Refuge Book 2 - Darkness Falls

by Jeremy Bishop

  “I’ve got that one covered,” Cash said. “I have a halo.”

  Laurie smiled and patted her brother’s hand. “You and your toys.” She looked at Sam. “Anything else?”

  “Actually, yes,” Sam said, wondering if Cash’s response was sarcasm. “What’s a halo?”

  19

  Sam, Jimmy and Kyle followed Cash to his van, which was parked by one of the pumps. The lights were bright inside the diner, but they were downright brilliant under the carport.

  Cash opened the door to his service van and climbed in. “So where is it?” Jimmy asked. “This ‘halo’ of yours. Cause it sure as shit ain’t floatin’ above your head.”

  “Saw the effect the light had on them. Put this together using stock I had in the truck. Haven’t had much use for it since the retrofitting began. We would have left soon if you hadn’t shown up.” Cash reached under the dash and flipped a switch. White hot light from six halogen work lamps mounted around the roof brightened a fifty-foot radius around the van.

  Heat radiated from the lights, the temperature change sending a shiver through Sam’s body.

  Cash flipped the toggle back to the off position and the temperature immediately dropped. He opened his door and stepped out. “Only problem is, she’ll drain the battery faster than a redneck going to a Nascar event.”

  “Well then, let’s hope we don’t need it,” Sam said.

  “Rather have it and not need it—”

  “Than need it and not have it,” Sam finished, slapping Jimmy’s back. “You need to get a new line, buddy.”

  Cash climbed back into the van and slammed his door shut. “Saddle up, boys. Time’s a wastin’.”

  If it had been a long time since Sam had been to the Silver Springs Diner, it’d been an eternity since he’d been up Domenick Ridge (named after one of Refuge’s founding fathers). The road to the radio station was steep but well maintained. Aside from the surrounding mountain ranges, Domenick Ridge was one of the highest points in Refuge.

  Cash pulled to a stop in front of the station. All four men sighed with relief. The tension during the drive had been intense, but they hadn’t seen a single shadow monster. Sam leaned forward and peered through the windshield. The building was dark and quiet; it was about the size of a one-bedroom ranch home. Four tall letters stood on its roof, advertising its call letters, WPOS.

  “Not much to the place,” Cash said, turning off the van. “Only has three rooms. One for the DJ, another for the tech and a server room for all the broadcast equipment. Came up about a month ago to install a new lightning suppression unit.”

  Cash pulled four lantern flashlights from a box between him and Jimmy. He clicked one on and off and handed it to Jimmy before checking the others.

  “Batteries are good, but they’re not new,” Cash said, passing two back to Kyle and Sam. “Try to use ’em sparingly.”

  Sam stepped out of the van and stretched. The ride up in the back with Kyle had been cramped.

  A light rain fell from the sky, and a warm breeze blew through the trees, creating a soft hiss. A bright purple flash lit the distant sky over Refuge, and thunder rumbled off in the distance. Would have been pretty, if it wasn’t a stark reminder that they were severely fucked.

  Sam could see the distant lights of town, but the darkness appeared to be slowly encroaching, winking out one light after the next. When they’d left Soucey’s, the light from town had carried out to the water tower, but now the tower was gone, lost in total blackness. Sam thought of the dog at the house and the Dana-thing back at the diner.

  It’s like a disease. Spreading and infecting everything it touches.

  He thought of Tess and Ellie, back in town, and what might happen if the darkness swallowed the town whole. If they didn’t reach outside help through the ham radio... He shook his head, fighting off his morbid train of thought.

  The moon—or is that the sun?—hovered above them, peeking out occasionally from behind dark clouds, like some giant watchful eye, casting a deep purple glow over the surrounding woods and the station. It seemed to have a mind of its own, shifting to different locations in the sky, not following its normal arc. Sam thought of The Eye of Sauron from The Lord of the Rings, and he wondered if this moon could be in some way responsible for what’d been happening since he woke. He nearly laughed at the thought. Shadow creatures was one thing. But living moons?

  “So, what first, chief?” Jimmy asked, looking to Sam.

  Sam clicked on his flashlight and gave the grounds a quick once over. To the right of the station was a walkway past two parking spots and around a small supply shed. The walkway continued past, leading to the radio tower. To the left was a paved driveway that led to a single-car garage that was almost beyond the flashlight’s reach.

  Sam turned his light on the station door. “Probably a little late to be asking, but does anybody have a key to get in?”

  Jimmy walked up to the station door and gave the handle and solid turn and a shove. “Locked,” he said, trying the handle again. “Good thing I carry a master key with me.” He took a step back and gave the door a hard kick. The old door caved in on the first try.

  “Master key, eh?” Sam said, walking past Jimmy and inside the station.

  “Hasn’t let me down yet,” Jimmy said, following Sam with Kyle and Cash.

  They moved down the hallway, single file. Sam stopped in front of a closed door, listening, not in the mood for any more surprises.

  “Tech room,” Cash said, stepping by Sam. “It’s also where the switch to the generator is. Beauty too. Generac, 70-kilowatt, propane-fueled and liquid-cooled. Shit, I’d have one of ’em at home, if I had a spare 20k laying around.”

  “I thought those were automatic?” Sam said. “Shouldn’t it be up and running already?”

  “Depends on the power running into the building,” Cash said. “A lot of places still need the main breaker switched off. I’m guessing no one was here when this place went dark.”

  “Can you get it running?” Sam asked.

  “Bear shit in the woods?”

  Cash opened the door to the tech room and stepped inside.

  “We’re gonna check out the rest of the place,” Jimmy said. “We’ll meet you back here.” Kyle followed him.

  Sam nodded and joined Cash in the tech room. Cash focused his light on a panel door in the back corner. He ran his finger down a numbered list and read the labels. He stopped and flipped a breaker off and then on again.

  “Huh,” Cash mumbled.

  “Huh, what?” Sam said. “Bears still shit in the woods, right?”

  Cash ignored Sam and shined his light over the breaker panel. He ran a finger down each line of breakers.

  “Main switch is flipped and all the breakers are on. Should be running.”

  “Any ideas?” Sam asked. “Propane right? Not a priming problem then. Maybe they turned the line off for safety, when everything started happening?”

  “Maybe,” Cash said, scratching his chin. “Makes sense.”

  “What makes sense?” Jimmy asked, he and Kyle joined them just outside the tech room.

  “Propane line to the gennie might be off,” Sam said.

  “Well, we got some good news for ya,” Jimmy said. “Ham radio’s set up over in the server room. Looks good as new. Tommy’s got a damn antenna mounted to the station’s radio tower. Better hope the FCC don’t catch him.”

  “National Guard emergency still at 34.90 frequency?” Cash asked.

  Jimmy smiled, impressed. “Ayuh. You can try 47.42 if that don’t work. Should be the Red Cross, if memory serves.”

  “So where’s the shutoff?” Kyle asked.

  “In the garage,” Cash said. “The main feed for pretty much everything up here D-marks in there. Tank’s just outside, behind the garage.”

  “Lemme guess, locked?” Jimmy asked.

  “Probably,” Cash said. “Unless they left here in a hurry and forgot to check it.”

  “All right,�
� Jimmy said. “We’ll head out and check it.” Jimmy turned his attention to Sam. “There’s a window out in the broadcast room, you should be able to see us from there. We’ll flag you when it’s on, so you can give it a try.”

  Cash flipped the top breaker in the panel to the left. “Main breaker’s off. Go give it a whirl.”

  “Jimmy,” Sam said. “I’ve already lost one friend today, I’m not looking to lose another. Eyes open and ears sharp. No surprises.”

  20

  Jimmy made his way to the garage, with Kyle following after him. Between the dog, the giant bull-thing and Dana, his last shred of bravery was threadbare. Just get this done and get the hell out.

  “Sorry about your friend back at the diner,” Kyle said.

  “Wasn’t your fault,” Jimmy said.

  “That’s not—I’m just sorry. I lost my brother eight years ago in Iraq, so when I say I know how you feel, I do. It’s not just Doctor-speak.”

  Jimmy said nothing in response. He just crept forward, listening to the shifting breeze and watching their bleak surroundings.

  “IED. Took out his Humvee and two others out on patrol.”

  “Helluva thing,” Jimmy said, heading across the patch of open space between the main building and the shed. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not announce our presence to whatever’s lurking out there.” He eyed the nearby woods.

  “Right,” Kyle whispered. “Sorry.”

  Might be a smart doctor type, Jimmy thought, but he’s lacking a little something in the common sense department.

  They reached the garage and stopped. Jimmy grabbed hold of the door’s handle and jiggled it. Locked. He shined his light through the windows and peeked inside. A wheelbarrow and a few yard tools sat off to the left, but aside from that, it was pretty much empty. Then he spotted a door on the side of the garage.

  “Door on the right,” Jimmy said, heading around.

  He stopped at the door and raised his right leg, getting ready to give it a good kick, but paused and tried the door handle first. It turned easily in his hand and the door swung open.

  Jimmy stepped through the door and shone the light back and forth. The main tower’s breaker panel was on the middle of the back wall. To the right of the panel was a metal pipe that ran up from the concrete floor and out the back. A thin red lever was twisted perpendicular to the pipe.

  “Think I found it,” he said, walking to the pipe. “Can you see Sam or Cash at the window?”

  Kyle turned and flashed his light back at station, checking the windows. He jumped when he found a person staring back at him through one of them. Sam was at the window, and he flashed his light twice in acknowledgement.

  “Got him,” Kyle said.

  Jimmy studied the pipe and saw that the red lever labeled PROPANE was in the off position. He grabbed hold and called out to Kyle. “It’s off. I’m gonna turn it on. You ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Jimmy pulled the red lever down, lining it parallel with the metal pipe. There was a hiss and the faint smell of propane, as it flowed past the cutoff and fed the generator.

  “Shit. I think it’s leaking.” Jimmy pointed his light where the lever for the cutoff met the pipe. There was a hairline fracture just below the valve.

  “Is it bad?” Kyle asked.

  Jimmy sniffed the air around the cutoff. He could smell the chemical compound the manufacturer had mixed in with the propane. The rotten egg stench was there, but it wasn’t anything that he was too worried about. “Well, I wouldn’t light a match back here, but it should still work.”

  “Okay.” Kyle turned his flashlight around on himself and gave Sam a thumbs up.

  Jimmy jumped as the Generac came to life a moment later, in a series of spins and sputters. After a few clunks and what sounded like leaves caught in the master fan, it hit a steady hum.

  “Ready to head back?” Kyle asked.

  “Almost,” Jimmy said, fishing through his pocket, retrieving a cigarette.

  Kyle looked at Jimmy with a look of shock. The smell of rotten eggs was impossible to ignore now.

  Jimmy laughed as he put it together. “I ain’t going to light it in here.”

  Sam stood in the main broadcast room watching Jimmy and Kyle leave the garage and start back to the station. He hadn’t had a chance to mourn the loss of Dana, and he felt oddly numb as a result. His thoughts shifted to Wyatt, back at the diner, and he prayed to God for the first time in a long time, that the boy would be okay.

  “Equipment’s booting,” Cash said, joining Sam. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes.”

  Sam took a seat in the disc jockey’s chair and spun around to look at the soundboard. Numerous little red and green LEDs flashed like lights on a Christmas tree. He turned on a small desk lamp just above the sound board, and he squinted at the sudden brightness.

  In front of him were a series of sliders and dials that he hadn’t a prayer of ever understanding. He reached up and pulled down the suspended mic, so it was level with his face.

  “So this is where he sits, huh? DJ Stan and the Saturday Morning Countdown,” Sam mocked into the mic. “You ever met him?”

  “Once,” Cash said. “And that was enough for me. Kind of a prick.”

  “So, you know how to run this thing?”

  Cash stepped up next to Sam and pointed to a slider with the word mic in small print below it. “That’s your volume. Slide it up for sound and all the way down to mute.” Cash pointed to a red-lighted button. “Push that when you want to talk, and it’ll turn green. Green to talk; red to stop. Tech’s in the other room. I should be able to patch the ham’s feed right through the station for some extra push. You good here?”

  “Green means go. Got it,” Sam said.

  Cash left for the adjacent room, and Sam turned his attention back to the soundboard. He ran a finger over a series of sliders, careful not to move any.

  Wyatt would get a real kick outta this.

  Wyatt had always been a tinkerer, even from an early age. He was always taking things apart and putting them back together again, out of curiosity. God, he missed that kid.

  Cash knocked on the glass between the two rooms.

  “We’re up,” Cash said, his voice muffled. He leaned over and spoke into a little microphone. “You ready?” Cash’s voice boomed through the speakers.

  Sam gave a nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

  Cash looked down and pressed a button, illuminating a red ON AIR sign above the window. He spoke into the mic again. “You’re live.”

  Sam turned back to the soundboard and re-adjusted the mic. He cleared his throat and stared at the volume slide, wondering what to say. He’d spent all his time thinking about getting to the station, but never about what he’d say once they made it.

  He pressed the red button and it lit green, as Cash had said it should. Then he slid the volume up and leaned in to the mic. He still wasn’t sure what to say, so he just started speaking. “My name is Sam...Sam Lake of Refuge, New Hampshire. I’m trying to reach someone—anyone—who can hear this broadcast. We need help. We have an emergency situation and require immediate assistance. If anyone can hear this, we are set up to receive on frequency 34.90,” And then, for added measure, “Over.”

  Sam counted to sixty in his head and repeated the message. He looked to Cash, who simply shook his head. Nothing.

  “I repeat, Refuge, New Hampshire is in—”

  Static and feedback suddenly blasted from the speakers. Sam cupped his hands over his ears. A horrific shrieking filled the room from every corner, as if it was no longer confined to the speakers, and then it ended as quickly as it had started.

  Sam removed his hands from his ears and listened to the silence. His heart pounded as he scoured the room with his eyes. Despite the empty room, he no longer felt alone. He’d watched—and mocked—countless TV shows where paranormal investigators claimed they felt a presence in a room. Real or not, he had a new respect for anyone actively seekin
g an experience like this.

  The static picked up again, shifting in and out. After a series of sharp crackles and a jittering squeak that sounded like a voice, Sam said, “Hello? I can hear you! I can—”

  “Saaaaaam,” came a long, slow whisper from the speakers.

  Sam went rigid while every hair on his body sprang up as though he’d been inserted into a static filled tube.

  “Saaaaaam,” the voice said again, but more faintly, lost in a burst of static, which was suddenly replaced by a second voice. “Dad?”

  Sam’s fear fell away. He jumped to his feet. “Wyatt?”

  “Daaaaadyyyyy.” The voice was now half Wyatt, half...not. It was never really Wyatt, Sam told himself. It’s just fucking with you.

  “Daaaadeeeee!” The E sound became a high pitched squeal that forced Sam’s hands back to his ears. It was so loud he could feel it in his body. His vision blurred. A scream erupted from Sam’s lips, as a sinister laugh filled the air around him, merging with the shriek.

  Then it was just Sam’s voice, screaming in fear and agony.

  He jerked as something grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. He shot his left arm upward, breaking the thing’s grip and struck out with a right fist. Pain shocked down his arm in protest, as he struck something solid, but he felt satisfaction as his assailant cried out in surprise.

  Whatever it was, it was strong and fought back, knocking him to the floor.

  “God fucking dammit, Sam! What the fuck?”

  Sam looked up from the floor. The desk lamp above the soundboard was on, and he could see Cash standing in front of him, rubbing his chin.

  Sam looked around the room, disoriented. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hell yes,” Cash said, jerking his arm free. “I cut the power to it.”

  “You don’t think...?”

  Cash shook his head. “It wasn’t Wyatt, but they’re not just monsters. Not all of them. Something out there is intelligent, and it knows we’re here.”

  “Then I think it’s time to get gone,” Same said. “Where’s Jimmy?”