The Dark Trilogy (99 page)

Sadie adapted as well as could be expected to her new environment. No matter how scared she got, she never raised her voice or cried out. Over the next few weeks, she set an example for the two boys to follow as they moved forward with the group of adults that expanded and contracted as they fought to survive.

Even as the group was attacked, everyone was amazed at how Sadie did not utter a peep. Over time, she grew closer and closer to Lydia and Ben, curling herself up around the two adults she trusted the most. But she never forgot her mommy and daddy who were up in heaven, or what her mommy had taught her.

Nightmares of the old cat woman and Mr. Gonzales haunted her sleep. Those two ghouls chased Sadie endlessly, night after night, as she raced to get back to her mommy. Sooner or later, they would catch up with her, but she had eluded them so far.

Michael, Alone

Author’s note: This final vignette is just a minor bit of fluff that I debated adding to the stories I had already told. I never posted it on my blog, because I felt it revealed too much. It takes place when Michael is stuck in the vestibule at the bank, as he is staring out at the soccer mom ghoul banging on the door. I originally rambled for several pages about him coming to grips with dying, or perhaps getting bitten and becoming a zombie. In the end, I settled on this brief excerpt as a flash into Michael’s past and his real perception of his parents.

In his irrational state, images of his family rose to the surface. As he looked out beyond the smudged and gore-encrusted glass, the face of his mother replaced that of the young woman. In reality, his mom was probably slinking around Europe with Dad, trying to find a bite to eat, but Michael still tried to say something to the woman beyond the glass as he reached toward her with one hand. The searing agony broke through the illusion that it was his mother out there for long enough that his hand slumped back down to the floor as his mouth snapped shut. The image of his mother blurred, but memories of her remained.

Francesca Voorshank had been a beautiful woman in her youth. Refined, intelligent, and educated, she was a perfect match for the hungry young law student she met at Yale. Having every intention of mapping out her own life, Michael Albert Voorshank the first had somehow convinced her that becoming a socialite wife of a judge was the way to go. He was rich, handsome, and most importantly, an aggressive status seeker. He promised her a life of prestige and luxury and delivered on it. Her part of the bargain was also kept when she bore him two sons and maintained her tremendous beauty well into her fifties. Fran planned out every aspect of life for her husband and boys: the social connections they would make, the vacations, the dinner parties, the schools. She had a handle on everything except the affairs and trysts her husband would have. Michael often wondered if she were aware of them, but chose to ignore their existence. Because as long as they were discreet and allowed her to continue on with her existence as a well-respected wife and mother, it probably didn’t matter who her husband slept with.

Michael tried to wipe the images of deceit and manipulation from his mind. His mother had been perfect. An adoring matron who did all that she could to give him and his brother everything they ever wanted or needed. She had done her best to shelter him and Justin from their ill-tempered and abusive father, who cared little about such trivial things as love and tenderness. It was all about the results for him: good grades, first-place trophies, and the connections that would place them at the top of the heap and keep them there for the rest of their lives. Michael Sr. had been a gruff man who was the strongest person Michael ever knew. He was a giant who had pushed and prodded his sons even into his old age. The bastard had at least one triple bypass and several other medical procedures as he aged, but he never let them slow him down. He remained obsessed with achievement, and expected the same of his two sons.

A smile crossed Michael’s face. His gentle and loving mother, who had been a social climber and in her own way nearly as driven as his father, was dead. Hopefully it had been a merciful experience for her, because she deserved it. But the old bastard? If there was someone who could have been determined enough to come back from the dead long before there was any such thing as a virus that breathed life into dead flesh, it was Michael Voorshank Sr. If he had been bitten, he’d probably come back as the leader of a massive undead horde, wherever he was. Ruling them all with a decomposing iron fist.

Michael would have laughed at the image, if his broken ribs hadn’t made it too damn painful.

About the Author

Patrick D'Orazio resides in southwestern Ohio with his wife, Michele, two children, Alexandra and Zachary, and two spastic dogs.  A lifelong writer, he only recently decided that attempting to get published might be a better idea than continuing to toss all those stories he’s been scribbling down over the years into a filing cabinet, never to be seen again.  

Over twenty of his short stories appear or will be appearing in various anthologies from a wide array of different small press publishers. He has dipped his toes into a variety of genres, including horror, science fiction, fantasy, erotica, Bizarro, western, action-adventure, apocalyptic, and comedy.

The Dark Trilogy, including Comes the Dark, Into the Dark, and Beyond the Dark, are Patrick’s first published novels.

You can see what Patrick is up to via his website at
www.patrickdorazio.com
or over at the forums at
www.thelibraryofthelivingdead.com
.