Darkness on the Edge of Town (16 page)

I blinked, and when I looked again, the goat-man had transformed into a giant snake. The creature writhed back and forth. Its coils and scales were black. As I watched, the darkness changed shape again, turning into a pillar of fire, then a massive razor blade, then a needle, and then a wheelbarrow full of severed dog heads. I was horrified and disgusted. I felt like screaming, but I couldn’t turn away. The process sped up, the transformations flickering by like camera flashes. A baby with a fishhook in its mouth. A mound of bloody feces. Children on wooden pikes. A massive worm, bloated and blind. A nun with forks in her eyes.
Something that looked like a dolphin but screamed with a woman’s voice. A moving corpse, pieces of it falling off as it stepped forward. A creature made of green mucus. A looming monster that looked like a cross between a gorilla and a cat. Kurt Cobain with half of his head missing. Hooded men, like the terrorists who beheaded people live on the news, holding large curved blades. A naked woman, vomiting tiny snakes from her mouth and nose and then her vagina. A quivering, gelatinous mass composed of what looked like raw flesh. A giant penis that spurted blood instead of semen. And finally a huge floating eyeball, dripping slime in its wake.

Around me, the others alternately gasped or screamed. Finally able to break the spell, I looked away from the horrifying images and turned to my friends. All were staring into the darkness. I wondered if they were seeing the same things I was. I glanced back at the darkness. I didn’t want to, but I felt
pulled
. The visions had turned into my grandfather again. Then the figure became a swirling black tornado, which eventually morphed into Christy. She was naked and bleeding. Tears ran down her face as she reached for me.

“Robbie? I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I love you so much. It hurts. Help me…”

“Christy? Holy shit! Hang on, honey.”

I stumbled toward her, but Russ pulled me back.

“It’s not real,” he shouted. “Robbie? Remember, it’s not real. She’s not there. None of these things are. It’s testing us—showing us the things we’re afraid of.”

His voice seemed to calm the others. One by one, they slowly turned away. The voices in the darkness ceased. The visions vanished. The blackness became blackness again.

Olivia fell to her knees and sobbed. She grabbed fistfuls of dirt, lowered her face to the ground, and shook. Russ and Cranston tried to comfort her. Clevon stood staring at the darkness, his expression blank.

I put my hand on T’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about your friends, man. I didn’t—”

He shoved me away. “Get the fuck off me, bitch.”

“T, I’m trying to—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you trying to do. You’d best stay clear of me from now on, motherfucker. Know what I’m saying? You see me coming, you’d better cross the fucking street. You step to me again and you’ll get your motherfucking cranium cracked. If you doubt me, then just go ahead and fucking try.”

“T…it’s not my fault.”

“Step off, motherfucker.” Mario got between us, holding T back. “Come on, T. This bitch ain’t worth it.”

“It’s not my fault,” I insisted. “I didn’t—”

T lunged for me. I fumbled for my gun, but before I could pull it, Mario pulled him back.

“Let me go.” T struggled with his friend. “He’s got it coming!”

“Another time,” Mario whispered. “Not now. He’s got his boys here.”

“Fuck him and his boys.”

“Not now. We’ll do this later, T. You know I’m right.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized again, holding up my hands. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

T spat at my feet. Then he and Mario stomped away. I turned to Russ, Cranston, Clevon, and Olivia. Russ stared into the darkness. Olivia hung her head. Clevon wept. Only Cranston met my eyes. His expression was
hard to read, but whatever he was feeling at that moment, it wasn’t pretty. You know the old saying, “If looks could kill”?

It was kind of like that.

I glanced around for Drew and Clay’s dogs, but they were gone. Maybe Dez hadn’t tied them tight, or maybe he’d untied them before he slipped away. Whatever the case, they’d run off. Clevon had been right when he said that they were smarter than us.

The dogs were still alive. Half our group wasn’t.

Eventually we went home, drifting off one by one. Russ, Cranston, and I walked together, but we didn’t speak the entire way back to the apartment building.

As we walked, I resolved not to try to help anyone anymore. I decided to stop trying to do the right thing, or trying to figure a way out of our situation. It was pointless—and besides, there was already enough blood on my hands.

The darkness weighed heavy on my conscience.

When I got home, Christy didn’t ask me about what had happened. I was grateful for that because I was afraid that if I tried to talk about it, I might start screaming or crying and not be able to stop. She didn’t seem pissed at me anymore, but neither did she show the slightest inclination to know what had occurred. I might have gone to work or out to eat for as much interest as she showed. Actually, I think she would have showed more interest in even those mundane activities. Usually, when I got home from work, she’d ask me how my night had gone. There was none of that this time. I played along and pretended that nothing had happened. I felt sick to my stomach and my nerves were jittery, but I put up a good front. If she heard me puking, she didn’t mention it. I did it out the bedroom window so as not to contaminate the dwindling fresh water supply in our toilet bowl.

Cranston had disappeared into his apartment without as much as a good-bye, and Russ had gone upstairs as soon as we got back. I didn’t see or hear from either of them for the rest of the day. I wondered if they were pissed at me, too. I’d asked them on the way home, as we passed by the car wash (a trash can was burning in one of the empty bays, and it sounded like there were
people having a party inside). Cranston just shrugged and grunted. Russ swore that he wasn’t mad—said he was just tired, and it had been a long day. He insisted that what had happened wasn’t my fault. I took him at his word and hoped for the best.

T and Mario were gone by the time we left the vacant lot behind the mall, but I’d looked over my shoulder the whole way home. My paranoia grew, urged on by the darkness, my sense of helplessness, and my burgeoning guilty conscience. I was okay with them blaming me for the death of their friends. I blamed me, too.

I got undressed, took a sponge bath with some bottled water, put on some fresh deodorant, and then sacked out on the bed. The sponge bath didn’t do much. I still felt grimy and tired. Eventually I fell asleep. I don’t know how long I slept or what I dreamed about, but when I opened my eyes, I didn’t feel rested. If anything, I felt worse than ever.

Christy moved against me in the gloom, soft skin sliding against my own. It startled me at first. I thought it was one of those shadowy tentacles reaching for me—that somehow, they’d gotten past Dez’s magical wards and salt and had come to drag me off into the blackness. But then she put her finger against my lips and whispered my name. I realized that I could see. She’d lit two scented candles while I slept, and placed them on the dresser and the nightstand. A faint hint of vanilla wafted through the room. I relaxed, and she glided over me. Her breasts and hips were warm and soft against my skin. Her nipples stiffened, teasing my own. I started to speak, but she silenced me with a deep, lingering kiss. She shifted her weight, grasped me with one hand, and slid me inside of her. I was surprised at how wet she already was. How
needful
. We made love without
talking—the first time we’d done so since the darkness arrived, and when it was over, she finally spoke.

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. But I’ll listen if you do.”

I wanted to tell her. I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. So I did. All of it. It just came pouring out of me like bile. And when I was done, Christy told me that she loved me.

That made things a little better.

We lay there for a while, cuddling and talking, and I found out what Christy had been up to while we were gone. Growing restless and tired of sitting around worrying about me, Christy had snuck into some of the other apartments on our block—ones whose owners probably wouldn’t be coming back. She’d used a crowbar to break the locks and then searched the buildings one by one, grabbing stuff we could use—first aid, vitamins and pills, clothing, toiletries, food and water. Some of the apartments had already been ransacked—their furnishings slashed and broken. Others appeared untouched. She found dead people in two different apartments, and dead animals in many more—pets that had been left behind when their owners went to work and never returned. She said that the dead animals had upset her more than the people had.

While rummaging through the medicine cabinet of a place just three doors down from our building, she’d been interrupted by a group of men who’d had the same idea. Christy heard them stomping up the stairs just before they entered the apartment, and she quickly clambered into the shower and pulled the curtain shut. One of the looters commented on the fact that the door had already been forced open, but they only conducted a perfunctory search. She said that they sounded drunk.
While they rummaged through the apartment, they’d talked among themselves, laughing about a woman they’d raped the night before. Apparently, they’d put lit cigarettes out all over her body, including in each eye. There was also a suggestion that they’d done something to her nipples and clit with a pair of wire cutters. At one point, Christy thought she might black out from sheer panic, but she kept her shit together and waited.

The men tore through each room, knocking things over and breaking lamps and drinking glasses and windows. One of them found a hidden stash of porno, and they had a good laugh over that. One of them entered the bathroom and rifled through the medicine cabinet and scooped water from the toilet bowl, but luckily, he didn’t investigate any further. She said the worst part was his stench. The man smelled like milk that had been left outside for several summer days in a row. She remained in hiding, cowering in the shower until they were gone.

“Are you okay?” I asked, when she was done.

Christy nodded. “I am now. I was pretty shook up after they left. I waited a long time. I was sure they knew I was in there and that they were playing a trick on me. I thought I’d find them waiting in the living room. But, Robbie—the things they were bragging about. The things they did. We didn’t have people like that here before, did we?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they always had the urges and just never acted on them until now. In any case, I don’t want you going outside anymore.”

“Only if you promise me the same thing.”

“Believe me, hon. After today, you don’t have to worry about that. I will if we need something, but otherwise, I’m staying put.”

And for the most part, that’s exactly what we did.

Except for the pet store.

We talked about it again the next day, after we’d woken up and had a breakfast of dry cereal and granola bars. Despite my story, Christy still believed that we were dead. In fact, once she’d heard the details of what happened to our group of explorers, she thought it just gave more credence to her theory. She started talking about all the new age books she’d read down where she worked.

“When people have near-death experiences, they see one of two things. Sometimes there’s a bright light, and they want to go into it. All the books say that the light leads to Heaven. It’s our guide. But other times, all the people see is darkness. A lot of people think that’s the way to Hell. They say they can feel the darkness tugging at them, and sometimes they even see loved ones who’ve gone there before them. Me, you, and Russ saw our loved ones. So did other people. And you said yourself that the darkness was moving and pulling.”

I didn’t feel like arguing and I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so I just shrugged and nodded, admitting that it might be so.

“If only we could find the light,” she said. “If we could find the light, it would guide us to Heaven.”

I nodded, agreeing that would be nice, but inside I was still doubtful. Believing that we were dead and that this was the afterlife was all fine and dandy, but that meant you had to believe in God, too. Before all of this, I never gave Him much thought. If God existed, then He pretty much left me alone, so I returned the favor. Now, I wondered. If He existed, then why wasn’t
He riding in at the head of a National Guard convoy? What kind of loving God would leave us in a bullshit situation like this? It didn’t make sense to me.

A few nights later, someone set fire to the Methodist, Lutheran, and Catholic churches. All three burned to their foundations. The arsonist or arsonists were never caught, because nobody cared enough to find them.

I realized that I didn’t care either. It was enough trouble just finding a reason to get up every day and stare out into that same impenetrable blackness. If God existed, He’d have to take care of His own shit. I wasn’t the man for the job anymore.

Then Christy decided that we had to go outside again, and that was how the whole pet store debacle started. Looking back, I think that was the beginning of the end. Or maybe not. Maybe the beginning of the end started behind that strip mall when we lost everybody. But even then, even after that, there was still hope. I didn’t feel any myself. At the time, all I felt was guilt over what had happened. But Russ and other people still had hope, and secretly I did too—buoyed by theirs.

After the pet store, all my hope fucking died. If the incident behind the strip mall stuck a knife into my hope, then what happened at the pet store shot it in the head six times and then raped its bleeding corpse.

It turned out that Christy’s adventure while looting the apartments had upset her more than she’d first thought. It wasn’t the fact that she’d almost been discovered by a bunch of drunken, misogynistic sadists in training, or what they’d have probably done to her if they’d found her hiding in the shower. No, it turned out that Christy was still thinking about all the dead pets she’d encountered.

Or at least, that was how it appeared.

We were lying in bed, trying to muster the energy to get up and at the same time, trying to come up with a reason to bother. I’m not sure what time it was. Early morning, I guess. It had been about a week since we’d gone outside. From what I’d heard from Russ, we weren’t missing much. Things were getting steadily worse, and it was happening quick. Be it the darkness or just the hopelessness of our situation, people were snapping. Walden was breaking down. The center wasn’t holding.

“I keep thinking about those dead animals,” Christy said. “The ones in the apartments.”

I shook some Pringles potato chips out of the can lying between us and nodded.

“It made me wonder,” she continued, “how many
more there are, you know? Lots of people have pets. And then there’s the pet store.”

“What pet store?”

“The one downtown, next to the place where we got our taxes done last year.”

“I didn’t know there was a pet store there.”

“Yeah. I used to go there sometimes, during my lunch breaks or on my way home from work, and look at the puppies and the kitties.”

I was silent for a moment, thinking about that. Christy and I had lived together for a long time, and I’d just sort of assumed that we knew everything about each other. To find out that she had a routine I’d known nothing about—even one as innocuous as stopping at the pet store—seemed weird.

“Hate to say it,” I said, “but I’d imagine that all the animals in the pet store are dead by now, too. Walking in there would be like walking into a biohazard area.”

“I don’t think so. It’s not like the animals in people’s apartments. I mean, think about it, Robbie. People left for work that morning, and they probably only left enough food and water to get their pets through the day because they assumed they’d be coming home that night. But at the pet store, they have automatic feeders and water bottles set up. From what I saw, the employees refilled them at night, so that they’d never run low. Brandon used to say that there was enough to last the animals a long time, but that they refilled it every night anyway, because of—”

“Who?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Brandon. You said that ‘Brandon used to say.’ Who’s Brandon?”

It was too dark in the room to see her expression,
but judging from her tone of voice and the way she shifted on the mattress, I was sure that Christy was blushing. I felt a cold certainty building inside me and beneath it, an even colder anger. Brandon was probably some guy she’d been fucking on the side. That had to be it. How long had it been going on? She said that she stopped in there after work. How many times had she sucked him off, swallowed his fucking load, and then come home and kissed me with that same mouth, his sperm still on her lips?

I clenched the sheets in my fists and shook with rage. Then I realized that Christy was talking, and the spell passed. It had been the darkness, toying with me, pulling my emotions like the strings of a marionette. Christy wasn’t cheating on me. She’d never do something like that.

“—with you?”

I forced myself to relax. “What? Sorry.”

“I asked what the hell was wrong with you? I thought you were having a seizure of something.”

“I’m okay.”

“Well, are you listening to me or not?”

“I am, honey. Sorry. Just got distracted for a minute. Anyway, who is Brandon again?”

“He’s just a guy who works at the pet store. That’s all.”

I tried to keep my voice calm. “Oh, that’s cool.”

“Anyway, the darkness came overnight, right? So if they filled the feeders and the water bottles up the way they usually do, then some of the animals might still be alive.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “I guess the snakes would be, at least. They only eat every so often, right?”

“The snakes, yes. But the other animals, too. They
could still be alive and trapped in there. I want to do something about it.”

I held up my hands. “Whoa. Christy, I thought we agreed that we weren’t going outside anymore. It’s dangerous out there. There’s no telling what downtown is like by now. We’re much better off just staying here and—”

“You went.” Her tone was sullen. Her expression less so. She tried not to let her feelings show. Tried to hide her sudden irritation and anger with me. Tried to keep a poker face.

But Christy had always sucked at poker, which was why I liked to play strip poker with her any chance we got.

“Christy…”

“Goddamn it, Robbie! Why was it okay for you to leave when you got a bug up your ass about helping out? Now I want to do it, and I’m not allowed? Fuck you.”

“Calm down,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s a double standard. But you don’t understand, baby. You didn’t see what’s happening out there.”

“No, but I can hear it. I lie here in bed and I can hear it down there, Robbie. And it’s not just happening at nighttime anymore either. People are starting to figure out that they don’t have to wait for the cover of darkness because it’s dark all the fucking time.”

“Exactly. And that’s why we should stay put. It’s safer in here.”

“I need to do this, Robbie. You don’t understand.”

“Try me then. Explain it to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She shook her head. “I just can’t. It’s something I have to do. If you loved me, you’d understand that. You’d support it.”

I sighed, exasperated. “I do love you, Christy. That’s why I’m not crazy about you going out there—especially for a bunch of animals that might be dead already.”

“They’re not dead! I told you already. They—”

“I know.” I held up my hands again. “I heard you. They’ve got automatic feeders and water bottles. But what if they’ve run empty by now? And even if they haven’t, is it really worth the risk? I mean, even if the majority of them
are
still alive, what are you going to do with them once you’ve set them free? You sure as hell can’t bring them all back here to live. You just going to turn them loose into the streets? Things are bad enough without a wild dog pack running around out there.”

Pouting, she said nothing.

“Think about it,” I whispered as I stroked her hair. “You know I’m right.”

She still didn’t respond, and because I’m an idiot, I left it at that. I figured she knew I was right. Sure, she was pissed off, but she also saw the sense in what I was saying.

I was wrong.

It was the sound of the deadbolt clicking open and the little chain lock rattling against the door that woke me. I opened one eye, confused, not sure if I’d actually heard the noise or just dreamed about it. After lying there in the dark for a few seconds, I heard the door snick shut, followed by the soft pad of footsteps going down the stairs.

I sat up, instantly alert, and reached for Christy.
I figured somebody had broken into our apartment and was leaving now. Maybe something had scared them off. Maybe they hadn’t expected us to be home. Christy’s side of the bed was empty. The sheets were still warm from where she’d been sleeping. The pillow still held her indentation.

“Shit.”

I slipped out of bed and put on a dirty pair of jeans and a ragged T-shirt. Then I grabbed my baseball bat.

“Christy?”

There was no answer. The only sound was my own heart, throbbing in my ears.

“Christy? Hon? Are you okay?”

Again, silence. I ran out of the bedroom and searched the apartment, but it was empty. Christy was gone. I searched again and again, frantic, scared, looking in places I knew she couldn’t possibly be, like under the bed and behind the refrigerator (we’d gotten rid of all the perishables, but even so, the refrigerator still smelled funny). There was no sign of her. I shouted for her, and my voice bounced back to me off the walls. It didn’t sound like me. I stubbed my toe on the coffee table, splitting the nail, and collapsed onto the floor. I wanted to cry but didn’t. A sick mix of fear and despair welled up inside me. My lips felt swollen and my heart beat faster.

On my fourth search, I found the note she’d left me. It was stuck to the door with a little piece of masking tape. I grabbed a flashlight and read the letter. Christy said that I didn’t understand, and this was something she had to do, just like my second trip out to the edge of town had been something that I had to do. She said she’d be back as soon as she could, and that I shouldn’t worry, and that she loved me.

“That stupid fucking…”

I couldn’t even finish the sentence. My fears and anger were gone now, eradicated by pure, blind panic. I set the baseball bat on the floor. Crumpling the note and tossing it aside, I ran out of the apartment and took the stairs two at a time. When I reached Russ’s apartment, I pounded on the door and shouted his name until he answered.

“Robbie?” He yawned and blinked. “Jesus Christ. What’s wrong? What’s happened? What time is it?”

“Christy’s gone. She left. She’s out there, heading downtown. You’ve got to lend me that pistol, man.”

“What?”

“Christy’s gone, dude!”

Russ was wearing a tattered, dirty bathrobe. It hung open, revealing his stomach. He scratched at his belly button and stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“What do you mean she’s gone? Did you guys have a fight?”

“Yes. No. Sort of. It’s a long story, man, and I don’t have time to waste. I’ve got to get after her before something happens. Can I please borrow the gun?”

Russ paused. He stared at me, then looked over my shoulder as if expecting Christy to show up behind me. Then he turned his eyes back to mine again.

“Sure, Robbie. You can borrow it. Just give me a second, okay? Come on inside.”

I followed him into the apartment, and he shut the door behind me. Then he disappeared into his bedroom. I heard him rustling around for what seemed like ten minutes and was about to ask him what the hell was taking him so long, when he suddenly emerged carrying both pistols, as well as a rifle with a scope slung over his shoulder. He was dressed in jeans, muddy
work boots, and a flannel shirt. He handed me the pistol without a word, then dropped some extra bullets into my hand.

“Thanks.” The pistol was already loaded. I nodded at the rifle as I pocketed the extra ammunition. “Where’d you get that?”

“Out there. Found it in the street.”

Russ didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask him to. I got the sense that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I’m going with you,” he said.

“I appreciate the thought, but I can’t ask you to do that, man.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m telling you. So let’s go.” He glanced down at my feet. “You might want to put some socks and shoes on first, though.”

I looked down and saw that I was barefoot. I’d been so worried about Christy that I hadn’t even noticed. We left his apartment. Russ locked the door behind us. Then, while I got some shoes on, he went downstairs and got Cranston. I never found out what he said to Cranston that convinced him to come along, but I was glad for it. The two of them met me in the foyer. Cranston had Russ’s other pistol in his hand. Russ had unslung the rifle and was holding it in both hands, peeking out into the street. Cranston nodded at me. I nodded back.

“Thanks for doing this,” I told him.

“No problem, man. Let’s just hope it doesn’t end up like last time, right?”

“Right.”

“Coast is clear,” Russ said. “The street is empty. I don’t see Christy, though.”

“She’s heading downtown,” I told them. “To the pet store. You guys know where that is?”

Russ shrugged. “I don’t.”

“I do,” Cranston said. “I bought a Nile monitor lizard there. I named him Jerry, after Jerry Garcia.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Jerry Garcia—the Grateful Dead, man.”

I shrugged. “My grandparents used to listen to them.”

Russ grinned. “I didn’t know you had a pet lizard, Cranston.”

“I don’t anymore. He got loose about a year ago.”

“In the building?” Russ looked around as if the monitor might still be lurking around.

“No,” Cranston said. “In the park. I used to take him out there on summer afternoons. He liked the sun. One day he slipped his leash.”

“You had him on a leash?”

Cranston nodded. “Just like a dog.”

“Is the coast still clear?” I asked, interrupting.

Russ peeked his head out the door and checked. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s go. If we hurry, we can still catch her.”

After turning on our flashlights, we went out into the dark and hurried down the street, walking side by side. A lot had changed in just a few days. The sidewalks and streets were a mess, full of broken glass, trash, spent bullet casings, torn or soiled scraps of clothing, and other debris. Many of the vehicles parked alongside the curb had smashed windshields or slashed tires. A few of them were up on blocks—their tires and rims stolen. I wondered who would want to gank expensive rims given everything that was going on. I mean, it wasn’t like they’d be able to sell them somewhere. What were they going to do? Put them on their car and drive down to Virginia Beach for the weekend?

We found the first dead body at the intersection. It was impossible to tell if it had been a man or a woman because the corpse was mauled beyond all recognition. It didn’t look like a human being. It looked like a pile of rancid meat, all sticky and spoiled and covered with ants and buzzing flies. There was no face, no scalp, no ears. It had been dismembered and eviscerated. The guts were strewn around. They glistened in the flashlight beams. Most of the blood had turned a rusty brown color. Cranston turned away and made a retching sound, but he didn’t puke. Russ didn’t react, but neither did he look at the body. I stared, transfixed, watching the ants swarm over the corpse. I wondered what the ants thought of the darkness. Were they even aware of it? Did they know that things had changed? Did the darkness show them visions, too?