Out of the Dark: An apocalyptic thriller (19 page)

     Making metal notes about the stores that surrounded the area he knew was fairly close to The Swan, Shane tried to commit them all to memory. After all, he had nothing better to do as he waited for the sun to rise. As he checked the car clock, he noted that sunrise would be in less than an hour. Silently, he thanked God that the light would soon be on its way.

     There was a mini mart which boasted beer and lotto, pizza, subs, and fresh meats. Shane decided he would probably avoid that one. For one thing, as soon as the power went out the meat would begin to go rancid and start to smell. It would be an atmosphere that would breed disease. For another, booze and gambling were diseases on their own which would call looters of a variety Shane didn’t want to encounter. He felt no regret for marking the mini mart of his mental list.
     Right beside the mini mart was a dollar store, and Shane knew that would be a good place to procure supplies. Not only would there be food, but dollar stores in general carried a variety of home products, clothing, baby supplies, entertainment items, and other random things Shane was certain would be useful. He noted that store at the top of his list for attractive scavenging options.

     At the corner of the road Shane would need to turn down in order to reach The Swan, there was a pharmacy that sat beside a small, privately-owned car dealership. Thinking they could commandeer at least one other vehicle, Shane moved his attention to the pharmacy, which he bumped to the top of the list for businesses they would need to raid for important supplies. Inside would be a stockpile of medication and necessities, from allergy medication and prescription drugs to vitamins and books to help with self-treatment of wounds and ailments.

     And condoms, Shane thought almost off-handedly, and then his skin flamed with embarrassment. It wasn’t that he had sex on the brain, he assured himself, but having them on hand would only be a good thing. People were bound to seek physical comfort with the world gone crazy and without proper treatment facilities and medical professionals, the prospect of a woman getting pregnant and having a baby was terrifying to him. Better to be safe about it, Shane told himself, even if it was a topic that would cause some level of embarrassment and possible wrongly-assumed intentions.

     “Oh, get a grip, man,” Shane urged himself in a disgusted tone. It was just smart. No one would think he was a lech because of it.

     Turning away from the direction he needed in order to get to the motel, Shane saw several fast food joints all lined up together on one side of the road. On the other side were small business. A large old building with a broken sign had once been an auto auction and was now a derelict skeleton, no longer full of cars, people, and supplies but for years just empty rooms and a vacant parking lot.

     There were two gas stations at the next corner, sitting opposite one another and sporting large signs that still flashed their ridiculous prices for fuel in red. They would need to check them out, Shane decided. Not only were there supplies but they would need as much gasoline as they could get.

     He made another pass around the block, driving slowly and monitoring his gas gauge and the area, seeking threats and obstacles. Because it was mostly a business sector, Shane expected there had been very few people around when the Onset hit. This assumption proved correct, as he saw neither evidence of uncorrupted nor those taken half or fully by the blight.

     The sun was rising. Shane could see it coloring the horizon pink and red, streaking across the sky vibrantly. The rosy hue made him feel better, lifted a weighted cloak the darkness had draped around him. He turned back toward The Swan Motel, eager and anxious to see Stephanie. The longer he’d been away, the more he believed he wasn’t going to find her safe at her last known location. The more he’d thought about it, the more he convinced he was that she was either dead or gone.

     He drove more quickly back toward The Swan, hoping with everything in him that he was driving toward Stephanie.

----------------------------

     Stephanie McAlister was dreaming. In her dream, she ran. She’d always loved to run. She ran a mile and a half in the morning and the same distance in the evening. She lived to run and in this dream, she would soon be running for her life.

     She was with Benjamin. They’d only been dating about three months, but he was familiar with her home as she was with his. They were in her apartment for the night, watching the news as the world began to unwind.

     “You believe the shit they put on the news these days?” Benny scoffed, and Stephanie shrugged.

     “They aren’t really even saying anything, Benny,” she said softly as she pushed her hair back and continued making the chicken and rice they’d planned to do for dinner. Benny rolled his eyes.

     “It’s what they
aren’t
saying that’s shit,” Benny said derisively.

     The way Ben talked sometimes made Stephanie feel like he thought she didn’t know anything. It didn’t make her feel terribly incompetent, as it would a woman with less confidence than she had, who had never proven herself as Stephanie had. Stephanie let people, especially men, only as far into her life as she felt safe to do. She lived in an apartment complex to limit the danger of being a woman living alone and she kept a gun on hand wherever she was. Knives were stored on her person and in spots where they were easily available in every part of her small living area.

     She knew Shane would say that she kept idiots close to her because smart people had a better opportunity to hurt her. It wasn’t an idiot who’d taken her hostage, who’d used, hurt, and left her for dead. Smart people were a danger, and Shane was the only intelligent individual she allowed around her. He was her knight in shining armor. He hated guys like Benjamin.

     She flipped the shredded chicken, making sure the oil, spices and teriyaki sauce soaked into every part of it. She loved everything to be flavorful. Cooking was therapeutic. She enjoyed it almost as much as she enjoyed running.

     The rice was adequately browned, so Stephanie added the rest of the ingredients she needed, including water. She needed it to simmer and soften for a while. She capped the pan with its lid, leaving a crack for steam to escape, and returned her attention to the chicken.

     From above, she heard a thud and a crash. She jumped, spilling some of the chicken onto the stove. It sizzled on the burner, and she cleaned it off immediately to keep it from scorching on the coil. She’d been admittedly edgy ever since her experience and nothing escaped her notice that could indicate a potential threat.

     “Baby, do you think you could go check that out?” she asked, putting a feminine note of urgency in her tone that she knew Benny would catch and be at least moderately disgusted by.

     “Oh, come on, Steph,” Ben responded, and he indeed sounded aggravated. “Some asshole’s beating his wife, kids are fucking around. Whatever, right? None of my fucking business.”

     At that time, Stephanie decided she’d be moving on from Benny soon. He wasn’t just an idiot; he was an uncaring shit heap who didn’t give a rat’s ass about his fellow man. Some things were able to be forgiven. Being an unfeeling dick was not on the list of things to be forgiven.

     Another noise, louder and more dangerous-sounding to Stephanie, came from the apartment beside them. The apartments weren’t cheap so the walls weren’t paper thin. Whatever had made the noise–what sounded like a football player tackling an opponent into a wooden table and shattering both the piece of furniture and the unfortunate body of the other person–was loud enough to cause Stephanie some serious concern.

     “Really, Ben?” she snapped as she turned away from the stove. “You’re not going to check that out?”

     When she saw him, the knife she’d used to cut the chicken was in her hand as though she were a magician and had summoned it to her fingers. She’d been a victim before, had seen one of the many faces of evil. She recognized it instantly, on a personal level and an instinctive one. Whatever had happened to Ben in the few
moments
she had been looking away from him, evil now walked within him.

     “I don’t want to but I will hurt you, Ben,” Stephanie said softly.

     His eyes rolled toward her as she spoke. The previous soft brown (a shade so unique, she’d once thought, like the fur of a fawn) was obscured by cataracts of yellowish white. He’d been blinded in an instant, it seemed, though his eyes mirrored those of a man who’d seen ages pass him by. His nose and mouth spewed blood; darker, thicker blood than they should have and stained his shirt a dirty, red-brown color. His teeth elongated, pressing into his bottom lip and drawing more blood to spill down his face. When he raised his hands toward her, Stephanie saw the skin had peeled away, revealing clean white bone that crackled as he bent his now misshapen fingers.

     “I want to taste you. Inside and out,” Ben declared, and then cackled with psychotic glee. The thing that disturbed Stephanie the most was the fact that even though his body was contorting grotesquely, his voice was perfectly normal, utterly Ben.

     “Come near me and I gut you,” Stephanie warned as she moved slowly away from him, keeping the knife between them while she grabbed her car keys and secured their place around her neck. She always wore her shoes, unless she was showering or sleeping, so she didn’t have to fight to get them on. She was getting to the door and she was getting the hell out.

     One moment she was inching her way toward the door and the next Ben was just there, right next to her. No hesitation bloomed, no doubt was allowed. Stephanie tightened her hold on the blade and drove it hilt-deep into Ben’s neck.

     Scrabbling at the blade, Ben wheezed and bled, stumbling back as he gasped for air. Stephanie kicked him, once in the knee as hard as she could and once in the stomach for good measure. She’d learned self-defense basics and the one move she’d been particularly fond of had been the shattering of a kneecap. Though it had been advised that it was not the attack she should go for right off, Stephanie was partial to the technique. She performed the kick expertly, envisioning her foot going through the flesh as she’d been taught. She heard the pop as she expected, but Ben didn’t go down as she’d thought he would. She aimed another kick at his midsection, again trying to kick through him, not just make contact. Though the blow slowed him, he still didn’t go down.

     As a last resort, Stephanie heaved the old antique cabinet that held all of her best China (passed down from her mother and grandmother) that stood at the end of her island counter in the kitchen. With a pang of regret, she pushed as hard as she could and slammed it down onto Ben. Trapped beneath the enormous weight, he nonetheless continued thrashing and hissing at her. He made a grab at her foot as she passed by him, but she was able to break his grasp easily.

     Grabbing her purse, in which she had her gun stored in a zippered compartment, Stephanie made sure she had her license to carry, her cell phone, and her wallet. She slid into her winter jacket, had an instant to lament her thin pants, and then she was out the door.

     Once she left her apartment, Stephanie realized her danger was far from over.

     Things crashed out from behind doors that had once held neighbors, strangers, friends. She was pursued relentlessly, through hallways, down flights of stairs. She stumbled, she skidded, she was almost caught a handful of times. Her breath burned in her chest, her heart pounded so loudly and so fiercely that she swore she felt it trying to break out of every part of her body that held a pulse point. She’d never run like that; never for her life. Being on the third floor of a large apartment complex, she felt like she could run for an eternity and never escape.

     Just as she hit the door running and slammed it open with her palms ahead of her, Stephanie was caught by her hair and dragged back inside. The scream stuck in her throat never made it to her lips. She was going to die.

Chapter Fifteen

     Stephanie awoke panting, delirious with fear. She felt she would drown in her sweat.

Every inch of skin had become slick with the acrid, liquid scent and feel of terror. Still breathing like she would hyperventilate at any moment, she swung her legs over the side of the motel bed and tried to calm her racing heart and burning lungs.

     It was like she’d really run that gauntlet of death all over again, she thought. Escaped Ben, pounded through the halls, down the stairs. But when she’d hit the door this time, she’d been jerked back from salvation, from her break away into the outside world. Part of her soul felt trapped in that imagined level of hell, she admitted to herself, and shivered as the cool air met her sweat-damp skin.

     Stephanie raised her green eyes, which had flecks of gold hidden around the pupils to the slender form of Darcy Adams. Though she looked mousy, Stephanie knew Darcy was strong and resolute, brave and determined. Her hair was short and dark, a no-nonsense cut that framed her pale, angular face and somehow gave it a softness it would lack with a longer style. Stephanie knew her eyes were calm blue, the blue of ocean water after a storm, after all of nature’s rage had been expended. The whole of Darcy was like that, the calm after the storm. She had seen and experienced so much as to simply leave her empty. When something filled her up, it always filled her completely.