  Christy pushed harder, her muscles straining to lengthen her stride.

  Dread clawed at her. She waited for more gunshots, anticipating the whine of an injured dog.

  “Christy,” Walter panted behind her. “Don’t go in there!”

  She ignored his warning, throwing her shoulder against the front door, shoving it open.

  Molly barked, high-pitched and angry.

  “What is—” The woman was cutoff as she screamed in pain.

  Christy dodged around a toppled chair.

  Molly had a hold of the woman’s wrist, shaking her head back and forth as if she had a toy in her mouth. Blood covered her muzzle.

  The woman screamed again, her face bright red and sweat covered.

  Two teenagers huddled on the floor beside them, arms wrapped around each other, eyes wide.

  “Let go of me! Fucking mutt!”

  The pistol, held in the hand being mangled by Molly, fell to the floor.

  Christy ran across the room, scattered desks and chairs slowing her progress.

  A yelp escaped the woman as Molly adjusted her grip, sinking her teeth in a new section of pale flesh. The wild-haired lady fell to a knee. She reached for the pistol, picking it up in her free hand.

  “No!” Christy cried out, hoping her shouts would work as a distraction.

  She locked eyes with the woman for a split second, seeing the madness there. Their gaze broke as the woman turned her attention back to the elderly dog hanging from her forearm.

  She took aim at Molly’s torso, jamming the barrel of the pistol into her ribs. A crooked smile spread across her face despite the obvious pain she endured.

  One of the teenagers, a fit young woman with beautiful blond hair, lunged forward, grabbing the gun arm, yanking it clear of Molly as the pistol barked fire.

  The bullet whizzed past Christy, close enough that she heard it whistle by her ear. Her pulse, already pounding in her head, red lined. The adrenaline soaring through her system slowed everything down as she approached the struggle. She felt as if she moved through molasses.

  Her arm cocked back, flashlight held high, she swung as hard as she could, aiming for the crazy woman’s head.

  An eternity passed as she waited for her arm to come around.

  The blonde teen fought to keep the gun pointed elsewhere.

  Furious growls rumbled from Molly’s throat.

  Walter shouted something unintelligible from the other side of the room.

  The flashlight smashed against the woman’s temple, the plastic casing shattering. She slumped forward, crashing face first to the floor.

  A single convulsion racked her body before she became still.

  Batteries fell from the back of the flashlight. They clattered on the hard floor, echoing in the sudden quiet.

  Molly released the woman’s forearm, blood dripping from her bared teeth.

  Walter came up behind her. “Holy shit.”

  The four of them, plus Molly, stared down at the unconscious woman. Walter grunted as he bent down and pried the pistol from her grip. He stuffed it in his waistband, an odd expression on his face. Had Christy not been in full fight-or-flight mode, she would have questioned him about it.

  “Are you guys OK?” Walter asked the teens.

  Christy focused on her breathing, trying to calm herself, failing miserably.

  “I’m shot,” the boy said. He said it in a matter-of-fact manner, as if he were doing a crossword puzzle.

  “How bad is it?” Walter stepped over the woman’s body, heading to the teen.

  Christy held Walter’s broken flashlight in front of her face, inspecting the damage. The entire backend of the plastic housing was smashed. It had seen the last of its usage.

  She tossed it to the floor.

  Molly sat at her feet, never taking her eyes from the woman. She licked her chops, cleaning globs of crimson from her fur.

  The smell of copper filled the room.

  Blondie stood on shaky legs. Her hands trembled violently. She looked at Christy, her throat working.

  “You saved us.”

  “Molly saved you,” Christy said, pointing at her dog.

  The girl held a quivering hand toward Molly. Molly sniffed it before giving her a satisfied lick.

  Christy had a million questions to ask, but first she wanted to secure the crazy lady before she woke up. She’d given her one hell of a thump. A trickle of blood ran from the spot on her temple where the flashlight struck her.

  She searched the closest desk, pushing piles of papers and manila folders aside. In the second drawer she found a pair of handcuffs. The oddity of rooting through a police officer’s stuff made her feel guilty, as if she might get caught and jailed. Absurd, she knew, but she couldn’t shake the emotion, even as she cuffed the woman’s hands behind her back.

  Careful of the ruined skin on the woman’s forearm, Christy ratcheted the restraints tight.

  Slowly her heart rate normalized.

  “The bullet passed through,” Walter said. “It looks like only muscle was damaged – you’ll be OK.”

  Christy and the blonde girl walked over to where Walter was checking over the wound. The girl took a seat on the floor beside her friend. Christy leaned against a desk opposite her, watching as Walter worked on the boy’s side. The bullet went in just above his hip, luckily missing his organs.

  Walter found a first aid kit in a cabinet along the back wall. He bandaged the wound with gauze and wrapped three loops of tape around the teen’s torso.

  “That should do,” he said. His knees snapped and popped as he stood, pushing off a chair beside him for a boost. He sat down next to Christy, giving her hand a pat.

  “I guess we’ve got a lot to talk about. I’m Walter and this is Christy. You’ve already met Molly.”

  The dog looked around at the sound of her name. She trotted over to Christy, plopping down to the cool floor by her master’s feet.

  “Aaron.”

  “I’m Stephanie White.”

  “Who is the crazy lady?” Christy asked.

  “No idea.” Aaron grimaced as he adjusted his position on the floor. “We came here looking for help. Psycho was already here with a gun.”

  “She was ranting about us being in hell or something. We had to convince her that we weren’t some kind of demons. We tricked her into taking us out back and Aaron locked her outside.” Stephanie took Aaron’s hand in both of hers as she talked.

  Christy could tell right away that the boy was totally enraptured by Stephanie. She could see why – the girl was beyond pretty. Aaron tried to hide his pleasure at holding hands with her but he wasn’t a very good actor. He caught Christy watching him and began inspecting the floor in earnest, his cheeks flushing.

  “I locked the front door but it didn’t work, obviously. We were looking for a gun or pepper spray when she got back in. She was about to shoot us when... I’m sorry, what’s the dog’s name?” Stephanie spoke at an incredible pace, her excitement shoveling the words out.

  “Molly.” />
  “Molly saved our asses,” Aaron said. “How old is she anyway? She’s got more gray hair than my grandfather.”

  “Hey, I resemble that,” Walter said. His face remained solemn despite the joke.

  “She’s fifteen,” Christy said. She stroked the top of Molly’s head.

  “So...uhh... what the hell is going on?” Aaron asked. “Sorry for swearing.”

  “We have no idea. The only thing we know is that you don’t want to be caught without a light. Believe me.” Walter placed his lantern on the floor between all of them.

  Christy thought about telling him to turn it off to save the battery when the overhead lights flickered.

  “We were at her house when the... darkness... came across the city,” Aaron said. “Next thing we know, our parents are surrounding us, trying to get us to turn off our lights.”

  “I’ve seen my mother. Walter saw his daughter.”

  “It’s not them though, right? I mean, they looked like our parents, but something was wrong.” A small shiver ran through Stephanie.

  “No,” Walter said. “They’re something else. I shot one with a flare and it didn’t react well.”

  “What happened?” Aaron asked.

  “You don’t want to know.” Christy tried to picture the writhing, splitting skin of the thing that looked like her mother.

  “So if they aren’t our parents, then what happened to them? Aaron said it’s like Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”

  Walter’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t think they’re coming back.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

  “You think they’re dead?” Stephanie’s eyes welled.

  “I saw what happens when you’re caught in the dark,” Christy said. “It... takes you.”

  Christy didn’t want to accept that she would never see her mother again. But the further removed she was from Annie’s death, the harder it became to ignore the facts.

  The four of them sat for awhile, quietly contemplating their fates. They’d all lost someone important and were just coming to terms with their situation. Everything had moved so fast that a moment’s pause gave Christy time to reflect. That reflection made her wish she was still on the run.