Patrick D'Orazio - Into the Dark

For a second, Megan thought she saw concern surface in Cindy’s violet eyes. Before she could be certain, it was gone and Cindy had composed herself. “I’ll go check things out. Don’t move.”

Just then, Lydia burst free of her trailer. She turned and spoke to someone inside-a reprimand or command of some sort as she slammed the door behind her. She saw Megan and Cindy and ran to them. Cindy’s smile went dark as she turned to face Lydia. She hefted the rifle, and although Megan could not see her face, she could guess at her expression as Lydia stopped short, eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t screw with anything, Lydia. I’ll deal with this. Just keep those fucking brats in line.”

Cindy slung the rifle and moved to the ladder. She did not look back as she climbed up the RV, leaving the two stunned women to watch as she reached the top and disappeared over the edge. Lydia moved to Megan, who stood up slowly. They glanced at each other and clasped hands.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Megan responded. It was a lie. She knew exactly what was happening. Jeff only had a baseball bat, and George had nothing. The others were firing in a panic. It was just like the sounds she remembered when she was trapped in her house. First there was gunfire. Soon there would be screams, breaking glass, and doors being smashed open. And then moans… always the moans.

Megan glanced over at the door to Cindy’s RV and then back at Cindy. The young woman was up on top of Ben’s RV, her back to the camp. She would be busy trying to figure out what was happening for a while. There was another rifle. Perhaps hidden, but definitely in Michael’s RV.

Megan walked toward the door. Lydia looked up when Megan relinquished the hold on her hands. As the diminutive woman moved farther away, Lydia followed.

“Megan, what are you doing?”

Lydia scurried to Megan, but was ignored when she repeated the question. Instead, Megan reached Cindy’s door and tried turning the knob.

Lydia reached out and spun Megan around. “Megan! What the hell is going on, and why are you trying to break into Michael’s RV?”

“I’m getting the other rifle. If something is happening out there, I want to be prepared.”

Comprehension dawned in Lydia’s eyes.

“The door is locked, though,” Megan continued. “We need that rifle.”

Lydia nodded thoughtfully. “We’re going to have to wait and see what happened out there when the men get back.”

Megan’s eyes widened. It was not the response she had hoped for. “No! We have to get the rifle out and go out there to help them! We can’t just-”

“Can’t just what?” Lydia moved up close, reached for Megan’s hand and gripped it tightly. “We can’t go out there, Megan. We can’t draw attention to ourselves. The men knew that when they left.” She overrode Megan’s protests. “We have to sit tight. I know you don’t want to do that, but it’s our only choice!”

Megan wrenched her hand free and backed up, looking at Lydia as if she did not recognize her. She shook her head.

“I’m going to get the rifle, if I have to break down this fucking door, and then I’m going to go out there to look for them. They could be dying, and all you want to do is sit around here and wait for them? Screw you!”

The slap knocked Megan off balance. Lydia was growing tired of slapping around newcomers to the camp. She grabbed Megan’s hands before she could run away or respond with a slap of her own.

“Listen, Megan, you’re not going out there. Do you understand me? I will not have you risking the children’s lives because you have some misguided desire to save Jeff and George.”

She stopped, expecting a response, but Megan was stunned into silence. “Even if they are dead-and NO, I don’t think they are-but if they are, we still have to find a way to survive. I don’t relish the idea of having this place exposed because we acted foolishly, because that won’t do anyone any damn good. Do you understand?” She shook Megan until her teeth rattled. “Do you?”

Megan kept on staring, looking into those wise old eyes. They were peering down at her, Lydia’s graying mane making her look like the wicked witch. Megan had been shocked by the slap, and her face colored with anger, but she restrained her desire to lash out, because somewhere down in her core, she knew Lydia was right. She hated her for it, but could not deny the truth in her words.

Just then Jason came out of the RV, looking as confused as everyone else. He glanced around and saw the two women and looked embarrassed and afraid, unsure of what to do.

When Megan saw him, her demeanor changed instantly. The rifle was forgotten, and so was the idea of leaving the camp on some crazy rescue attempt. All she wanted to do was run to the boy and assure him that everything would be okay.

Megan walked away from Lydia, not saying another word. The door to Michael’s RV was locked anyway-there was nothing she could do about that. She glanced back up at Cindy. If she had noticed the two other women bickering in front of her door, there was no indication; Cindy’s attention was focused outside the walls of the camp.

Despite feeling an almost obscene hatred for the heavily tattooed woman, Megan prayed Cindy knew how to use the rifle.

She inched closer to Jason. He noticed her and moved away, darting between the fire pit and the chairs. “Jason, please! I just want to talk to you.”

It was no use; he was still far too angry. Just give him some time, he’ll come around. Lydia’s words echoed in Megan’s head as she collapsed into one of the lawn chairs. Chasing Jason around the camp was pointless, as was pacing, but she had energy to burn. Instead, Megan’s feet tapped nervously on the ground, and she gripped the armrests as she settled in to wait for the others. George and Jeff would return soon… wouldn’t they?

Jason avoided Megan, unsure what to say to her. The shots had drawn him out, but now that he was outside, all he could do was watch Lydia run back toward her RV. He was sure she didn’t notice him standing there, because she was so focused on the children huddled inside.

No one besides Megan was out in the courtyard. The camp felt abandoned. He had only spent a day in the place, but it felt strange without the bustle of activity. Jason spied Cindy moving around on the roof of Ben’s RV and was tempted to yell up to her. She was the one adult still at the camp with whom he had no issues, but she made him nervous. Besides, she was hefting one of the rifles and didn’t look too interested in having a conversation.

There was more gunfire. Three more shots in quick succession. Jason ducked instinctively. The shots were off in the distance but thunderous, overwhelming. He waited to hear more and inched away from the RVs, afraid something was going to seep through the walls and attack him. He continued to back up, moving toward the center of the courtyard.

“What do you think is happening out there?”

Jason could not face Megan, even as she asked the question. Her voice fluttered as if she were on the verge of tears.

“I–I don’t know.”

It was a harmless enough response, noncommittal. Jason thought he heard her crying and desperately wanted to turn to Megan. He did not want to admit he needed her as much as she seemed to need him-having to apologize, to strip away his pride like that. Because it felt as though pride was all he had left.

He heard her footsteps behind him. Jason thought Megan would not come right up to him, not with how timidly she was speaking, but it sounded as if she was. His shoulders stiffened, and the footsteps stopped.

When the shotgun blasts began, Jason jumped again. They echoed like thunder, and he heard Megan gasp in shock.