Darkness Falls by Jeremy Bishop, Daniel S. Boucher Page B

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.

 
     
    22
     
    Frost drove slowly, steering the cruiser through the thick layer of ash that covered the road leading out of town, to the north. She hadn’t been down this way since the first shift occurred, but other than the copious amount of ash painting the scenery in grayscale, the land seemed unchanged.
    “How much further?” Griffin asked. He’d been pretty quiet since leaving the house. Frost didn’t think much of it. He was probably worried about Ava. But she was glad to hear his voice again. Strange how a day before, Griffin was just a good friend with the distant prospect of being something more. Someday. Now, she couldn’t imagine Refuge, or her life, without him in it. Not that things had moved any further. How could they? But she knew, without a doubt, that she desired a future with him.
    She knew Julie Barnes felt similarly, and though that woman could flaunt her wares like no one else in Refuge, Frost believed Griffin could see past the curves and follow his heart before his loins.
    Not that Frost wasn’t good looking. She just hid her looks while on the job, so the fellas in town would take her seriously.
    “About a quarter mile ahead,” she said. “On the right.”
    Griffin leaned forward, looking through the windshield, which was smeared with streaks of drizzle-soaked ash. “We should have Jimmy replace these wipers when we get back. Are the high beams on?”
    “Yeah,” Frost said. “But it’s like the light is just being absorbed. Getting worse the further we go.”
    She nearly missed the turn-off because the normally light brown dirt road was covered in ash. She hit the brakes, slid a few feet and then turned into the overgrown road, which was not so much a road as an old path, probably carved into the woods by loggers.
    “I think I see something ahead,” Griffin said.
    She could see it, too. While most of the world beyond fifteen feet was hidden in muted gray, there was a blue light up ahead, shining like an electric beacon.
    As they got closer, Griffin whistled. “Was it doing this