Patrick D'Orazio - Into the Dark

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Jason shook his head and slouched down. He looked like he was going to clam up completely now. He was done arguing and just wanted the crazy old woman to leave him alone. Lydia felt frustrated and wondered if this was getting them anywhere. Spoon-feeding the boy guilt had not been her plan. It was clear he already had plenty of guilt buried deep down. Jason was a smart kid, and soon enough he would sort things out, but he had to do it at his own pace. Until then, he was going to be angry-with himself and with everyone else.

She sighed and smiled at Jason, patting his hand one last time as she stood.

“Okay.” She turned, strolling to the door. “I won’t browbeat you any more, Jason. I apologize for the slap; it was uncalled for.”

She stood waiting by the door until Jason finally looked up at her. The brooding anger was still there, but it was dissipating. In a while, it would be completely gone, and he might have a clear enough head to understand things better. She glanced out the window and saw Megan in the courtyard, looking sad and lost. But as she looked at her, Lydia’s mind was on another one of the newcomers. It was hard to believe that George had sacrificed finding his family to ensure Jason’s safety, but that was exactly what he done by agreeing to stay at the camp for good.

Oh Jason. You poor child. Once you realize what George has done for you, it might just tear you apart. Maybe you are better off staying angry instead.

“Stay in here as long as you want. You’re still welcome to live with me and the children in our camper.” She paused. “But I’ll understand if you decide to remain here instead. That’s entirely up to you.”

Lydia turned and left.

Jason had been trying to think of something to say, a snide comment he could throw at her as she left, but thought better of it. That was something a child would do.

Instead, he threw himself down on the bed and smothered his face in a pillow. His screams were muffled as he slammed his fists down over and over again into the mattress. It wasn’t fair. It seemed like everyone was out to get him. Jason wondered if even Michael was sincere, or if he was just like everyone else.

He continued to scream until he felt his throat growing raw, and only then did he stop. His arms ached, and his head was pounding. He pulled the pillow over his head. He did not want to see or hear anything; he wanted to be left alone in the dark.

Why did you make me do it, Jason? Why did you make me give up my family to protect you? Why?

He pictured George standing over the bed, staring down at him, making him feel guilty. George would never say that. He would never try to make me feel bad like that. He’s too… he’s too nice.

But there George was, his imaginary form unwavering, demanding an answer.

“I didn’t make you do it! You did it yourself! Why are you blaming me? Why did you do something so stupid, George? Why? Why did you do that?”

Jason lifted the pillow and threw it at the wall. His eyes were open now, and he realized that he had yelled these last words out loud. He looked around the interior of the RV, but there was no one else there. But the words the imaginary George said, the questions he had asked, still hung in the air.

“Why did you do it, George? Why? Why couldn’t you just butt out? It’s your own stupid fault for telling Michael you would stay. I couldn’t have known you were going to do that! If I did, I-”

Jason wiped away a tear with his fist as he growled. He sounded like a wounded animal caught in a trap. After some time, the growl contorted, turning into a wailing moan as more tears came.

The pain of the revelation that Jason had done this to George dug into his gut. He had screwed up. Screwed up worse than ever before.

Besides George, he had made Megan into a miserable mess. Remembering how she looked as she begged him to stay made Jason cringe. She had screamed at Michael, pleaded with him to keep Jason here, safe. She had done it because she cared, right?

Even Jeff stuck his neck out for him. That coldhearted bastard who didn’t seem to care much for anything except beating on stiffs with that baseball bat of his had confronted Michael and Frank.

But it was George who had sacrificed everything.

What have I done?

Jason curled up even tighter. He wanted to go home. He wanted his mother back. He had made a mess of things, and he just wanted Momma to be alive again to come get him and take him away from this place.

Jason fell backwards on the bed and lay on his damp pillow. He would try to figure everything out while the men were gone, work out what he could do to make things right again. But for now, he would close his eyes for a few minutes to clear his head. Just a few minutes and then he would figure everything out.

A minute later, he was asleep.

The Dollar General Store was several hundred yards past the van. The front doors were intact, and there were no splashes of blood or trampled bodies crowding the parking lot.

They had walked past a couple of smaller establishments. One was the combination laundromat-carwash Jeff recalled seeing the day before. As he glanced into the dark, open wash bays, he watched for any movement back in the shadows. There were no windows on the rest of the building, so there was no way to look inside… or for something inside to look out. There were two more buildings between “Scrubbing Bubbles” and the general store. One was a light blue one-story cinderblock and wood structure with a green awning. The other looked like someone’s house rather than a business. There were no placards denoting what the establishments were, and the group dismissed the idea of examining them too closely.

On the other side of the road were two drab brown buildings. A wide gap between the two decrepit shacks showed the field and woods beyond where the RVs were. The pasture was flat and expansive.

Past the general store, a string of telephone poles ran along the side of the road. Several abandoned vehicles with shattered windshields and flat tires were scattered across the asphalt, and one of the combination streetlight-telephone poles had been rammed and lay across the top of a car, creasing its roof.

As they continued moving forward, they saw two more identical brown buildings directly across from the Dollar General. They looked to be in far better shape than the ones they were currently passing.

Each housed several businesses. Jeff glanced at some of the names on the doors and the cracked and shattered picture windows. There was an insurance company, a small hobby shop, a sub restaurant, and what he guessed to be a rather small and cramped tavern.

There was a hazy blur of businesses and houses well beyond the immediate commercial area. Jeff could see some two and three-story office buildings off in the distance. He squinted, looking for movement, but saw none. There were only a few birds on the telephone wires that marched into town and no noise at all.

“Well, it looks pretty good, doesn’t it? No one’s around,” Ray said, his eyes darting everywhere. His hand kept traveling to the pistol stuffed into his khaki pants to reassure himself that it was still there. Jeff idly wondered if the boy pawed his dick as much as that damned gun.

“Shut up back there.” Marcus turned, swinging his shotgun toward the teen. Ray clammed up and stutter-stepped to a stop. He stood nervously, shifting his feet side to side. His face turned red with embarrassment as he stared at the ground to avoid the further wrath of Michael’s henchman. After a few seconds, Marcus looked satisfied and started moving again.

Jeff picked up his pace and moved up next to Marcus so they could speak.