Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

Jeff spied the drop-off in the distance behind the middle house. The backyard was overgrown but essentially pristine. No trees, and a nice flat expanse that ended abruptly. He could see trees off in the distance, beyond the property line, but not the sudden drop-off that had nothing more than a raised concrete lip to indicate its demarcation point. The metal posts driven into the concrete along with the barbed wire attached to them were virtually invisible from in front of the property. The houses to the left and right had fences surrounding the back of their lots-big square barriers stretching all the way to the wall.

He reached for the glove box and pulled something out, jamming it into his pocket before stepping out of the van. As he leaned in for his bat, he motioned for his passenger to join him. She hesitated, biting her lip nervously before realizing that Jeff was leaving with or without her. She slipped out and followed him toward the side of the house with no fence.

He moved toward the door leading to the garage, motioning for her to stay back as he raised the baseball bat and peered through the window.

She stood with her arms crossed and rubbed them continuously as she bounced on her heels, searching the area for movement. Her eyes gravitated back up the street, where she could hear more than see the mob coming for them. There were no immediate signs of danger elsewhere. With the thick trees and drop-off surrounding the dead end, it seemed as if they were sheltered on several sides from the approach of more infected. But she was beginning to think “boxed in” was a more accurate description of their situation.

The sound of shattering glass made her turn, and she saw that Jeff had broken one of the window panes on the door. He was already reaching in, twisting the deadbolt. He slid inside quickly, taking the bat with him. She followed as he slipped into the darkness of the garage.

“Perfect.”

She heard the single word as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Jeff was taking an extension ladder off one of the walls.

“Can you give me a hand with this?” She hesitated, her eyes wide with confusion.

“Come on!” Jeff gestured with his head, encouraging her to grab the front end. “Let’s get it outside, and then let me take the lead.”

They moved carefully from the garage, the ladder barely clearing the ground on the side she carried. Grunting with the effort, the sickly woman held on tightly.

“Good. Just keep up with me.” He swung his end around and headed toward the backyard.

A puzzled look crossed her face. All she could see was a yard surrounded by fences, with the drop-off beyond. She tried to slow down and nearly tripped as Jeff kept going. “Could you tell me what the hell we’re doing, please?”

He stopped and carefully set down his end of the ladder. She hissed in relief and followed suit. The sweat was pouring off of her in the mid-afternoon heat, and her breathing was heavy.

“I am going to take a pair of wire cutters and cut that barbed-wire fence. Then we’re going to drop this ladder down the retaining wall.”

The slight woman looked at Jeff as if he were speaking in tongues. He made a pretty educated guess as to what was going through her mind and could almost see the gears whirring behind her eyes. He decided to explain before she drew her own conclusions.

“We’re not striking out on foot. We’re just going to lure them down there,” he said, pointing past the retaining wall to the pit beyond. “And once they’re down there, we can circle back to the neighborhood…without them following.”

Jeff watched her eyes widen. They had a mesmerizing quality to them. He was prepared for her to erupt again, so he was surprised at how calm she was when she finally spoke.

“And then what?”

He’d been expecting more of a protest. He could detect an almost morbid curiosity in her voice and had to resist smiling, knowing it would probably freak her out.

“Then we get the hell out of Dodge.”

The sudden elevation of her eyebrow made it clear that the answer didn’t satisfy her. Her hands were on her hips, and Jeff was reminded of the look his wife would give him whenever he came up with a half-baked idea.

The background noise was increasing, and he tore his eyes away from the woman to look past the houses, toward the street. He could see them coming. They were progressing faster than he had expected. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

“Listen!” he shouted as he stepped toward her. She stepped back, and he halted. This time it was not skittishness, but skepticism that kept her from allowing him to get any closer.

“I told you that you needed to trust me.” He sighed and looked at the ground, unable to endure her judgmental glare any longer. He had no idea what he was trying to do or if it would work, but he couldn’t let her see the doubt in his eyes, or they would both be lost. He shook his head. “Look, this may be crazy, but it’s all we’ve got. If we don’t get these…these diseased monsters out of our way, we won’t make it.” He lifted his head and stole a glance at her, then cast his eyes back down to the ground as he fumbled for something else to say.

“Fine.”

Jeff paused when he heard the word. His mouth slammed shut and he raised his head again, the uncertainty on his face apparent. She smiled at him, which was a first. It looked sickly on her face, as if she were nauseated rather than pleased, but that was good enough.

He nodded down at the ladder. “Help me with this?” Rubbing her arms one last time, she nodded and picked up her end. Together they maneuvered it toward the wall, the woman continuing to struggle with its weight.

Taking from his pocket the pair of wire snips he had grabbed out of the glove box, Jeff began clipping the wires on the fence.

“Could you go grab my bat?” he asked without looking up. He could see her bouncing nervously from foot to foot out of the corner of his eye and hoped the minor chore would keep her occupied until he was finished.

He could see her hesitate before turning and stopping again. He did his best to focus on the fence. She would go, or she would stay and fidget. Either way, he had a job to do.

He did not hear her leave, but as he cut through the last piece of barbed wire, he could no longer see her shadow hovering directly behind him.

Jeff grabbed the ladder, dragging it forward. Tipping it over the wall, he let it slide down inch by inch, careful to avoid letting it slip through his fingers.

When he heard the satisfying thump of the legs landing on the hard surface below, he tested it for stability. He adjusted the top, and put one foot on it, jiggling it. Nodding in satisfaction, he relaxed. They were cutting it close, but they’d make it.

“You ready to climb down?” he asked and patted the ladder, smiling. When he didn’t hear a response, the smile faded.

Jeff turned and scanned the lawn, and his blood ran cold.

The mob had finally caught up with them and was streaming around the minivan toward the backyard. In front of them stood the other survivor, clutching the baseball bat as she slowly backpedaled. The first of the horde were only about fifteen feet from her and closing fast.

“Run!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. His words were swallowed by the screams and squeals, the growls of rage and hunger. He knew she didn’t hear him, and he doubted it would have made much difference if she had. She was paralyzed with fear.

Jeff watched as the scene unfolded in front of him. The ladder was directly behind him, offering a quick escape. There was nothing he could do for the woman except get himself killed trying to save her. It was just like it had been at his house with his wife and kids. He would be too late.