Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

“Get in!”

The cargo door began its gradual process of opening. Megan stood ready behind it with the.357 in hand and saw that the man looked a little dazed and scratched from his dive to the pavement, but otherwise fine.

The crowd of infected seemed slightly off their game from the fierce assault, but were already starting to discover the giant, gaping hole in the fence. Megan waved her hand furiously, urging the man on. He stumbled and then dove headlong through the doorway, collapsing to the floor.

“Go! Go! Go!” she yelled at Jeff as the door began to shut. Jeff flipped the van in reverse and hit the gas. There were several heavy thuds, and their new passenger grabbed hold of the back of a seat and slid his hand up to the arm rest, wrapping his fingers around it tightly as they continued to fly backwards onto the street.

They skidded to a halt in the middle of the road. Jeff gave a quick look back at the man who had risked his life for him and Megan. He had gotten to his knees and was trying to slide into one of the chairs. He was tall and muscular, and he looked middle aged. His blond hair was going gray at the temples, and there were careworn lines on his face.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t know how else to get to you.”

The newcomer looked up at Jeff as he plopped into the chair and then looked over at Megan, who tried to give him a reassuring smile. He made an attempt at returning it but looked out of breath.

“How many of you are over at that church? Is there anyone besides the kid on the roof?” The blond man raised his hand to hold off more questions until he was able to take a deep breath.

“Just the boy,” he replied. The words were shaky but spoken in a rich baritone.

“Okay.” Jeff nodded and turned back to the wheel. “I hope he sees us coming.” The new passenger reached forward and gripped the handle on the back of Jeff’s chair tightly.

The van took off like a shot. After doing a one-eighty, sending any bodies that got in the way flying in every direction, they sped toward the church parking lot.

Jeff avoided a large group of infected but bumped several more singles as they sped across the road. The windshield had several hairline cracks in it but had survived the assault on the fence. Pulling into the driveway, he glanced up toward the group of windows from which he had seen the books being flung. The kid was still there, waving frantically at them.

“I hope he figures out what we’re doing,” Jeff said through gritted teeth.

He drove close to the building, turning the wheel and maneuvering so they were right next to the wall, just below the windows. The roof was flat, so the boy could safely run right over to the van. Jeff adjusted the vehicle until it was flush with the wall. His own door was too close to the building to open, so he jumped from his seat and grabbed his gore-stained bat.

His two passengers watched as Jeff moved to the side door and glanced out the window. He reached for the handle.

“Excuse me,” he said, and the other man, stunned, got out of his way. The door slid open, and Jeff gripped the bloody weapon in both hands. “Shut the door behind me please.”

Megan watched Jeff jump out as several infected closed on him. She could not swear to it, but thought she heard him say “Batter up!” when his feet touched the ground. Even though the man they had just saved looked stunned, he reached for the handle to shut the heavy automatic door as requested.

Megan glanced over at him. He cut an impressive figure. She estimated that he would stand a couple of inches over six feet. The fit, athletic passenger stood out as a stark contrast to her emaciated frame.

The confusion on his face looked comical to her. Megan gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “He does this all the time.”

They both turned to watch the wild-haired crazy man outside the van take aim and send an infected soldier sailing off to the side, a spray of pus erupting from where the bat made contact with his head.

Jeff yelled, whooping it up as he fell into a groove. He twisted around and sent another dark shape stumbling back, driving the top of the bat through its jaw. He could feel the adrenaline kicking in after being paralyzed with fear just minutes before.

He yelled, “Hey kid! Jump down. Come on, move it!” Jeff didn’t look back as his bat connected with another soldier’s arm, shattering its humerus. He kicked at the chest of a store clerk-made evident by its tattered, bloodstained uniform-hissing and drooling at him, sending it toppling to the pavement.

“Move it, kid! Haul ass!”

Ramming the aluminum bat into the mouth of another rotter, Jeff forced the creature backwards into the next one coming for him. They tumbled over like bowling pins as he backed up toward the van. The survivors were running out of time.

The thud startled him, but when he glanced back, he felt relief. There was a grunt, and the sound of sneakers hitting asphalt as the young boy landed by the van door, anxiously waiting to get inside.

“Glad you could make it.”

Jeff smiled at the gangly African American kid. He was thin, lanky, and tall for his age. The kid didn’t return the smile but turned toward the van as the door opened. The older man grabbed him, yanking him inside. Jeff surveyed the area: another body closing in but still a few feet away. He backed up quickly, dismissing the idea of getting in one last hit, and followed the boy. As soon as he got in, Megan, who had moved to the driver’s seat, pressed a button next to the steering wheel, and the automatic door began to shut.

“Let’s go!”

Even before the words had left Jeff’s mouth, Megan had them speeding away as a thick knot of fiends closed in. They moved in reverse as she steered them away from the church until they were facing the street. She flipped gears and floored it.

“Yeahhhh!” Jeff yelled as he moved to the passenger seat up front. He took several deep breaths. “I can’t believe we made it!”

Megan and the other man began to laugh. At first it was nervous, but then the floodgates opened and they were all clapping and cheering as they flew down the road. Even the stoic-looking boy cracked a grin.

There were handshakes and hugs all around as introductions were made. Megan was patted on the back while she headed up the road, and she beamed smiles at Jeff and their new friends.

The man’s name was George, the boy was Jason. They had been stuck in the Gallatin United Methodist Church since fleeing the high school across the street several weeks back, when a huge mob of the infected swept through and wiped out the National Guard contingent assigned to protect the refugees. They had been hiding out ever since, living on a diet of juice boxes, crackers, and candy bars that had been stored for the church preschool.

“You’re the first people we’ve seen since …” George’s eyes grew moist as he looked back at the mob slowly following them. He couldn’t continue, and no one spoke. Jeff and Megan could only imagine the nightmare George and Jason had faced when the shelter had fallen and everyone they knew had succumbed to the virus.

After a couple of minutes, they returned to the intersection with the concertina wire and Jersey barriers stretched across the road. Megan brought the van to an idle, and everyone tried smiling nervously at one another, still unsure of what they should be talking about now that they had escaped the horde.

They looked out over the intersection. Most of the infected were behind them, and it looked clear except for a few stragglers who struggled to move their shattered bodies close to the van but posed no immediate threat.

Megan turned to face the others. “Well?” When they were all looking at her, she continued. “We’re free of that mess, thanks to George and Jason,” she nodded at them, and Jeff leaned back to give them both another hearty slap on the back. Everyone smiled again.