Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

She walked the perimeter of the van, shutting the doors and settling in behind the steering wheel. Everyone else was in the back seats. Megan glanced over at the bullet hole in the passenger door and studied it for a moment before looking out the window.

“I guess all that noise stirred up the neighbors.”

George leaned over to look out the windows. Off in the distance, closing in from various directions, were several staggering figures. The shots had woken them from their slumber, or whatever it was that they did when no one was around to irritate them.

Some were closer than others, coming from the direction of the houses and even through the dense woods to the north. Farther off, from the opposite direction, there were more making their slow and determined march toward the cottage.

“Should we bury the bodies?” Megan asked.

George shook his head. “It would be the decent thing to do, even though…but no, there’s no point. I think they could still smell them, and I wouldn’t put it past them to dig up a body, especially if it’s…fresh.”

They watched the slowly approaching shapes for a few more seconds before George spoke again.

“Let’s just go.”

Megan looked at him in the rearview mirror. “You want to sit next to me?”

She could see the discomfort her question caused. “Nah, I think I’ll stay back here with these two and make sure they’re okay.”

Megan nodded and shifted the van into drive. “Sounds good.” She didn’t look back as she drove past the arms reaching out for them and turned onto the main road.

After a few moments, she felt relieved that George had rejected her invitation to sit up front as she wept silently.

Megan kept driving east. Sticking with the road they were on would lead them to Manchester, the next town on the map. She did not relish the idea of getting near another town of any size, so she began looking for another place they could hunker down for the night.

Her tears dried as rows of corn flowed by the van. There was a mix of gravel and asphalt routes leading off to obscure back roads between the crops. Manchester was straight ahead, less than five miles away and looming on the horizon.

“Eeny, meeney, miney, mo…” she mumbled.

Taking a left down a random road, she didn’t bother looking at the sign that told her its name. They were surrounded by crops taller than the van with a thin strip of asphalt heading off into the distance.

Megan saw a smaller gravel lane creeping up on them and slowed to study it. For no real reason, she turned right and headed down the rough path. On the passenger side, crops went on to the horizon, but on Megan’s side of the road, they cut off maybe a mile or less from where they were.

“Where are we going?” Jeff asked from the back seat, his voice slightly slurred.

“Just trying to find us someplace for the night,” Megan tossed over her shoulder.

As the corn stalks fell away, trees took their place. Split-rail fencing surrounding someone’s land popped up, and the trees continued behind it. After a hundred feet, there was a break, and a long driveway split off through a large yard. Megan stared down the path and saw a modest farmhouse. It was old and rustic looking with a grassy expanse of at least three or four acres surrounding it. The grass had grown wild, but it was obvious the place had been cared for. Large, mature trees populated the yard, and woodlands dropped off behind the house. The gravel drive hit the traditional two-story house at the attached garage. A tire swing was off to the left, and an above-ground pool was set back in the giant backyard.

“So is this where we’re staying tonight?” George inquired.

Megan looked back at him. He was sitting between Jeff and Jason, ostensibly to tend to both of them. “Not sure,” she said, and looked back at the house. “It looks okay, doesn’t it?”

“Looks fine to me. Let’s check it out.”

Megan kept staring at the house. It was far back from the road. The property line ran for a good distance. They were surrounded by farmland, and it was relatively remote. Still, she felt some doubt.

“Megan?”

She ignored George as she kept scouring the landscape and house with her eyes, watching for movement. After a few seconds, she looked down at the fuel gauge. They had plenty of gas to keep moving, but where could they go that would be any better than this?

With a sigh, she moved the van forward until there were several large trees between it and the house before she shut off the engine. Reaching over, she grabbed her revolver, then she opened the door and stepped outside.

The cargo door was opening as well, and George stepped out holding one of the rifles. He looked toward the house as he spoke. “Let’s go have a look.”

Megan stepped in front of him. He stood over her, and sunlight beamed down from behind him, casting Megan in shadow. She shook her head as she shoved the handgun into the waistband of her pants. “I can do this by myself. I need you to stay here and watch those two.” She waved a hand at the open van door.

George looked indignant but had the decency to hide it behind a forced smile. He kept it there and did his best to look confident and tough, but Megan could see how awkwardly the rifle sat in his hands.

“Megan, you can’t do this alone. Come on! We can scope this place out, and if there’s trouble, we’ll back each other up.” His sickly grin got even wider, and he moved a step closer. “In fact, if anyone should be staying here, it’s you. I’ll go. You stay here to keep an eye out for any trouble.”

Megan stared up at him with a smile on her face that did not reach her eyes. George was nearly a foot taller than she, but she did not look intimidated. When she stepped closer, his smile faltered and he backed up slightly.

“George, I don’t think that’s a good idea. In fact, I think it’s a lousy idea.” Her smile disappeared, and her demeanor became stern.

“I’m going up to that house, and I am going to make sure no one is there. If there are any of those things, I’ll shoot them. If there are any people, I’ll try to reason with them, but if that doesn’t work, I’ll do what I have to, whatever that may be. Is any of this unclear to you?”

“Megan, I-”

“No, George, I don’t want to hear it. There’s no time for any macho-man bullshit right now, okay? I’m tired, hungry, and can’t deal with your BS on top of everything else.”

The intensity in Megan’s eyes made George want to take another step back, but he rocked on his heels instead.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that…” he sputtered.

“Forget it, George. We can argue later about who should do what, but for right now, I don’t want to worry about hurt feelings, all right? I just want to get this over with, and the longer I stand here the grouchier I get.” She stomped past him, bumping his arm as she did. He staggered back slightly even though there was no way her slight frame could have moved him. George turned to watch her walk toward the entrance of the property, a look of stunned confusion on his face.

“Let her go.”

George turned to look at Jeff, who had his seat reclined back and his arms behind his head. “She’s going to do whatever she wants, and I doubt there’s much you can do to stop her.”

George looked back at Megan and sighed.

Jeff propped himself up on his elbows. “Megan was a basket case when I first met her. That was only yesterday.”

George stared at him, his eyes narrowing in confusion at the comment.

“Yeah, I know. It doesn’t seem possible,” Jeff said with a knowing smile. “But as you can see, things have changed. Our little Megan has grown up fast.” He winced, gingerly rubbing his jaw. “I bet her husband had fun dealing with her when she was angry.”