The Darkness by W.J. Lundy Page A

of
the rear passenger’s doors. Stephens handed Jacob the shotgun they’d retrieved
from the dead cop. “Here take this; it’ll get you farther than that rifle,” he
said.
    Jacob nodded his
acceptance and stepped out of the car.
    Stephens moved to the
rear of the car and used the key to open the trunk. A large black gear bag was
inside; Murphy reached in and opened the zipper.
    Inside were a police
carbine and a black tactical vest already loaded with three, thirty-round
magazines. Murphy removed the rifle and set it to the side, then pulled out the
heavy vest and placed it next to the rifle. The rest of the bag was filled with
road flares, a protective mask, and a baton. Another bag was filled with tools
and other emergency gear. Murphy closed the bags and pushed them aside.
Searching the rest of the trunk, he found nothing further of use.
    He waved Jacob forward
and placed the vest in his hands. It was heavy. Police was stenciled across
the back in white, bold letters, and an embroidered badge patch was affixed to
the front center. Several loops held zip ties and other bits of equipment.
Jacob pulled the vest tighter and let the weight adjust in his arms. Murphy
took the rifle and opened the sling, hanging it over Jacob’s back.
    “Come on, man; what am I,
a mule?” Jacob whispered, protesting.
    “Just until we get
inside; then I’ll show you how to put the gear on,” Murphy said.
    After one more sweep of
the trunk, Stephens slowly lowered the lid and pressed until he heard the latch
click. The soldier reached up and dropped his NODs over his eyes, then gave
Murphy a thumbs up. Murphy looked at Jacob. “Just follow us in and press your
back against the wall.”
    Jacob nodded back to the
man as Murphy pulled down his own goggles and followed Stephens to the front
door of the business.
    Stephens moved to the
right of the door with Murphy standing just behind him. He reached out an arm
and felt the handle move in his hand. The door pushed in easily and glided
open, staying that way. Stephens sidestepped to the lip of the door, lowered
the barrel of his rifle, tapped it twice against the doorjamb, and then pulled
back. The three of them silently stood, holding their breath and listening for
any sound of movement.
    After several agonizing
minutes, Stephens stepped into the doorway and dropped into the room with
Murphy close behind him. Jacob moved in quickly after and, as instructed,
pushed his back to the wall and waited. Murphy reached back and closed the
door, the room quickly falling pitch black. Jacob couldn’t see a hand in front
of his face; he pressed against the wall and began sweating while holding the
heavy gear in his trembling arms.
    He could hear the
soldiers’ footsteps as they moved deeper into the space. Their sounds of
movement reflected off walls and played tricks on Jacob’s mind as he tried to
imagine the layout of the room. The soldiers’ steps continued to move away;
then, suddenly, the room flashed in bright light. Jacob squinted, pulled up a hand
to shield his eyes, and heard men yelling from a loft. Jacob watched as his
friends peeled off their night vision devices and raised their hands.
    Bright handheld
spotlights painted them in blinding beams. Armed men chaotically yelled for
them to show their hands. Jacob dropped the gear and thrust up his arms. He was
ordered to move forward and online with the others. Whoever held the spotlight
was using it effectively; they hit Jacob right in the face with the beam, and
he couldn’t see anything while blinded by the light. He tried looking away but
found it impossible to escape the beam. Jacob stepped forward, nearly bumping
into Murphy who was speaking low, trying to identify himself to the unknown men
in the loft.
    Jacob heard boots clank
as they ran down a set of metal stairs. The other men continued to order them
to keep their arms up. A man approached, pushing a barrel into Jacob’s chest
and yelled for him to look straight ahead and open