Dana drew an O in the center, to which Wyatt followed with an X in the right middle, declaring he won.
“Sonofa—,” Dana said. “I thought you were going to let me win a round or two.”
Wyatt laughed. “You snooze, you lose.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Dana said. “Best two outta—” Dana froze, thinking he’d seen someone standing in the front yard. The cabin light glared on the front windshield, making it hard to see.
“What?” Wyatt said.
“Shhh,” Dana said calmly. “Turn off the light.”
Wyatt did as told, blanketing the truck cab in darkness. Thunder rumbled off in the distance.
It took a minute for Dana’s eyes to adjust, but once they had, whatever he thought he’d seen was gone. He grabbed hold of the driver’s seat and pulled himself forward for a better look. He studied the front yard and the woods just beyond it. Nothing. He could still see the light on in the upstairs window, but no sign of Jimmy or Sam yet. Movement from the back yard grabbed his attention.
“What?” Wyatt asked. “What is it?”
Dana could tell Wyatt was getting worried. I should console him, he thought, but the shadow walking toward them had him too alarmed to speak. Something about it wasn’t right. The way it moved was...wrong.
Black drops of rain began clicking against the truck, leaving streaks as they ran down the windows. The shadow was closer, moving erratically—another twenty feet and it’d be on them. A burst of purple lit the sky above them, momentarily revealing the dark, twisted form that might be human...or not.
“Wyatt,” Dana said, grabbing the Maglite off the seat. “Lock your door.”
Sam reached out and grabbed the door knob. The house whistled as a gust of wind struck it from the front, sounding almost like a distant scream. Light flashed through the window, casting the door in a purple hue, temporarily burning it into Sam’s vision.
He pushed the door open about two inches before it struck something solid on the other side. The smell of death seeped through the opening.
Sam ignored the rank odor and leaned his shoulder into the door. At first it remained stuck, but after a second shove, it broke free and opened another foot. Something on the other side slid with it. The putrid smell made him wince, and something in the air stung his eyes. He brought the collar of his shirt up over his nose.
A dull yellow light spilled out into the hallway, giving the blood on the carpet a darker tint. A smeared path of dark red continued on into the room. He gave the door another shove. There was a thud and a wet splat, as the thing behind the door fell onto the room’s hardwood floor and into view.
“Shit,” Sam said, staring at a man’s arm. “Think we found Tom.” A shredded shirtsleeve had torn away from the arm and was glued to the floor in a red paste of congealed blood. The forearm was mangled, covered in jagged wounds with pieces of hanging flesh. Sam felt his stomach flip, and he had a sudden realization. “The wounds look defensive.”
Sam suddenly understood the situation. Dog. Body. Blood. Defensive wounds. Jimmy stepped forward, shotgun raised, just as a large German Shepherd came into view. It let out a deep, unnatural growl that froze Jimmy in his tracks. A dark shadow flamed off the dog’s body, like some sort of black fire.
“The fuck?” Jimmy said.
It took a step forward, ears down and teeth bared. The Shepherd let out another growl that made Sam’s blood run cold. There was something wrong with the way it moved. It jerked—like something might move in a strobe light.
A scream reached his ears, barely registering, until he realized it came from outside.
“Wyatt!” Sam yelled, turning to leave and removing his light from the twitching dog.
“Sam, no!” Jimmy shouted.
The Shepherd leapt and careened into Jimmy, sending them both crashing to the floor. Sam landed hard on his back, with Jimmy on top of him. He coughed as the air was knocked from his lungs. The Maglite rolled down the hall and struck the wall under the window.
Jimmy’s weight made it hard for Sam to catch his breath. He tried to shout and push, but the best he could do was open his mouth and grunt, while Jimmy struggled with the Shepherd.
The dog lunged, jaws agape. Jimmy raised the Mossberg horizontally, shoving it into the dog’s mouth. Its teeth buried deeply into the stock. Splinters of wood chipped away as the two struggled.
Sam felt close to blacking out. He couldn’t breathe under Jimmy’s weight, and he was running out of strength. His left foot struck something solid. The edge of the door jamb. He braced his foot against it and gave a hard push in a final attempt to break free.
Jimmy kicked the Shepherd back into the room and leaned right, giving Sam enough space to escape. Jimmy then rolled back, just as the dog charged him again.
Sam lay on the carpet, sucking in lungfuls of air. He could hear Jimmy fighting with the dog, but it sounded far away. Tiny white stars speckled his vision.
Jimmy. Gotta help Jimmy.
He forced himself to sit up, his vision clearing with each breath. This was serious; the dog was really going nuts. His hand struck the cold metal of the Maglite behind him. Without thinking, he grabbed it and stood. The dog was too busy with Jimmy to notice his approach. Sam swung the Maglite like an axe, putting all his strength behind the swing, which after countless winters of splitting wood, was considerable. There was a satisfying thunk as the metal met flesh and cracked the dog hard on the snout.
The Shepherd gave a startled yelp and ran to the top of the stairs. Then it turned and growled, oblivious to its caved in snout, its body smoldering with what looked like angry black fire.
Jimmy didn’t waste any time. He rolled to the side and drew a bead on the thing. The shotgun boomed. The dog flipped over backwards from the force and slammed into the wall. Jimmy stood, and in one quick swoop, he switched to the second barrel and unleashed a second round of hell, sending the Shepherd sprawling to the end of the hall.
Jimmy let the barrel of the shotgun dip to the floor. He studied the lifeless dog at the end of the hall, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. The German Shepherd didn’t move, but its body still undulated with black...something. He ejected the two spent shells from the Mossberg and quickly replaced them with two more from his pocket.
“Last two rounds I got with me,” Jimmy said. “Rest are in the truck.”
The blasts had been deafening in the enclosed hall. Sam stood stunned, his ears ringing. Jimmy was speaking, but his words sounded muffled, like someone talking through a thick wall.
Jimmy grabbed him by the shoulder. “Sam! We gotta go!”
Sam looked at Jimmy. His mind vacant. And then, he remembered. “Wyatt!” He took one step and stopped. “Oh, fuck.”
The German Shepherd was up on all fours. Dead, but alive.
Jimmy turned and fired again without hesitation. His shot struck the Shepherd square in the chest. The dog showed no reaction. No yelp. No flinch of pain. Nothing. It looked up and made eye contact with Jimmy in an almost human-like action, and let out another chilling growl, this one gargled due to the holes in its neck.
Jimmy took a step back, switching over to the second barrel of the gun. “We ah, could be in a little trouble here.”
The Shepherd stepped forward. Jimmy raised the shotgun.
“See if you can’t take off its head with the next one,” Sam said, adjusting the flashlight’s aim. The moment the bright circle of light fell on the advancing dog, it yelped and jumped back. The darkness enshrouding the dog reacted similarly, snapping back and slipping to the dog’s far side.
“Light the fucker up!” Jimmy shouted.
Sam raised the Maglite, trying to focus its beam on the darkness. The Shepherd howled in pain each time the light struck it and jumped from side to side trying to dodge its aggressor.
“The head! On the head!” Jimmy said.
“I’m fuckin’ trying,” Sam said. “It won’t stay still.”
Sam grabbed hold of the Maglite’s
tip and gave a quick turn to the right. The beam’s focus went from narrow to wide, lighting the whole hallway. The dog yelped, spasmed and collapsed on its side. Unable to escape its tormentor, the dog clawed at the floor in agony.
Jimmy fired, striking the Shepherd’s exposed head. Bits of bone, brain and blood sprayed down the length of the hall, decorating it like some sort of sick wallpaper. The dog no longer moved or cried out. The smoky black fire fled down the length of the dog’s body and disappeared with a puff and a purple flash.
There was another loud yell and a crack of thunder from outside.
“Wyatt!” Sam yelled, running down the stairs, with Jimmy following. “We’re coming!”
13
Thick rain met Sam at the front door. It mixed with the falling ash to form a kind of raining mud, lashing against his body. He nearly slipped and fell down the steps, as the now saturated ash was slicker than eel snot. He skidded off the front porch and landed on his ass. Jimmy’s big hand reached down and pulled him up.
No time for thanks, they ran to the parked truck.
Wyatt was inside the truck yelling to Dana, banging on the driver’s side window. Dana was outside, struggling with a large black shadow that had him pinned to the ground. But it wasn’t just a shadow. It was physical. Solid. But not a human being. At least, not anymore. It looked like a man dressed in a strange gillie suit of smoke and ash, but it didn’t move like a man. Sam ignored the thing when he saw blood on the side of Dana’s face.
“Your light,” Jimmy yelled. “Hit it with the light!”
Sam shined the Maglite directly on the shadow. Nothing. Panicked, he gave the Mag’s tip a twist to the left, focusing the light into a stronger beam. That worked. The shadow let go of Dana and gripped its head, tilting it back like it was silently screaming. Like the Shepherd, the smoky black fire that protected it gave way. The sight reminded Sam of an experiment he’d once done with Wyatt, where he’d placed a finger coated with dish soap into a bowl of peppered water and the pepper shot away. As the black shroud lifted, a person was revealed beneath—or what used to be a person. Its solid black eyes bore witness that nothing actually human still remained.
Dana took advantage of his attacker’s pause and gave a quick buck of his hips, tossing his assailant to the side. He followed with a quick kick to the thing’s exposed face, knocking it backwards in a heap.
Sam kept the light on the body as he and Jimmy ran to Dana’s side. The attacker sat up and screeched at them in a high-pitched squeal that was anything but human. Jimmy’s leg shot out and kicked it in the side of the head, sending whatever it was, back to the ground, unconscious.
Sam knelt beside Dana and looked to Jimmy. “Is it dead?”
“I doubt it,” Jimmy said, nudging the body with his foot. “Let’s bug the fuck out.”
Sam took Dana’s left arm and draped it over his shoulder. “C’mon.”
Dana moaned and placed a hand on his left hip. “Fucker bit me. Right on the hip, the fuckin’ perve,” Dana said. “Fuckin’ burns.”
“Gotta work on your vocabulary,” Jimmy said with a forced grin. He reached down and grabbed Dana’s free arm. “Ready?”
Dana nodded and groaned again, as Jimmy and Sam lifted him.
The trio hopped over to the truck on unsteady legs. In spite of the black rain that was soaking them both, Sam could see a growing red stain on Dana’s leg. Not good.
Jimmy grabbed his keys from his pant pocket and pressed the button that unlocked the truck doors. He let go of Dana long enough to open the back cabin, where Wyatt was waiting, scared, but ready to help.
“Reach behind that seat, Wyatt,” Jimmy said, nodding to the back passenger side. “There should be a couple of blankets back there. Grab ’em and lay ’em out.”
Wyatt laid out the blankets and crawled back out of the way. The rain made Dana’s clothes slick, and Sam and Jimmy struggled to get him into the back seat.
Sam saw Wyatt’s eyes, large and scared, as they lifted Dana into the truck. All he wanted to do was take Wyatt into his arms and thank God he was okay, but Dana was in serious trouble. He needed immediate help. Sam felt proud as Wyatt helped pull Dana in and covered him with blankets. Wasting no time, they climbed into the truck, which roared to life a moment later.
A loud crack of thunder erupted above, followed with a few quick flashes of purple, which lit the sky and the woods around them. Sam and Jimmy leaned forward simultaneously, peering through the front windshield. They’d seen the same thing. More shadows. Closing in…
The truck jolted as something jumped onto the rear bed. Sam didn’t need to look to know what it was, but he did anyway. Another dark shadow-walker, its body burning in that same smoky, black fire that had also coated the Shepherd, stood staring in at them.
Jimmy shifted the Phantom into drive. “Hang on!” He stepped on the gas, and the shadow-walker in the truck bed lost its balance and fell off, as Jimmy rounded the first bend in the driveway. The ash and rain made for a real mess, and Jimmy struggled to keep from veering off into the woods. He jerked the steering wheel hard to the right and back to the left, swerving around a fallen tree. The road lay just ahead out of sight.
“Holy shit!” Jimmy slammed both feet on the brakes, bringing the Phantom to a skidding halt.
The truck’s wipers whisked against the windshield, revealing three shadow-walkers standing at the end of the driveway. They formed an inky line of jerky movement and twitching darkness, blocking the exit to the road.
Jimmy looked into the rearview mirror and saw three more approaching from the rear. “God, I could really use a cigarette right now,” he said absently. He looked to Sam. “What do ya wanna do? I don’t think they’re people anymore.”
“But what if they are?” Sam asked. “We don’t know for sure. I mean, what if—”
Dana hacked and coughed up something wet. He shifted in his seat and moaned.
“Fuck, Sam,” Jimmy said. “People or not, they’re trying to kill us. I think we can agree on that.”
Something large struck the side of the truck, startling them. Sam looked to the right and saw two shadow-walkers coming through the trees and a third that had stopped to pick up and throw another rock. Sam flinched as it struck just below his window.
Wyatt called out nervously from the back seat. “Dad?”
“If these bastards ain’t trying to kill us, then the good Lord himself can judge me.” Jimmy gripped the steering wheel tightly. He switched on the Phantom’s high beams, causing the three shadow figures that blocked their exit to scream out in protest. They raised their arms in a futile attempt to ward off the stark white illumination. Their tight, jerky movements became slow, zombie-like stumbles, as the black fire that covered their bodies exploded away in bright purple flashes.
Jimmy floored the Phantom, thumped over the three people and turned onto the paved road, tires spinning in a mix of wet ash and blood.
14
Griffin walked in silence, not allowing Julie to walk in front of him. She was dressed to kill, as usual, and he didn’t need that kind of distraction at the moment. Of course, he was already feeling distracted. By his daughter, Avalon’s, return. By the hell on Earth that Refuge had become. And by Frost, whose uniform hid what his walking partner flaunted. The feelings he had for Frost were, at least, noble. But Julie... She was a temptress, and given her past flirtations, quite tempting. So he did his best to avoid her, despite the fact that she was two paces behind him, and trying to catch up.
“I’m supposed to be out of town,” Julie said, her high heels tapping out a steady beat. “I should have left yesterday, but—”
“You were in the bar,” he said. “When Ava... You left pretty quick.”
“I got a text from a client,” she explained.
“Must have been important.”
“All of my clients are important,” she said. “Too bad you were never one of them.”
Griffin blushed, a little ashamed of the direction his though
ts took. It seemed the studies about men were right. Even with the world going to shit, sex wasn’t far from his mind. He pushed the thoughts away and cleared his throat. “Where were you headed?”
“Boston,” she said absently. “Some of my old college friends and I were supposed to get together. We do it every year to make sure we stay in touch. You know, something more than a Christmas card once a year. Must be similar for you, with the gallery shows in New York.”
“Actually, I’m more of a ‘meat and potatoes’ kind of guy. A card once a year is damn near an invasion of privacy.”
Julie laughed and managed to catch up, so they were walking side by side. The woman could all but speed walk in heels. “Right. The dark and brooding artist. Except you’re actually the type a girl takes home to meet mom and dad.”
Griffin laughed, caught off guard by the overt flirtation. Part of him wanted to scold her, to tell her that this wasn’t the time, but her advances made the world feel a little bit more normal. “You want to take me home to meet your parents?”
“I said, you’re the type a girl takes home to meet mom and dad.” Julie stretched as she walked, pushing out her chest, her blouse buttons strained nearly to breaking. “Now a woman... A woman could find something a little more interesting to do, than go visit her parents.”
Griffin blushed again. The whole world’s upside down, and I’m stuck in a teenage wet dream.
Pulling his eyes away from Julie’s curves, he looked forward and saw the ruined front of the Sheriff’s station. Some of the damage had been repaired, but not all. They’d managed to get the plywood up in place of the shattered doors, though. At the thought of seeing Frost again, his walk became a jog.
“Hey,” Julie called after him, but he didn’t slow. Free from the conversation, his thoughts cleared. After he talked with Frost, he would check on Avalon, Radar and Lisa back at the house.
He took the steps two at a time and entered the station, pausing just beyond the foyer. The main office was still a pretty good mess, though Frost had taken time to tidy up her desk.
Refuge Book 2 - Darkness Falls Page 5
