Children of the Dark

by Jonathan Janz

  And, of course, Kurt Fisher.

  Staring at the glob of beasts, I was seized by a desperate idea.

  I tried to blot out the echo of snapping bones and snarling creatures as I dragged the bucket of kerosene to the edge. I had to hurry—the beasts wouldn’t remain in place forever.

  And there was the small matter of the beast still inside the treehouse for me to worry about. Mia was circling the wounded beast, lashing out again and again with the belt. Peach and Juliet were throwing objects at it, batteries and baseballs and Playboy magazines Chris and I had smuggled up here in the past couple years.

  The thought of Chris made my throat burn, so I shook it away, focused on the kerosene bucket. I used the hatchet for a pry and worked the edges of the lid loose. We’d taken off that lid many times, so the metal tongues holding it in place bent easily.

  Mia dropped down next to me. “Hatchet,” she breathed.

  I handed it to her without thinking. It was a good thing too. The creature had recovered. And was stalking toward us.

  Mia swung the hatchet at the creature’s foot. At the last moment, the creature sidestepped the blow. The hatchet embedded in the floor. The creature bent forward, cupped Mia’s jaw, and leered at her. I started to intercede, but before I could do anything, the beast squealed, its head thrown back in agony. I looked down and saw the carpet cutter finishing its swipe, the hooked, silver blade and the thick wooden handle already painted with black blood.

  The creature backpedaled but its legs failed and it landed on its side, its mouth still stretched open in that unearthly wail.

  Peach had severed its Achilles tendon.

  Peach didn’t pause to admire her handiwork, instead rushed over to the creature and swung the carpet cutter again. The creature brought a hand up, and then three of its fingers were clipped off, the ichor spewing all over my sister. It growled at her, and I knew she’d be dead if she didn’t get away soon. But she was possessed, gone berserker in defense of us, and my love for her, if it was possible, grew even stronger.

  I slung an arm around her waist and yanked her toward me. I didn’t know how to finish the creature off, but as foolish as it sounds, the beast in the treehouse wasn’t my first priority. It wasn’t incapacitated, but it was badly injured and howling in pain.

  I returned to the bucket, tilted it. The odor of kerosene filled the treehouse. It began to lap over the rim of the bucket, then to gush. It sluiced through the trapdoor opening and sailed toward the pile of creatures, who had indeed swarmed all over Kurt. The kerosene splashed over the Children, the foul-smelling stuff going everywhere.

  A couple of the creatures froze, but the majority of them kept right on rending and tearing and chewing. The mass of white, salamander-thin bodies was so tightly clustered that I could scarcely see the body they were feasting on. But the occasional glimpse was more than enough.

  Kurt was a crimson ruin.

  Fighting down my gorge, I moved the bucket around more vigorously, tipping it farther and farther as I did. When I thought I’d drenched all of the Children, I tilted the bucket all the way, the vertical position allowing the last dregs of kerosene to drool out onto the creatures directly under me.

  The creatures returned to their feeding, a development that surprised me. I’d been sure the moment they smelled the fuel they’d scatter or attack me, but it was obvious they didn’t realize how much danger they were in. Or maybe, I mused, their own putrid stench was so overwhelming they couldn’t even scent the kerosene.

  More likely, they were abandoning themselves to the blood frenzy Kurt’s corpse had created.

  “What now, Will?” Mia asked.

  Coincidentally, this was the same question I was asking myself. Truth was, I had no idea what was next. Mia was immersed in kicking the downed creature in the head, but she kept shooting glances at me, the terror plain in her eyes.

  I grimaced, casting about for the butane lighter. There was a horrible moment in which I was sure I’d lost the thing. Then Juliet came to me, extended an arm. “Do you want this?”

  With an audible sigh, I accepted the lighter and looked around for something I could light.

  There was the rope, but I’d have to untie it, douse it with kerosene, and drop it. All of that would take too long, and now I realized I’d made a catastrophic mistake—perhaps a fatal mistake. I’d neglected to save any kerosene, so even if I could get the rope ready before the Children ceased devouring Kurt, I didn’t have the means to light it on fire.

  “Will this work?” Juliet asked.

  She was grasping the kerosene lamp.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed and rushed over to her. How had I missed something so obvious? I grabbed it and had started to move toward the trapdoor when something slammed into me from behind. The lamp flew out of my hand, the glass shell that covered the wick exploding in a hail of shards.

  “No!” I screamed.

  The thing had me pinned, glass shards from the lamp piercing my chest, my arms. I tried to roll over but the beast only leaned on me. Lasers of pain shot down my back. It was digging at me, its vicious talons ribboning my flesh. I writhed beneath it, reached back to protect my torn skin, but the talons were merciless, implacable. They ripped through me again, this time slashing sideways, just above my buttocks. The pain was so intense I worried I might faint. Mia was attacking it, I saw with a backward glance. She had ahold of its sparse hair, was wrenching and shaking the creature with all her might.

  I finally managed to roll over beneath it. I saw, lying against the plywood wall, the red glass base of the kerosene lamp.

  Completely intact.

  Full of kerosene.

  “Peach!” I yelled. “Grab that lamp!”

  Unhesitatingly, Peach hurried over and picked it up. She looked at me for further direction.

  “Now smash it,” I grunted. The beast’s weight pressed down on me as it battled with Mia.

  Peach lifted it above her head, prepared to dash the red glass on the floor.

  “No!” I said quickly. “On the monster’s head!”

  Peach got behind the creature and walloped it in the skull. Fragments of scarlet glass sprayed everywhere, the kerosene dousing the beast.

  Bellowing with fury, the creature thrust Mia away and spun toward Peach. It bent to grab her. I snatched up the lighter. Depressed the fuel button. Clicked the starter.

  Shoved the bluish flame into the beast’s dripping hair.

  A crown of fire enveloped its head.

  The beast’s cry transformed into shocked anguish as a sheet of flame spread over its body. A nine-foot-tall candle, the creature staggered away from Peach.

  I shoved it toward the trapdoor.

  One instant it was slapping at its fiery face; the next it was disappearing through the opening, its entire body a flapping, shrieking torch. I dropped to my knees in time to see the flaming creature crash into the pile of feasting monsters. I was afraid the other creatures wouldn’t catch fire, that the kerosene I’d poured on them wouldn’t ignite.

  But it did.

  Almost at once, the base of the tree was a shifting, jittering kaleidoscope of glowing beasts. Several took off screaming as the flames wrapped around them; others had been so thoroughly soaked in the kerosene that their pallid bodies became scorched, blackened skeletons within twenty or thirty seconds. All four of us gathered around the opening and watched the creatures being consumed.

  Then, a lone creature began to scale the rungs, its body only on fire from the waist down. This one, I realized with mounting dread, was the biggest beast of all, the one they’d waited on before they attacked.

  Trembling with rage, I pushed away from the opening, went over and scooped up the hatchet.

  “Will, no!” Mia shouted, interposing herself between me and the trapdoor.

  “I’m not letting it hurt you,” I said. “Now move.”

  “It’s okay,” a voice said.

  We all looked down at Juliet, who hadn’t ceased her vigil a
t the trapdoor. Rejoining her, we saw what she meant. The largest beast had stopped climbing, was slumped against the tree, the fire having spread all the way to its armpits.

  It glared up at me, its green eyes shot through with rage and loathing.

  Then, it tumbled backward and landed with a dull whump.

  ¨

  I only watched the creature roast for a few seconds. Then I stood.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “Wait,” Mia said, putting my forearm in a death grip. “What are you—”

  “We have to get out of the woods,” I said. “There’ll be more of them.”

  She shook her head. “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t know anything,” I said. “But we can’t assume we got them all.”

  She searched my eyes a moment longer. Then she nodded.

  Her face molded into a frown when she beheld the burning bodies beneath us. “But how do we…”

  “We’ll be careful,” I said. “I’ll go first, you second. Then the girls. I’ll help you guys down.”

  It was difficult going, especially near the ground. But I finally managed to leap clear of the bodies. I kept expecting one of the charred corpses to reanimate. In fact, that was one of my chief motives for getting away immediately. I’d seen the Eric-thing mend and wondered if these monsters could do the same thing. I helped Mia off the ladder, then told the girls to leap toward me one at a time. They did, and despite the terrible wounds in my back, I was able to catch them.

  I didn’t dare think about my injuries and what they might mean. Was it possible I would change like Eric Blades? Like Padgett?

  It was while I was helping Peach to the ground that Mia noticed my wounds. “Will,” she said, “you’ll bleed to death.”

  “Better than being eaten,” I said. “Come on.”

  She wasn’t appeased, but I was too antsy to stick around longer. There were only nine corpses I could see in the vicinity of the tree, which meant there were three more beasts who’d dashed off into the forest after being set aflame. I hoped all three of them had died, but I knew it was folly to count on that. Besides, Mia had a point about my blood loss. I’d begun to grow dizzy, my vision graying around the edges. And I didn’t like our chances of making it to civilization if the girls had to drag me.

  So we set off down the trail. I led the way, Mia took the rear, and the girls stayed between us. I kept Peach as close as humanly possible. If I hadn’t been so torn up by that creature, I would’ve carried her piggyback.

  We’d been walking for a couple minutes when we saw it, the shape huddled a few feet from the edge of the trail. When I first spotted movement, I immediately thought of the creatures. One of the beasts had, my racing thoughts proclaimed, managed to extinguish itself and was now in the process of regenerating. I was raising the hatchet when the figure shifted, and I realized who it was.

  Mr. Watkins was down on his knees, his body curled into the fetal position. He tremored with silent sobs.

  I rushed over to him, disbelief flooding through me. “Are you hurt?”

  His shoulders shook, but he didn’t answer.

  “Let’s keep going, Will,” Peach said.

  I waved her away, knowing deep down she was right, but still too shocked to heed her advice. Besides, I’d witnessed too much carnage already. I wanted to save anyone I could, even if Mr. Watkins was a coward and a jerk.

  Or maybe I felt subconsciously guilty for murdering my biological father.

  The evening was well advanced, and it was growing harder to see. In the muted violet twilight I made out Mr. Watkins’s light blue shirt, his khaki pants ripped and tattered below the knees. He looked pitiful, broken.

  “Come with us,” I said. “We’re only a couple minutes from my house.”

  Mr. Watkins didn’t look at me. He seemed to be studying his hand.

  “Mr. Watkins?” I said. I put a hand on his shoulder, thinking to comfort him.

  I froze. The skin beneath the light blue fabric felt…different. Tauter.

  “Will?” Mia said in a tight voice. “Look.”

  But I was already looking. Now I knew why he was studying his hand. And I knew how he’d gotten away from the beasts on River Road.

  Mr. Watkins turned and leered at me, his eyes huge and green and absolutely insane with hunger.

  Sucking in breath, I backed away, pushing the girls behind me as well as I could. Mr. Watkins stood. He seemed to go on and on, his figure gaunt and tall and ripping through his clothes. Leering, he strode toward us, loomed over us, and though I still had the hatchet, I doubted it would do much good. Because this creature was new, fresh, and we were about to become its first kills. We were—

  “GET DOWN!” a voice bellowed.

  The Watkins-thing whirled, snarling, and I saw them then, five policemen. All of them with their guns drawn.

  Diving, I buried the girls beneath me. Juliet shrieked. Peach grunted as my weight bore down on her. Mia didn’t say anything, but I felt her body pinned under mine. We heard a roar, the beast preparing to attack the police.

  Then the woods erupted with gunfire. Bullets whizzed over our heads, punched holes in the wet leaves.

  Please let us survive, I prayed. Please don’t let this all have been in vain.

  In moments the explosions stopped. Then a tall, pale figure thumped down on the soil beside us.

  I glanced over and saw the Watkins-thing staring sightlessly at the purple sky.

  A hand fell on my shoulder.

  Hissing, I whirled and raised the hatchet.

  And saw the female cop with her hands up. “Take it easy,” she said. “Just take it easy.”

  “It’s all over,” another female cop said.

  “It’s not over,” I said, lowering the hatchet. “Those things are still out there. At least three more of them.”

  A third cop, this one a skinny guy with a dark complexion: “You mean like this one?” He nodded toward the Watkins-thing.

  I nodded.

  “How do you know that?” one of the female cops asked.

  “Because we cremated nine of them. Three more got away.”

  There was a thick, unbelieving silence.

  “What’s your name?” the first female cop said to Mia.

  Mia told her.

  The woman exchanged a glance with her fellow officers.

  “I’m Officer Manalo,” she said. “Your parents have been worried to death about you.”

  Mia got shakily to her feet. “But they’re…”

  Officer Manalo smiled ruefully. “Poor choice of words. Your folks are fine.”

  The other female cop introduced herself as Officer Lopez. She helped Peach and Juliet to their feet. Both female cops, I decided, were far prettier than any policemen I’d ever seen. They looked like cops from a movie, not real life. Of course, now was probably not the time to be noticing things like that.

  “What about you?” one of the male cops said. He was fortyish, square-jawed.

  “I’ll live,” I said and winced.

  He frowned, put a hand on my shoulder, and turned me half-around. “You’re cut up really badly. Jesus, kid, what’s your name?”

  I told him.

  Something changed in his expression then, but I was too dazed to identify it. He said, “I’m Officer Kosarich. You can lean on me if you need to.”

  “I’ve got him,” Mia said, slinging my arm over her shoulder.

  “Wait a second,” a skinny blond cop said. “Are there any other survivors out there?”

  Mia looked at me. I could only lower my head.

  “Jesus,” the blond cop whispered.

  “We need to get you four out of the woods,” Officer Manalo said.

  “Sounds good to me,” Mia agreed.

  A ruddy-faced cop spoke up. “Maybe one of us should go on ahead, notify the rest that we’ve found the kids.”

  Kosarich shook his head. “We can’t spare anybody. If what they’re saying is true, there are more o
f these things out there. With Will injured and the two little girls, we’re not going to make good time anyway.”

  Peach scowled at him. “I can run faster than you can.”

  Officer Lopez grinned and took Peach by the hand, and Officer Manalo took charge of Juliet. The three male cops murmured to one another, and then the whole procession began making its way down the path.

  “Look!” Kosarich shouted.

  We all turned and saw the rail-thin form loping away into the underbrush.

  The Watkins-thing.

  “Hell,” an officer said. His ruddy face had gone pale.

  “That’s not possible,” Officer Lopez whispered.

  “One of you should’ve shot it,” Juliet said.

  I had to admit, it was a good point.

  “Let’s go,” I said, unable to suppress my anxiety any longer. Plus, I really was starting to feel woozy. Like, bad enough that if Mia weren’t propping me up, I’d faint dead away.

  “The kid’s right,” Officer Manalo said. “Let’s get moving.”

  We got moving.

  ¨

  It was full dark by the time we reached my backyard. I could see figures standing at the rear of the house.

  More policemen.

  With a surge of horror I remembered my mom.

  Please let her be alive, I thought.

  I pushed away from Mia and began lurching up the short hill to my yard. I’d only gone a few strides before a blanket of dizziness settled over me. Mia was by my side in an instant, her hands on my shoulders. She was imploring me to take it easy, to wait for the doctors, but there was a low, buzzing dread eating away at me, reminding me of a chainsaw’s insectile roar, like a billion cicadas droning at once.

  “Is he okay?” a voice asked, and as the little hands embraced me I realized it was Peach. But that only made me feel worse, because as much as I loved her and was thankful she’d survived, I remembered she had no idea how much danger our mom had been in, had no reason to suspect the nightmare wasn’t over.

  I looked up at Officer Manalo. “Where’s my mom?”

  Her face changed, became masklike.

  “Where’s my mom?” I growled.

  The mask slipped a little, and I saw real remorse there, something so sensitive and sympathetic that I longed to scream at her, to shove her away from me, because I didn’t need sympathy. I needed my family, needed a chance to put the fragments of our life back together, even if the life we’d had before was pathetic. If Mom was dead, we’d have nothing. I remembered what Padgett had said about siblings who were taken away from their families. They seldom ended up together. And if Mom was dead…if something had happened to her…