Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

Megan scanned her surroundings as she gripped the aluminum bat possessively. The yard was filled with children’s toys, and the grass had grown out of control. The far fence looked a mile away. Her eyes darted back to the woman. Megan’s mouth twitched as she recognized her.

“K-Kathy?”

Kathy Serna was one of the stay-at-home moms sprinkled liberally throughout the neighborhood. The childless Megan had not spent much time with her except for the occasional polite wave as they drove past each other’s house or shared random chitchat as Megan went on one of her routine walks around the neighborhood. She felt a glimmer of hope when Kathy’s eyes widened at the sound of her voice.

“Kathy? It’s me, Megan. Megan LeValley. Don’t you recognize me?”

The desperation in her voice excited Kathy. Megan’s hope died as the infected woman lurched forward, her dull eyes filled with homicidal glee.

Megan paled at the sight. She raised the bat like a samurai sword and began to slither sideways, moving toward the far fence.

The desire to run screaming was powerful, but her body refused to allow her to turn away from Kathy. Megan’s legs felt like they were stuck in wet cement.

Kathy was moving slowly as well, but still far too quickly to give Megan the time she needed to come to grips with the fact that her neighbor wanted to kill her.

Megan cringed behind the baseball bat, shaking her head in denial. Kathy was almost on top of her.

Suddenly, the bat came crashing down on Kathy’s head, knocking her backwards. She stumbled over a tricycle and fell to the ground, her legs tangled up in the wheels.

Megan gawked at the bat and then at her hands. Her arms ached from the effort, though she barely recalled swinging the bat. As she glanced down at Kathy, who was trying to free herself from her child’s trike, she realized the blow had not been very powerful. It was just enough to knock the ghoul down, but not enough to cave in her skull. Megan felt a flutter of nausea at the thought. The baseball bat was too heavy for her to wield effectively.

She cursed as Kathy untangled her legs and began to rise. Megan thought that she might be able to make it to the fence, but her brief experience with Jeff had taught her something: these people, whatever they were, never gave up. Kathy would keep coming, even if Megan ran, no matter how many fences there were between them.

Megan’s eyes moved to the far corner of the yard, where she spotted a pile of sticks and tree limbs. She forced herself to turn her back on Kathy and bolt for it. After leaning the baseball bat against the fence, she picked up a thick tree branch that felt light but solid in her hands. A wave of numbness came over her as she turned back to her neighbor and hefted the branch.

Kathy had not gone far when Megan came at her with the limb. She put all the strength she could muster behind the blow, connecting across the bridge of the woman’s nose. The ripe pop of cartilage was lost in her grunts as Megan swung again. Her next blow caught Kathy in the ear. She let out little yelps as she continued to batter and beat on the creature.

A minute later, Megan surveyed her handiwork. She wanted to turn away from the mess that had been Kathy Serna’s head, but she couldn’t. Not right away. It would have been hard to tell where her face once was if not for the position of the body. Megan had kept swinging relentlessly until Kathy stopped trying to grab for her. Even then, she had kept at it until the tree limb cracked in her hands.

Megan felt faint and teetered for a moment. Twisting violently away from the corpse, she vomited up the bile scalding her throat. Her gut clenched, and she dry heaved for several more seconds, a jagged cry of pain mingling with the retching noises. Stumbling toward the fence, she left Kathy’s remains behind.

She whispered an apology to her neighbor as she leaned against the fence, wheezing and trying to gather enough strength to climb over it. It was not much of a eulogy, but it was all she could muster. She wiped furiously at the tears pouring from her eyes, angry at what she had done but even angrier at how she felt about it. The thought Better you than me, Kathy ran through her mind like a cold wind.

Megan realized that she didn’t feel guilty, even with all the anger and sorrow swimming around inside her brain. She was still alive and wanted to stay that way…no matter what she had to do. For weeks, all she’d wanted was to curl up and die inside her empty house as the world fell apart outside her window. But the pain in her arms from swinging the tree limb was a not-so-subtle reminder that she was still alive and that it was going to take a great deal of agonizing effort to stay that way. She spared no more glances back at Kathy as she climbed the fence.

As Jeff navigated the fence line, he saw no indications of more infected in the wooded area. Through breaks in the trees, he could see more houses in other neighborhoods off in the distance, but he didn’t bother trying to get too good a look. He had his own turf to worry about.

The mess he had left at the pit was still fresh in his mind. The crawlers were easily avoided, but when one of the ghastly creatures struggled to its feet and began moving toward him, Jeff knew it was time to go. As he left, the last of the crowd were still taking the plunge, unfazed by the broken bodies lying below.

He crossed into an unfenced backyard, feeling naked without his baseball bat and nervous about having sent Megan on ahead. Too late to worry about that now, he told himself.

Once in the front yard, he saw no movement…and more importantly, heard no sound. The absence of moans felt strange. Jeff had never gotten used to them, even after all the time he had been forced to listen while stuck in his house. Now that they were gone, he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

Staying low, he moved toward the sidewalk. There were still cars in several driveways, to which he gave a wide berth, not willing to risk being seized by a stray hand.

The air was thick with humidity and death. Only a few weeks before, Jeff had no idea what death smelled like. By now, he was an expert. It tasted like thick slabs of carrion rolling over his tongue. Everywhere he walked, he saw traces and residue left behind by the infected. Puddles of thick greasy liquid and green flesh were deposited in the grass and on the street. More solid matter, blessedly unidentifiable, was occasionally snagged on a low tree branch or splattered across a car window. He did his best to ignore it all as he approached Megan’s house.

Her garage door was still open, but he did not see her. An older green Toyota compact and a red Cherokee were parked inside. Jeff paused to scan the shadows and then walked toward the doorway.

As he moved closer, he spied Megan sitting behind the wheel of the Cherokee, facing away from him. Not wanting to startle her, Jeff stopped before he got to the door.

“Hey.”

She turned quickly. Seeing him standing there, she gave a halfhearted wave. Her expression was filled with a deep sadness, and Jeff felt a twinge of guilt.

When she did not open the door for him, he grasped the handle and pulled on it. Discovering it was locked, he waited for a moment. Megan had already turned back around, as if she had forgotten he was standing there. He tapped gently on the window and waited expectantly for her to respond.

When she didn’t react, Jeff raised his fingers to tap again, worrying that Megan had decided to crawl back into her shell and ignore him entirely this time. Before he reached the glass, the window began to lower.

Turning to look at him with her haunted eyes, Megan spoke first. “I want to leave. Now.”