Dark Genesis (Shadow and Shine Book 1)

by Danial Hooper

  -

  Zach found running was the best way to calm down. His anger issue caused him to “hulk out” and throw his video game controller against whatever hard surface he could find in his apartment. Rather than waste another sixty dollars, Zach was getting an evening jog in to drown out the stress of another failed attempt at rallying his virtual squadron to victory. The best part of having a studio apartment on Main Street was the fantastic options of the night life and the beautiful skyline view.

  Zach wasn’t a partier or anything like that. He would rather spend a nice quiet evening at home on the sticks then a late night jog when the desire to “hulk out” became too strong. This was a better hobby than how he used to settle down; the only things overeating ever got him were stretch marks and a thirty pound muffin top. A couple jogs per week and less burrito runs made up a strong, well-balanced diet.

  He was barely into his eighth minute and already felt the familiar burn in his legs. This wouldn’t be like last time. He would push himself past the pain into the future of fitness and maybe someday a girlfriend. Tonight would be different. As the sky grows dark, a new age has come. One unaffected by pain and fueled by rage. The darkness the only ally. Zach would never again be a victim inside his own head.

  His feet felt strong in his new bright, green Reeboks. They were the best running shoes you could buy, so said the teller at Foot Locker. All Zach cared about was how cool they looked in the marketing ads and the sweet shade of green. He was drenched with sweat at the middle of mile number two and pictured himself as the model in the advertisements. All he would need to do is lose another 30 pounds, and he would be a fitness celebrity: Zach from Reebok. It would be easy to find a girlfriend when you are popular.

  Tonight, the bright lights of Salt Lake City glistened with promise of the great future in front of Zach. The inspiration drove him to make a resolution. “I’m going to run ten miles tonight and do the same tomorrow,” he said panting. An entire world of possibilities shined bright with the rest of the city. He took a small break walking over the crosswalk. He would head north into the city where dreams come true.

  -

  “Let’s get out of here Mick” Andy said with flushed, red cheeks. Mickey’s best friend was the total opposite of him: short, super weak stomach, and zero chance at carrying a decent conversation with chicks. He was the real reason Mickey never took a woman home. He was the worst wingman possible. Andy was great for small talk, and was always willing to try Mickey’s ideas, but he was not built for the bar scene like Mick. It took a special guy to really go out and rage each weekend. Mickey had the gift of heavy drinking and being a fun drunk. This life wasn’t for everyone.

  Andy said, “I’m not going to make it all night, bro. Bad sushi earlier.” Mickey nodded in agreement and looked back towards Linda in hopes of one more smile. Of course Andy was sick from the sushi, sushi sucks. He never understood why Andy insisted on spending forty-five dollars on uncooked fish. Mickey stuck with pork and fried rice. It was far better for a Friday night filled with less crappy beer and redheaded Linda.

  Mickey looked again to Linda for just one more smile; it wasn’t as if he had a crush on her, no way, but she had his attention every Friday and Saturday night. She loved it too. Mickey loved how much she loved it. Linda could brighten up even the lamest night.

  “Mickey, do you hear me? I’m gonna yack on the floor,” said Mickey’s weaker friend. This was always the worst part of hanging out with Andy; he couldn’t go out two nights in a row without something being wrong. Lately, it was getting worse. He was a good guy for sure, but Mickey was too young to go to bed at the same time as his dad.

  Mickey stole one more look at his favorite bartender as he headed out the door. The air is thick and muggy, like it could start raining at any time. The city lights were dimmed by the ugly, overcast clouds. Andy was too sick to drive, go figure, so Mickey had to drive his own freshly washed Subaru instead of having his normal DD pick up the shift. Not the preferred option but it would be easier for him to puke out the window in the passenger seat than driving. This wasn’t Mickey’s first rodeo.

  “I'm tired of Spotter’s,” Andy said. “It’s the same boring thing every night. There’s never enough room and way too many dudes with tight t-shirts.” Mickey hated having these conversations while trying to drive at the same time. He drank too much. The last lemon drop shared with the random birthday girl was clouding his mind a little more than he expected.

  Mickey said, “It’s my bar, bro. I’ve been going since I was twenty-one and it’s never steered me wrong. Who cares about other dudes? There’s no competition when we step into the place.”

  They left it at that. Neither had the energy to argue about it. Andy’s head kept dropping and rising. He was going to let loose soon. Mickey was driving fast enough to not get pulled over while still hopefully getting home in time for him to make the trash can.

  He would fix some Alka-Seltzer when they made it home.

  -

  “Two miles, twenty-six minutes, thirteen-seconds” the English-accented woman from Zach’s iPhone running app said announcing his progress. The calm of the night was welcoming. He felt great. This was new for Zach; he didn’t want to slow down. Instead he chose to speed up. Mile number two was easier than mile number one, “This is exactly what fitness feels like,” He said to himself. His shoes looked like green lightning flashing down the sidewalk.

  The bar crowd started to fill the streets with more people out than usual. The familiar hum of their drunken ramblings and laughter was louder than Incubus in his headphones. Maybe a pair of noise canceling Beats by Dre headphones would be a good investment, of course in matching green. Zach decided to take to the streets instead of running through the gauntlet of drunk jerks. The roads would start to fill up soon, since the Jazz game should be ending.

  Growing up an overweight nerd, you always know when people are watching you. Zach could feel the crowd’s stares as he lumbered onto the street and out of their away. Despite his effort to avoid them, he imagined them judging him. Saying things like, “The chubby dork with lime green shoes,” or maybe, “the fat turtle listening to music from the 90s.” Zach wasn’t going to let this hold him down as he pushed each step into the ground harder. The crowd could eat his dust. They couldn’t stop him tonight. No chance.

  But their stares hurt all the same.

  His anger was simmering under the surface as his English lady-friend said, “Three miles, thirty-six minutes, sixteen-seconds.” It was hard to focus on her instead of the crowds staring at him. Those starrers made him a target, just like back in high school.

  Their stares followed him even when he sped past. It was always the same garbage with this kind. From middle school through his first year of junior college, Zach always knew when people were watching, judging. This was the real reason he never had a girlfriend. He was a joke to everyone around him. Not anymore though. He would grow, improve, and do whatever it takes. Zach from Reebok was coming up.

  Zach’s anger made him barely notice his record setting pace. It was weird to feel the urge to “hulk out” while on a jog. The perfect run was wasted because a bunch of drunk idiots felt the need to judge a guy just trying to better himself.

  Then the street lights went out.

  -

  “Robert, where are you?” Jenna said searching for her boyfriend “Help! I can’t see!” The fans in regular seating were rushing up the stairs as emergency lights flicked on and off; random shouts and cries and yelling echoed loud. Jenna called out, “Robert, please! I’m scared!” He wasn’t responding when she needed him the most, big surprise. Robert was always busy when she was the damsel in distress; either golfing, browsing on his phone, or attending meetings with his daddy… or who knows what else. He wasn’t good at these things.

  He needs to start right now.

  As she was trying to reach for them, her crutches fell to the ground. “This sucks!” She said. The floor was dirty. She fell on her h
ands and knees feeling around for her stupid crutches. The lights were dead now.

  Get your phone!

  It was dead.

  Of all times to leave your charger in the hotel room, Jenna. Get up off the ground and leave. Go to Robert’s car and make him find you.

  Robert burst into the door as soon as she reached for the handle. “Babe, is that you? Oh my goodness, babe. Are you okay?”

  Relief and hurt feelings rushed over her. She said, “Where were you? I have been in here scared and screaming, and you weren’t even here.”

  “Sorry, I was um, talking with a few people about tonight. I had to take care of business for my dad.”

  Big surprise Robert, big surprise.

  “Whatever, get me out of here.”

  She didn’t want to hold his hand, but since they could barely see, she held tightly. His hands were sweaty from nerves. The sound of her casted foot followed them out the stairwell door.

  Where is everyone else?

  Each step she took made her shin cramp up to her thigh. Her toes were sweating as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. Robert opened the door to the lower level. Down here would be the exit into the players’ parking, also reserved for other VIPs.

  Loud voices echoed from above. Other people found the quiet stairwell and were making their exits. It would be only a few seconds before the mob came to them.

  And then what?

  Jenna didn’t want to think about what the rioters would do.

  There were no security guards at the exit. They weren’t paid enough to stick around when things got crazy. Judging from the people freaking out upstairs, things were getting really bad.

  Robert let go of her hand and opened the door. They were free. The chime of an unlocked car rang through the dark parking lot as the couple hobbled their way to Robert’s rental. He didn’t waste time with his typical gentleman gesture of opening her door, and that was okay. She wanted to be home.

  The others burst through the door in singles as he put the car in drive. The rioters followed Robert as he sped up the ramp and out of the garage. Jenna forced herself to look away from the dark silhouettes. Their fear was so intense and desperate.

  What were they so afraid of?

  -

  Greg could already imagine the major news station headlines, “A Massive Power Outage in Salt Lake City Causes Hysteria and Panic.” Either a terrorist organization or an idiot working construction would be to blame. Somehow, the media would find a way to indict President Watt. By tomorrow morning, people would forget why they were running around with such fear and would spend their time focused on a scapegoat.

  The population of Salt Lake City had gone from peaceful to a groupthink study on mass anxiety. Greg did not see the need to react with fear. Whatever was happening would soon pass. It would take Greg two hours to get home, and the looters should return to their homes by then. He would have to work his way through the crowds, avoid direct eye-contact with any suspect personalities, and make sure to be careful around everyone else. This amount of people meant there was a realistic threat of being trampled to death. Greg needed to keep his balance.

  If this would have happened yesterday, he would have a better excuse for missing the interview: “I am sorry Dr. Lucas, but the tragic case of power loss and crazy people killed my alarm clock. Honest mistake, sir.”

  Cars raced south out of the city. Even the northbound lanes were filled with southbound drivers. Main Street, the primary downtown street, was filled with southbound drivers on both sides of the road. Greg was the only person headed north into the city.

  The first accident happened a few feet behind him. An old sedan attempted to merge into the racing traffic, only to sideswipe a minivan. The accident caused an immediate pile up of fender to fender accidents. All four lanes became a parking lot in an instant.

  People wasted no time, they rushed out of their cars and sprinted down the streets. One young couple looked directly at Greg, yelled something, and then joined the rest of the running group. A survival instinct awakened inside of Greg; stopping him, prompting him to observe the others continue flooding north into the massive pool of standstill people.

  People.

  People.

  More people.

  The streets were overflowing with Salt Lake City’s population.

  A forceful wind of heat rushed over Greg’s face and a bright light blinded his eyes. The instinct was fully alive; urging him to turn around and run.

  The heavy rumble of the blast was akin to bowling balls crashing onto the floor.

  Greg followed his instinct, running south as the basketball arena was exploding.

  -

  “Four miles, forty-four minutes, and seven-seconds.”

  Zach’s legs were cramping now. The night air burned his lungs, but he couldn’t stop again. He was outrunning the crowd. Whatever scared them enough to turn into psychopaths was enough for Zach to follow. This could have been the first race he ever won, but his pace couldn’t last much longer.

  He wanted to get back to his loft and sleep. Maybe call his mom tomorrow and tell her about everything. Zach couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to talk to his mom. But tonight he was afraid; not of bills or failure, but afraid for his life. This type of fear made him want his mom. It also made him run faster than ever before.

  He turned the corner back onto Main Street and saw the starrers still standing in their familiar spot. More of them than before; maybe thirty or forty people. Every eye was staring. He stopped and turned around; other people were behind him running and catching up while he stood in the middle of the road. The starrers in front of him, the runners back there. And to his right, an empty street.

  Before he had a chance to look left, an oncoming car toppled him over.

  “Five miles, fifty-one minutes, and three-seconds.”

  -

  Puke flew in the air of Mickey’s hatchback covering the leather interior. While Mickey was reaching over to clean up Andy’s mess, they ran a stop sign and smashed into something. A person? Mickey looked in the rear view and saw the large crowd illuminated by his brake lights. The people were huddled around something on the ground. It was like a block party came together all of a sudden. Hopefully it was too dark to see his plates. Hopefully it was a dog or a really big cat.

  Thoughts raced through Mickey's head too fast to react. Could he convince Andy that he drove? Could he make Andy believe that, despite Mickey’s objection, Andy insisted on driving and must have blacked out on the road? It was worth trying. Hit and run was a serious offense. Mickey would never get away with it, especially when they found out he had been drinking. Mickey said, “Hey, bud. Are you okay?” Andy didn’t respond and just kept puking. He could take the fall for this. Andy wasn’t going to remember anything from tonight.

  Mickey would never have the chance to put this into practice. He looked back to the road just before wrecking into a light pole. The collision shattered the back windows and threw Andy out of the windshield. The airbag smashed Mickey’s face forcing his seat to recline flat.

  Mickey tried to lean up fast but the seatbelt kept him locked down. The groaning steel streetlight fell onto the car roof like a tree falling in the forest. Laying back kept him inches from instant death. His vision blacked out as he fainted.

  -

  Jenna sat in the passenger seat, scared and alone. Robert was driving, but he was a million miles away. She kept crying, hoping he would say something, but he was too busy driving through the crazy streets.

  But you’re not even moving. Traffic is backed up.

  The flames of the arena burnt into her eyes. She wanted to go home. Not to the hotel but back to New York. Robert needed to protect his girlfriend and for once be a man about it. Instead, all he could say was, “Babe, I need you to calm down. Okay? I’m going to call dad and he will get us out of here. We’re going to be okay.” His words were supposed to help, but he didn’t sound like he believed it. He was more afrai
d than her.

  Jenna said, “Shut up, Robert. Call your dad, and get me out of here.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. The phones are dead.” He held it up as proof, as if Jenna needed him to do that. “Come on! Come on! Come on!” The urgency in Robert’s voice made Jenna want to cry more. She wanted to go home, or at least get out of the car and walk the last block back to the hotel. They would be safe there. She looked out the window and watched people fighting, wrestling, and running from the explosion behind them. The lights in Robert’s car started to flicker.

  And adding to the worst night in Jenna's life, the car was about to die.

  Great.

  Her hands shook as they covered his. “Babe, let’s walk home. Something is wrong with the car, and I don’t feel safe in here. I can make it the rest of the way. Please pull over.” She didn’t want to walk, or be on the street with the rest of the crazies, but the car is just as dangerous. “No. Hold on. I’m going to get you home, babe. I won’t let anything happen to you. Hang in there.”

  Robert jerked the wheel to the right and pushed down on the gas. The abrupt bounce of riding over the curb scattered people out of their path. At times the car gently nudged people away, but no one was hurt. At least not from them. They were just trying to get home and only really had one way to do it. People would understand that. Even in their ridiculous behavior, people were understanding.

  Until one person didn’t.

  -

  Greg was running with a large crowd. Beside him, an Asian man wearing a leather jacket set the pace. The sidewalks were littered with belongings left behind. The guy in the jacket was able to run around them without slowing down. He helped Greg keep his balance when Greg tripped over the clutter.