Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

“Stay away from him, you asshole!” Megan scrambled to Jeff’s side, grabbing him around the shoulders and shielding him from any further attacks. Fred was done, though. He stepped back, his rage sated for the moment. He looked more confused than ever, and the reprimand from Megan seemed to give him pause.

“Bastard.”

The expletive was whispered as Megan examined Jeff’s jaw, touching the rising welt delicately. His head moved back quickly after her fingers hit the raw spot, and he sucked in air through his teeth. She relaxed a little when she realized his jaw wasn’t broken.

Megan looked up at Fred. Her eyes were hot flares that burned straight through him. He stepped back, giving her the chance to help Jeff, first to his knees and then to his feet. Jeff gingerly rubbed his jaw as he glared at Fred, who was too busy looking at the van again to care.

“Where’s the keys? Give ‘em to me.”

“Fred-”

“I’m tired of this shit! That IS my wife over there, and I was the one who had to put her down! Satisfied? Happy to know I had to deal with the same shit you did, you fucking prick?” Fred’s eyes were full of fire as he spoke. “In about two seconds, if you don’t hand over those keys, I swear to God I’ll be digging two more holes!”

The rifle was in Jeff’s face again, but this time he could see no doubt on Fred’s visage. The ruse had backfired, and there was nothing else to do. Eyes darting quickly over to Bobby, Jeff saw that the boy’s rifle was pointed in their direction, but his eyes were glued to his father.

“Keys are in the ignition.” Jeff grimaced at the pain that speaking brought. He leaned against Megan, still a bit woozy from the blow.

“Stay here,” Fred commanded. “Bobby? Don’t let them out of your sight! I’m checking out the van.”

“Okay, Dad.” Bobby sounded nervous, almost depressed, but the gun remained elevated and his eyes focused on the two clinging figures thirty feet in front of him.

Jeff waited until Fred had walked away before he whispered in Megan’s ear, “Get ready.”

She stiffened and looked him in the eyes. Nodding almost imperceptibly, Megan tensed. She knew George had her gun.

Fred moved to the van. He glared at Jeff one last time and pointed his weapon at the vehicle. Moving in, he glanced quickly through the tinted windows behind the driver’s door. He looked closer for a moment. Satisfied, he inched up and stared inside. There were the keys, dangling from the ignition, just as Jeff had said. He did not see anyone, just a jumble of boxes and other crap strewn about, as if the minivan had been through an earthquake.

Fred allowed himself a small grin as he moved the rifle to his left hand and pointed it skyward. Opening the door, he leaned in. The keys were pushed into the ignition completely, and the van started chirping in annoyance. He twisted the key and the engine turned over. The idle was a quiet purr, and the gas needle bounced from empty to almost full…a smidge below. His grin widened.

The thrill lasted less than a second before he heard a distinct click.

Fred froze, his rifle pointed straight up and, inconveniently, still outside the vehicle, along with his left arm. His head, chest, and right arm were completely exposed. He slowly turned his head at a downward angle and confirmed the fact that there was a handgun pointed at his face.

George was sprawled on the floor, a blanket covering him except for the top of his head and the barrel of the gun, which was pointed at Fred.

“Drop the rifle. DON’T move your head or even twitch a muscle.”

It came out in a hiss. The man above him was glaring down with a mixture of anger and resentment. George returned the look.

Fred paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. He looked like he was thinking over George’s command when he saw a head pop up from behind the second row of seats. Jason was holding Jeff’s gore-stained baseball bat.

“You better do as he says.”

“Jason! Get down. NOW!” George commanded. The boy kept his eyes on Fred as he ducked down to where he could still peek over the seat.

Fred dropped the rifle and raised his hands, leaning out of the van but moving slowly. He continued to stare at Jason as George spoke to him.

“Now call off your pal out there. Do it! I want our friends safe and sound back inside the van.”

Fred stared down at the.357 Magnum. The look on his face made it clear he most definitely did not want to do as he was told. He began to turn away from the van but stopped quickly as the gun rose up and the boy in the back of the vehicle moved forward. Looking at both of them, Fred seemed to change his mind.

“Bobby! Go back in the house and lock the door. Do it now.” There was not much enthusiasm in the command.

“Daddy?” Bobby looked at his father, but his rifle never left Jeff and Megan.

Fred looked at his son, his voice deflated. “Just do it, son. Get back in the house.”

For a moment, Bobby goggled at his father, his mouth wide open and his eyes blinking rapidly. Then he started slowly moving off the porch.

Fred turned toward his son, forgetting the gun pointed at him for a moment as anger colored his face. “Robert Charles Harrington! Get your ass back in that house right this minute!” Bobby froze and stared for a moment before his eyes turned to Jeff and Megan.

The hope Jeff had that things might actually turn out okay disappeared the instant he saw the look on Bobby’s face.

The kid moved toward him. The rifle was aimed at his head and didn’t waver.

Jeff shoved Megan behind him as the boy moved closer. Bobby was within three feet, but almost all of the remaining distance was covered by the barrel of his rifle. Megan saw Jeff’s hands motioning for her to move away, to run, to do something .

Fred continued to yell at his son from where he stood next to the van, but it was clear to Jeff that Bobby had decided to take things into his own hands.

“Tell whoever’s in the van to let my father go.”

His voice was steady. Bobby kept ignoring his father and pointed the rifle at Jeff’s forehead.

Suddenly, Fred stopped yelling. He was still gawking at his son, but his face had changed. He looked afraid.

“Bobby.” Fred’s voice was as steady as he could make it, the anger gone. “Bobby, listen to me. I made a mistake, a big mistake. I…I’m sorry son.” Fred looked back into the van for a moment. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. You know that. I just wanted…I just wanted to find a way out of here.”

The words got Bobby’s attention. He kept the rifle pointed at Jeff, but his eyes darted to his father. He was close enough to see the fear in his dad’s eyes. His head cocked sideways, and a look of confusion passed over his face.

Just then, the passenger door of the Odyssey opened. Bobby’s eyes moved away from his father and he saw the woman who had been creeping backwards getting into the van.

The confusion was gone. Bobby shifted the rifle and moved slightly to gain a clear view of the van door behind which the woman was hiding.

Megan heard the sound of the rifle firing and an immediate thunk . She dropped to her knees behind the van door, desperately trying to shield herself. Looking up, she saw a small hole in the door. A second shot was fired, and she dove inside the van.

Jeff had heard the van door open too. He could see the expression on Bobby’s face and knew what the kid was going to do. When he moved the rifle, Jeff tried to react immediately but couldn’t. His feet felt stuck in place. The first shot jolted him, but it took seeing Bobby throw the bolt on the rifle and the empty cartridge flying free before he was able to lunge for the boy.