Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

Jeff shook his head in frustration. “Well, George, I am sure. Those things aren’t human anymore. Once I figured that out, it got real simple: slaughter them before they slaughter me and maybe I get lucky and live to see another day.”

George looked at Jeff from across the room. The younger man’s face was pale in the moonlight.

“I’ll do what I need to survive, and you know that, Jeff. I already have. But that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. This isn’t some sort of game for me.”

Jeff’s laughter was bitter this time. “So it bugs you that I might be enjoying myself when I take a few of those things out, huh?”

“Yes, yes it does. Self-defense is one thing, but enjoying it and killing anyone…or any thing , if that’s how you prefer to think of them, is a sin.”

Jeff waved his hand disdainfully. “Let’s not bring God into this.”

George looked at Jeff as if he were a child. “How would it be possible, given all that has occurred, not to bring God into this? Or do you think that he has just been sitting on the sidelines this whole time, not paying a bit of attention to what’s been going on?”

Jeff held his hands up in a sign of surrender. He was not in the mood for a religious debate, especially with someone who looked raring to go. The apologetic look on his face placated George enough to let it pass. The big man came back to the table, and they sat quietly for a few moments, until George, who still had a look of great concentration on his face, spoke up again.

“I don’t know, Jeff. I do know that murder is a sin. So I’ll do what I can to survive and get to my family intact, including defending myself, but I will not go out of my way to attack those creatures. You can’t tell me that you know for certain, without any doubt at all, that there isn’t still a spark of humanity left inside them.”

“Yes I can.”

Jeff had a hard expression on his face, with a tightened jaw and a stern gaze.

“Well, if you’re so sure, enlighten me. Please.” George spread his hands and waited for an explanation.

Jeff’s face darkened, and George realized his newfound friend was getting angry. Jeff leaned forward, his eyes flashing with rage. “Have you had to face off against someone you knew, someone who had turned into one of those things?”

The question took George by surprise, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t say a word, but Jeff already knew his answer.

“Unless you’ve looked into the eyes of someone you love who’s been bitten and turned into one of those things, you have no idea. Until you look into their eyes and see that there is absolutely no recognition or comprehension of who you are anymore, you wouldn’t understand.”

Jeff continued staring until George had to turn away, uncomfortable with the look in the other man’s eyes. Jeff stood and paced the room.

“I’m sorry, Jeff.” It was lame, but it was all he had. George didn’t look up to see if the other man had acknowledged his apology, and he received no response. He looked down at the cards scattered in front of him.

A few minutes later, Jeff sat back down across from him, staring out the window. The two sat in silence for a while longer, until it became awkward.

“So what happened? If you want to tell me…”

Jeff rubbed his eyes. He looked across at George and felt profoundly exhausted.

There were no sounds except that of the crickets outside, no movement except when a slight breeze moved a branch on one of the trees. Slowly, Jeff began to tell his story.

Jason was lying in bed on his stomach the next morning when he felt the fingers on his back. He had his pillow wrapped around his head and tried to ignore them as they gently rubbed, coaxing him to get up. He moaned and mumbled something about letting him sleep for just a few more minutes and pulled the pillow tighter.

“Come on, Jason, it’s time for breakfast,” the voice implored. It was muffled, and he tried to ignore it, his eyes clenched shut.

“I made your favorite…” The words were soothing, tempting him to get out of the bed. The fingers began scratching his back the way he loved.

“Momma, no! I don’t want to get up. Let me sleep for a little while longer,” he whined and shook the hand off.

He heard the clicking sound of disapproval and could imagine his mother’s head shaking as well, her hands on her hips, like she always did when she was irritated with him.

When she pulled his pillow away, he shifted onto his back and slowly let his eyes adjust to the morning light.

“Now get up, boy. It’s time for my breakfast too.”

Jason opened his eyes and saw his mother standing in front of him. She was dressed in the blue scrubs she wore for her job as a nurse in one of the big downtown Cincinnati hospitals. They were splattered with blood. Her braided hair had come loose and was disheveled, floating around her head. He looked at her face and saw that her eyes were cloudy. She grinned at him, revealing smashed and blackened teeth. Bits and pieces of her ashy skin were flaking off.

She touched his face with her hands, which were desiccated and missing much of their skin. As she caressed his cheek, she leaned over, her hand slipping behind his neck.

“You better get up now, boy. ‘Cause momma’s hungry.”

* * *

When Jason sat bolt upright, he was staring into the startled face of Megan, who had just tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

Megan stumbled back and nearly fell at Jason’s reaction, her hand clamped to her chest. He slid back on his bed toward the wall, his eyes wide with fear.

“Jesus, Jason! You scared the heck out of me!” Megan laughed, her heart pounding fiercely. Shaking her head, she smiled at him, but then realized that Jason’s expression was not gradually relaxing, like hers was. His eyes were still wide with fear as he stared at her and shivered.

“Jason?” The word was hesitant. Megan took a step forward and stopped when the boy scooted farther away from her on the bed. “Are you okay, honey?”

Megan gave him a smile that was as bland and nonthreatening as she could manage, but Jason remained backed up against the wall, in the corner of the bed.

A few moments later, as she stood waiting, Jason began to regain his composure. He rubbed his eyes and hid the wetness at their rims.

“I’m okay. Could you just leave me alone, please?” Jason forced the words out slowly to hide any trace of emotion in his voice as he covered his face with his hands. When he pulled them away, Megan was still standing in front of him, the look of concern on her face even greater.

She moved closer to the bed, and Jason pressed himself against the wall, shying away like a skittish horse in its pen. Megan hesitated for a moment and then moved forward until she was at the edge of the bed. She sat down at the foot of it, as far from Jason as she could.

“Please don’t,” Jason said, scrunching his body up into a tight ball.

“Jason, what is it? Please tell me, maybe I can…” He was shaking his head and shivering again. Megan stopped, frozen where she was and said nothing, just continued to stare at him.

The boy wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face behind them, hiding himself as much as possible from her prying eyes.

“Please go. Just go.”

Megan continued to stare at him without moving.

Jason looked over his knees and saw that she was still there, still looking at him. “Why haven’t you left? Get out now!” His voice was ragged. There was resentment there, but the tremulous anger was a cheap facade covering up something else, and Megan saw through it immediately. Jason was afraid of her.

The confusion snapped her out of her frozen state, and she crept closer to the boy, unable to stop herself. “No! Get away!” Jason said and looked like he was trying to burrow into the wall. Megan could see the terror on his face as his eyes grew to the size of saucers, as if she were some boogeyman or evil troll come to swallow his soul.