Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

He winked and a grin cracked Jeff’s face.

“You got that right,” he agreed, snorting with laughter.

“So I figured we would play some cards, shoot the bull, and then take turns sleeping.”

Jeff nodded. “Setting up watch ain’t such a bad idea anyway.”

George just smiled and shuffled the deck.

Throughout the evening they chatted about their lives. George was happy to talk about his wife, Helen, and two daughters, Roxanne, who was twelve, and Debra, eight. They had lived in Wildwood, a suburb of Dayton, for the last ten years, ever since George had gone back to college to get a degree after being laid off by Ford. He was a programmer and worked on special projects all over the region.

“I was on a short one in Gallatin, only about three days’ worth of work, when they began quarantining the area.” He shook his head in frustration. “It was an intense project: sixteen-hour days so they can get you out of there quick. So I stayed in a hotel even though I was less than an hour from home…” He trailed off as he stared out the window at nothing.

After a few seconds of silence, George realized he had stopped talking and looked down at his cards again. “Anyway, I got hijacked by Guardsmen out of my hotel room and tossed into that pit.” His lips puckered with distaste. “They packed us like sardines in that gym, and when they ran out of space there, they started cramming more people into the other schools.

“I tried to keep in touch with Helen, but cell phone coverage was for shit and then died altogether.”

Jeff nodded, recalling a conversation with his sister that had blinked out. It was just as she was telling him about some island off the coast of Washington state, where she lived, where she and her husband were going to try to wait things out.

“The last time we spoke was when she agreed they would stay in the house. We have plenty of food and water in the basement.” George looked at Jeff and smiled ruefully. “I like shopping in bulk at Sam’s.” Jeff returned the smile and nodded. The far-off look came back into George’s eyes. “So we agreed they would stay there. Cover the windows, put some boards over the doors, and wait for me to get back.”

“So…what happened at the gym?” Jeff gently nudged George to continue.

“It was a massacre.”

George relayed his story in short, choppy sentences. He had met Jason and a young married couple in the high school gym, and they had clung to each other as everyone around them started going crazy. Rumors were rampant about what was happening in local cities like Cincinnati and Dayton and how everything was falling apart. It was falling apart inside the gym as well, and it took everything the soldiers had to keep everyone under control. Stories abounded of death squads shooting everyone on sight out on the streets and dump trucks stacked to capacity with bodies slated for huge burial pits. Everyone was on edge, and it did not help that the gunfire they heard outside was getting more constant as the days went on.

One night, the gunfire never stopped. A young lieutenant came into the gym and pleaded with everyone to remain calm, telling them that the situation was under control. Not long after his speech, the lieutenant and the rest of the soldiers were rushed by several hundred occupants of the gym, who had grown tired of hearing the same reassurances day in and day out. As the soldiers and citizens fought and George could hear the cries of the infected out on the streets, he knew it was time to flee.

He grabbed his partners: Al and Jennifer, the married couple, and Jason, who had grown particularly attached to Jennifer during their time imprisoned there. As most of the refugees ran out onto the streets, the foursome moved deeper into the high school. The plan was to get to the back parking lot, away from the soldiers and the infected attackers on the street. Other refugees followed their path, but they lost track of everyone else as they roamed the halls of the darkened building. Shots rang out and echoed down the locker-lined hallways. George had no idea if it was soldiers firing on the refugees or if the infected had already breached the high school, but he had no intention of sticking around to find out.

They finally found their way to the parking lot, and that was when they realized they were in as much trouble as the people on the other side of the building.

There were hundreds of plague victims coming through the woods toward the school. They were already in the parking lot, and some of the other refugees had made it there before George’s quartet. The survivors were struggling to get into the cars crammed in the lot, but some were already screaming and being pulled to the ground, swarmed by the ghouls.

“We started running. I’m not quite sure what happened…it gets kind of fuzzy. I just remember seeing those infected people and wondering how they could still be standing. Their guts were hanging out, and their arms and legs were missing. I don’t really understand it.”

George’s mouth remained open, but he was at a loss for further words. He shook his head several times, and Jeff reached over and gripped his shoulder to reassure him that it was okay, that he didn’t have to say any more.

George was silent for a while, and just as Jeff thought his tale was through, George spoke again, his voice distant and puzzled.

“I’m not really sure how Jason and I made it to that church, how we got back around to the front of the building and crossed the street. I know Al was attacked in the parking lot. Jennifer was trying to help him. I think I was too, but I know that Jason and I ran…I’m just not sure how it all went down.” He looked at his hands and turned them so his palms were facing up. “I think I killed someone that night…or maybe it was more than just one. Jason did too…I think we both killed some of those…those…” He waved his hands, trying to come up with the right word.

“Those things?” Jeff interrupted. He leaned forward. “People who had been infected?”

George’s eyes darted over to Jeff and he put his hands down on top of his cards. He looked confused as he considered what Jeff had said and then nodded.

Jeff shrugged and shook his head. “Then you shouldn’t feel all that guilty, George.” He shifted in his chair and leaned back. “You did what you had to. I doubt most people in the same situation would have acted differently…at least none who wanted to survive.”

“I did what I had to, but Jason…” George’s eyes widened as he remembered more details. “I watched him beat one of them to death with some piece of metal he picked up off the ground. He did it without any remorse.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

George’s eyes went wide with surprise. His expression changed. It was hard to see in the moonlight, but Jeff could tell that he had struck a nerve.

“Well, you tell me how it can be a good thing that a kid his age…hell, that anyone shouldn’t give a rip that they just killed someone.” George’s hand slammed down on the table.

Jeff barked out a harsh laugh. He peered into George’s eyes to make sure the other man could make out his expression in the dim light. “Reality check, George, old pal. Those things are already dead. You can’t kill what’s already dead.” He leaned back. “You and Jason were doing those pricks a favor by putting them down for good.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“What?” Jeff cringed at his own volume. “What?” he repeated, whispering. “Uh, you’re not sure those things are already dead or you’re not sure you’re doing them a favor by putting them out of their misery?”

George stood up and walked across the room, out of the light. “I don’t know. Hell, I’m not sure of much of anything anymore.”