Dark Days (Book 1): Collapse

by Lukens, Mark

  Emma smiled—she had already figured that out, but she didn’t want to tell him that.

  “It’s pretty big in here,” Mike whispered. It was nervous talk. “There’s some counters, a sink, a refrigerator.”

  Emma heard the sound of Mike opening the refrigerator door, and then the smell of warm rot hit her right away.

  “Oooh,” Mike said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Hold your nose,” Ray told him, suddenly right there beside them. “There could still be some water and canned drinks in there.”

  She listened as Ray filled some kind of plastic bag with canned drinks and water bottles. “Keep shining the light in there,” Ray told Mike. “Keep your hand over the front of it, not too much light. You’re doing great, son.”

  Emma knew that Ray was giving Mike a job to do like she had done when she’d asked him to help her to the house. Ray wanted Mike to focus on the task at hand so his mind didn’t wander back to the horrors they’d just been through these last few days.

  As Mike helped Ray fill the plastic bag with drinks and whatever else they could salvage from the refrigerator, Emma turned towards the door that now had the washer and dryer in front of it. There was another door on that side of the large laundry room—a door that led to the garage. There was something bad beyond that door. It wasn’t rippers, nothing that would attack them, but it was still something bad.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Ray said, closing the refrigerator door gently. “Mike, help Emma.”

  “Hey, there’s dog dishes down here in the corner,” Mike said.

  “Yeah,” Ray answered. “Remember Craig had a dog. A big Golden Retriever that always wanted to be petted.”

  “Where do you think their dog is?” Mike asked.

  “I’m sure Craig took her with them when they left.”

  Mike touched Emma’s shoulder as they entered the next room. She tapped her cane in front of her as she walked, trying to tap it as lightly as possible so she didn’t make too much noise.

  “We’re in the kitchen now,” Mike whispered to her. “It’s huge. There’s this big . . . I don’t know, big thing in the middle of the kitchen, like a counter.”

  “An island,” Emma said.

  “Island?”

  “That’s what they call it.”

  “That’s weird,” he muttered.

  “Windows everywhere,” Ray whispered at them. “Curtains and blinds are open. Mike, you and the kids played in a basement when we were here before, right?”

  “Yeah. They had a pool table down there and a big TV that we played video games on.”

  “Let’s look for the door to the basement.”

  “I think it was over here.”

  Emma felt Mike’s hand leave her shoulder. She heard him and Ray walking away. She followed them, following the sound of their footsteps, lightly tapping her cane on the floor along the way.

  “Here,” Mike whispered.

  “Good, son.”

  Emma caught up with them.

  “How are you going to get down the stairs?” Mike asked her when she was near them.

  “I can walk down stairs just fine,” she told him with a smile.

  “I’ll go down there first,” Ray said. “Give me the flashlight, Mike.”

  Emma could tell that Mike was hesitant to give up the light, but she heard him hand it to his father.

  “You two wait here,” Ray said. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay down there.”

  “You think there are rippers down there?” Mike asked.

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  Ray sighed. “Just let me check it out, Mike. It will make me feel better. Okay?”

  “I could go with you.”

  “You need to stay here with Emma.” There was a slight sternness in his voice, ending the argument.

  “It’ll be okay,” Emma told Mike. She felt for him, grabbed his hand.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ray said, and then Emma heard him hurrying down the basement steps, his footsteps echoing up to them even though he was trying to be quiet.

  “I don’t like the dark,” Mike whispered when Emma couldn’t hear Ray’s footsteps from the basement anymore.

  The house was cold, but not as cold as outside. There were a few subtle creaks and pops throughout the house, but that was it. Emma didn’t hear anything else that worried her at the moment.

  “What’s taking him so long?” Mike asked.

  Emma heard the fear in Mike’s voice and she knew she needed to do something to distract him. “It might be a big basement. Do you remember how big it was when you were here before?”

  “It was really big,” Mike said.

  “You said they had a pool table down there. Did you play pool?”

  “No. They wouldn’t let me. But we played video games.”

  Just then Emma heard Ray coming back up the stairs towards them. “Everything’s okay,” Ray said. “I need to check the rest of the house. Check the front door, the sliding glass doors.”

  “We’ll go with you,” Mike said.

  “It’ll be a lot faster if I go by myself,” Ray said. He handed something to Mike. “Here. I found another flashlight down there. But remember, keep your hand cupped over the front of it. If you hear a noise, don’t shine the light in that direction. You understand?”

  No answer from Mike, but Emma figured Mike was nodding yes at his father. She thought of telling Mike that she couldn’t hear his head rattle, but decided that it might not come across as funny at this particular moment.

  “Okay,” Ray said. “Why don’t you wait over there behind those cabinets until I get back?”

  “It’s called an island, Dad.”

  Emma couldn’t help smiling.

  “I know what it’s called,” Ray snapped. “You and Emma wait behind the island. Crouch down there out of sight, okay?”

  Emma was already moving towards the island, tapping her cane across the floor until she found it. Then she moved to the other side of it and crouched down, unloading her duffel bag from her shoulder. She could feel Mike right beside her.

  “Wait here,” Ray said in a low voice. “I’m sure everything’s fine, but I just want to check it out. I’ll be right back.”

  Ray took off before Mike could protest again. Everything was quiet for a moment, but then she heard a far-off sound, a slight sound. Maybe Ray was checking the front door. Every little sound seemed to carry so easily through the cold air of the house, echoing off of the walls and high ceilings.

  Mike was still quiet, but he was fiddling with something—probably the flashlight in his hands.

  “We’ll be safe here,” Emma told him.

  “Yeah,” Mike whispered but didn’t sound convinced, like he wasn’t sure they would ever truly be safe again.

  But they were safe for now, Emma could sense that. They were as safe as they could be, even with something terrible waiting for them in the garage.

  CHAPTER 34

  Ray checked the front doors for any signs of forced entry. They were massive doors that almost reached the ten-foot ceiling. Both doors were locked, including the deadbolt. They seemed sturdy enough, but maybe he could figure out a way to barricade them. But he would wait until tomorrow. He wasn’t going to worry about doing any of that tonight in the dark; he just wanted to make sure all of the doors and windows were locked, and he wanted to make sure there were no signs of break-ins anywhere.

  Directly across from the foyer was a formal living room with a piano and furniture that was probably rarely ever used. There was a set of French doors at the other end of the room that led out to a brick patio area with a fire pit built into the middle of it. Metal patio furniture with seat cushions surrounded the cold, dark fire pit. The brick patio led down to a massive pool deck below with a huge pool, the entire area enclosed by a screened room. The windows and the French doors were all locked and none of the panes of glass were broken, but the French doors were vulnerable. Tom
orrow he would shove the couches in the room in front of the doors, not that it would help much, but maybe the furniture would slow some rippers down if they tried to get in that way.

  The other room off of the foyer was Craig’s office. Ray crept through the room with his flashlight, his hand cupped in front of it so that he let out just enough light to barely see. The right side of the office was a wall of bookcases. Along the other walls there was a couch and a recliner with a reading lamp hanging over the recliner. At the far end of the office was Craig’s desk and office chair. Built-in bookcases flanked the one big window behind the desk. The curtains were drawn back from the window. All of the bookcases were crammed with books, but there were also folders, notebooks and knickknacks among the books; some of the knickknacks looked like they could have been Christmas or Father’s Day presents.

  The large desk was a mess, papers and folders scattered all over it around a laptop computer that was closed. There were more papers and books all over the floor. At first it looked like the office might have been ransacked, but the rest of the house wasn’t torn apart, so it looked more like Craig had been frantically searching through papers before leaving.

  Maybe the answers that Craig had mentioned on the phone were in these papers and folders. Maybe some of these printouts were from top-secret files stored on his laptop. Maybe some of these papers had something to do with roses and Avalon.

  Ray couldn’t think about that right now. He would have to wait until tomorrow to check through the papers when he could see in the daylight. He checked the window beyond the desk. It was locked and secured, undamaged. He closed the blinds and drew the curtains shut.

  The bedrooms at the back of the house were messy (especially the girls’ bedrooms), but again, it looked more like they had been in a hurry to pack rather than looters or scavengers were looking for stuff. He checked all of the windows back here—they were all locked and unbroken.

  The bathrooms were similar to the bedrooms, messy with drawers pulled open. The countertop around the sink was covered with items. Ray turned on the faucet in the sink, but it only gurgled and no water came out. He had hoped that Craig had a well on this property, but even if he did it probably ran off of an electric pump.

  Ray walked down the hall to the formal dining room on the other side of the foyer. It was eerie walking through this large home in the darkness, the narrow shaft of the flashlight beam lighting his way. It seemed like shadows were moving in the darkness, flashes of motion out of the corner of his eye. But there was no one else in the house with them. He was just tired and seeing things in the dark.

  The windows were all locked in the dining room, and he drew all of the curtains shut. He shined his flashlight towards the table and chairs and then froze for a second as the meager light shined on a chair pulled out from the table. There were ropes tied to the arms of the chair and two more ropes tied to the front legs. On the wood floor in front of the chair were smears of what looked like blood.

  The dining room table had been cleared off, everything swiped down to the floor in a heap at the other side: the table cloth, sets of candles, some kind of fake flowery centerpiece.

  The ropes bothered him, but there was still no sign that anyone else was in the house.

  Ray walked through the living room to a large family room beyond it. A wall of sliding glass doors led out to the pool area. At least he could pull the vertical blinds closed over the doors, which were all locked, but anyone could throw a brick or a rock through the glass doors. Maybe he could stack some furniture in front of the doors, but there wasn’t enough furniture to block them completely.

  There were a few other windows in the room and two doors that were mostly glass. He checked them all and they were all locked. This room was too vulnerable, too many glass doors. It would be better if they hid down in the basement tonight and assessed things more in the morning. He’d seen another door down in the basement at the top of a set of concrete steps, an exit out of the basement, so at least he wouldn’t feel trapped down there.

  He went back to the kitchen and found Emma and Mike crouched down behind the island. Mike had the flashlight on, his hand cupped over the front of it, blocking out most of the light but letting just enough out to comfort him.

  Mike’s going to need to get used to the dark, Ray thought. Because when the batteries in these flashlights run out in a few months . . . or years . . .

  But he didn’t want to think about that. First things first.

  “Come on,” he told them. “Let’s get down to the basement. We can spend the night there.”

  Ray went down the basement steps first, then Emma, and Mike was right behind her. Even though Emma swore she could navigate a set of stairs, Ray wanted to be right in front of her in case she tripped. They had left their bags upstairs by the island and Ray would go back for them after Mike and Emma got settled down here. He didn’t want Mike carrying his bag and lose his balance in the dark, take a tumble down the steps. What if Mike broke his arm or his leg? Ray didn’t know how to set a bone, didn’t really know much basic first-aid. He couldn’t rush Mike to a doctor. A sudden wave of panic threatened to overwhelm Ray. What was he going to do if Mike got hurt or sick? Or Emma? What could he do?

  “We can sleep on these couches over here,” Ray said after pushing the slight panic attack back down somewhere inside of him; he hoped they couldn’t hear the fear in his voice.

  There were two overstuffed couches and a recliner set up in a semi-circle around a low coffee table, all of the furniture facing the large flat screen TV mounted on the wall. It was cold down here. There were windows, but they were high up on the walls, near the ceiling, small rectangular windows with little curtains over them. Ray didn’t think their flashlights could be seen outside through those curtains, but he didn’t want to take a chance of creating a beacon of light out in the darkness that could draw any nearby rippers. Maybe tomorrow he would look in the garage for cardboard and tape, maybe even paint the windows black, do something to black out the windows.

  A few minutes later Ray had all of their bags down in the basement along with the plastic bag of drinks and a box of canned food he’d gotten from his SUV earlier. He locked the door to the basement from the inside before coming down the steps one last time. The lock on the basement door was flimsy, a bolt-action lock screwed into the doorframe, but at least they would hear someone trying to get in the door. The other door to the basement, the one up the set of concrete steps that led outside at the far end of the basement, was sturdier—a metal door with a heavy-duty bar in place for a lock.

  There was a small bathroom down here with a sink and a toilet, but the water didn’t work down here either, it just gurgled like it had done when he’d tried the faucets upstairs. In a large closet he found some extra pillows, blankets, and bedsheets. The shelves on the other side of the closet were loaded with books, board games, and toys.

  After they got settled on the couches with blankets and pillows, Ray draped an extra shirt over his flashlight after standing it up on end on top of the coffee table. It provided the barest of light, but at least it was something. He opened a few cans of food, and passed them to Mike and Emma with plastic utensils sticking up out of them. Mike wanted the fruit cocktail, and Ray gave it to him. He thought of telling Mike that in the near future they weren’t going to be able to be so picky about what they ate, but he didn’t bother right now. At least Mike wasn’t crying like he’d done in the SUV on the way here, inconsolable for a while. Maybe he had needed to get it all out.

  Ray ate from a can of beef stew and Emma ate a can of bean and bacon soup. He and Emma drank bottles of water and Mike drank a can of warm soda. They also shared a few individual bags of potato chips.

  Mike was tired after eating, exhausted now, curling up at the end of the larger couch. He looked so small underneath the covers, curled up like he was, only his head poking out from under the covers. Ray kept the flashlight turned on for a little longer until Mike fell asleep.
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  Emma curled up at the other end of Mike’s curved sectional couch even though Ray warned her that Mike might fidget in his sleep, maybe even kick her. Ray took the other couch, the shorter one. It felt good to lie on the couch, to stretch out fully. His belly was full, he was relatively warm with the blanket over him, and he felt safe for the first time in days. A full stomach and warm skin seemed like such mundane things not too long ago, things that he didn’t even think about, but now they were important—they were the keys to survival.

  What were they going to do a week from now? A month from now? How were they going to get through the winter?

  Ray didn’t want to panic himself again. He would just focus on tonight, then on tomorrow. That’s all he could do.

  Emma sounded like she might be sleeping; she was breathing heavily but not snoring. But sleep was eluding Ray, his mind still racing as he thought of all the things he needed to do when the morning came. First thing was to secure all of the doors and windows as best he could, and maybe reinforce the basement door somehow. He would bring the rest of their stuff from the SUV down here. But even more important, he would go through Craig’s office and look for the answers that he’d come here for.

  He thought of the ropes he’d seen tied to the dining room chair, and the little smears of blood on the floor. Now the panicked packing seemed different to him, yet he wasn’t sure why. Something was bothering him about it.

  He closed his eyes and there was no difference in the darkness from when he’d had them open. He needed sleep. He needed to relax and sleep. He tried not to think about Kim and Vanessa, how he had left his daughter behind in the middle of an intersection. He tried not to think about what she had become.

  Ray drifted off to sleep without even realizing it, and then he dreamed.

  CHAPTER 35

  In Ray’s dream, the first part of it, he saw a man. The man looked young, maybe mid to late twenties, but his scraggly beard made him look a little older. His skin was pale and his unwashed hair hung down to his shoulders. He wore dark pants, an oversized sweatshirt, and hiking boots. He had a backpack on his back, a shotgun in his hands.