Darkness Falls (10 page)

20

Jimmy made his way to the garage, with Kyle following after him. Between the dog, the giant bull-thing and Dana, his last shred of bravery was threadbare.
Just get this done and get the hell out.

“Sorry about your friend back at the diner,” Kyle said.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Jimmy said.

“That’s not—I’m just sorry. I lost my brother eight years ago in Iraq, so when I say I know how you feel, I do. It’s not just Doctor-speak.”

Jimmy said nothing in response. He just crept forward, listening to the shifting breeze and watching their bleak surroundings.

“IED. Took out his Humvee and two others out on patrol.”

“Helluva thing,” Jimmy said, heading across the patch of open space between the main building and the shed. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not announce our presence to whatever’s lurking out there.” He eyed the nearby woods.

“Right,” Kyle whispered. “Sorry.”

Might be a smart doctor type
, Jimmy thought,
but he’s lacking a little something in the common sense department.

They reached the garage and stopped. Jimmy grabbed hold of the door’s handle and jiggled it. Locked. He shined his light through the windows and peeked inside. A wheelbarrow and a few yard tools sat off to the left, but aside from that, it was pretty much empty. Then he spotted a door on the side of the garage.

“Door on the right,” Jimmy said, heading around.

He stopped at the door and raised his right leg, getting ready to give it a good kick, but paused and tried the door handle first. It turned easily in his hand and the door swung open.

Jimmy stepped through the door and shone the light back and forth. The main tower’s breaker panel was on the middle of the back wall. To the right of the panel was a metal pipe that ran up from the concrete floor and out the back. A thin red lever was twisted perpendicular to the pipe.

“Think I found it,” he said, walking to the pipe. “Can you see Sam or Cash at the window?”

Kyle turned and flashed his light back at station, checking the windows. He jumped when he found a person staring back at him through one of them. Sam was at the window, and he flashed his light twice in acknowledgement.

“Got him,” Kyle said.

Jimmy studied the pipe and saw that the red lever labeled PROPANE was in the off position. He grabbed hold and called out to Kyle. “It’s off. I’m gonna turn it on. You ready?”

“Ready.”

Jimmy pulled the red lever down, lining it parallel with the metal pipe. There was a hiss and the faint smell of propane, as it flowed past the cutoff and fed the generator.

“Shit. I think it’s leaking.” Jimmy pointed his light where the lever for the cutoff met the pipe. There was a hairline fracture just below the valve.

“Is it bad?” Kyle asked.

Jimmy sniffed the air around the cutoff. He could smell the chemical compound the manufacturer had mixed in with the propane. The rotten egg stench was there, but it wasn’t anything that he was too worried about. “Well, I wouldn’t light a match back here, but it should still work.”

“Okay.” Kyle turned his flashlight around on himself and gave Sam a thumbs up.

Jimmy jumped as the Generac came to life a moment later, in a series of spins and sputters. After a few clunks and what sounded like leaves caught in the master fan, it hit a steady hum.

“Ready to head back?” Kyle asked.

“Almost,” Jimmy said, fishing through his pocket, retrieving a cigarette.

Kyle looked at Jimmy with a look of shock. The smell of rotten eggs was impossible to ignore now.

Jimmy laughed as he put it together. “I ain’t going to light it in here.”

Sam stood in
the main broadcast room watching Jimmy and Kyle leave the garage and start back to the station. He hadn’t had a chance to mourn the loss of Dana, and he felt oddly numb as a result. His thoughts shifted to Wyatt, back at the diner, and he prayed to God for the first time in a long time, that the boy would be okay.

“Equipment’s booting,” Cash said, joining Sam. “Shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes.”

Sam took a seat in the disc jockey’s chair and spun around to look at the soundboard. Numerous little red and green LEDs flashed like lights on a Christmas tree. He turned on a small desk lamp just above the sound board, and he squinted at the sudden brightness.

In front of him were a series of sliders and dials that he hadn’t a prayer of ever understanding. He reached up and pulled down the suspended mic, so it was level with his face.

“So this is where he sits, huh? DJ Stan and the Saturday Morning Countdown,” Sam mocked into the mic. “You ever met him?”

“Once,” Cash said. “And that was enough for me. Kind of a prick.”

“So, you know how to run this thing?”

Cash stepped up next to Sam and pointed to a slider with the word
mic
in small print below it. “That’s your volume. Slide it up for sound and all the way down to mute.” Cash pointed to a red-lighted button. “Push that when you want to talk, and it’ll turn green. Green to talk; red to stop. Tech’s in the other room. I should be able to patch the ham’s feed right through the station for some extra push. You good here?”

“Green means go. Got it,” Sam said.

Cash left for the adjacent room, and Sam turned his attention back to the soundboard. He ran a finger over a series of sliders, careful not to move any.

Wyatt would get a real kick outta this.

Wyatt had always been a tinkerer, even from an early age. He was always taking things apart and putting them back together again, out of curiosity. God, he missed that kid.

Cash knocked on the glass between the two rooms.

“We’re up,” Cash said, his voice muffled. He leaned over and spoke into a little microphone. “You ready?” Cash’s voice boomed through the speakers.

Sam gave a nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

Cash looked down and pressed a button, illuminating a red ON AIR sign above the window. He spoke into the mic again. “You’re live.”

Sam turned back to the soundboard and re-adjusted the mic. He cleared his throat and stared at the volume slide, wondering what to say. He’d spent all his time thinking about getting to the station, but never about what he’d say once they made it.

He pressed the red button and it lit green, as Cash had said it should. Then he slid the volume up and leaned in to the mic. He still wasn’t sure what to say, so he just started speaking. “My name is Sam...Sam Lake of Refuge, New Hampshire. I’m trying to reach someone—anyone—who can hear this broadcast. We need help. We have an emergency situation and require immediate assistance. If anyone can hear this, we are set up to receive on frequency 34.90,” And then, for added measure, “Over.”

Sam counted to sixty in his head and repeated the message. He looked to Cash, who simply shook his head. Nothing.

“I repeat, Refuge, New Hampshire is in—”

Static and feedback suddenly blasted from the speakers. Sam cupped his hands over his ears. A horrific shrieking filled the room from every corner, as if it was no longer confined to the speakers, and then it ended as quickly as it had started.

Sam removed his hands from his ears and listened to the silence. His heart pounded as he scoured the room with his eyes. Despite the empty room, he no longer felt alone. He’d watched—and mocked—countless TV shows where paranormal investigators claimed they felt a presence in a room. Real or not, he had a new respect for anyone actively seeking an experience like this.

The static picked up again, shifting in and out. After a series of sharp crackles and a jittering squeak that sounded like a voice, Sam said, “Hello? I can hear you! I can—”

“Saaaaaam,” came a long, slow whisper from the speakers.

Sam went rigid while every hair on his body sprang up as though he’d been inserted into a static filled tube.

“Saaaaaam,” the voice said again, but more faintly, lost in a burst of static, which was suddenly replaced by a second voice. “Dad?”

Sam’s fear fell away. He jumped to his feet. “Wyatt?”

“Daaaaadyyyyy.” The voice was now half Wyatt, half...not.
It was never really Wyatt
, Sam told himself.
It’s just fucking with you
.

“Daaaadeeeee!” The E sound became a high pitched squeal that forced Sam’s hands back to his ears. It was so loud he could feel it in his body. His vision blurred. A scream erupted from Sam’s lips, as a sinister laugh filled the air around him, merging with the shriek.

Then it was just Sam’s voice, screaming in fear and agony.

He jerked as something grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. He shot his left arm upward, breaking the thing’s grip and struck out with a right fist. Pain shocked down his arm in protest, as he struck something solid, but he felt satisfaction as his assailant cried out in surprise.

Whatever it was, it was strong and fought back, knocking him to the floor.

“God fucking dammit, Sam! What the fuck?”

Sam looked up from the floor. The desk lamp above the soundboard was on, and he could see Cash standing in front of him, rubbing his chin.

Sam looked around the room, disoriented. “Did you
hear
that?”

“Hell yes,” Cash said, jerking his arm free. “I cut the power to it.”

“You don’t think...?”

Cash shook his head. “It wasn’t Wyatt, but they’re not just monsters. Not all of them. Something out there is intelligent, and it knows we’re here.”

“Then I think it’s time to get gone,” Same said. “Where’s Jimmy?”

“Front hall with the new guy.”

“We gotta go,” Sam said. “I need to get back to Wyatt.”

“What about calling for help?” Cash asked, incredulous.

Sam took one step toward the door and was nearly knocked off his feet by what felt like an earthquake, but he recognized it as an impact. Something large had struck the building, which pretty much left one suspect. “That big asshole is back.” The lights flickered and then went black.

21

Jimmy fled outside as the radio station bucked and creaked. He stumbled and caught himself against Cash’s van. He flicked his now bent cigarette away. “The hell is this now?”

“Shut up,” Kyle hissed. “You hear that?”

Jimmy held his breath and listened. At first he heard nothing, but then a sound akin to a galloping horse steadily arose. It sounded familiar. His eyes widened with recognition.

It’s back.

Jimmy grabbed Kyle by the arm and pushed him toward the station. “Get back inside. Now!”

“What is it?”

“Just get inside! Go!” Jimmy shouted, as the source of the sound came running up the road.

Kyle’s look of confusion snapped to horrid understanding, as he saw the giant beast closing in.

He leapt up the stairs, nearly falling at the top. Jimmy was right behind him, but so was the dark-shrouded monster.
We’re not going to make it,
Jimmy thought. As soon as he saw Kyle reach the door to the station, he made a sharp turn to the right and jumped off the side of the staircase.

The beast’s thick, wolf-like head slammed into the doorway. Wood splintered, as it snapped at Kyle’s feet. The creature’s wide body was too large to fit through the narrow entrance, but that didn’t stop it from trying. Kyle backpedaled furiously into the hall, but he only managed to bunch the floor mat under his feet.

The beast lunged forward again, missing Kyle’s left foot by inches, as Cash and Sam pulled him out of its reach. The monster snarled at them, its massive head smelling of death and decay. Ash fell from its open mouth, like drool. Its lips curled back, and it snorted at them, coughing out more ash. Then it was off, chasing after the one person who wasn’t inside.

Jimmy slammed into
the tool shed, hoping it was open, but the door held fast, knocking the wind out of him. He turned, his back against the door, his lungs burning for air.
I shoulda quit smoking
.

He watched as the beast rounded the corner and sniffed the air. Its boxy hyena head turned and looked directly at him. Its black eyes seemed lifeless, and yet, hungry. It lowered its head and slowly stalked toward him, ashen muscles twitching, casting off small geysers of smoke. Black claws extended from its wide paws, digging into the ground with each tense step.

Jimmy stood rooted to the spot, his broad shoulders heaving as he took deep breaths. He absentmindedly reached into his pocket and touched the familiar lighter. It was one of the few things of his father’s he still had, and ironically, part of the habit that had contributed to his death.
See you soon, Dad.

The beast charged, closing the distance before Jimmy could react. It placed a single large paw on his chest and shoved him to the ground. It lowered its ashen snout to his face, showering him in a cascade of dry flakes.

Jimmy struggled to breathe from both the beast’s weight and the stench. He reached up with both hands and grabbed at its neck, his fingers sinking into a gray-black mess of crispy flesh.

The beast leaned forward, putting weight onto the leg that had pinned its prey. It flexed its paw and sank four sharp claws into Jimmy’s chest.

Jimmy let go of the beast’s neck and wheezed, coughing up a mix of blood and vomit. His vision faded, like he was watching the end of a movie. His own personal ‘fin.’ He raised a bloody hand and slowly extended his middle finger.

“I hope you choke on me, mother—”

The beast leapt back, startled and in pain. Jimmy cried out as the monster’s talons slipped out of his flesh, and again as two sets of shadowed hands grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him away. Too tired to fight back, he simply accepted his fate.

“Geez you’re heavy, Jimmy,” a familiar voice said.

Jimmy lifted his head and saw that it was Cash and Kyle dragging him away. He looked back at the beast, now busy snapping at the source of its pain.

Sam held up the three lantern flashlights, now strapped together, combining their light. Using the brilliant light to hold the strange shadow-beast at bay, Sam backed away slowly, following Cash, Kyle and Jimmy past the ruined threshold of the radio station. Jimmy felt a moment of relief as Sam entered and the monster didn’t follow, but it was short lived. His vision spun and then faded. The encroaching darkness terrified him, but there was nothing he could do about it, as unconsciousness claimed him.