Before the Darkness (Refuge Inc.) (17 page)

threatened to induce vomiting on several

occasions, forcing him to eat some dried fruit

before he ended up dry heaving all night.

The dust continued to fall from above at

a steady pace; not changing much since he'd left

the hospital. The sheer existence of the dust

made him believe that he was probably right

about the dark clouds and what it brought with

it. It troubled him to think of being surrounded

by trickling particles of asteroid and the strange

filth it produced upon impact.

He looked back toward the tiny pixel of

light far in the distance. Nearly an hour passed

and he hadn't found a thing, not a painted R, a

lyer, nothing whatsoever. He was on the verge

of walking in a totally different direction. Maybe

he'd missed some signs.

Maybe—

The ground beneath his feet began to

tremble. Adam anchored himself between a wall

and a large metal dumpster that he assumed

was once in some grimy alley. Maybe
he
was in a

grimy alley and hadn't realized it. The dumpster

rumbled like a drum as it rattled and bounced

around.

The

noise

was

overwhelming,

reverberating in his ears. And before he knew it,

the quaking stopped. Were these quakes some

sort of aftershock? They had started out strong

and in close proximity to one another, but then

they became less intense and less frequent. How

many more would there be until the quakes

ceased for good?

Adam looked in every direction, using

what ruined landmarks he could make out as

guides. He wasn't sure which way he wanted to

continue walking in. He couldn't determine

which direction made better sense to follow.

However, something caught his eye. When

looking back toward the hospital, he couldn't

ind that soft pixel of light anymore. He strained

his eyes looking for the shining light that glowed

from the hospital windows, a licker, something.

Instead he found nothing but darkness

encircling him from all sides. He switched off the

lashlight, allowing the darkness to swamp his

eyes so he could easily ind the tiniest pinprick

of light out there in the night.

Nothing.

Had the backup lights inally gone out for

good? Suddenly he knew what direction he

needed to go in …back to the hospital.

He licked the switch to turn the lashlight

back on, but it didn't come back on. "Damn it."

He hit the handle against his sweaty palm

repeatedly until the light came on but

immediately it went out again. "Damn batteries."

He quickly took his pack off and blindly

searched inside for the extra batteries he had

thrown in there. Once he found them he worked

hastily, removing the lashlight head, feeling for

the little metal nub at the end of each battery to

determine the correct way to place them inside

the handle.

Being subjected to the pitch black had a

way of making him feel completely vulnerable.

He imagined dark, blood-sucking creatures

making their way to him under the cover of the

darkness. Even as he replaced the lashlight

batteries he felt as if he were quickly trying to

load a gun with bullets to defend himself from

the half dead and hungry creature waiting to

sink its sharp teeth into his flesh.

The light came on and he quickly swung

the lashlight around, looking over his shoulder

at the environment as goose bumps covered his

arms. He chuckled. "Creatures of the night," he

mumbled. "I must be crazy."

He hoisted his pack on his shoulder and

began the tedious walk back to the hospital. The

only thing that bothered him as much as not

inding Refuge Inc. was the scuf le between him

and Elliot. Thinking about the punch that landed

on his temple made the side of his face throb,

but he didn't want to give the ight that kind of

power over him. Naturally when he stopped

thinking about it the throbbing ceased. He didn't

want to acknowledge the ight at all. Harboring

harsh feelings toward someone who only

wished to help him and keep him safe wasn't

part of his character.

He

just

chalked

it

off

as

a

misunderstanding, a stress related mishap that

wouldn't happen again.

There were much more important things

to worry about in their shattered world.

The trek did a number on his leg and

thigh muscles, but he inally made it back to the

unlit hospital. He expected Elliot and Titan to

greet him, but found nothing in the room where

he'd left them, only dark corners and

unrecognizable silhouettes instead.

"Elliot!" he called out. He ran to the stairs

and rushed up the staircase to the second loor

ICU. Edna and Harold were sitting on the bed

with a small candle. "You guys alright?"

"We're just ine." Edna nodded. She held

the outer glass shell of the small red candle on

her lap. "So he found you?"

Adam stood in the wide doorway,

shaking his head. "Who?"

"Your friend," Harold said and pointed a

bony inger Adam could barely make out in the

dim red glow of the candle. "Uh, what's his name

again?"

"Elliot," Edna inished. "He went out some

odd hours ago looking for you."

"He left?" Adam felt his eyes widen and

his palms start to sweat from the intense feeling

of dread that quickly hit him. "It's dangerous out

there. He doesn't even have the things he needs

and his leg—"

"He told us about that dust falling out

there, and I tried to talk some sense into him,"

Edna said in her matter-of-fact tone. "He said he

needed to ind you and bring you back here. He

took that dog and left."

"I gotta go get him." Adam rushed down

the hall.

"Hey, wait," Harold called out. "Did you

find the refuge?"

Before Adam hit the stairs he answered,

"Not yet. But when I do I'll send help for you. I

promise." He promptly made his way down the

stairs, out of the hospital and back into the

gloom.

Why would Elliot do something as stupid

as leave the hospital, and when did he muster

up the courage to suddenly do so? Adam walked

the same trail he took the irst time he went out.

He didn't know which direction to go or which

direction Elliot would take. His strategy was to

backtrack toward the freeway overpass where

Elliot irst felt weakened. If Elliot were looking

for him, he would look where they both had

seen the last sign. That spray painted sign was

on the concrete wall at the start of the freeway

overpass. Adam swept the light across the dark,

dirtied path, looking for footprints or other

signs that Elliot's had walked the same path.

Still, nothing.

Why hadn't he crossed paths with him on

his return?

After a slow, tiring hour of dragging his

feet, Adam sat on the edge of the sidewalk and

yawned. He'd depleted his energy. Surrounding

him were nothing but the frightening darkness

and the soft taps of ash hitting a crinkled piece

of newspaper on the ground next to him. As he

looked around his blackened environment, he

hoped to hear Elliot or Titan's footsteps. Elliot

wouldn't have gone out without some sort of

light, how else would he expect to ind him.

However, Adam didn't see light for miles in

every direction.

"Elliot!" he yelled into the night. "Elliot,

you there? Can you hear me?"

He waited, listening for anything in

return and again got nothing.

He rested for a few minutes before going

farther towards the freeway. Long, slow minutes

dragged on. His light was strong enough to light

up a space ifteen feet ahead, where inally he

saw a line of abandoned vehicles and the

painted R where the two of them had rested

before making their detour to the hospital.

The road he was on lead him straight

onto the freeway overpass. The road was

divided into six lanes with a narrow concrete

median. A few cars on his side of the median

were parked parallel to each other on all three

lanes, cars that were once attempting to leave

the city going south toward Tucson. But where

had the occupants gone? Surely they didn't have

enough time to walk out of the city before the

earthquakes begun. Could they have gotten

another ride? The cars were crammed in

around themselves as if they were involved in

some sort of collision. And he hadn't seen any

dead bodies other than the one's he'd seen

crowding the inside of his neighborhood church

when he first began his trek.

There had been about a couple dozen

bodies in that church, some slumped over in the

pews, other's gathered around the full size

plastered image of Christ, holding onto each

other like children grasping their father's

coattail when he'd threatened to leave them

behind. The empty Styrofoam cups were

crushed in their deathly grips or lying amongst

their bodies like trash. Adam knew better than

to assume the cups where just trash. The things

people resorted to. The horrors he witnessed

and wished he hadn't seen.

Though, the abandoned vehicles made

him wonder. Who had abandoned them and

where were these people? Could they have

followed the painted signs to Refuge Inc.?

Adam walked past the painted R and

farther down the freeway overpass, carefully

weaving in between cars and their wreckage as

he made his way down the bridge. The arrow

near the R pointed south, now he could continue

to go in the direction he had intended to go

before Elliot had gotten sick, and they had to

make the detour to the hospital. If Elliot

wandered this direction he would have made it

much farther than the overpass by now. But

there was no way to know for sure which way

Elliot had gone. So Adam kept walking. He'd run

into Elliot or refuge either way.

Almost to the middle of the bridge, Adam

stopped and shined his light on another R

painted on the outer concrete wall. This

particular R pointed up, which indicated he

needed to turn west at that exact moment. But

the sign in the center of the bridge pointed in a

direction that was impossible for him to go

unless he jumped off the bridge.

Adam scratched his head. He leaned over

the outer wall of the bridge, which was nearly

chest height, and shined his flashlight down onto

the dust and trash littered freeway about twenty

feet beneath him. A lone white minivan was

parked on the freeway, and spray painted on

the hood was another R that pointed west.

Bizarre. The minivan was the only vehicle

on the freeway beneath him and it couldn't have

been on the lane for more than a few days.

Adam stepped back, dumbfounded. What was

going on? That question repeated in his head

like the reverberation of a ringing bell when he

felt a cold wetness on his shirt. He looked down,

surprised to see his shirt sticky with black wet

paint. He examined the painted R on the wall in

front of him and couldn't believe his eyes.

The paint was fresh. Someone had just

painted the wall.

"Hey," he called out to nothingness. "Hey,

anybody there? I need help. We need help.

Anybody?"

Adrenaline kicked in and excitement

rushed through him making him idgety. His

chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to catch

his breath. He didn't know what to do but follow

the direction the arrow pointed. He shined the

light down the side of the road he was on. He

stood in the middle of the bridge, debating. It

seemed like a complete waste of time to walk to

one end of the long bridge or the other just to

ind his way down a ramp to the freeway below,