Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

More ghouls swarmed the minivan, climbing over one another in a desperate attempt to reach the warm, living flesh that called to them.

Jeff heard the pistol cock, but only because it was so close to his ear. They had wrapped their arms around each other when the fists began to rain down. The minivan shook gently at first, the moans intermingled with the wet slapping of rotten flesh against glass and metal. The vehicle held up to the muffled thuds initially, the infected unable to force their way inside as they rammed their bodies against every square inch of exterior space. But as more crowded and pressed against one another, they were starting to have an impact.

The moans erupting from two thousand corrupted throats began to overwhelm the constant and thunderous hammering of fists. The moaning rose in pitch and seemed to unify into an unholy sound as if it came from a single creature crying out in rage.

Jeff waited, listening carefully, becoming puzzled. The final moment he had been dreading was not happening. The glass was not shattering, and the doors were not being ripped open. After a few seconds, he thought he could detect a decrease in the number of fists pounding on the exterior of the van. Fighting a nearly paralyzing fear, he opened his eyes.

Loosening his grip around Megan, Jeff gently pushed her back toward her seat. Bewildered, she opened her eyes and mumbled “What?” in a timid, childlike voice.

Jeff stared out the window, baffled by what he saw. Many of the creatures remained nearby, smashing their bodies against the quarter panels, but those at the edge of the crowd were drifting away. Jeff and Megan watched as more of the mob peeled off, especially out front. The sounds emanating from outside were jagged, not in harmony as they had been moments before. Confusion rippled through the crowd.

Jeff sat rigid in his seat, trying to puzzle out what was happening. A path was gradually clearing in front of the van. Not enough to allow him to drive away, but more and more of the foul creatures were wandering off.

“What are they doing?”

“I have no idea.”

He searched the crowd. It was hard to see much of anything that would give him an idea of what was going on. He puzzled over the possibilities. What could be more important to the cannibalistic infected than a couple of fresh bodies, probably the only two within miles?

His mind raced with possibilities. Leaning forward, Jeff squinted, peering through the gaps forming in the crowd. Following the path of stiffs that had turned away from the minivan, he could see they were all moving in the same direction. It was a straight line going past the high school. He strained his eyes and cursed silently. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to find a better angle. Then he stopped, frozen, and saw what was drawing the infecteds’ attention.

“Oh my God…”

“What? What is it?” Megan tried to follow his line of sight, but it was hard for her to pick out anything. Jeff pointed at the water tower. There was a sudden intake of breath as Megan finally spied what he was looking at.

At the water tower was the source of the crowd’s interest: a man had climbed the fence and was sitting on top of it, his feet dangling on both sides. He was waving his arms and whooping at the ghouls, luring them away from the van.

“There. Holy Jesus, what the hell is he doing?” Jeff said, his voice coming out in a confused croak.

The man hanging on top of the fence was yelling like a maniac at the plague victims moving slowly toward him.

“He’s trying to save us.” There was wonder in Megan’s voice. She looked over at Jeff, her eyes alight with hope, and saw the stunned expression on his face.

“Jeff? JEFF!” Megan shouted as he continued to stare at the madman on the fence.

Finally, he blinked and looked at her.

“What’re we going to do?” she pleaded.

Jeff looked back at the man who was currently swinging a leg over the chain link fence so he could drop into the enclosure. Once inside, he would be trapped. There was no ladder leading up to the top of the water tower. The fence looked rusty and probably wouldn’t hold up under much pressure. The infected were too clumsy to climb, but it would still collapse under their weight within minutes.

The man dropped down inside the small corral just as the first of the creatures got close enough to grab for him. He was lost from their sight as more of the rotters crowded the fence, blocking the view.

“Jeff?” Megan didn’t shout this time, but she was demanding an answer.

He didn’t have time to respond before something came crashing down in front of them and clobbered two of the pus bags near the van. They were knocked sprawling, one tumbling into the other as something compact slammed into its skull.

Before Jeff could figure out where the missile had come from, something else slammed into the back of a one-armed man dressed in a tattered business suit. Jeff’s gaze followed the object as it went spinning down to the pavement in the church parking lot. It was a book.

A wide circle of infected surrounding the area where the book had landed turned as one and stared up at the second floor of the church.

Megan noticed the attack as well and watched in silence as more books flew from one of the windows of the church and crashed into the group that had suddenly lost all interest in both the van and the man at the water tower.

As they both peered at the church window, an arm popped out. Another man, waving and screaming in the same suicidal fashion as the one at the tower, was climbing out onto the roof of the church. He was African American, but as Jeff looked closer, he realized he was just a kid. He was too thin and gangly to be an adult.

The crowd had splintered entirely, with a large portion starting to assault the church.

“How many of these people are there?” Megan asked. Her tone was awestruck but laced with excitement.

“I have no idea, but they’re fucking nuts.” Jeff couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice.

“We have to help them,” Megan said, distracted, as she watched the kid on the roof send more of the books piled in his arms sailing into the crowd. He flipped the ghouls off and laughed as he sent another tome smashing into a police officer’s chest.

Megan turned to Jeff and tugged at his shirt sleeve.

She waited until he could tear his eyes away from the boy on the roof before speaking. “I don’t have any clue who they are or why they chose to risk their lives for us, but we can’t leave them here to die.” She shook her head for emphasis. “We just can’t!”

“I know, I know.” Jeff nodded and smiled gravely. He gave another quick glance out the windshield at the situation unfolding in front of them, and his expression began to change. Megan could see the determined look on his face. There were still a few fiends bashing away at the van, but that was just background noise. Most had wandered off to deal with the man at the water tower or the boy taunting them.

“I have an idea.”

The van was doing about forty when it plowed through the fence and smashed into five ghouls attached to it. The man standing behind the chain link dove out of the way as the fence collapsed and wrapped around the front of the van. The infected were pinned to the grill, prisoners of the rusty metal pressing against their bodies. The bar running along the top of the fence popped up and collapsed on the Odyssey. As the van skidded to a halt under the water tower, the five hitchhikers on the hood collapsed to the ground in a tangle.

The newly discovered survivor was already getting back to his feet when Jeff rolled down his window.