Patrick D'Orazio - Into the Dark

Numbing fear threatened to stall Jeff’s efforts to keep up with Ben’s long strides, but another identical scream sliced through the humid air. Jeff needed no more motivation as his heart skipped a beat and his pace increased in a desperate attempt to stay ahead of the crowd.

Jeff wheezed heavily and his legs burned. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air as he tried to keep up with the sprinting figure ahead of him. It wasn’t just the running; it was the dodging and darting between buildings that was killing him. That and the fear that if he lost sight of Ben and tried to go off on his own, it would only be a matter of time before he was overtaken.

He could barely remember most of the trip, though as they hit the railroad tracks, Jeff knew that they were getting close to their destination.

“Come on, Jeff! Keep moving; we’re almost home!”

Jeff wanted to respond, to warn Ben about the screams and what they meant. But the howling of the infected had diminished behind them, and it seemed that, for the moment, they had given themselves some distance from the ravenous creatures chasing them. Perhaps they had lost the screamer along with the rest of the slower-moving infected, but he somehow doubted that. His mouth opened, but he could only gasp for air as he stumbled forward.

The trees were getting closer, bouncing up and down in Jeff’s field of vision. One of his feet came out from under him, and he fell, his arms windmilling wildly. All he could see was the ground rushing up to meet his face.

Amazingly, despite the tremendous “ooof” that came out of his mouth and the pain in his palms as they hit the dirt, Jeff scrambled to his feet almost immediately and began moving again.

When Ben vanished into the trees, Jeff wondered if he could remember exactly where the entrance to their wooded haven was. As he got closer, the small bubble of panic in his stomach grew larger. He had ridden through the entrance in the minivan, but never walked through it. His breathing was harsh, and he imagined all the blood vessels in his body bursting from the strain. He examined the tree line, trying to find where Ben had disappeared, his eyes darting everywhere. It was not until he was right next to the pines that his fear subsided. He sighed and grabbed a low-hanging branch, launching his body into the depths of the wooded glen. What did it matter where the “entrance” was when you could slip through the tightly bunched trees on foot? After a few seconds, when it was certain he could no longer be seen from the field, Jeff leaned against one of the trees and collapsed in exhaustion.

“Drop the ladder.”

Jeff heard the words in the distance as he bounced off another tree. He had been able to pull himself back to his feet after a couple of minutes of catching his breath on the ground. Following the hum of voices, he knew it was Ben speaking and could tell the man was angry.

“You know the drill, Ben. The kid has to stay out there. He’s as good as dead, and we can’t take any chances,” Michael said.

Jeff groaned inwardly. More than likely, if George had survived, the camp leader was under the impression that it was Jeff who had killed Marcus. The little white lie seemed like a good idea at the time, but that was when Jeff was certain he wasn’t going to survive much longer. And yet here he was, back at the camp, about to face the music for his impetuous decision to claim credit for the murder. Shaking his head, he snorted in disdain. Whatever punishment Michael had in store for him couldn’t possibly compare to the horrors he had endured over the past hour.

He navigated through the trees, straining to hear the conversation.

“I’ll watch over him myself, Michael. You don’t have to worry about it. There’s no reason for him to… ” Ben paused, as if he were attempting to calm himself. “There’s no reason for him to be alone.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. Sorry for Ray and what happened and even sorrier that there isn’t a thing we can do about it. But you know this is how it has to be.”

Jeff could hear the remorse in Michael’s response and shook his head in disbelief. The man was full of shit.

“He’s already dead, man! Agree to leave his ass out there, and we’ll drop the ladder down to you. Hell! I’ll even come down there and take him out-”

The words were cut off, but not before Jeff recognized Frank’s sniveling twang. He had totally forgotten about the redneck’s existence, but his voice brought Jeff’s hatred rushing back.

“Drop the ladder,” Ben repeated in the same calm voice.

Jeff could see them now and watched the scene unfold from the shadow of the trees. Michael and Frank lay on top of one of the RVs, staring down at Ben, who was directly below them. Ray was propped up against one of the vehicle’s tires. Ben’s fists were clenched as he stood stock still. Jeff could only see his back, but imagined the daggers he was throwing at Michael with his eyes.

“I’ll drop the ladder if you agree that Ray stays outside,” Michael said, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “You can come back out later if you want to check on him, or Lydia can, if she’s willing to tend to his wounds.” The man’s calm demeanor never changed. “I’m not a bastard, Ben, despite what you might think. I have to look out for the best interests of the people in this camp who haven’t been infected. You know that’s true.”

“Bullshit!” Jeff yelled, unable to contain himself any longer.

Michael and Frank’s heads turned as Jeff burst into the clearing. Michael’s eyes widened, but he did not look surprised. Ben must have mentioned that he was still alive.

Jeff knew he looked like death warmed over. These days, that could be dangerous. Despite his best efforts to wipe away Ray’s blood, it had smeared across his hands and bare chest, mixing with his sweat and the dirt into which he had fallen. He looked like he had crawled out of a shallow grave. The only thing disrupting the image was the long bow he carried. Ben’s giant hunting weapon looked odd in the smaller man’s hands as he moved from the shelter of the trees out into the open.

“Jeff, it’s good to see you made it back. Looks like you’ve been through hell.” Michael produced a pained smile and got to his knees. Jeff could see him setting down the M16 as he rose from his prone position.

Jeff sneered at the leader, his fear gone for the moment. “Well that’s great to hear, Mikey, but how about you toss that ladder down like Ben asked so the three of us can go inside? I’d personally like to grab a shower.” He moved next to Ben and reached up to put his hand on the man’s ample shoulder as he spoke, patting him like they were best buddies. Ben showed no reaction, his eyes still burning holes through Michael.

Frank, who was also rising up next to Michael and still had a grip on his shotgun, leaned over to whisper to his boss. Michael raised his hand to interrupt and said something quietly in response. Frank glared down at Jeff and then back at Michael. The greasy hick frowned and nodded begrudgingly, then slipped back out of Jeff’s line of sight.

Michael smiled. “Jeff, I think you know I have to ask if you’ve been bitten. Have you?”

Jeff shook his head. “Nope, not bitten. This is all Ray’s blood.” He returned Michael’s smile. “So why don’t you drop that ladder down so we can get back inside and get the boy some real bandages? My shirt ain’t cutting it as a tourniquet.”

Michael shook his head. Jeff had already heard enough to realize it would be a cold day in hell before the man standing on top of the RV let Ray inside the fortress.

“Sorry, Jeff. No can do. You’re new here, so I’ll explain things reeeeal slowly for you. Once someone is infected, they are no longer welcome in our little community.” Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Call it a self-preservation policy if you want. We can’t afford to be exposed to infection, and we can’t spare the manpower to guard someone who's been bitten until they turn. Besides, it looks like you got the entire town’s attention. We can’t be dealing with another distraction with all of those bastards out there itching to cause us grief.”