Darkness on the Edge of Town (8 page)

I wondered if, with everything that had happened outside, Russ would ever get the opportunity to have kids, but I didn’t voice my doubts.

“It’s not that we ended up hating each other or anything. Hell, I never cheated on her and as far as I know, she was faithful to me, too. We just sort of grew apart. I know that sounds like a fucking cliché, but it’s true. We were twenty-five when we got married and thirty
when we split up. Five years doesn’t seem like a lot of time, but there’s miles of difference between twenty-five and thirty. You’ll see.”

Again, I wondered about that. The way things were looking, there was a chance that neither Christy nor I would ever reach thirty.

“Anyway,” Russ continued, staring at the mug in his hands, “we split up. She moved to North Carolina. Started a new life. One that didn’t involve me. I think about her a lot. Even after all this time. I thought that would change. Figured over time, the wounds would heal. If they did, they left behind a lot of scar tissue. Especially at night. Sometimes I wake up and pat the other side of the bed, wondering where she is. Then I remember.”

I wanted to respond, but didn’t know what to say.

“Anyway,” Russ said, “I haven’t seen or heard from her until today.”

“So…she didn’t die or anything like that?”

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Christy thinks that what we saw today were ghosts. She saw her dad. I saw my grandfather. Both of them are dead. But your ex-wife was alive. So they couldn’t have been ghosts.”

“Far as I know, she’s still alive. But who knows for sure? What if what happened to us really did happen everywhere else? What if she died and I didn’t know it? Then it could have been her ghost, I guess.”

Something in his tone told me that he didn’t believe that. I asked him, and he confirmed it.

“I don’t think they’re ghosts.”

“Any idea what they really are then?”

“Personally, I think that whatever is out there—whatever force or intelligence is lurking in the
darkness—showed us what we most wanted to see. Our heart’s desires. I bet you loved your grandfather, right?”

I nodded. “More than just about anyone. He was like a father to me.”

“Well, there you go. It wanted us to venture into the darkness, so it tempted us with visions of the people we loved the most.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that as creepy and fucked up as that shit was, it was still good to see Olivia, even if it wasn’t really her. All I have are pictures and memories.”

“And Darjeeling tea,” I added with a grin.

Russ laughed. “Yeah, that too.”

“Aren’t you worried about wasting kerosene, though?”

Russ shrugged. “I’m more worried about running out of bourbon. But in either case, I can get more eventually. I mean, this darkness can’t last forever, right? Sooner or later, it will lift. Just wait and see.”

I wondered if he was trying to convince me or himself.

“I want to apologize for earlier,” I said. “I don’t know what the hell happened, but—”

Russ held up his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Robbie. You were right. If it had really mattered to me, I would have stepped in and stopped you. In truth, I was sort of secretly grateful when you gave her your car.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to get the fuck out of there. It felt like we were still too close to the edge of town—to that barrier where the darkness got darker, you know? And the longer we stood there trying to reason with her, the
more it felt like the darkness was listening. I can’t explain it any better than that.”

I blew on my tea to cool it and took another sip. He’d been right. It really was the champagne of teas. I made a mental note to buy some if civilization ever got going again.

“My point is,” he continued, “none of us behaved very characteristically today. When push came to shove, I chose my own welfare over that mother and her baby. I feel guilty about it, but it bothers me even more that I’m not being totally racked by guilt. I mean, by all rights, we should both be curled into the fucking fetal position by now. But we’re not. Maybe it’s just human nature. Maybe this crisis is just bringing out the worst in us.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “I’ve got to tell you, Russ, I’m pretty fucking scared right now.”

“Me too, brother. Me too.” He poured himself another cup of tea, reusing the previous tea bag. “Anyway, enough about that shit. Is Christy okay?”

“Yeah, she’s sleeping. I figured I’d see what you were doing. You want to play cards or something?”

“I was just about to head up to the roof. Want to join me?”

“Hell yeah.”

Russ grabbed a flashlight. We took our drinks out onto the fire escape and climbed onto the roof. Russ already had his telescope positioned. Since it was weatherproofed, he kept it there year-round. And it wasn’t like somebody would come along and steal it. The only way to get onto the fire escape was through our apartment or his. It didn’t reach as far as Cranston’s place on the first floor, unless you disengaged the ladder.

The air was still. I sat my mug down on the ledge and
peered out at the town. It was weird, seeing everything so black. Candles still burned in a few windows, but otherwise the buildings were dark. The huge floodlights that had dominated the area around the firehouse were turned off. That entire block was lost in gloom. One house in the distance was strung up with multicolored Christmas lights that blinked on and off in the darkness. I assumed that whoever lived there must have a working generator. Overall, though, the streets had more light—burning trash barrels dotted a few corners and people clustered around them—but even that radiance seemed pale and thin, as if the blackness was smothering it. As I watched, two figures around the barrels began to tussle. I couldn’t make out their features or even their gender. They were just wrestling shadows. But I heard flesh striking flesh and cries of anger or pain.

“Not the first fight today,” Russ grunted. “I’ve been hearing screams and shouts off and on ever since we got back.”

“Maybe it’s time for Chief Peters to hold another community meeting. Try to calm people down—figure out a plan of action. He’s been awfully quiet since that first meeting.”

“Kind of early for another meeting, isn’t it? He just had one. And besides, what good is it gonna do? I mean, he’s the fire chief, not the police. It’s not like he can enforce the law or anything. People don’t have to listen to him, unless they’re violating the fucking fire code.”

“He’s an authority figure. That’s something.”

“That ain’t shit. Not anymore.”

“That’s not what you said this morning. When we were at the meeting, you got into it with that guy for disrespecting the chief.”

“That was then. This is now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I mean that things have changed. Do I respect the chief? Sure. At least he’s trying to do something about our situation. But from what we’ve seen today, I don’t think there’s anything he can do. Wise up, Robbie. We’re trapped in this town. That darkness has us surrounded, and if things don’t change, or they get worse, pretty soon, it’s going to be every man for himself. When that happens, it won’t matter what the chief’s plan is.”

“This isn’t fucking Thunderdome, man.”

“Give it time. Give it time.”

“I thought you were the one who said this wouldn’t last?”

“And I still don’t think it will. I believe that just like any other crisis, this too shall pass. But that doesn’t matter right now. Things change quickly, and it only takes a minute for the world to flip upside down. There are all kinds of bad things that could happen before we get rescued. Look at New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. All the violence and madness—that shit started before the storm was even over. They were raping and killing people inside that stadium right in front of the news cameras, just because they could. Roaming the streets, looting and firing at cops, and knowing full well that the media was recording it all. But the people just didn’t give a shit. If people think they can get away with something without repercussions, then chances are they’ll try it. Especially if they’ve lost hope or are desperate.”

“But that kind of stuff can’t happen here. Not in Walden. I mean, sure, we’ve got drugs and crime and
shit, but mass-scale looting and riots? It would never happen here.”

“It can happen anywhere. The only reason we didn’t loot today is that we were too worn out after going to the edge of town. If you and I had the idea to start looting, then you can bet a bunch of other people did, too.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You ever read ‘Nightfall’ by Isaac Asimov?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s a pretty good story. You should read it. I’ll lend it to you.”

“What’s it about?”

“There’s this astronomer on a planet where it’s always daylight—”

“How does that happen?”

“Because they have multiple suns. This astronomer figures out that all the suns are about to set for the first time in thousands of years. Last time that happened, their civilization collapsed because there was mass panic, chaos, and insanity when night fell. Think about that for a minute, and then apply it to our situation.”

As if to punctuate the topic of our conversation, somewhere in the blackness, a woman shrieked and sobbed. The sound erupted suddenly, without warning, and stopped just as abruptly. From our location, it was impossible to tell where the noise had come from—not our building, certainly, but not that far away either. Within a few blocks, at least.

“It can happen anywhere,” Russ repeated. He turned the flashlight off and handed it to me. Then he walked toward his telescope.

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “It’s just sort of
depressing. You’d think that after landing a man on the moon and a robot on Mars and inventing the goddamn internet, we’d be a bit more evolved by now.”

“Nah. We’re animals, Robbie. Always have been. Always will be. If dolphins had opposable thumbs, they’d replace us as the dominant species in a heartbeat.”

I was getting depressed again, so I decided to change the subject. I took another swig of tea. It was already going cold, and the whiskey in it tasted stronger now.

“So even though it’s dark outside, it’s not technically nighttime. Shouldn’t you wait to go stargazing?”

“Nope. The only reason we don’t do it during the day is because of the sunlight. We don’t have to worry about that now. And with the power still out, now’s the perfect time. There won’t be any light pollution at all. I should be able to see stars that I’ve never seen before from this rooftop.”

I glanced up at the sky. “I don’t see anything.”

“Don’t worry. There are about three thousand stars visible from earth’s surface without a telescope or binoculars on dark, moonless nights. Tonight is the exception.”

“That’s an understatement.”

He chuckled. “But those stars are still there, even though you can’t see them. They aren’t going anywhere. Now, it could be this darkness is some kind of dense, uniform cloud cover or smog. If so, this telescope is powerful enough to see through that.”

“You really think it’s just smog? Even after today?”

He paused before answering. “Not really, although it would explain why we can’t see the stars with the naked eye. But we will with the telescope. You wouldn’t believe how much this thing cost. It was the only item I kept after Olivia and I got divorced, other than my
books and music collection and a few photographs. It’s my pride and joy. Like I said, this baby can see right through cloud cover and stuff.”

“I hope so.”

“It’s not like the stars move or suddenly all wink out of existence. No matter what’s happened, you can count on this, Robbie—the stars
are
still there.”

But they weren’t.

At first, Russ didn’t say anything. He fiddled with the telescope, staring through it, then adjusting various knobs. I watched him and waited patiently. I didn’t know anything about telescopes, so I figured I could help best by staying quiet and out of the way. His posture grew stiff, and he started muttering and cursing to himself. His breathing grew louder.

“Fuck me,” he gasped. “This is—”

“What’s wrong?”

Russ waved his hand, growing more agitated. Grunting, he bent over and picked up the telescope, then moved it to another spot on the roof. He stared back up at the black sky and moaned.

“Russ, what the hell is wrong?”

I turned the flashlight on and directed the beam at his face. He turned to me, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He’d grown pale and seemed to be in shock.

“Jesus Christ, Russ! Are you okay? You look like you’re having a heart attack or something.”

“There’s nothing,” he whispered.

My heart rate increased. I had a bad feeling in my stomach.

“Well, like you said, the darkness might be some kind of cloud cover.”

“No. You don’t understand. I told you, this telescope can penetrate through shit like that. This ain’t some
Wal-Mart special, man. This is a top-of-the-line unit. If there was anything up there, I’d see it—and there’s not. The stars are fucking
gone
, Robbie. And it’s not just them. The moon. The international space station. All the fucking satellites. You have any idea how many satellites there are circling the Earth? And now they’re not there anymore. They’re all missing. It’s like the darkness swallowed them, too. Like Walden is the last thing in creation, floating all by itself in some black void…”

He trailed off, his voice choked with sobs.

“They can’t be gone,” I whispered. “If they were gone, then we’d be dead. We couldn’t live without the sun.”

“No, we couldn’t. And if the moon suddenly disappeared…well, let’s just say it would fuck this planet up in ways you can’t even imagine. But see for yourself. They’re not there.”

“There has to be a logical explanation.”

If Russ heard me, he gave no indication.

“What has happened?” he muttered. “Oh my God, what is going on here?”

Before I could respond, a gunshot boomed in the darkness. It sounded very close, and both of us ducked instinctively. The echoes rolled across the roof, and my ears rang.