Dark Corner

by Brandon Massey

  There was no dial tone. She put the handset back on the cradle.

  She was not surprised. The devil was crafty, he sure was. Clipping the phone lines throughout the town would have been one of his first moves. Cut off the people from civilization and hope.

  Sounds of terror reached her from next door. Banging, shouting, breaking, shooting, screaming.

  She touched the crucifix that dangled on her necklace. She prayed that God would keep Emma and the other folks safe, but even as she prayed, doubts crept into her spirit. Emma never listened to anyone. This would be one time that her stubborn nature would get her into trouble. Lillie hated to think such thoughts, but she couldn't help it.

  "Dear Lord, have mercy," she said, and her words seemed loud in the silent house, so loud that she wondered if someone might hear her. Or something.

  Rex stopped wagging his tail.

  Lillie quietly extinguished her smoke in a tin ashtray.

  Noise at the front window. Tap-tap-tap-tap. A brittle sound like a skeletal finger clicking against the glass.

  She lived in an old house, and sometimes it creaked and made settling sounds, but this noise was nothing like that: it had purpose.

  Someone was at the window. Someone with evil in his heart. A tangible malevolence seeped through the glass and into the house, like foul smoke.

  Fortunately, heavy curtains covered the window. But she wondered whether the creature outside had the power to see through the fabric, and if it was watching her at that moment standing stock-still beside the couch with one hand on her dog and her other hand closed over her crucifix.

  Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

  She closed her eyes.

  Please, Lord, send them away. Put a fence around me. Keep me safe.

  Under her hand, Rex trembled. But the little dog kept quiet, though his heart throbbed in a frenzy.

  She held her breath, praying fervently.

  The wind soughed around the house, and it seemed to carry away the threat. The feeling that she was being watched passed.

  She exhaled. She didn't realize that she had been holding her breath.

  The commotion continued next door. But she had been spared. Thank the Lord.

  She was not going to take any more chances. She gathered Rex in her arms, picked up her Bible off the coffee table, blew out the candle, and went to the basement.

  It was a comfortable hideaway; her son had lived down there for a year after he graduated college. There were no windows, the walls were brick, and the door was thick and strong. An old refrigerator held bottled water, apple juice, cheese, bread, and Spam. She had stocked up earlier that afternoon, in preparation for a time like this.

  She would remain down there until she received a sign that danger had passed.

  She lit another candle, and settled onto the old, sunken couch. Rex hopped onto the cushion beside her and snuggled up against her leg. She cracked open her Bible to the book of Revelations-in her opinion, the most frightening thing ever written, but an appropriate choice for tonightand began to read, picking up from where she had left off earlier in the evening.

  " And I saw a beast coming out of the sea. He had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on his horns, and on each head was a blasphemous name ...' "

  At Pearl's house, David sat on a rocking chair in the screened-in porch, drinking chamomile tea. He'd needed a reprieve from the anxiety that permeated the air inside the house. Perhaps Pearl had worked miracles before, but all of them worried about Jackson's fate.

  Cool air swirled through the screen, touched him with its fingers. Silvery rain pummeled the earth, and lightning occasionally made a jagged crack in the dark clouds. In the porch, a candle on a small table provided the only steady light.

  What a night, he thought. If we can survive until morning, maybe we have a chance.

  The door opened, startling him. But it was only Nia. A white towel hung over her shoulder, and her face looked clean and fresh.

  "It's a little chilly out here," she said.

  "The tea's keeping me warm. I brought some for you. Come have a seat." He patted the chair beside him, picked up the silver teakettle, and poured tea into an extra mug.

  "You're a sweetheart" She settled next to him and took the cup.

  For a minute, it seemed to him that they were somewhere else; perhaps at a quaint bed-and-breakfast in a scenic coastal town somewhere, winding down after a pleasantly tiring day of sight-seeing, shopping, and eating in charming restaurants. They would enjoy the serenity of the night and then retire to their bed, make love, and sink into the warm folds of sleep.

  He shook his head, as though waking from a daydream.

  "What's wrong?" she said.

  "I was dreaming that we were somewhere else," he said. "Where we could enjoy each other in peace"

  "What a nice thought" She smiled, took a sip of tea. "I feel like I've been living a nightmare tonight. It's kind of relaxing to imagine being somewhere else."

  A companionable silence enveloped them. The only sounds were the faint sputter of the candle, the drumming rain, and the whispering wind.

  "When this is over," he said, suddenly, "I want us to be together."

  She shifted to face him.

  "I want to be with you, too, David. More than I've ever wanted to be with anyone"

  He touched her face, ran his fingers through her hair. He softly kissed her lips.

  Although he'd said he wanted them to be together, he didn't have a full understanding of what he meant. Did he want to marry her, live with her, or what? He couldn't nail down his feelings and define specifically what being together involved. He knew only that his desire to be with her was as powerful as his need to breathe.

  Or do I know more than that about my feelings? he wondered. I need to be honest. Completely.

  "We haven't known each other very long, but I feel as if I've lived a lifetime with you," he said.

  "What are you trying to say, David?" Curiosity danced in her eyes.

  He smiled, self-consciously. "Am I beating around the bush, or what?"

  She only looked at him, smiling.

  He sucked in a breath.

  "I love you," he said.

  Her grin was like sunshine breaking through an overcast day. "I love you, too, David."

  He grasped her hand, kissed it. "I really believe ... we were meant to be together. Even if none of this other crap was happening, somehow, somewhere, we were destined to meet. Does that sound crazy?"

  "I knew you were special from the moment we met," she said. "And it wasn't just because you were so cute"

  He laughed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him forward, so that their noses were nearly touching.

  "I want you to promise us something," she said.

  "Promise us?"

  "Yes. Us. Promise us that you'll get us through this."

  "Nia, I haven't been doing this alone. You've been there every step of the way "

  "And I will be. But in the end, sweetheart, it's going to come down to you, and you know it. Make the promise, for both of us, for our future together."

  "I promise I'll get us through this."

  "Thank you" She kissed him deeply. "Thank you"

  He leaned back in the chair, holding her hand. He never wanted the moment to end. But it was inevitable. They had work to do.

  "We have to talk about our next move," he said. "I think we should leave soon"

  She nodded. "I thought about that. We can't help Jackson ourselves, and we're putting Pearl in danger by staying here."

  "Exactly. I want to take Jahlil with us. But I know he won't want to leave behind his dad."

  "Let's pray that Pearl can heal the chief," she said. "But if it doesn't happen soon. . .-

  There was no need for her to finish the sentence. Their path was clear. With or without Jackson, they would have to leave. Soon, the vampires would be coming.

  Van Jackson floated into consciousness, awakening into a gray, blurry, unfamil
iar world that was like somewhere in a drug-induced dream.

  He couldn't feel his body-his body was numb-but he thought he was lying down. Some alert part of him, deep in his mind, told him that he lay on someone's bed. But he couldn't see the walls of the room; they were fuzzy and black. It was so quiet in there that he might have been lying inside a sealed coffin.

  Was he in a hospital? He'd been hurt bad, he remembered. He recalled the pain tearing through his chest, and the blood. So much blood.

  Was he dead?

  Faintly, he heard a voice.

  Dad, are you awake? You blinked; I saw you blink.

  His son, somewhere nearby. His boy's voice was threaded with worry and cautious hope.

  More than anything in the world, Jackson wanted to sit up and put his arms around his kid. He had never been an affectionate man, but he wanted to squeeze Jahlil in his arms so tightly that he would feel his boy's heart throbbing against his chest. It was his son, dammit, a precious human being born of his own flesh and blood. He didn't want to leave this world without holding his child, and experiencing the enduring reality of him, one more time.

  But he couldn't feel his own limbs, much less move. His muscles would not obey his commands.

  Pearl, my Dad's waking up! Hurry up and come back in here!

  So were they at Pearl's house? Made sense. The hospital was gone to hell, after all.

  Jackson tried to speak a word of reassurance, to tell his son that he heard him, but his lips would not move. His tongue was like a block of wood.

  I didn't die earlier, but I'm dying now

  The thought slipped inside his mind with the terrible ease of a splinter sinking into soft flesh. It lodged in his brain and would not go away. It was true. He was dying.

  He was not angry at God for allowing this to happen. He felt only ... regret. He'd wasted so much time working, du tifully serving the public, and had failed to serve his own family. The bond that he had experienced with Jahlil earlier that night had come far too late to appease his guilt.

  He heard more voices hovering around him. Female voices, a man who sounded like David, and his son. But he could not see them, or touch them. He floated in a gray haze.

  Wake him up again! Jahlil cried. I saw him blink. Do something to wake him up!

  Tense, anxious voices followed Jahlil's outburst.

  I gotta talk to my boy, Jackson thought. He felt that he was drifting away, as though he lay on a rubber raft bobbing gently across a sea. He struggled to resist the pull. He wasn't ready to pass away, not yet. He had to force open his lips to speak his final words to his child. But it was so hard that his lips might have been sewn together with wire.

  But at last he parted his lips, drew in a breath, and formed words.

  Sitting on the bed, Jahlil cradled his father in his arms. He would not accept that his dad might be dying. Dad couldn't die. He was too young, he had years and years of living ahead of him, he had to be around to see Jahlil graduate from high school, go to college, start a career, get married, have kids of his own, and be a granddad to Jahlil's children. This was not the way it was supposed to be. This could not be happening. This was not real. He had already lost Mom. He could not lose Dad.

  But Dad had blinked, only once, and when his eyes slid closed, again, they did not open. His chest rose and fell with agonizing slowness.

  Jahlil, with one arm cradled around his father's shoulders, reached down and squeezed his father's hand. His skin was dry, and frighteningly cool.

  "I'm not letting you die, Dad. No way. I'm gonna pull you through"

  Pearl, David, and Nia huddled around the bed. They were talking, probably trying to calm him, but their words were a meaningless babble to him. He could not focus on what they were saying. He could only hold his father and concentrate on willing him to live, as if his own desire to save his dad could thwart God's plan to take him away.

  "I ain't letting you die, Daddy." He pressed his ear against his father's chest, near his heart. It was beating so slow, too slow. He had to make Dad's heart beat faster, or else he would lose him forever.

  "I ... love ... you" Whispered words, spoken so softly Jahlil could barely hear them.

  Jahlil raised his head and stared at his father. Dad's eyes were closed, but his lips formed a melancholy smile.

  "No, Dad. No"

  Dad's hand squeezed Jahlil's fingers. Then his grip slackened.

  "No!" Jahlil pressed his ear against his father's chest.

  Dad's heart had stopped beating.

  "No!"

  Hot tears blinded Jahlil. Comforting hands rested on his shoulders, people trying to take him away from his father. He didn't want them to take him away, he wanted to wrap his dad in his arms and will his heart back to life. But he was too weak to struggle, and so sick that he thought he was going to throw up. He allowed them to peel his arms from around his dad. Someone carried him, and put him in a chair. Then someone embraced him; a woman, Pearl, judging from the scent of her. She hugged him and whispered in his ear, "Your daddy loved you, Jahlil, always remember that, sweetheart. He loved you and he'll always be with you. Always."

  Jahlil squeezed her close, and wept.

  Our worst nightmares are coming true, David thought. Jackson, gone. Could it get any worse?

  He felt as though someone had slugged him. He staggered to a chair. Across the room, Jahlil desperately clutched Pearl in his arms, as though being torn away from her would sweep him away into oblivion. He felt sorry for the boy. He had lost both of his parents, and he was only a teenager. It was so terribly unfair.

  I'm responsible for him from now on, he thought. Ipromised Jackson that I would be there for his son. I've got to keep my word.

  Nia came into the room with a fresh towel. She gently wiped Jahlil's face.

  Jahlil is in good hands, David assured himself. Between myself and Nia, we 71 take care of him and make sure he has everything he needs.

  On the bed, Jackson lay still. He was a good, courageous, honest man. There weren't enough men like him in the world. Now, he was gone. His prone body had a strange emptiness to it, like a soulless wax figure. The essence of the spirit that was Van Jackson had vacated its earthly vehicle for another, better place.

  Despair gripped David. He was convinced that they were engaged in a fool's game. They couldn't win. Franklin was dead. Jackson was dead, too. There were dozens of vampires on the prowl, and perhaps hundreds more to come in the next day. Why continue this pointless fight? Why not find a way out of town and put it behind them for good?

  You can't quit, a nagging voice told him. William Hunter didn't quit. Neither can you. Besides, do you think running will solve anything? Diallo and Kyle want you, most of all. Wherever you go, they'll find you.

  He wished he could silence the voice of his conscience, but it spoke the truth. They could not run away. There was no escape. The only course of action was to do their duty.

  He sighed, heavily. The burden of responsibility weighed upon his shoulders like a heavy barbell. Standing up was like rising out of a three hundred-pound squat.

  A noise suddenly reached him that sent a shiver of fear through his bones.

  Dogs, outside. Barking.

  The vampires had found them.

  Chapter 23

  t the barking of the hounds, David looked at Nia. He nodI Ided slightly, the only indication necessary to communicate to her that they were no longer safe.

  Tension clenched his gut.

  "They've found us," Nia said. She looked at Pearl. "How?"

  "Diallo," Pearl said. She slipped out of Jahlil's arms. Jahlil, blinking slowly, appeared to realize what was happening, for his gaze sharpened. "Remember when I explained the risks of slipping into Diallo's mind? How it could form a dangerous psychic doorway? That is what happened. Just as I secretly entered his thoughts, so he was able to do the same with me. I'm only surprised that he has taken so long to arrive."

  "He and his son have probably been out there painting the tow
n red," David said. "Pardon the pun. They've gotten bored and are ready for us ""

  "Fuck this." Jahlil angrily wiped his eyes and shot to his feet. "I'm gonna kill all those motherfuckers. Everyone stay out of my way." He stormed across the room to where their bags and firearms lay on the floor.

  David stepped in front of Jahlil.

  "Hold on, Jahlil. I'm not letting you go out there like Rambo. We can't do it that way."

  Jahlil's glare could have melted glass. "Get out of my way, man. I'm for real."

  He tried to shove David aside, but David held his ground.

  "I know you're angry," David said. "You're furious about what they did to your dad. I understand. But I promised Jackson that I'd look out for you, and I mean to stand by my word. There's no way I'm letting you run out there. That would be suicide."

  "I don't need you to look out for me, all right? Will you get the hell out of my way?" His nostrils flaring, he attempted to push David out of his path.

  David grabbed the boy's arms, held them tight.

  Jahlil trembled. David was about three inches taller than the kid and outweighed him by maybe twenty pounds, but Jahlil was so charged with anger that David was not sure he could hold him back. The skin of his arms was hot to the touch.

  "You've got to chill out," David said. "This isn't the time to lose your cool, understand? You're a tough kid, but you aren't crazy. You know you don't stand a chance in hell against those monsters"

  "All right." Jahlil's eyes were red and fatigued. He shrugged off David's hands. David let him go.

  "So you're the big boss man," Jahlil said. "What do you want us to do? Stay in here and wait to be slaughtered?"

  David checked outside the rain-smeared window. He could not see the bloodsuckers yet, but the dogs' barks steadily grew louder.

  Jahlil, Nia, and Pearl watched him anxiously.

  "We have to go on the run," David said. "The vampires own the night, and there are too many of them for us to handle. We have to lie low until daybreak. Then, we can catch them in their lair, wherever that is."

  "How do we get away?" Nia said. "It sounds like they're coming from the direction of the road. We can't go that way."