Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

Setting the gas can down, he picked up the road flare he had also tossed in the room. Cracking the door leading to the garage, he relaxed slightly as he saw that the side door had not been breached. In fact, it seemed that no one was pounding on it anymore. Wedging his foot in the door to keep it open, he turned to face the kitchen.

There was only one thing left to do.

He pulled the cap off the road flare. It burst to life, startling Jeff with its ferocity. Quickly, he touched it to a rag he had soaked in gasoline that sat on top of the washer and watched it burst into flames. He opened the kitchen door just wide enough to slip the flare through. As soon as he heard the flare hit the floor, he yanked the door shut again.

Snatching up his baseball bat, he used it to slide the flaming rag off the washer and directly into a puddle of gas on the floor.

“The house is all yours, guys. Enjoy it,” he said as he scrambled into the garage. He made sure the metal door was shut tight, knowing it would hold back the flames for a while. As he slid into the minivan, he thought about the rest of the gasoline he had used to drench the house. Along with the propane tanks he had opened in the bedrooms upstairs, it should create one hell of a bang.

The thin metal garage door gave way faster than Jeff had thought it would. Smashing through, he shot down his driveway and plowed directly into one of his neighbors, who had been making his way toward Jeff’s front door. There was a thud as he connected and then a thump as he ran over the body.

Leaning back, he could see three others closing in on the minivan. Without hesitation, he pressed his foot to the gas and twisted the steering wheel. He hit the next one square and dragged it beneath the rear wheels as he moved onto the street, where he grazed another, sending it tumbling back in the direction from which it had come. Jeff straightened the wheel and flipped the van into drive, giving it gas as he sideswiped the third. He accelerated past the three bodies, then executed a sudden stop, the anti-lock brakes preventing him from skidding to a halt. He looked back and saw that the two stiffs that had bounced off the van were already getting back up while the third was having a rougher time of it. Its left side was completely crushed, but it was still trying to rise, unfazed by the massive trauma the two-ton vehicle had caused its body.

Jeff stared at the maimed creature. The power of the hit had ruptured most of its internal organs, and there were bits of gut spread several feet behind it. He watched in amazement as it continued to struggle, deliberately trying to raise itself with its one useful arm, but much of its body had been crushed and sealed to the pavement. Jeff stared into the side mirror, spellbound by the image as he kept waiting for the movement to stop. It never even slowed. The twisted and damaged form seemed incapable of comprehending that it would be unable to remove itself from the ground without assistance.

The other two were almost to their feet. Jeff gripped the steering wheel tighter and flipped the van into reverse again. This time he floored it. The engine roared, and he slammed into the bent forms before they could rise completely. He kept moving backwards and pointed the van at the spot where his first victim lay.

The vehicle jumped slightly, indicating that he had run over the man once again. He hit the brakes and put the van back into gear. This time he moved forward just a little, doing his best to make sure the tire was directly on top of the mangled body.

“Stay down, you freak.” The words sounded nervous to Jeff. He stopped the van and put it in park. A quick check confirmed that the other two would not get up again and that the third was indeed directly beneath him. He heard no more movement.

Shivering uncontrollably, he stared at the dashboard and tried to settle down. He did not want to look up and see how many more ghouls were coming.

Still staring at the speedometer, he felt a thunderous whump . Jeff raised his arm, instinctively shielding his eyes from the bright flash emanating from his house. One of the upper-story windows had blown outward, and shards of glass rained down on the minivan, the yard, and the entire street. The van rocked a bit, and Jeff ducked as he heard the repetitive tinkling of wood and glass bouncing off the roof of the Odyssey.

He had just lifted his head when there was another series of explosions. Bending back over, he let the vibrations roll over him and could have sworn the van slid sideways slightly.

The explosions were muffled, and Jeff guessed it was the propane tanks going up. Two were in bedrooms on the back side of the house. He wondered briefly how the backyard looked.

Slowly raising his head, Jeff stared at his house. As he did, another explosion ripped through it, blowing the front door off its hinges as a giant belch of flame spit from the entrance. Fire was everywhere. Smoke poured out of the garage as another explosion tore a hole out the side of the house where the laundry room had been. Part of the exterior wall smashed into the side of Mark’s house and snapped his split-rail fence into kindling. Jeff watched as the flames billowed toward the sky, his pupils contracting with the vision.

He was beginning to feel the heat out on the street, or at least imagined that he did. The sun beat down as he watched, dumbfounded, as fire devoured his home. Everything was melting: the wriggling bodies packed together like sardines inside, the corpses of his family, all his possessions. It was all gone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see shadowy shapes getting closer. The fire would probably lure them from all over the neighborhood and beyond.

“Let ‘em come. Let them see what I’ve done.” The bitterness in his voice was thick, but the look in his eyes was sad. Digging into his pocket, he plucked out the picture of his family he had taken from his office.

He stared at it, trying to find a measure of peace from the revenge he had exacted, but there was no peace to be had. With one finger, he traced the image of Ellen’s face-the crazy smile, her hair tousled from the wrestling match with the kids. He studied her, the nose with a slight bend at the tip and the tiny, razor-thin scar on her chin. Jeff’s hand began to twitch, and he pulled his fingers away from the picture and balled them into a fist. He raised it to his mouth and bit into his knuckles.

“I’m so sorry.”

He stared at his children, but could not bring himself to touch their faces as he’d touched Ellen’s. His eyes wandered back to her. Jeff bit deeper into his flesh as random thoughts about his wife filtered in and out of his mind. Then the words came again, stifled by the fist jammed in his mouth.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. But I…” He closed his eyes tightly and tasted coppery blood as his teeth pierced the skin around his fingers. He unclenched his jaw and freed his hand. Wiping the blood on his shirt, he tried to think of what he should say. It seemed ridiculous. His entire family was dead. They were in a place where they could no longer hear him or even care what he might say. But he was compelled to speak.

“I can’t take you with me.” He opened his eyes and looked at the picture again. He tried to memorize their features, tried to absorb everything about them that he could in that instant. “I can’t be thinking about you all the time. It’d kill me quicker than those things would. I just…I just can’t.”

Jeff’s heart raced as he crumpled the picture, the blood from his bite rolling into his hand and trickling onto the photo. He tugged at his wedding ring. His fingers were swollen, so it took some effort, but he finally got the ring off. He studied the simple gold band for a moment.