Darkness On The Edge Of Town Part 15

Cranston began quietly humming an off-key tune. After a minute, I recognized it as something by John Prine. I wasn't sure what the name of the song was, but I remembered it as something my mother had used to listen to. It made me sad. All the sudden, I missed her terribly. Then my thoughts turned to my grandfather-and what I'd seen in the darkness; something pretending to be his ghost. It made me want to scream. Cranston must have subconsciously picked up on my mood because he stopped humming. Maybe he just decided that n.o.body else was in the mood, since none of them joined in.

The three dogs kept their noses to the ground, ignoring everything but the subtle commands of their masters. Occasionally they strained at their leashes, trying to follow lines of scent, but Drew and Clay always pulled them back. The dogs didn't seem particularly bothered by the darkness, but as we neared the edge of town, I noticed that their speed decreased and they no longer wanted to stray. They stuck close to their masters instead. Their tails no longer wagged. Their ears drooped.

Russ leaned close to me and whispered, "You know we're being followed, right?"

I turned around but didn't see anyone in the shadows.

"By who? Where?"

"That homeless guy-Dez. He's been sneaking along behind us ever since we left."

Olivia, Cranston, and Anna overheard us, and they all turned around, too. T and his boys did the same.

"Go on," Anna shouted, stomping her foot. "Get out of here, you psycho. Git!"

"He's not a stray dog," Olivia said.

"No, he's not. I'd take pity on a stray dog. That guy is just plain wrong."

I frowned. "He's mentally ill, but I always thought he was pretty harmless."

Anna snorted. "Harmless? Ask Kathy Crawford what he did to her cat three years ago."

"What did he do?"

"Killed it. And I ain't talking he accidentally ran it over with a car or anything like that. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of their backyard. Her daughter saw him do it from the kitchen window. Later they found the cat out in the woods. The poor thing was all burned up and there was a little ring of stones around it, and candles and other weird s.h.i.+t. He's a G.o.dd.a.m.ned devil wors.h.i.+pper, plain and simple. Ought to be locked up. None of us are safe long as he's around."

"That's some f.u.c.ked-up s.h.i.+t," T said. "Motherf.u.c.ker be burning cats and s.h.i.+t."

I had to admit, T was right. It was was some f.u.c.ked up s.h.i.+t, if it was true. Hurting animals was how serial killers usually started out. I peered into the blackness but still didn't see anything. some f.u.c.ked up s.h.i.+t, if it was true. Hurting animals was how serial killers usually started out. I peered into the blackness but still didn't see anything.

"You sure he's back there?" I asked Russ. "I don't see him, and the dogs don't seem to be reacting."

"He was. Maybe he snuck off now. Anna might have scared him away."

"Dogs wouldn't pay him no mind, anyway," Drew explained. "Unless he was a rabbit or a fox or something."

"Do we have any kind of protection?" Olivia whispered.

"Robbie and I both have handguns," Russ said.

"So do me and Clay," Drew admitted.

Anna bent over, pulled up her pant leg, and produced a hunting knife with a thick, eight-inch-long locking blade. "I've got this. He comes around again, I'll gut him like a fish. See if I don't."

We reached the mall and crossed the parking lot. The dogs grew increasingly hesitant, and Drew and Clay had to prod them along more and more. The pavement was dirty and pitted, and scraggly brown weeds grew through the cracks. Broken bottles glittered in our flashlight beams. Trash crunched and rustled beneath our feet-aluminum cans, fast-food wrappers, cigarette b.u.t.ts, and a soiled baby diaper. There were a few cars in the parking lot, but it was mostly empty. I wondered where the vehicles' owners were.

Clevon reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy bar. He slowly unwrapped it, dropped the wrapper on the ground, and then took a bite. There was an almost wors.h.i.+pful expression on his face as he chewed.

"Where did you get that?" Olivia asked.

"The grocery store. I got boxes of them."

"Can I have one?"

He quickly shoved the rest of the candy bar in his mouth. His lips were ringed with chocolate and crumbs.

"Don't have any more with me. Sorry about that."

Olivia glared at him but said nothing.

A few yards behind the strip mall, we stepped onto an adjacent vacant lot. It was overgrown with weeds and brambles, and cluttered with more trash. Halfway across the vacant lot, the barrier became apparent again. The blackness turned into something more than just darkness. Russ and I had seen it before, but the others stared at it with a mix of awe and trepidation. They also stared at the runes and symbols etched into the dirt. It looked like Dez had used a shovel or a garden trowel to make them because they were dug deep-eight or nine inches into the ground, at least, and wide enough so that if the soil collapsed in on them, they wouldn't be obliterated.

"What are those?" Olivia asked, pointing.

"Some Evil Dead Evil Dead s.h.i.+t," T said. "Motherf.u.c.king Bruce Campbellstyle s.h.i.+t. Know what I'm saying?" s.h.i.+t," T said. "Motherf.u.c.king Bruce Campbellstyle s.h.i.+t. Know what I'm saying?"

Irish screwed up his expression, and the freckles stood out on his cheeks and forehead. "Man, you always be trippin' over those old movies."

"That's because they good, yo. You ain't got no love for the cla.s.sics. You down with all those weak-a.s.s remakes Hollywood be churning out."

"Can one of you translate for me?" Anna asked.

"What?" Russ smirked. "The symbols on the ground or what these guys are saying to each other?"

Clevon, Drew, and Clay all snickered at the joke. Olivia rolled her eyes.

"The symbols are runes of some kind," I explained.

Anna scowled. "Like the occult?"

"Not necessarily. Lots of different religions use symbols like this-Wiccans, Pagans, the Vikings, Drui-"

"Like I said, the occult. Witches. I overheard you and Dez. I know what's going on here, Robbie."

"Excuse me?"

"'Thou shall have no other G.o.ds before me, and thou shall not suffer a witch to live.' G.o.d's word."

"And that will be enough of that," Cranston groaned. "Jesus Christ, man, for all we know, we might be the last people left alive on Earth, and one of them has to be a narrow-minded, Bible-thumping extremist. That's the kind of thinking that screwed this planet up the first time around. You don't need Jesus to practice peace and love."

"I'm no extremist." Anna stomped toward him. "What, you think just because I recognize Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, that I'm crazy? Extremists blow up abortion clinics or fly their airplanes into buildings. They kill innocents. I don't. There's no need to. G.o.d deals with everyone eventually."

She jabbed a finger into Cranston's chest, but he refused to back down.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone else, but I don't appreciate the sermon. You could be a little more tolerant and respectful of other people's beliefs."

"Screw you, hippy."

Cranston laughed. "See? That's what I mean. I bet you don't talk like that on Sunday."

Anna's hands curled into fists. Russ and I stepped in before the situation spiraled out of control. I didn't know Anna, but I knew Cranston well enough to realize that this wasn't normal behavior for him. I glanced at the darkness, then back to him. The blackness seemed to s.h.i.+ne in his eyes. Then Cranston moved his head and I realized that it was just an illusion-a trick of the light.

Except there was no light.

"Come on, guys," I urged. "Let's focus on what we came here for. This isn't helping anybody."

"I'm sorry, Robbie," Cranston said. "You're right. But she started it."

"And I'll d.a.m.n well finish it, too."

"Enough," Russ shouted, pulling Anna away from Cranston. "Knock it the h.e.l.l off, both of you!"

"Get your paws off me!"

Before Russ could react, Anna hauled back and slapped him openhanded across the face. It was loud-like the crack of a bat hitting a baseball. The dogs howled at the commotion, straining at their leashes and jumping into the air. Drew and Clay cursed, trying to control them. Russ's flashlight tumbled from his hand and rolled across the ground. For a moment, Anna's handprint stood out stark white against his cheek. Then it turned red. Russ stood there, hands at his sides, mouth open. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The look in his eyes said it all.

"I warned you," Anna said. "n.o.body touches me like-"

Russ punched her square in the mouth. He moved so quickly that at first, I didn't realize what had happened. One moment he was standing there. The next, he was swinging. He threw all his weight into the blow, his entire body moving in tandem with his fist. Teeth and blood flew through the air. Shrieking, Anna stumbled backward. Her hands fluttered to her ruined lips. Blood spurted from between her fingers. Russ examined his still-clenched fist. A broken shard from one of her teeth jutted from his knuckle. Wincing, he pulled it out and stepped toward her. Blood welled up in the wound and dribbled across his fingers.

"d.a.m.n," Stan the Man murmured. "Homeboy just smacked that old b.i.t.c.h right in the mouth."

"Word," Mad Mike added. "That's some cold-a.s.s s.h.i.+t right there."

The rest of T's group nodded in agreement. I resisted the urge to shoot the teens. Apparently, Drew felt the urge, too, because he pulled his pistol out of his wais-tband. It had been hidden beneath his flannel s.h.i.+rt. But instead of pointing it at T's crew, he aimed it with one hand, alternating between Russ and Anna. The barrel bobbed up and down in tandem with his shaking hands. Drew's eyes were narrowed. His lips were pressed together in a tight grimace. Clay stared at us, wide-eyed, trying to control the black-and-tan, whose howls had turned to growls. Drew's aim returned to Russ. He seemed to have forgotten all about the dogs. He held the beagles' leashes in one hand, and the dogs strained the leads to their limit.

"Hey!" I yanked out my own handgun and pointed it at Drew. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing? Put that away, man. The f.u.c.k is wrong with you?"

With one hand clutching her face, Anna grabbed her knife. The blade shone in Olivia's flashlight beam.

"Ya'll get ready to jet," T muttered to his friends. "s.h.i.+t's about to go down hard."

"That's not going to help you," Russ told Anna, nodding at her knife.

He reached behind him and produced his gun. Anna whimpered, and her eyes widened. Russ grinned.

"Jesus," Clevon gasped. "Oh, Jesus Christ..."

"Shoot her, man," Cranston moaned. "We don't need her kind around here. Especially not now. She's part of the problem."

"n.o.body is shooting anybody," I yelled. "Let's all calm the h.e.l.l down. Right f.u.c.king now."

"Stop it, please," Olivia cried. "What are you doing?"

"s.h.i.+t is whack," T observed.

I ignored them both. "Put it away, Drew. Come on, dude. There's no need for this."

Drew's aim turned to me. "Put yours away first."

"Like h.e.l.l I will."

"Your choice, Robbie." His aim didn't waver. His hands no longer shook. The barrel of his gun looked very large and round, and it was full of darkness.

"Stop it," Olivia screamed again. "What is wrong with you people?"

"YO!"

We all turned. T stared at us with an expression of bewildered amus.e.m.e.nt. He shook his head and smiled.

"Every one of you motherf.u.c.kers are tripping. Ain't none of you remember what we said before? It's that stuff out there-the motherf.u.c.king dark. It's f.u.c.king with your heads, ya'll. Know what I'm saying? It wants us to do this s.h.i.+t. It wants us to kill each other. s.h.i.+t ain't right."

"Word," Mario agreed. "s.h.i.+t is f.u.c.king seriously whacked."

We all stared at them in stunned silence. Then Clay said, "Do any of you boys speak English?"

"We are speaking English, dog," T said. "You just ain't listening. Now let's get this s.h.i.+t over with. The darkness is f.u.c.king with us. I say we f.u.c.k it right back."

"He's right," I said, and lowered my gun. After a moment, Drew did the same. Russ hesitated, eyeing Anna suspiciously. Then he put his pistol away as well and retrieved his flashlight.

"Sorry," he muttered, but it was unclear who he was apologizing to.

Clutching his stomach, Clevon turned away and vomited his candy bar into the weeds. Everyone stepped away from him. Mad Mike wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Anna?" I stepped toward her, my hands outstretched to show that they were empty. "Put the knife away."

She glared at me with tears in her eyes. Blood streamed down her forearms. It looked strange in the dim light. Suddenly, Anna turned and fled back toward the strip mall.

"You'll all be sorry," she shrieked. "Mark my words. You'll be sorry!"

Olivia called after her to come back, but Cranston told the teacher to let her go.

"It's better anyway," Clay said. "Before we were unlucky thirteen. Now we're an even dozen."

"Not if you count them dogs," Irish pointed out.

Clay shrugged. "They're just dogs...dog. Did I say that right?"

T's friends laughed as if this was the funniest thing in the world.

"You learning," Irish said. "There might be hope for you yet, dog dog."

Clay grinned, then spat another stream of tobacco juice. The dogs continued baying.

"Can't you shut them up?" Russ asked. "They're making my head hurt."

"I thought they were just worked up over your fight," Drew explained, "but something else must have them spooked. Their bark is different, too. Don't sound like they do when they're tracking a rabbit."