Julie, out of breath, stumbled in behind him. “I’m going to the lady’s room.” He barely noticed her passage. Frost was nowhere in sight.
To the right was a large conference room and behind that were the facilities, where Julie went. Griffin looked to the first room to the left. The ‘booking room,’ Rule had called it.
“Helena?” he called out.
A quiet, “In here,” was the reply. He relaxed at hearing her voice. She sounded okay, if not a little annoyed.
Griffin walked past a vacant receptionist desk and a row of filing cabinets, before stopping at the second door.
Frost sat behind a cluttered desk in Sheriff Rule’s office. Hers now, he thought, as he tapped on the door with his knuckle and walked inside. She wrote notes on a yellow legal pad in front of her. A topography map of Refuge lay spread out on her desk.
“Helena,” Griffin said, trying not to startle her.
She smiled when she saw him.
“What’s up?” she said.
“Julie mentioned that Charley almost ran her off the road. Might have to lock him up again.”
“Did I hear my name?” Julie said, walking into the room.
They both ignored her.
“Should I go after him?” Griffin asked. “No,” Frost said. “If we’re lucky he’ll just head home and sleep it off.”
“Or do us all a favor and crash into a tree,” Julie said.
Griffin immediately thought of Susie Beaumont, dead in the crashed car. Frost must have as well, because they both frowned.
“Tough room,” Julie said.
Frost sighed. “We have bigger things to worry about.” She turned the map of Refuge toward Griffin. On it were five circles that she’d drawn with a red sharpie. “Take a look at this.”
Griffin leaned over the desk and twisted the map for a better look. Julie stepped up beside him.
“What are those?” Griffin asked, pointing to one of the red circles.
“I started looking at all the new construction in town. If whatever is happening was done by...people—”
“What makes you think people did this?” Julie asked quickly. “Sounds like a pretty big jump to me.”
Frost just stared at Julie for a moment, and then said, “Rule would have said to leave no stone unturned. It’s cliché, I know, but some clichés are simply really good advice. Also, the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.”
“Haven’t heard that one before,” Julie said, half a smirk on her face.
Frost didn’t see the humor. “Another cliché. Occam’s razor. You should read more thriller novels.” She turned back to Griffin. “If people are behind this, then it has to be some kind of machine, right? And that would probably be hard to hide. I didn’t find much, but those five spots struck me as odd.” Frost pulled out a handful of carbon copies from under her legal pad. “According to these construction permits and site surveys, there are five of them in all, built along the outskirts of town during the retrofit.” She glanced up at Julie. “You know anything about them?”
Julie leaned over the map and very quickly shook her head. “I bought, sold and leased. I didn’t build. If I had to guess, they probably have something to do with the solar panels.”
Griffin picked up one of the permits. It was mostly smudged and illegible, with the exception of Renford Ellison’s name signed neatly at the bottom. Ellison had been a liaison of sorts, for the town’s retrofitting. He’d spent summers in Refuge as a boy. Later in life, after becoming a rich inventor, he’d built one of his many houses by the lake. Thanks to his contacts in the energy industry, when the government grant was issued to make a U.S. town self-sufficient, Ellison had nominated Refuge, pledging to oversee the project and to foot half the bill. It was an irresistible proposal that landed Refuge on the fast-track to energy independence. The man spent most of his time in the mansion, rarely making public appearances, but he was well liked and had propelled himself to legendary status. There had even been talk of erecting a statue of him in the park. Griffin made a mental note to ask the man what he knew, but if Frost was right, and the strange phenomenon carrying the town between worlds was created by man, it smacked of big government. Ellison loved Refuge. He wouldn’t do anything to endanger the town. If anything, he was probably an unknowing pawn, like Julie.
“Could be nothing,” Frost said, taking back the permit. “But I was hiking about a week ago.” She pointed to the circle to the north of town. “I saw whatever this is. It was tall, maybe fifteen feet. Like one of those Egyptian obelisks, but made from brushed metal. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire, and it had an electrical danger sign. I meant to look into it after the Fourth.” She pulled the map back. “Anyway, like I said, it could be nothing, but I figured it was worth looking into.”
Griffin nodded. “Definitely.”
Julie rested a hand on Griffin’s shoulder affectionately. “Did you ask about the radios?”
“Radios?” Frost asked.
Griffin saw the way Frost eyed Julie’s behavior, and he took a step away. Good-looking or not, he had no interest in playing emotional games. “Some of the people in town were asking about spare two-ways, to keep in touch.”
Frost stood and stepped out from behind the desk. Her uniform was wrinkled and dirty. Like him, she hadn’t bothered changing since the first shift.
She walked over to a small utility closet and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. Several keys later, she had it unlocked.
“I keep telling myself I’m going to mark which key goes where,” she said, opening the door. The cabinet was stocked with paper, pens, legal pads, clip-boards and other office supplies. On the top shelf sat five two-way radios in charging cradles. Green LEDs shined steadily on the front of each one.
She turned to Griffin. “How many do you need?”
“We’ll take ’em all,” he said. “Mary and Brian set up a makeshift camp for those who ended up stranded here. There are a few groups going around, checking whether any others need help. I don’t like that they can’t keep in touch.”
“You’re welcome to them,” Frost said. “The batteries are supposed to be good for up to four hours of solid use. Of course, I probably wouldn’t put that theory to the test in a jam.”
Frost set the radios on the desk and then closed and locked the cabinet. She sat on the desk corner and yawned.
“Have you slept yet?” Griffin asked.
She raised a single eyebrow. She placed her hand on Griffin’s. “Have you?”
Julie let out an annoyed huff and crossed her arms. “Are we leaving soon? I need to get back to my truck. Things to do.”
Griffin was disappointed when Frost let go of his hand. His mother had always told him that you could tell a lot about a person from their touch. It’s like sticking your tongue on a 9-volt battery, she’d said. Good and bad energy flows through people like an electric current. You just need to learn the difference. Griffin remembered the first time he’d touched his wife, Jess. It had felt a lot like touching Frost, though he’d never say as much, because it sounded downright creepy, especially with Jess dead.
Griffin picked up the radios. “I need to get these back to Soucey’s, and check on the kids back at my place.”
“I’ll finish up here,” Frost said, “and meet you there. We can check out the obelisk at the north end.”
Griffin nodded, happy that Frost wasn’t going to go charging out there by herself. “Sam, Jimmy and Dana are checking out the radio station. Going to see if they can contact anyone out there beyond the darkness.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Rain started to plink against the windows. Thin streaks of black ran down the glass, cutting jagged paths through the light dusting of ash. The room flashed briefly with a hint of purple as the sky lit up outside.
Frost walked to the window and looked out. “Well, I hope they’re having better luck than us.”
15
Jimmy stopped the truck in the
center of the road and they all looked back at the three creatures laying facedown and bent in unnatural positions. They should have been dead, very dead, but they were already twitching back into shape. Several more shadow-walkers stumbled out of the woods and onto the driveway. The group of them stood motionless, watching, their bodies cloaked in living smog.
Sam watched out the back window as the three crumpled bodies finished standing and joined the others. Darkness once again engulfed their jerking bodies.
“Why did they stop?” Sam asked.
“Maybe they’re afraid to get run over?” Jimmy said.
“Better yet,” Sam said. “Why did you stop?”
The shadow-walkers started to back away.
Without another word, Jimmy hit the gas.
As they left the dark mob behind, Sam gave Wyatt the most reassuring smile he could muster. The boy should have never come. Bringing him was a stupid thing to do. By trying too hard to show Tess what a good father he was, he’d managed only to reveal how bad a father he actually was.
Dana hacked and coughed. He was getting worse. “Hang on, buddy. Help is just a few minutes away.”
Jimmy started back toward town, making it about twenty feet before stopping again. The Phantom idled in the middle of the street, while Jimmy stared ahead down the road. On his face was a look of disbelief.
“I’ve had about all the surprises I can take for one day,” Jimmy said, calmly shifting the truck into reverse.
Sam didn’t see anything at first. The road ahead was dark and lined with trees as expected, but something about it didn’t feel right. Something moved just within reach of the headlights.
Something large.
Like some four-legged caged beast, a dark form, half the road’s width, paced back and forth. It easily matched the size of Jimmy’s Phantom, and the sight of it made Sam’s blood run cold. The monstrosity had the body of a bull, one of those freakishly large Belgian Blues. It had the paws of a lion and the head of a hyena, a really big hyena. It stomped about on thick legs, its head rising and lowering like it was trying to pick up a scent.
Our scent.
It stopped.
“Might be a good time to start backing up,” Sam said.
Jimmy answered by stomping on the gas. The Phantom’s tires spun in the wet mess of ash, rain and mud, squealing as they found traction and jerking the truck backward. Sam fell forward, catching himself on the dash, and Wyatt let out a little oomph as he struck the back of Sam’s seat. Dana’s head rolled forward, but he was no longer conscious.
The beast lowered its head, like a cat having just found its prey. Its snout grinned, almost humanlike, revealing two rows of jagged, red-stained teeth. A smoky darkness snaked out from its mouth, curving around blackened lips and trailing off into the sky. The beast sprang forward, its feet pulverizing the pavement.
The truck shook as the monster closed the distance. Sam braced himself, placing one hand on the dashboard and the other over his seat, taking turns watching the road and looking at the beast. Jimmy remained focused, watching over his right shoulder as they sped down the road. They shot past the driveway to dead Tom Mungovan’s place, the shadow creatures long gone.
Sam watched as the beast rammed through the billboard for The Silver Springs Diner, sending the grandma’s head somersaulting. The impact stumbled the creature for a moment, letting them gain a few more precious feet of distance. But then it was nearly on top of them again.
“We’re never gonna outrun it in reverse,” Sam said.
“Hold on!” Jimmy jerked the wheel a hard right. The Phantom spun left, bucking in protest, until they faced the opposite direction. A split-second later he had the truck in Drive and the pedal mashed down, with a precision that surprised Sam.
Sam looked back to check on Dana and Wyatt. Dana was still unconscious. His blankets had fallen to his lap, and his body hung loosely over his seatbelt. Wyatt looked terrified, gripping the handle to his door.
“You okay?”
Wyatt nodded, but his brave front was betrayed by the shaking in his arms. “This is kinda like a video game.”
“Here it comes!” Jimmy shouted.
Sam looked up just in time to see the beast’s grin, as it slammed into the back of the truck. The Phantom lurched forward, bolting Dana, almost comically, upright and then back down again. Sam grabbed his seat’s headrest and held tight, making eye contact with the beast. In addition to raw malevolence, he saw intelligence in its eyes.
“There! The Diner!” Jimmy said, getting the truck back under control. “And sweet baby Moses in a basket, if it ain’t lit up like a fuckin’ Christmas tree!”
Sam saw the diner about a half a mile up the road. It was lit up all right—every light under the gas pump’s carport was blazing brightly. The diner’s pink and green neon road sign spun slowly, casting eerie light in slow circles, like a disco lighthouse. The number of lights, and their brightness, surprised him—this far out, he figured everyone would be on generators and trying to conserve fuel and power.
The beast pushed forward with a final burst of speed, sideswiping the truck, but not enough for Jimmy to lose control. Its desperate attempt to knock them from the road gave Sam a little bit of relief. It must recognize the diner as a threat. It’s trying to keep us from getting there.
The beast’s chase slowed and then stopped, as Jimmy pulled into the glow of the diner’s carport lights. The creature gave a final roar before turning tail and running off into the woods. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relieved.
16
Sam threw open the truck’s back door and reached inside for Dana, whose head was leaning limply to the side. He had thrown up on himself, and now he was moaning.
Cash Whittemore, who was working on his van beneath the bright lights of the filling station’s hood, dropped what he was doing and rushed over. Sam caught only a glimpse of Cash’s van, but the man had done something strange to its roof. A young man—maybe early thirties—ran out of the diner to help. A woman stood by the door, holding it open. She shouted for someone to get the first aid kit from the back office.
“Just hold on,” Jimmy said, taking Dana and dragging him out of the back. “We’re gonna get you inside.” He tried to lift Dana, but he couldn’t do it alone. The unconscious man might have been skinny and short, but he was currently floppy-armed, dead weight. The young guy arrived in time to keep Dana from falling to the ground. As Sam reached for his frightened son, Dana was carried toward the diner.
“Let’s go, son,” Sam said.
Wyatt looked unsure, still clinging to the door handle.
“I know you’re scared. Hell, I am, too. But you saw how those things reacted to light, and this has got to be the brightest place in town right now.”
Wyatt gave a slow nod and relinquished his grip. Although Sam’s speech sounded confident, he looked terrified to the core. As soon as Wyatt was in range, Sam took hold of him, yanked him from the truck and carried him to the diner.
Sam recognized Laurie Whittemore holding the door open as they rushed in. There were seven other people in the diner, but they were all strangers, probably people that had been passing through. Aside from the young guy, they all kept their distance. Laurie let out a little gasp when she saw the blood on Sam’s shirt and face.
“It’s not mine,” he said, putting Wyatt down.
Dana was laid down on the floor, a single blanket under him for comfort. Cash set a first aid kit on a nearby table. Sam hurried over. Dana was no longer moaning, but he was still slipping in and out of consciousness, and he’d gone as pale as a seagull turd.
“Thanks for the help,” Sam said to the young stranger. “Name’s Sam.”
“Kyle Gardner,” the man replied. While the leather jacket and scruffy face made him look tough, it was just a veneer. The jacket looked expensive. The styled hair smelled of product—and not cheap gel, more like the mousse Tess used. His hands looked smooth, like they hadn’t seen any physical
labor. Not the kind of man often found in Refuge, but he was helping, and that made him a friend.
Sam kneeled by Dana’s side. “Everybody, step back, please. I need the light. Jimmy give me the first aid kit.”
Kyle knelt down next to him.
“What are you doing?” Sam said. “I told you I—”
“I’m a doctor,” Kyle said. “I can help, but you need to do what I tell you.”
Kyle didn’t look old enough to be a doctor, but Sam couldn’t think of a reason he’d lie about it. He gave a nod and put the first aid kit between them.
“Roll him onto his side, and pull the shirt away,” Kyle said.
Dana’s shirt was a mixture of blood and vomit. Sam hesitated for a moment, but with Jimmy’s help, he rolled the small man onto his side. Sam peeled the shirt up and away with a wet sucking sound, struggling not to gag. The smell of infection was overwhelming. Sam was worried. How can this be so infected already? It just happened.
“That can’t be good,” Jimmy said, turning his head.
Black streaks ran like varicose veins up the length of Dana’s side.
Kyle took alcohol and cotton pads from the first aid kit. He tore open one of the pads and soaked it with alcohol. The tip of a bright red wound poked out just above Dana’s jeans, on his right hip.
Sam remembered what Dana had said: Bit me on the hip, fuckin’ perve.
Kyle wiped the pad just above the wound. The blood and vomit disappeared, but the black veins and red infection stayed.
Next, Kyle took the scissors from the first aid kit and looked at Sam. “Open a few more of those pads and soak them good.”
Slipping a finger through a belt loop on the front of Dana’s jeans, Kyle pulled. He carefully slid the scissors into the opening and cut a straight line down about six inches.
Dana moaned.
Kyle set the scissors down and spread apart the jeans.
Sam finished soaking the cotton pads and looked over. Dana’s hip was a red swollen mess of teeth punctures and leaking puss that throbbed in time with his pulse.
Refuge Book 2 - Darkness Falls Page 6
