Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

Jeff saw no bodies, living or dead, anywhere. Sweat rose on his brow as he scanned the area once again for movement.

Near the wooden sign and closer to the van were more buildings. There was a sizeable gap between two of the drab one-story structures at which he was staring. Railroad tracks ran behind it with farmland even farther back. Jeff spied a house off in the distance about a half-mile away with some dense woodland beyond. Nothing moved as he scrutinized the landscape.

On the opposite side of the road, several businesses crowded close to the street for a stretch. More billboards vied for attention along with a bright yellow Dollar General sign close to the road. Small parking lots that were mostly empty provided a gap between the road and darkened buildings. On the other side, the nondescript boxy brown shops were even closer to the road, no farther back than ten or fifteen feet. A row of vehicles served as a buffer between the shops and the van.

They started moving between the two lines of cars, which appeared to stretch about a quarter of a mile down the straightaway. The path between them was tight but gave the van enough room to maneuver. At the beginning of the line, a car was angled sideways on the right side of the road. Jeff stared down at it and nodded to himself.

“Let’s check out all of these cars, but I think that first one might be your best bet.” He gestured with his head as George looked out the window to examine the vehicle.

His eyes grew wide as they drove past the car. It looked good, and so did several others. Megan and Jeff were studying them as well and didn’t notice Jason peering out the rear of the van, even when he moved back to the third row of seats.

“Guys, I think you better look behind us.”

The van slowed and everyone turned to look at whatever it was that had caught the boy’s eye.

Jason had not been too concerned about finding a car for George. The close encounters he’d had with both the infected and the living over the past few days had him on edge. So when he saw the shadow shift near one of the cars, he immediately assumed it was a ghoul. When a head popped up from behind the vehicle, and whoever it was started running, he did a double take. It certainly didn’t look like one of the infected.

“What the-?”

Jeff moved next to Jason, wading past the seats and piles of supplies they had collected. When he looked out the window, he could not believe what he was seeing.

The van came to a stop and Megan turned to see what was up. Now George was in the back as well, and the three were blocking her view.

“Well, what is it?”

One of the cars was moving, the very first one they had seen. The one that had been perpendicular to the others. It had quietly rolled into the middle of the road. Jeff and George shared a glance, confusion etched on their faces.

It was Jeff who realized what was happening first and turned to face Megan, whose look of exasperation at a lack of explanation quickly changed. “Get out of here! Now!”

Megan swallowed another question and quickly turned around. Her foot moved to the gas, but before she could touch it, her eyes widened at what she saw through the windshield.

It was already too late.

While they had been busy studying what was going on behind them, another car had pulled onto the road up front, at the end of the quarter-mile-long stretch of vehicles. They were cut off.

Megan saw a figure pop up over the hood of a Nissan Maxima nearby. It pointed a semiautomatic pistol directly at her head. Another stranger, this one holding a rifle, sheltered behind a Volvo station wagon on the other side of the street.

Jeff rushed back to the front of the van just in time to see another man popping up between the cars outside. Jeff froze between the seats, his breathing harsh. He spied Megan out of the corner of his eye and saw that she had gone rigid as well. In that moment, he wished he could will himself invisible as he saw the man outside taking aim at him with an M16.

“Shit! There are two guys pointing shotguns at us!”

When George heard no response to his comment, he turned and saw that Jeff was not moving. Jason was bent over in his seat, his hands covering his head. Most important, in George’s mind, was the fact that they were not flying down the road to escape the impending attack from behind.

“You, in the van. Show your hands now! Make a move toward any weapons and we start shooting!”

Fear sliced through the four survivors’ minds like a razor as they heard the voice shouting from outside. Slowly, Jeff, Megan, and George raised their hands. Jason, realizing they were not going to be fired on-at least not immediately-sat up carefully and slowly raised his hands as well. As the men outside inched closer to the minivan, Jeff’s mind raced over the events of the last few days. He had not cared whether he lived or died when he fled his house, but there were others relying on him now, and he had more than enough reasons to want to stay alive.

But as he stared down the barrel of a rifle for the second time in as many days, he was beginning to doubt that he was going to last much longer.