Darkness Falls (8 page)

16

Sam threw open the truck’s back door and reached inside for Dana, whose head was leaning limply to the side. He had thrown up on himself, and now he was moaning.

Cash Whittemore, who was working on his van beneath the bright lights of the filling station’s hood, dropped what he was doing and rushed over. Sam caught only a glimpse of Cash’s van, but the man had done something strange to its roof. A young man—maybe early thirties—ran out of the diner to help. A woman stood by the door, holding it open. She shouted for someone to get the first aid kit from the back office.

“Just hold on,” Jimmy said, taking Dana and dragging him out of the back. “We’re gonna get you inside.” He tried to lift Dana, but he couldn’t do it alone. The unconscious man might have been skinny and short, but he was currently floppy-armed, dead weight. The young guy arrived in time to keep Dana from falling to the ground. As Sam reached for his frightened son, Dana was carried toward the diner.

“Let’s go, son,” Sam said.

Wyatt looked unsure, still clinging to the door handle.

“I know you’re scared. Hell, I am, too. But you saw how those things reacted to light, and this has got to be the brightest place in town right now.”

Wyatt gave a slow nod and relinquished his grip. Although Sam’s speech sounded confident, he looked terrified to the core. As soon as Wyatt was in range, Sam took hold of him, yanked him from the truck and carried him to the diner.

Sam recognized Laurie Whittemore holding the door open as they rushed in. There were seven other people in the diner, but they were all strangers, probably people that had been passing through. Aside from the young guy, they all kept their distance. Laurie let out a little gasp when she saw the blood on Sam’s shirt and face.

“It’s not mine,” he said, putting Wyatt down.

Dana was laid down on the floor, a single blanket under him for comfort. Cash set a first aid kit on a nearby table. Sam hurried over. Dana was no longer moaning, but he was still slipping in and out of consciousness, and he’d gone as pale as a seagull turd.

“Thanks for the help,” Sam said to the young stranger. “Name’s Sam.”

“Kyle Gardner,” the man replied. While the leather jacket and scruffy face made him look tough, it was just a veneer. The jacket looked expensive. The styled hair smelled of product—and not cheap gel, more like the mousse Tess used. His hands looked smooth, like they hadn’t seen any physical labor. Not the kind of man often found in Refuge, but he was helping, and that made him a friend.

Sam kneeled by Dana’s side. “Everybody, step back, please. I need the light. Jimmy give me the first aid kit.”

Kyle knelt down next to him.

“What are you doing?” Sam said. “I told you I—”

“I’m a doctor,” Kyle said. “I can help, but you need to do what I tell you.”

Kyle didn’t look old enough to be a doctor, but Sam couldn’t think of a reason he’d lie about it. He gave a nod and put the first aid kit between them.

“Roll him onto his side, and pull the shirt away,” Kyle said.

Dana’s shirt was a mixture of blood and vomit. Sam hesitated for a moment, but with Jimmy’s help, he rolled the small man onto his side. Sam peeled the shirt up and away with a wet sucking sound, struggling not to gag. The smell of infection was overwhelming. Sam was worried.
How can this be so infected already?
It just happened.

“That can’t be good,” Jimmy said, turning his head.

Black streaks ran like varicose veins up the length of Dana’s side.

Kyle took alcohol and cotton pads from the first aid kit. He tore open one of the pads and soaked it with alcohol. The tip of a bright red wound poked out just above Dana’s jeans, on his right hip.

Sam remembered what Dana had said:
Bit me on the hip, fuckin’ perve.

Kyle wiped the pad just above the wound. The blood and vomit disappeared, but the black veins and red infection stayed.

Next, Kyle took the scissors from the first aid kit and looked at Sam. “Open a few more of those pads and soak them good.”

Slipping a finger through a belt loop on the front of Dana’s jeans, Kyle pulled. He carefully slid the scissors into the opening and cut a straight line down about six inches.

Dana moaned.

Kyle set the scissors down and spread apart the jeans.

Sam finished soaking the cotton pads and looked over. Dana’s hip was a red swollen mess of teeth punctures and leaking puss that throbbed in time with his pulse.

Sam looked at Wyatt and then Laurie. “Take him to another room, won’t you, Laurie?”

Laurie took Wyatt’s hand without a word and led him to the kitchen area behind the counter.

With Wyatt away, Sam reluctantly turned back to Dana’s wound. It stared back at him, like some grotesque mocking smile. Kyle snapped a finger at Sam, reaching for the cotton pads. He passed them over, the scent of alcohol a welcome reprieve from the rotten stench coming from Dana’s hip.

Kyle started wiping, working from the outside in. The blood cleared away, revealing gnarled, leaky flesh. Kyle continued to wipe, but he stopped when he hit something solid. He cleaned around the area, careful not to dislodge the object. It was a tooth, still stuck in one of the puncture holes. He gently wiped around the tooth, and then he gripped it inside the cloth. He looked at Sam for approval. Sam didn’t want to nod. He knew this was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. But it had to be done, for Dana’s sake. He nodded and watched as Kyle tugged. There was a slight pop of escaping wretched gas and a tiny stream of blood.

Sam waited a few seconds, then let out a breath of relief.

Kyle lifted the tooth away, but it slipped from his cotton grip. He tried to catch it, but struck the wound in the process.

The flesh around the freshly unplugged hole swelled upward, spraying tiny jets of fluid, and then, like some sort of septic volcano, erupted in a lava of puss and blood. Dana cried out and slapped a hand on the infection on his hip. He scratched at the wound, tearing away skin, oblivious to the further damage he was doing.

Sam fell back, gagged and then vomited under one of the booths.

“Get away from him,” Kyle said, on his feet. “Now.”

“What? No,” Sam said. “I’m fine.”

“You may be, but he isn’t,” Kyle said. He pointed at Dana’s hip.

They all turned and looked. Under the skin that Dana had scratched away, a patch of inky black spread out in all directions. The dark flesh grew thicker and started to swirl about, lifting up off the body like a black flame. Sam recognized it immediately. It was the same thing that had consumed all those people in the woods. It was taking Dana, too.

Dana’s body convulsed and shook, his feet jittering on the tile floor. His eyes snapped open, and he reached up to Jimmy, catching hold of his pant leg. “Help me, Jimmy. It hurts. It hurts so fuckin’ bad.”

Jimmy’s eyes swelled with tears. It was obvious he felt as helpless as Sam did. He took Dana’s hand, despite the darkness claiming his body, and squeezed it. “I’m here for you, brother.”

Sam watched in horror as the roiling darkness was sucked inside Dana’s body, like a piece of dust in a vacuum. Dana gave a final jerk and then lay still, his lifeless eyes staring at Jimmy.

Jimmy reached down and closed Dana’s eyelids with a sigh.

“The fuck is goin’ on ’round here, Sam?” Jimmy said, starting to lose control. “You!” Jimmy said, pointing at Kyle. “You shoulda done more!” Jimmy stood, his tall frame looming heavily over Kyle’s own six-foot height.

“Hey man, take it easy,” Kyle said, taking a step back. He raised his hands as a gesture of submission. “There was nothing I could do for him. We’ve seen this happen to a few other people already.”

Jimmy took another strong step forward, halving the distance between him and Kyle.

Cash stepped forward and rested a hand on Jimmy’s chest. “Jimmy, he’s telling the tru—”

“Oh, fuck!” Sam said, trying to backpedal away from Dana, his boots slick with puss and blood.

Dana sat upright and stared straight ahead with jet black eyes. He looked around the room like he was confused and in pain. He jumped up to a standing position, something he could have never done before. He was a skinny guy, but he wasn’t an athlete. Everyone took a step back, including Jimmy.

“The light,” Dana said in a voice that sounded like many, layers of it echoing softly. “It hurts. It hurts my eyes!”

Sam watched with a mix of fear and loss, as the skin on Dana’s arms started to blacken like paper towel laid in a puddle of ink. He pushed himself back further.

That’s not Dana anymore.

The Dana-thing raised an arm to shield its eyes from the light. It spotted Sam and realized it was not alone. It looked around the room and started to growl when it saw the others.

“Dana?” Jimmy said, taking a step forward.

The Dana-thing lunged at Jimmy and struck him in the chest, tossing him across the diner. It then grabbed one of the diner tables and ripped it from the bolts that held it to the floor. The Dana-thing looked at Sam and shrieked in anger, lifting the table over its head.

Sam raised his arms in defense, waiting for the blow, but the table never dropped. Instead there was a loud crash and the sound of glass shattering, as the table smashed through one of the front diner windows.

The Dana-thing let out another angry shriek and then jumped through the broken window. It screamed and lashed out at the overhead lights as it ran under the filling-station carport. Flecks of black skin peeled away from its body and floated to the ground like ash.

Ash
.

It was everywhere. Beneath their feet. In the air. In their
lungs
.

Are we breathing in these fuckers’ bodies?

The Dana-thing continued to shriek, until it finally disappeared into the woods.

17

Griffin stopped halfway up his front steps. He turned to Julie and asked, “You sure you don’t have someplace you’d rather be?”

“Rather be?” It was clear that to Julie Barnes, the question of where she’d prefer to be, and with whom, was ridiculous. “I did my research on every home owner in town. You were a military man before you took up the brush. If things get dangerous, I’d rather be with you.”

“See, that’s just the thing,” Griffin said. “If things get dangerous, I’m going to rush right into the middle of it.”

Julie frowned.

Hadn’t thought of that, had you
? Griffin smiled. Julie was charming, and ruthless in a real-estate agent kind of way, but she clearly hadn’t thought things through. Being with the strongest warrior often meant becoming a larger target yourself.

Regardless, she stepped up next to him and said, “You know I’ve got no one in town to go see. It’s just...the idea of being alone...”

Griffin sighed. “I understand.” He headed for the front door and opened the screen. “Mi casa es su casa. Unless you want to buy it, then you can screw off.”

Julie laughed and slapped his shoulder as he opened the door. He let her enter first, but she stopped short and said, “Umm.”

Griffin took her shoulders, moved her to the side and stepped in. Avalon was in the kitchen at the end of the hall, sitting in a chair.

Tied to a chair.

Radar stumbled into view, looking sheepish. “Uh, Mr. Butler. I—she...”

Hearing nothing beyond normal worry in Radar’s voice, Griffin had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Even more so when Avalon called out, “It’s okay, Dad.”

“What’s going on?” he asked Radar.

“She, uh, she was having a pretty bad craving.”

“I asked them to do it,” Avalon said.

“She kind of freaked out for a bit,” Radar said. “But she’s chilled out pretty good.”

Griffin looked beyond Radar to the kitchen, where Lisa was now silently cutting the rope binding Avalon. “You okay now, Ava?”

She gave an embarrassed thumbs up. “Aside from my wounded pride, I’m dandy. Asked them to tie me up, didn’t I?”

Griffin smiled. Before Avalon had become an addict, she’d been a fighter, like him. Like her mother. He was glad to see some of that personality coming back.

Once Avalon was free, she stood and hurried into the downstairs bathroom.

“That’s not where I keep my oxy,” Griffin called out with a smile.

“So not funny, Dad,” Avalon said, though she was fighting a grin. She slammed the door, rushing to the toilet.

Radar seemed to notice Julie for the first time, his eyes flitting down to her bust for a moment. “Uh, hi, Ms. Barnes.”

“Joshua,” she said, and stepped into the hall, heading for the living room.

Radar watched her strut away, hormones guiding his eyes. When he noticed Griffin smiling at him, he turned red and said, “Sorry.”

Griffin smiled. “Far as I know, she’s single.”

Radar looked petrified. “But—”

Griffin gave Radar a shove. Felt good to be teasing. “I used to be fourteen. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Does it get easier?” Radar asked.

Griffin tilted his head, watching Julie bend over to inspect his DVD collection. “Sorry. But you’ll get better at hiding it.” He turned to Radar. “Haven’t seen your father, have you?”

Radar’s smile faded. “I thought he was locked up.”

“Let him out a little while ago. He’s sobered up.”

Radar shook his head. “He hasn’t been home. I’d have heard his truck.”

And that left only one place in town Charley Wilson would have gone. The man was going to spend the rest of his life sleeping in a jail cell. But at least he didn’t know where Radar was. Even sober, Griffin didn’t trust that Charley would be safe, not that many places were these days. But so far, the Butler household remained unscathed.

The toilet flushed, and Avalon exited the bathroom. She gave her father a sheepish grin and said, “Jerk.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head. “I’m glad you’re fighting it.”

“It sucks,” she said.

“It’ll get better soon.”

“Says the man who has never been addicted to anything. You’re like an organic, non-GMO, free-range egg.”

Griffin laughed. “Yeah, well, good parents take care of themselves, so they can be around longer for their kids.” He realized he’d said it in front of Radar. Before he could apologize, a horn honked out front.

“It’s Frost,” Julie said from the living room, looking out the window. She strutted back into the hall. “Time to go?”

“Actually,” Griffin said. “Would you mind hanging out here for a bit? I’d feel better knowing there was an adult around.” He looked at Radar and Avalon. “No offense.” They both just shrugged, though Radar looked a little nervous about the prospect of spending more time with Curvy Barnes.

“I’m not good with—”

“We won’t be long,” Griffin said, backing toward the door. “And I wasn’t joking about what I said on the stairs.” He kept the message vague on purpose, not wanting to worry Avalon the way he wanted to worry Julie. If she came, she was likely to get herself, or someone else, hurt or killed. He added, “Please? It would really mean a lot to me,” like a thick helping of maple syrup, placing his hand on her wrist.

She smiled uncomfortably at first, but then larger. “Fine. But please hurry.”

“And be careful,” Avalon said, kissing his cheek. He kissed her back and turned to Radar. “There’s more rope in the basement, if you need it.”

Radar started to smile, but stopped when Griffin very seriously said, “I mean it. Don’t let her leave.”

A knock on the door turned Griffin around. He opened it to find Frost, fist raised to knock again. “You ready?”

He nodded and turned back to the others, who had gathered in the hall. “We’ll stop in on our way back. If things get tough without power, head to the station. The doors are...”

“Barely on?” Avalon said. “I remember last night just fine. And I’ve seen what’s out there now.” She got right in front of him, dead serious and said, “You’re not allowed to die.”

Griffin felt a swell of emotion, but tamped it down and nodded. “Yes ma’am,” he said, and then turned to Frost. “Let’s go.” They headed out the door and down the steps to the still-running cruiser.

You’re not allowed to die
. The words played through his mind, but it wasn’t Avalon’s voice speaking them. It was his. He’d said those same words to Jess, just an hour before she passed away. Griffin wasn’t normally superstitious, but his gut was telling him to sit tight and take cover. Problem was, Frost would never go for that, and he wasn’t about to let her die, either. At least, not alone.