Darkness Rising

by Mary Jennifer Payne

  “Seventy-nine Elgin Crescent,” Vashti says. She’s sitting in the driver’s seat. I can’t see her face, but recognize her no-nonsense voice and neatly arranged bun. “Do not stop for moving obstacles,” she commands, her voice ripe with urgency.

  As soon as I look out the windshield, I understand. The two zombies are now standing directly in front of the car; one of them is climbing unsteadily onto the front bumper.

  The car starts rolling forward as the zombie gets onto the hood and begins to claw its way toward the windshield, its mouth hanging askew, its lips dripping with blood and bits of tissue. There’s a thud and then a series of bumps as the car rolls swiftly over the other zombie. As we pick up speed, the first one continues clinging to the hood like a spider caught in a windstorm.

  “Tenacious bugger,” Vashti says under her breath. “Speed up,” she commands.

  The car accelerates, causing the zombie’s loose skin to blow back in the wind like a rubber Halloween mask. Its mouth opens wide in what appears to be a scream, but all we hear is a low, loud moan, kind of like the sound a cow might make if you kicked it. Not that I support kicking cows. Or any farm animal, for that matter.

  “Blimey,” Sara says. “That’s one stubborn creature.”

  “Faster,” Vashti urges, gritting her teeth as the zombie bangs its fist on the windshield. The skin along the outer side of its hand splits open, leaving a smear of blood on the glass.

  The car accelerates with a squealing of tires, and the zombie slides down the hood for a moment before regaining its grip and crawling slowly back to hammer at the glass once more. Lily starts and shouts out, panicked, as a bloodied spiderweb of cracks appears across the glass in front of her face.

  The zombie raises its fist again above the damaged glass.

  “That glass isn’t going to hold,” Lily cries. Her voice is climbing, approaching hysteria.

  “Reverse,” Vashti says, her voice as calm as glass. “Immediately.”

  The car doesn’t even come to a stop before it reverses direction and accelerates again. My head snaps back like a rag doll’s. For some reason, I think about what we learned in science class last year: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

  It only takes a second or two before the zombie, who is as surprised as the rest of us by the car’s sudden movements, flies off the hood.

  “Yes!” Sara says, pumping a fist in the air. “Take that, you rotting hulk of shite.”

  “Forward again,” Vashti says. She turns her head and gives Sara a quick smile. “This isn’t a Millwall match,” she says, her dark eyes dancing. “Mind your language, please.”

  “I support Crystal Palace, anyhow,” Sara shoots back, a smile spreading across her face. I can’t help but notice how stubby and grey her teeth are. They look like baby teeth that’ve been dipped in diluted grape juice.

  “I’m a Chelsea supporter myself, and I know damn well you don’t,” Vashti murmurs as the car’s tires bounce violently over the zombie. “On to the destination,” she instructs the car as we turn a corner.

  “What the hell is wrong with you people?” Lily cries out. I can see tears streaming down the left side of her cheek, and she sniffles wetly before continuing to speak. “My sister is struggling to stay alive because of one of these bastard monsters and you two are joking around as though we’ve just run over a squirrel.”

  Vashti reaches over and gently touches Lily’s shoulder. “Cassandra’s going to pull through just fine,” she says. Her tone is kind but firm. It’s pretty clear she doesn’t tolerate drama. “Just a wee bit of gallows humour, lovely. That’s all. Often the best way to cope with these types of situations.”

  “Well, I think it’s insensitive,” Lily says, sliding closer to the door until she’s just out of reach of Vashti’s hand. She sounds a little bit childish and pouty, but I get it. If Jade were the one messed up, and people were kind of joking about the thing that caused her injury, I’d be pretty pissed, too.

  “And I think you’d best control your emotions much better than you did back there,” Vashti snaps. “Or you’ll make us all a flashing bullseye for demons.”

  I glance out the side window. We’re passing by row after row of large townhouses that look as though they might’ve been white once upon a time, but are now smeared a dirty grey by air pollution. If I had to guess, I’d say we’re in a pretty wealthy area, or at least one that used to be.

  “Is the other car still with us? Are they okay?” I ask.

  Vashti turns in her seat to look at me and then taps her video watch. “Yes, they took another route whilst we dealt with the tenacious zombie. They’ll meet us at the flat. Assuming we make it there ourselves, that is.”

  JADE

  Fresh blood drips slowly from the cracked skin at either corner of the creature’s slightly grey lips.

  It’s definitely not a demon. Not only are its eyes not that familiar, all-consuming black, it doesn’t seem as aware as the demons, either. In the five seconds or so that the two of us have been staring at each other, a demon would already have attached itself to my body with a frenzied violence.

  Instead, it opens its mouth as if to yawn and lets out a low moan, as though someone just hauled off and kicked it in the shin. A grotesquely swollen, slug-like tongue sneaks out of its mouth and slowly slides around the perimeter of the thing’s lips.

  Instinctively, I raise my leg and kick toward its left quadriceps. My foot connects, then sinks into what I quickly realize is rotten flesh. A stench like death fills the air around us. The creature lets out a howl, more of surprise than of pain, and stumbles backward while I wrench my foot out if its body. My foot makes a squelching sound as it’s freed from the thing’s leg. It’s revolting, and I nearly gag, but there’s no time for me to feel queasy. I need to destroy it.

  Turning slightly sideways so I can keep an eye on the creature, I run to the curtains, leap onto the windowsill, and pull down the heavy metal rod and fabric with one swift movement. A tsunami of dust floats into the air around me, making me wonder just how long this place has been abandoned. After the borders closed, I imagine tourism took a massive hit.

  The thing is lumbering after me like a toddler learning to walk. Its stink is absolutely everywhere. I quickly slide the curtains off the rod and turn toward it, ready to fight.

  “Die!” I yell as I swing. It stumbles sideways so that the rod misses its head completely, but still lands with considerable force on one of its shoulders. For a moment, the creature teeters in mid-air as if drunk, and then spins to the ground.

  Without missing a beat, I bring the rod down, over and over, onto its skull, its midsection — anywhere a fatal blow might be made. The smell of death and rotting flesh explodes from each wound to hang about me like a cloud.

  Eventually, the creature’s moans and twitching subside and then stop completely. Sweat is dripping down my forehead, and my arms ache. I drop the rod to the floor. Carrying it outside wouldn’t be wise, since I’m trying to fly under the radar of the police and authorities. I look down at my right leg. The putrid-smelling, blackish-red goop that’s coating my shoe and the lower part of my jeans is not exactly going to help me blend in, either.

  There’s a dining room on the other side of the lobby. I figure the probability of the water still being on in this place is slim. After all, water’s a pretty hot commodity, so keeping it on in an abandoned building would be crazy.… Still, if people are squatting here, there has to be a water source somewhere close.

  The shadows almost seem to follow me across the lobby, and I pause, looking back over my shoulder at the corpse of the thing I’ve just killed. My imagination is getting the better of me. I shake my head. It’s dead. And was dead even before I mashed it. I laugh, but it’s a manic sound that echoes through the empty lobby. At least I hope it’s empty.

  Unlike my imagination, my conscience appears to have abandoned me. Somewhere down deep in the very pit of my being, there’s a tiny glimmer of guilt abou
t leaving Mr. Khan and Amara behind. But I have absolutely no regret about it. Believe me, I’m aware of the fact that I should be feeling something more — a lot more — about the situation and the extreme danger I’ve left them in. But a larger part of me just, well … doesn’t care. At all. The best way to describe it is that my emotions have been flattened; they’re as dull as the tip of a well-used pencil.

  My gaze wanders back to the curtain rod. Maybe I should keep it with me after all. Or keep it at least until I get out of here, in case that thing has family or friends lurking. As I turn to go back for it, my stomach does a sudden somersault, and I bend over to vomit all over the dusty wooden floor.

  Straightening, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and move more quickly into the dining area. Weaving between the dusty, discarded tables and chairs, some still sporting vases with petrified flowers in them as centrepieces, I eventually reach my destination — the kitchen.

  When I turn it on, the tap makes a spluttering noise before shooting out a rusty stream of water that eventually becomes clear after about a minute. I place my mouth directly under it and slurp greedily, allowing the liquid to wash away the sour aftertaste of puke. Hopefully the water is safe, though I’m so dehydrated, I don’t care. After a few minutes, I peel off my jeans and my shoe and soak them in the water with a bit of cleaning solution I found under the sink. I know this means I’m going to be uncomfortable for a few hours, but it’s better than smelling like a pile of horseshit.

  There’s a door at the back of the kitchen marked with a large unlit exit sign. For sure using this is a better idea than leaving by the front door onto a main street.

  After wringing the jeans out and then managing to pull the wet denim up over my legs, I secure the ring back into the front pocket. Taking a deep breath, I ready myself. It’s time to get on with things.

  I crack open the door and peer out. There’s a quiet street that’s so narrow, it would be considered an alleyway in Toronto, and beyond that, the red-brick wall of another building.

  I step out and take a deep breath, hoping to leave behind both the musty smell of the hotel and the stink of the creature I just killed. The heat hits me like a slap, as does the thick pollution that hangs in the air and sends me into a coughing fit.

  Tears sting my eyes as I clear my throat and look out at the busy street ahead of me.

  I check the notes Seth left for me on the video watch. 79 Elgin Crescent, Notting Hill, W11 2JD.

  According to the estimate on video watch, it’s a forty-five-minute walk. I peer into the smoggy sky. Time to get going. Time to make sure the truth about everything that’s happening in our world is exposed to the Seers.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring.

  “And you need to go back to where you came from,” I say.

  I place it back in my pocket, take a deep breath, and walk out from the side street onto the sidewalk that runs alongside the busier road.

  An elderly gentleman, his back so stooped it looks like he’s permanently searching for something dropped on the floor, is coming down the sidewalk toward me. He’s wearing a cheap cloth anti-pollution mask and, despite his wide-brimmed sun hat, his skin is a maze of spider veins and brown age spots.

  “G’day,” he says, his voice weak and muffled. He begins coughing hoarsely as soon as the words escape his lips.

  “Oh, it’s going to be a very good day, indeed,” I say, plastering a wide smile across my face as he shuffles past.

  JASMINE

  The car slows in front of a row of large white townhouses. I glance out the window. If we’re just going to hop out here and walk into one of these places, I’ll feel a little exposed.

  Vashti swivels around. “We need to be quick about this and as discreet as possible. The more of you there are, the more likely we are to be detected. I’m —”

  Her words are cut short as the screams of sirens fill the air around us.

  Vashti’s eyes grow large. “Did anyone see the two of you?” she asks Sara and me.

  The woman. The one on the sidewalk. Not only did she recognize us, we left her with Atika’s corpse and her video watch. We should’ve killed that woman.

  “Um, no, we should not ’ave,” Sara snaps at me. “That’s against the Seer code. We don’t kill humans.”

  “What are you talking about?” Vashti asks, her eyes darkening with concern. The sirens are growing louder.

  “This woman … she saw us,” I say. “She recognized me and said she was going to alert the authorities. And she saw Atika’s body.… We actually had to leave Atika there.”

  There’s a sharp intake of breath from Lily.

  “There was no other choice,” I say.

  “Bloody hell,” Vashti whispers. She rubs her temples with her fingers, deep in thought, then turns to me and hands me two fobs. “The silver is for the front door. The black is for the door to the flat. Flat 5. Top floor. And Jasmine?”

  “Yeah?” I reply, taking the fobs from her. It’s only then I notice her hand is shaking.

  “Next time, kill her,” Vashti says, her voice as hard as ice. “We’re at war, and extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures to stay safe. That said, get out, get inside, and stay there until Clarence gives you further direction. No matter what, do not go outside or even look outside unless Clarence instructs you to.”

  “What about you?” I ask. “Aren’t you coming in with us?”

  I know the answer even as I ask it. Vashti’s thoughts spill out to me.

  “No!” I cry out. “You can’t! We can’t lose you.”

  “Get out, Jasmine,” Vashti says. Her voice is almost a growl, her face a mask of fury and determination. “I may be old, but if you push me, I will kill all of you. Get out. Now.”

  Sara and Lily open their doors and quickly slide out of the car to stand on the sidewalk.

  I stare at Vashti, tears sliding down my face. I can’t lose anybody else. I’m frozen. Maybe if I don’t move, Vashti won’t, either.

  “This isn’t about you, Jasmine … and yet, it is,” Vashti says, her voice devoid of emotion. “At least it’s not about you in the self-centred, selfish way that you think it is. If you don’t get out of this bloody car this moment with the fobs, those young women out there on the pavement will be killed. And that will be completely, totally, and utterly your fault, because I will be compelled to drive away to save you.” She looks at me, her eyes softening just slightly over the noise of the sirens. The police must be just around the corner. “I’ve led a good life, Jasmine. I need you to remember that. I have no regrets. And my job as a Protector is over. My Seers are dead. The least I can do is save others. Now, get out before you no longer have the choice.”

  I nod, unable to meet her gaze as I slide out of the car. Lily and Sara are at the front door, their eyes wild with fear.

  “Hurry the eff up!” Sara yells.

  I race up the short walkway and wave the fob over the sensor beside the front door, just as a convoy of at least five Metropolitan Police cars and vans tear around the far corner.

  The door to the house swings open automatically, the ancient brass knocker in the centre of it glinting in a stray beam of sunlight. Sara pushes Lily and I through the opening before jumping into the foyer after us. She kicks the door shut just as Vashti’s car speeds away from the curb outside, its tires squealing against the soft asphalt of the road.

  “Do you think they noticed us?” Lily asks, breathless. Her cheeks are flushed. “The police, I mean?”

  “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Sara says, looking at me, her eyes narrowed. “Nice one, you. Bit of a stupid move just sitting there, innit?”

  I wipe at the remnants of the tears on my cheeks, not wanting her to notice. I feel it would be a really bad move to let Sara see any sign of weakness in me.

  The blare of the sirens is fading now as the police pursue Vashti.

  “You know what she’s doing, right?” I say, trying to keep the defensivene
ss of out my voice.

  “She’s leading the police away from us and from here,” Lily interjects. “She’s keeping us safe.”

  “But you realize it’s suicide, right?” I say, my voice rising like hot lava. “After she contacts the police to tell them we — you and I — are with her,” I say, nodding toward Sara, “she’s going to drive herself into the Thames. And then she’s going to put down the window as the car sinks, so the authorities will think our bodies washed away and that we drowned trying to escape. They’ll only search the river for so long before giving up and assuming we’re dead. I wanted to stop her … to save her. That’s why I hesitated.”

  “That’s rubbish,” Sara snaps. “How do you know she’s going to do all that?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “She let me in. She wanted me to know. And she doesn’t want us to feel bad because she’s lived a good life and because Protectors are supposed to do whatever it takes to keep us Seers safe.”

  “I don’t know,” Sara says, cocking her head sideways at me. She looks me up and down as though I’m some sort of slightly disgusting science experiment. “Again, we’re supposed to just believe you? Because I’m starting to think it’s a little strange how death follows you. Her sister,” she says, with a head nod toward Lily. “Then Fahima, Atika, and now Vashti?”

  There’s nothing I can say. She’s right, and she doesn’t even know the half of it. Eva and Moore’s executions are happening tonight in Toronto.

  “Jasmine’s trustworthy, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Lily says, her voice quiet but firm. “We should probably just get upstairs to the flat to see if the others made it,” she adds.

  As we walk up the thickly carpeted stairs to the flat, I keep replaying what Sara just said in my mind. And, as grateful as I am to Lily for defending me, I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t look me in the eye the entire time she did so.

  JADE

  79 Elgin Crescent.