Dark Genesis (Shadow and Shine Book 1)

by Danial Hooper

  The front desk had a crack in it. Not sure why, but Harry looked at it expecting to see someone’s eyeball look back. The rest of the lobby seemed pretty much par for the course of a broken down building. Everything was in pieces all over the floor, but the freaks were nice enough to leave the flowers alone.

  A large bang echoed in the halls near the fancy restaurant attached to the Grand American. Harry never could afford to eat dinner at a place called, “Le Amor,” it sounded stupid no matter what language it was. Harry wouldn’t hold it against Greg as he looked in the other direction, ready to run away. The poor kid wasn’t built for this world, and he already suffered plenty. Mickey, on the other hand, sped up in the direction of where the sound came from. “Guys, come on. I think I heard them,” he said bravely.

  Another loud noise echoed.

  This time it came from behind the revolving doors, leading to the kitchen. Mickey slowed down and gripped his baseball bat. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this kid was smart enough to be afraid.

  “Slow down, Mick. We don’t know what’s up there yet,” Harry said.

  He eased the revolving door and peeked his head through. “Kitchen is empty aside from a little food scattered on the floor. Looks like signs of a struggle. But no signs of life,” Mickey said giving his report.

  He poked his head back in when someone new shouted, “Hello! Who goes there?!” Mickey pulled back from the doors and looked to Harry for support. The voice was very deep and loud. Mickey moved out of the way just in time before a fat, sweaty man crashed through the doors holding an oversized cleaver and a meat tenderizer. The doors kept swinging about as he narrowed his eyes on Harry, licking his chapped lips and snarling like a dog. Harry wasn’t going to back down from this big Bertha. Big tree fall hard. He was going to stare right back at the giant man and wait for him to make his move. If his piece had a bullet, just one, he would have popped him square in the head already. Instead, he gripped his hatchet and waited for the next move.

  Mickey tried to break the tension, “Whoa, whoa. We come in peace, big fella. We are here looking for…”

  “Food,” Harry wasn’t going to let this beast know the truth. Already, he knew he couldn’t trust this fella. “We got pretty hungry and didn’t want to waste any of the canned foods I have stored up. Thought it was a good idea to come in here and raid the kitchen, if it were empty. Sorry for scaring you, friend.”

  “I wasn’t scared, and I’m not your friend. There is nothing here for you to scavenge, dogs. I have no interest in sharing with you, so be on your way.” His eyes never left Harry’s. His bent brow held enough sweat to drown a mouse, and his stench nearly filled up the large, dining room.

  Mickey continued to try to make amends, stepping in between each man’s line of vision and holding up his hands, “Sorry for any misunderstanding, okay? We are looking for two women who might have crossed this way. You didn’t happen to see anyone, did you? It’s totally understanding if you don’t want to share your food, but if you saw them, we want to find them and help.”

  His wide smile was more condemning than believable. Harry knew the fat man saw them. He knew this piece of trash would lie about it too. The big man said, “Come to think of it, yeah, I saw a pretty little thing earlier this morning trying to raid my stash. But I told her the same thing I’m telling you, ‘no trespassing.'” He scratched his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Are you sure there were two? I didn’t see anyone with her. What did they look like? If I see them, I will tell them what direction you’re headed.”

  “Maybe we will wait here in the dining room until they come back.” The rubber handle of Harry’s hatchet seemed to throb under his hand. It begged him to take a swing, plant the end in the fat man’s skull, and be done with it. A long line of sweat ran down his cheek and over a big, pulsing vein on his neck. The mammoth kept smiling at Harry, and he hated him for it. People like this needed to be gone from the world. There were enough freaks already.

  “Harry, hey, may I speak with you for a moment?” Greg interrupted his thoughts with his trembling words. He guided him at enough distance where a whisper would keep out of the fat man’s earshot. “I know what you’re thinking, and I think it too. There is something terribly wrong with that man, and he is clearly dishonest with us. But there is no good to come from fighting him right now. Not when we don’t know if he is as guilty as he seems, and honestly, this is not a fight the three of us can win. Are you ready to risk it?”

  Harry only half listened to his words. He wanted to be able to hear what Mickey and the giant were talking about. Mickey seemed to be doing his best used-car salesman approach and tried to butter up the fat man. The fat man was not impressed with Mickey’s over-animated words, so any guess was a good one. Harry turned his attention back to Greg and did not attempt to lower his voice, “So what do you propose?”

  Greg said, “You are not going to like it, but hear me out. If we leave now, we can still search for the women and make our way to the roof. Tonight, we learn the scope of damage taken place. Tomorrow, if we have not already found the women, we come in with a plan. Use the element of surprise in our favor. What do you say?”

  It wasn’t okay, but it was the only real option Harry could see. He could try to fight the fat man but at what cost? Was it really worth it? What if the girls really did leave? Did he really want to have to kill a man only to find out the girls were long gone? If they ran from three men on the roof next door, they would also steer clear of this guy. Harry agree, “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Mickey didn’t object. He might not be the brightest, but after a few moments with the fat man even he got the creeps and wanted to go somewhere else. “No amount of food is worth being around that smell. He stinks of BO, bacon grease, and old cabbage.”

  “Hey guys, before you go. Are you sure there were really two girls?”

  None of them even gave the courtesy of looking back as they left, let alone respond.

  -

  Jenna’s eyes opened after the rush of falling came over her. She pulled against the knots on her wrists. Her ankles were tied to the chair too. Her toes tickled against the cold floor. Toppy took her only shoe off while she was unconscious.

  What else did he do?

  Don’t think about that. Not now. He isn’t down here with you. You would be able to smell him.

  Her eyes adjusted a little to the darkness, and she could see the stairwell in front of her, shelves with veggies, and tiny little jars on each side of the walls. It was more like a box than a room. Jenna wanted to let go and somehow die. It would be easier. Whatever Toppy had planned would be worse than death.

  The room’s color was changing into a low haze of dark yellow. The vegetables became clearer but began to wilt as the temperature rose. Jenna was blinking her eyes, hoping to wake up from whatever she was dreaming.

  The yellow had not made its way up the stairs, so it was too dark to see who opened the door.

  Here he comes.

  The figure locked the door. Jenna waited for Toppy to poke his head through the shadows and come down the stairs with his ugly smile, carrying the big knife.

  Jenna. He won’t kill you. Remember? He wants to repopulate with you.

  She could hear herself breathing fast. The fear was too much. Maybe somehow she would have a heart attack and die right now. Anything. Anything would be better than having him watch her like this, playing with her, teasing her. The fear stole her ability to speak, but she wanted to yell at him so bad. She wanted to call him a coward, a freak, a monster, the worst of the worst.

  “He’s coming, Jenna. Are you ready?” The voice did not possess the heaviness of Toppy. He gave her a moment, and she shuddered when she realized it was him. Out of the shadows appeared Robert. He walked down the stairs through the yellow haze.

  “Robert, help me,” was all Jenna could say.

  “I can’t help you, babe. I’m dead.” She could see the details of his face. His eyes were the same, but his mou
th held the blackness from the old man’s spit. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t. He’s coming for you, and he’s going to take you.” Robert’s smile was ugly like Toppy’s.

  Jenna shook her head at Robert. He couldn’t be like this. He couldn’t be evil. Robert was kind. He was good. She pleaded, “Toppy is bad, Robert. He’s going to… going to…” Jenna couldn’t say it though. She couldn’t say those words to her boyfriend.

  “The imposter? No. He will die right here. Tonight. The Master has plans for Toppy.”

  What is he talking about?

  Robert smiled again at the confusion on Jenna’s face.

  “His name is Adam. He’s the king of this world now. He’s the host of those feasting on the darkness. He is so special, Jenna. He doesn’t fear, doesn’t tire. He is the one who does what he pleases. He’s taking this world, and he wants you. The master wants you.” Robert spoke in a way she had never heard. He was excited, hysterical even. His eyes were welling up with black tears.

  “Wh?”

  Robert didn’t give her a chance to finish her words, “He is watching you… Adam is close.” He raised his hands to his sides and breathed in deep. The shelving melted into the walls as black tar slithered down. The black tar started running down his face too. “They’re coming back tonight, Jenna, and you’re going to be stuck right here. They’ll take you. Don’t fight back.” The tar rained from the ceiling, covering both Robert and Jenna. She wanted to scream, but the liquid filled her mouth faster than she could spit it out. “And then everything will be better. You’ll be free from fear and your weakness. The darkness will save you.”

  He closed in and planted his black lips on hers. “It will soon be over, hang on.”

  “No. It won’t be over,” said a person from the stairs. It was neither heavy nor familiar. Instead it belonged to a young girl. The ceilings stopped showering as the yellow and black haze cleared. A small woman, African American, with a head full of braided extensions walked down the stairs, her tennis shoes unaffected by the goo on the floor. “Robert, you need to leave.”

  The paint rushed up the walls covering the black liquid. The lights turned on so aggressively they almost broke in the process. The woman reached the bottom of the stairs and smiled at Jenna. Jenna couldn’t stop staring at her but noticed the wildlife sprung back to life as if her presence was watering. “Go and tell your master the light is coming for him.”

  The muscles in Jenna’s neck relaxed, and the haze of her vision subsided completely. Standing in front of her was a girl, no more than teenager, in Capri pants and a Chicago Bulls tee shirt. Her smile gave Jenna comfort. The stain on Roberts face melted down onto his collar. He started to speak, but Jenna was too amazed at the beauty in front of her to listen. The room was bright and clean filled with vibrant fruits and vegetables and the smell of honey in the air. The girl looked back to Robert, “I thought I told you to go…”

  Light, white and clear, came from her lips and made Robert melt into wide puddle of darkness.

  She smiled again and was gone.

  Jenna fell asleep.

  The Chat

  Bryce Chapman

  Radical/Founder

  4/13/2016

  I woke up this morning with my buddy Dev calling me for the fourteenth time. Somehow, I slept through the 287 text message notifications from everyone and their mother. I was still half-asleep when Dev said about Salt Lake City was burning down, so I assumed in my smug fan-hood that he was talking about how my team, my squad, beat down the Jazz. I fell asleep midway through the third quarter, which is neither a standard practice nor a shocker.

  Nonetheless, for the rest of my life I will remember those few moments of misunderstanding as the last few moments of the way it used to be. I woke up a man confident in his team and reeking of morning breath, and after one phone call transformed into a confused, distraught American.

  I do not have many details on the Salt Lake City fires it appears my sources have been ordered a complete Hellen Keller response to any media inquiries. I know FEMA has rallied around with the Coast Guard and citizens of surrounding areas have commented on a high number of military personnel surrounding the city. I'm sure they're going to make quite the positive impact with their high powered rifles and super-charged tanks.

  I also know President Watt is preparing a speech that is going to come about eighteen hours too late. Which means there could be more to the story than we've been told. But then again, I'm the same guy who called 'no fair' at President Watt on a number of other occasions only to be forced to eat my words on national television. Hence, why yours truly is no longer an Aviant Media employee.

  I will continue digging through my sources and translating the double meanings behind all the lackluster answers I receive. The truth is out there, waiting for us, the sun shines on it just the same as it shines on the lies. High Point Oil cannot not be the only scapegoat, there has to be more to the story. I wish my peers and former colleagues would stop blaming an oil company and start using their resources more effectively. Someone, somewhere, knows the full details and isn't going to give us the simple, basic runaround of half-truths. Sadly, I fear it will have to wait until another day, or weeks later even.

  I'm sorry this has taken place, I'm sorry for those lost in the fire. I'm holding out hope there could be survivors through the inferno. I fear the tragedy is not yet over.

  Be Radical.

  -bc

  Night 2

  It didn’t matter, romance was in the air. As he prepared for a night in the dungeon filled with chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of white wine, he felt the thrill of falling in love.

  -Martin “Toppy” Lillie

  The explosion of multiple buildings caused a power surge disrupting any connected electrical grids. This was inconvenient on a number of levels, but none more so than prohibiting every elevator in The Great America Hotel of operation. After using the remaining daylight hours searching for the women through the Grand America’s level, the men are migrating up the twenty-seven flights of stairs for possible access to the roof. The women proved themselves to be elusive and unworthy of the time invested. Greg could have already reassembled the radio with daylight to spare if it were not for them.

  The potential failure of gaining access to the roof would have frustrated Mickey or Greg, but Greg kept this to himself. Mickey complained enough, and Harry’s temper was not to be tampered with; why do anything to fan flames? It was too hard to predict their reaction if Greg expressed doubt of whether or not the roof’s door was locked. Greg would not risk a poor response to keep them from taking a chance. Fire code should require open roof access. This is all they needed to know.

  Greg used the hand rails with each step as he approached the obnoxious sign for the 14th floor. “Over half way there,” he said to no one in particular. Greg believed if he broke the climb up into fractions, it could help alleviate some of the stress. Knowing each floor would lessen the load.

  Mickey looked to be handling the walk better than Greg despite being forty pounds heavier. There was always an element of jealousy between Greg and any physically superior person. Greg embraced the jealousy because it created a more competitive environment and challenged him to remain mentally sharp at all times. Now, more than ever, he would need to prove himself useful constantly.

  Each subsequent flight of stairs added the burn to Greg’s legs. Harry packed water bottles, cans of tuna, and mini-bags of potato chips. He made the rule to not open rations until they arrived at their destination. It was silly for Harry to believe he could make rules, but now was not the time to argue. Greg respected the desire for self-control, but a sip of his own water would make the rest of the walk pleasant.

  Finally they arrived. Harry stated the obvious, “Alright, boys, here we are.”

  The door was decorated with several red and white signs indicating the legal ramifications of the improper use of the exit. “Is it locked?” Mickey asked.

  A lift and t
wist proved the signs were impotent warnings. The cool air felt refreshing on Greg’s wounded face. The night sky slowly cascaded over the fallen city, bringing darkness to the roof. His rumbling stomach would have to wait but not before he asked for a drink, “Harry, I’m going to need my water now. I don’t ask for all of it, but please. Mickey, I need the Phillips-head screw driver out of your pack. Let’s get to work.”

  Both men looked at one another; they were shocked at Greg’s newfound energy. He would teach them about his strengths and his value now that he was in his element.

  “Watch and learn.”

  -

  The difference between respecting the dead and honoring a loved one starts with the burial. Asher prepared a deep and proper grave for Lucy, while the others rested on the opposite end of the yard in one wide, shallow hole.

  He looked down to the shovel near Lucille’s grave. The shaft was dusty wood with a duct tape grip and the spade was severely damaged from digging into rocks and being left out in the rain too many times. It looked older than Asher, but remained sturdy.

  Two crabapple trees in the courtyard bloomed later than seasonally normal, and the wind enjoyed blowing through its beautiful flowers. Asher thought of the times he and Lucille sat on the nearby bench watching the wind fill the leaves with life. It was during one of those times she told Asher she wanted to divorce Ben. The lump in his throat groaned. They would never be together. With the cool air rustling about with the leaves and the unsettled dirt where Lucille rested, Asher cried again.

  Those tears did not last long. He was driven by the need for closure. Asher placed the gripped edge of the shovel against the bench and flipped the digging spade to face the sky. Without standing, he turned on his seat and kicked his leg down crushing through the base of the shaft causing it to break above where metal spade met the wooden shaft. The break sounded like a timber being struck by lightning. Broken into two pieces; the wooden shaft transformed into a long-pointed spear, and the spade would be used as a double edged blade.