Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

“So…you ready?”

* * *

The trip took only a couple of minutes. With no horde chasing them, they were better able to take in the extent of the destruction around them. A few houses were in good shape, while most were ripped apart with windows shattered and doors hanging off their hinges. The two of them cringed as they spotted remains scattered across the front lawns of several homes and silently wondered if they were the owners or just some other unlucky souls caught trying to escape the carnage on foot.

Jeff looked up and down the street for movement or signs of life. Seeing none, he relaxed slightly. When he saw the van up ahead, he risked breathing a little easier. The vehicle looked to be okay; the mob had not taken their frustrations out on it as they passed by. Things were looking up.

As he pulled up next to it, he glanced into the backyard. His eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head in frustration. Leaning over, he grabbed his baseball bat from off the floorboards. As he did, he felt pressure on his hip. Jeff pulled the revolver from his waistband and handed it to Megan. She looked at him, confused.

“Go on over to the van,” he said as he left the Jeep and walked toward the backyard. “I’ll be right back,” he responded to Megan’s unspoken question and then turned to run into the backyard.

There were four still up top. Not a single one was able to stand, and they had all been crawling toward the wall before they heard the Jeep pull up. Now they were turning, trying to make the arduous journey back to where Jeff and Megan were. One started in with the grim dirge Jeff knew so well, and the other three joined the chorus almost immediately.

Jeff did not break stride as he gripped the bat in both hands and took a golf swing at the closest one. The scarred aluminum made solid contact with its face. The moaning stopped as its neck snapped and its head flopped onto its back. He kicked the next one, and several teeth flew out of its mouth. Standing over it, Jeff let the blows rain down until its head was a puddle of mush.

The two remaining were easily dispatched in the same fashion. They had all been crippled before he had gotten to them and posed little threat.

Jeff was sliding the bat over the grass, wiping the streaks of gore off of it when he heard more moans coming from over the ledge. Looking back toward the van, he saw Megan standing between the two vehicles, a horrified expression on her face.

Unable to deny his curiosity, Jeff walked toward the wall. Swallowing hard, he peered over the edge. The sound increased as those below caught sight of him.

Broken bodies squirmed and wriggled on their blanket of pulped and mutilated corpses. They were tearing each other apart, and it was clear from the extent of the damage done that they had been doing so ever since Jeff had left. As bad as they looked before, they were almost unrecognizable now. Only a few still had the use of their eyes or throats, and those that did wailed woefully at him. Those with arms raised them, scratching and clawing the others in their attempts to pull their own bodies above the pile.

Jeff had to turn away after only a few seconds. He spat on the ground, trying to get the taste of death out of his mouth as he rubbed his eyes, hoping the image would fade. It didn’t, and somehow he knew it would stick with him for a long time to come.

Walking quickly back to the van, he brushed past Megan as he tugged open the driver’s-side door and dug in his pocket for the keys. Finding them, he tossed the bat in back and turned the key in the ignition. Megan slid into the passenger seat, glaring at him.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” she spat out. Her expression shifted from frosty irritation to discomfort as she saw the look of pain on his face. Megan’s mouth slammed shut, and she looked away.

Jeff flipped the van into reverse and backed up. He twisted the steering wheel and switched gears, and they were moving down the road, heading back toward Megan’s house.

As they crept down the road, Megan looked over at Jeff again. The worst of the pain was gone from his expression, but she could still see the ghost of it in his eyes.

“You can’t kill them all.”

Jeff barely heard the quiet words. He looked at Megan in confusion, but she had already turned away, leaning her forehead against the window and looking at her house as they passed it by.

Jeff wanted to say something in response, to argue that he wasn’t trying to kill all of them, but he knew it would sound silly after what he had just done.

So instead, he set his sights on the road as they moved up the hill toward the heart of the subdivision. The day was wearing down, and it would soon be dusk. They had to find a suitable house to break into to spend the night. The coast still looked clear, but Jeff knew there were more ghouls lurking out there, waiting for darkness to fall, so they could begin the hunt.

“There.” Jeff tapped on the brakes. He pointed at a house as they slowed to a stop in front of it.

Like most houses in the neighborhood, it was a two-story traditional with a covered porch running the length of the front, except for the attached two-car garage. The windows were still intact, and Jeff could see the wood nailed up behind them on the first floor. The blinds were drawn on all the second-floor windows, and there was no obvious damage.

He turned off the engine and stared at the house for a few moments.

“So what do you think?”

Megan shrugged. They had driven down several streets looking for a house, and this was the first that looked like someone might still be living in it. Jeff had mumbled something about trying to find other folks who had been hiding out like they had, and she had nodded politely, though she was skeptical as to their chances of discovering anyone left in the neighborhood who didn’t want to tear their throats out.

Jeff reached back for the Maglite and the baseball bat, then stepped outside. Surveying the immediate area, he seemed satisfied that they were still in the clear.

Megan got out as well, and they met at the front of the van. Jeff looked at her and smiled. “You know how to use that thing?”

Megan lifted the.357, which looked huge in her hands, popped the cylinder out and spun it, confirming it was loaded. With a flick of her wrist, it snapped shut, and she pointed it skyward.

“My husband took me out to a shooting range a couple of times. I know what I’m doing.” The look in her eyes was defiant, and Jeff bowed his head and nodded.

“Well, I’ll just stick with old faithful then,” he said, lifting the bat. He could feel his small handgun digging into his thigh, but he wasn’t about to pull it out. It would just make Megan laugh.

She began walking toward the house, the gun still pointed in the air.

“Uh,” Jeff uttered as he ran to catch up with her, “you don’t have to do this. I can check the place out myself.” Megan didn’t bother sparing him a backward glance as she kept moving forward. He was forced to follow to keep up. “I meant it,” he called after her. She was already crossing the lawn, headed for the front door. Jeff awkwardly shifted the heavy flashlight to the same hand carrying the bat so he could grab her elbow from behind and gently stop her.

Megan turned slowly before she spoke. “Look, I know I was upset with you in the van. I’m sorry about that, but this…” She waved the gun a little as she looked around, the frustration showing on her face. “It’s just hard to comprehend, you know?”

Jeff nodded slowly, a skeptical look on his face.

“I’m still just getting my bearings, okay? But I’m fine, honestly. I can handle this.” Megan could see that she had not convinced him. “I am not going to let you take all the risks while I just sit in the minivan.”