Whispers in the Dark

by Pam Jernigan

  As he stared, the others continued, heading up the large stone steps. He followed, chasing the tantalizing sensation, the slowly brightening glow. Just as he entered, he heard the first yell. It was followed quickly by more shouting, and by gunfire. The emotions became much stronger, orange flickers blooming into waves of blood-red fear, floating in the air like a mist. It fed the hunger, revitalized him, and he shambled faster. A female ahead of him fell; he stepped around her. Another scream, cut short. The red brightened, briefly, before the black energy of death burst out and roared towards him like a tidal wave. Strong, so strong. He slowed, sighing, as it washed over him, splashing into the parched place inside.

  Another red-tinted scream, another dark burst followed; closer, more intense, even better. As the black energy faded out, he looked around. He saw red and blue and green… and many things brown. A deep, vibrant, alive brown. This was what he needed, what he had been missing.

  The fix wouldn’t last. He had never gotten enough, and what he had always faded away. The floating fear blended in with the colors of the library now, but he could still sense it. More targets, more sources. He pushed forward, seeking them out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Karen was reaching for a large coffee-table type photo collection when she heard a distant crash. She froze.

  A hoarse shout disturbed the peace of the library. “Mindless!”

  Oh, crap. She dropped the book she’d been holding and dashed to the end of the row, trying to see, stomach churning - where was Katrina? That had been Brian’s voice, she thought, and he was between her and the entrance. "Brian, run!" Karen called, not bothering to keep her voice low. Where had they come from, and why hadn’t anyone seen them? So much for them not going inside buildings. "Kat!"

  Gunfire. Some yelling. Not good; the Mindless never yelled, only their victims did. She heard her own pounding footsteps as she dashed towards her sister. Another scream.

  Katrina stood still, shocked, staring. Karen and Jake converged on her, and Jake shoved them both towards the grand staircase at the back to the room. "Get upstairs!" he told them, running ahead. “I’ll cover from the top." Karen took the rear as the girls charged after him. God, if you exist, now would be a really good time to help out.

  Karen stayed behind her sister as they pounded up the stairs. Jake reached the top and turned, firing past them. Karen, a step behind her sister, risked a glance over her shoulder. Her boot slipped on the worn carpet, and she clutched for the railing. The old wood collapsed along with her. She fell hard on her left side, pain shooting through her arm. Not good. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up on her uninjured arm, old dirt and fresh splinters under her palm, and tried to stand. Her left foot screamed when she tried to put weight on it, and she went down again.

  A shot boomed past her from above. “Karen!" Katrina yelled. "Come on!”

  She crawled up the remaining stairs, panting heavily, trying to evaluate the risks, coming to a hard conclusion. "I’m not going to make it." If it weren’t such a rough hike home, maybe, but over that terrain, when they needed to be running? Not happening.

  Katrina’s hands pulled at her shoulders. “Yes, you will; we’ll carry you if we have to.”

  Karen shook her head and twisted around to sit at the top of the staircase. “What, all two of you? No, I’d just slow you down." She fired as one of the monsters started up the stairs after them, followed by two more. “You go; I’ll hold them off here." She wasn’t worth anyone dying for, and there was no way she’d let her sister get killed. “Did you at least get the books?”

  She saw them from the corner of her eye, standing there, not moving, when they so desperately needed to be moving. “Jake, get her out of here!”

  Silence for a second before he replied. “I’ll take care of her. Kat, we have to go or we’re dead."

  Karen turned to catch a last glimpse of her sister; Katrina looked terrified, tears starting to spill, but Jake had a firm hold on her.

  “Katrina, I can barely walk, let alone run. I need for you to be safe, KitKat." She paused for a moment before adding hoarsely, “I love you.”

  Katrina’s face collapsed and she half-sobbed, choking out a “No—”

  Jake caught her eye, then looked away, scared and shamed. "Bye, Karen." He ran, pulling Katrina with him, his backpack bulging. At least they’d gotten that much.

  Karen turned to face the enemy, blocking out her sister’s cries. “Get out of here."

  The top of the staircase gave her the advantage of height and lines of vision. Another two shots, then she heard a click. The magazine ejected automatically, and she reached for another one. She barely noticed the pain in her arm as she grabbed a new magazine, slammed it into her nine mil and pulled the slide. She’d been taught to go for the center-mass kill shot - the monsters used to be human - but killing the Mindless could be a tricky proposition. Even hitting them in the head didn’t guarantee that they’d stay down. Sometimes you had to get creative.

  I’m probably going to die here. She slid into professional soldier mode - or as close to it as six weeks of basic training could instill. As if she were observing the action, instead of participating. As if she wasn’t terrified. As if she might escape. She wondered if her life would flash before her eyes and was a little disappointed when it didn’t. "Figures." Can’t count on anything anymore.

  Another two monsters lumbered up the stairs. Aiming carefully, she fired twice, grimly glad to see them both topple over. Not dead, but it’s hard to chase prey without your kneecaps. And - bonus - their writhing bodies would help to block the staircase.

  She might yet have time to limp to the door. Mom wouldn’t like it if only one daughter came back today. But at least one would. She fired again. The shot boomed, echoing through the open center of the old building. She grimaced at the sound. The librarians would have been appalled.

  She glanced backwards for a fraction of a second. She didn’t see them, and the emergency exit door was closed. Katrina had gotten that far, at least. If she knew Jake, they’d have tried to block the door, too. No escape there. She pushed the fear away again. Didn’t matter. It wouldn’t have worked, anyway.

  Another monster tried climbing over the injured; she shot the Mindless and added another body to the pile.

  She heard the wordless whimpers from the bodies on the stairs, and she saw more behind them, on the main floor, stumbling and bumping their way through. Spreading out, with no regard for obstacles, pushing over displays and knocking down piles. She winced, whispering, “Not the books….”

  They were still all on the first floor, she realized, spreading out below and beneath her. Karen hesitated, not wanting to leave the choke hold of the stairs. At least for the moment, no new bodies were trying to push over or through the pile. None of them seemed aware of her. Maybe, just maybe, she could hide. Somehow. Conference room? Utility closet? Or at least get to somewhere she could have her back to a wall. She had come up the main staircase, but there were other ways up. The Mindless might stumble across one of them. Her back itched at the idea of enemies approaching from her unguarded side.

  Keeping a wary eye on the monsters roaming the ground floor, she reached for the balcony railing. The newel post didn’t collapse, so she dragged herself up. Her arm throbbed. Probably not broken, or she couldn’t have used it, but a pretty bad sprain. Her ankle protested, but she had expected that. Limping on tip-toe lessened the pain. Maybe her life wouldn’t need to flash before her eyes after all. She tried to slow down her rapid breathing, but could do nothing about the pounding of her heart. The bookshelves seemed to sway around her as she staggered, but she focused grimly on making one step at a time.

  #

  He stood in front of a tall thing. Dark brown, with straight lines across. Smaller things on it. They were all different - different sizes, different colors - but somehow all the same. He touched them gently. They had different textures, too. He had the vague notion that these things
were important. Had been important. Just like the building.

  The energy was coming from two different directions, now. One was straight ahead of him. That’s where most of the crowd was hunting, but he could still detect the emotion he’d sensed earlier, too. Not as strong as before, not as strong as the other source, but a definite orange glow. It almost called to him.

  He turned away, dismissing the things, and saw a pile of bodies. They were moving but not moving. He could perceive their distress, faint and strange. Not strong enough to matter.

  As he ambled towards the stairs, the trace of real emotion grew. A living one. Fear. Not strong - where? A moment later he realized it was coming from above. He shuffled further, rewarded as the feeling intensified.

  All interest in the bodies on the stairs vanished as he worked his way past them.

  #

  Karen made it through the stacks to the perimeter of the room before her body rebelled. Swearing quietly, she slowly collapsed, putting her back to the wall, at least. “Okay, life, time to start flashing." Karen’s last stand. Except of course she couldn’t even stand. The gun wasn’t empty yet, but it had to be close. Not enough. Should she save one bullet for herself? She was definitely going to die now.

  And still she saw no life-flashing. She felt cheated and wanted to cry in frustration. Instead, her mind was replaying her last glimpse of her sister, yelling, reaching, starting to sob as Jake pulled her away. Couldn’t she pull up a happier memory for her final moments? With a little willpower, she called on older images - Katrina at her birthday party. Katrina excited about school. Katrina as a little girl holding out her arms for her older sister to give her a “lift-up” hug.

  I love you, KitKat, she whispered to the Katrina in her mind. Be safe, be strong, be happy. Always remember that I loved you.

  #

  Shoving away a clutching hand, he scaled the stairs and emerged into another large room. He couldn’t travel a straight line - all these tall things with the important things on them - but he made progress towards the source of the glow.

  He slowed. The orange-red fear had diminished, replaced by something… wondrous. Something new, glowing brighter than any emotion he’d ever seen. Golden. He’d never encountered this… not-fear. He savored the unexpected sweetness of it, shot through with sparks of bitter blue-green sorrow. What was this?

  The feeling flooded into his long-abandoned mind, pushing back against the muck that clogged his brain, sluicing through, clearing a channel. The world resolved into sharper focus. He drew in a sharp breath; whatever this was, he wanted more.

  #

  The sound of a shoe scuffing on carpet brought Karen back to reality, fast. She raised the gun by instinct, aiming up towards the top of the shelf. When the Mindless emerged, though, her hand was shaking so much that she missed it entirely. She adjusted her aim, bracing her arm on her knee, and tried squeezing the trigger again, but all she got was a clicking sound. That had been her last bullet.

  She changed her grip on the empty gun and tried to throw it at him, but it fell short. “Oh, crap,” she said half-heartedly.

  The Mindless at the end of the aisle stared at her with wide eyes, unmoving for an impossibly long second before she wrenched her gaze away and resolutely closed her eyes. If this was it, then she’d go out with dignity. She hoped. “Please, God,” she whispered, “Save me. Somehow.”

  Even as she spoke she regretted it. God didn’t exist; she was on her own. End of the line. She took several deep breaths, trying to compose herself. Distancing herself from reality. Katrina was safe. She had to be. So it didn’t matter what happened to Karen.

  Except… nothing’s happening. Why?

  CHAPTER THREE

  She opened her eyes and lifted her head away from the wall to look at the monster. It had once been a young man. Still dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt. Brown hair, passive blank face. No, wait, it began to change. It looked… perplexed.

  “Well, of course you’re confused,” she told it. “You can’t think. Go with instinct.” The world seemed to be drifting away from her. “This is the part where you kill me,” she prompted. “Although you could wait ‘til after I pass out, if you want. That’d be good.” The room grew fuzzier. She was light-headed and sick to her stomach and her arm hurt and her ankle hurt, and she’d never see her sister again. Feeling exposed, she hunched forward, hugging her knees. Letting her head rest on her folded arms. She was so tired.

  She couldn’t help looking up when she heard footsteps. Sweatshirt boy looked startled, too, glancing behind himself. It seemed to break him out of stasis; he ambled towards her. It doesn’t matter what happens to me, she reminded herself, closing her eyes, holding her breath, trying to be brave as he crouched beside her and got into her personal space. He twisted himself slightly to sit, reached out to put his arms around her and…. hugged her. He just sat next to her and held her close.

  Actually hugged. Her eyes popped open again as she inhaled sharply.

  He didn’t attack, didn’t hit or strangle or tear at her. Just sat. With his arms awkwardly around her, pulling her close to him. He adjusted their position so that his forehead nearly touched hers. What the…? She kept very still, barely breathing, not wanting to provoke anything but couldn’t stop herself from staring at him.

  His eyes met hers. “Shh,” he said. “Pro… tect.”

  She felt herself calming, which didn’t make any sense at all. Why would being surrounded by monsters be a serene experience? Quite literally surrounded by the nearest one. She tried to worry about it but couldn’t muster up much beyond curiosity. Whatever. She could figure it out later. If there was a later. Maybe she’d been killed already, and just hadn’t noticed? No, probably not. If she were dead, it wouldn’t smell like wet clothing and old sweat.

  Another Mindless turned the corner, and stood, looking at them for a moment, face blank. She turned her head marginally. This one seemed older, a black man in his forties or fifties, wearing a tattered gray suit with a red tie. It stared at her - at them - for a long moment. Then it wandered off.

  As the monster in the suit retreated, sweatshirt boy relaxed his hold on her, sitting back, and the unnatural calm started to fade. They sat, staring at each other while Karen struggled to not hyperventilate, not cry, not pass out. The darkness advanced as the calm receded and a wave of dizziness rushed at her.

  #

  Without warning, she slumped against him, and her jumbled emotions blinked out, her glow fading to near transparency.

  That wasn’t a death. He didn't know what to call it, or what to do, so he sat, her head resting on his shoulder. He wanted more of the golden glow. It had faded when he’d come around the corner and disappeared entirely at the sound behind him. One of the others was chasing the girl’s energy. He hadn’t wanted to share. Had to be there first. The direct contact had made a connection to her emotions, touching the colors, tapping directly into the source. He’d absorbed her fear, draining it away from her. Another word had emerged from the fog: protect. She’d stared at him, stiff within his arms. The other Mindless had come close, but the fear had been in him by then, filling him, with little left over.

  Reluctantly, he’d pulled back from the girl, breaking the connection, looking at her from up close. Her hair hung long and straight, covering part of her face. The fear had returned, mixed with other things he couldn’t identify. Her eyes, looking at him, had seemed huge and dark. Full of questions that he had no answers to. Eyes that were closed now, but would open again.

  He’d had his fill of emotion, more than he could ever remember. The constant hunger was silenced for once. He could go now, except... he didn’t want to; he had a new craving. He wanted more of her golden not-fear, but it was gone now. Leaving him bereft and with no way to ask for it back.

  He could hear others of his kind moving about, not coming near. Moving away. They were still restless, but the living emotions had escaped, and the two deaths ea
rlier had partially satisfied them. They were going home.

  He needed to go with them. He needed to feel her emotions again. The two needs battled for supremacy until a solution whispered its way into his head. Carefully, he picked her up, cradling her limp form in front of him, and started walking.

  #

  They were outside before she stirred, the sun shining brighter than before. He looked uneasily at the others in the pack and slowed, falling further behind. “No… fear,” he said, quietly. “P... protect.”

  It didn’t work. She started weakly struggling. He held her closer, trying not to damage her injured arm. “Shh. It’s o…kay.”

  She stilled, and her fear increased, orange-red flickering around her. She pulled her head from his shoulder, her eyes darting everywhere. Panic laced her voice. “Let me down! What’s going on?”

  “Shh,” he said again, not sure he could form enough words to explain, not sure that any explanation would work.

  She focused on his face. “It’s you. Wait… you… didn’t kill me?”

  He shook his head slightly. “Not kill,” he managed to say. He gestured with his chin, looking ahead. Her eyes followed, and she tensed.

  Some of the other Mindless started looking around, and he knew they’d picked up on her emotion. Or maybe his. “Them… kill. Sense fear.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Be… calm.” Carrying her and talking this much wore on him, more exertion than usual, and he stumbled a little.

  She didn’t appear to notice. “Calm,” she echoed faintly. “Yeah, that could happen.”

  Her fear increased. He allowed it to wash over him, taking it all in. She took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes, tense in his arms. “Katrina is safe,” she whispered, moisture leaking down her cheek. “So it doesn’t matter what happens to me. Katrina’s safe.” The orange faded to a beautiful gold, just like before. He never wanted it to end.