The Darkness by W.J. Lundy Page B

his eyes and mouth. Jacob
struggled to peel open his eyes against the blinding light. He heard the man
yell, “Clear!”
    The lights’ beams were
directed away and shut off. Small portable lanterns filled the room with a
softer glow. A man in jeans and a Carhartt work coat stepped forward. He held a
military-looking rifle in his arms and had a revolver tucked into his
waistband.
    He looked Jacob over and
moved to the soldiers as more men, still holding their weapons on them, walked
down the stairs.
    “Where in the hell did
you all come from?” the man asked.
    Murphy began to speak,
but the man held up his hand and pointed at Jacob. “Nope, I’m asking him.”
    “Why me?” Jacob asked.
    “Cause one thing here
ain’t like the others and you probably ain’t as good at lying. Now where did
you come from?” the man asked again, stepping closer.
    Jacob looked over at
Murphy. The man, growing annoyed, said, “You don’t need his help. Now where are
you from? If I have to ask again, I’ll toss you out the door… naked.”
    “We came from town… a few
miles from here,” Jacob said.
    “We were evac—” Murphy
began before the man angrily raised a hand, shutting him up.
    He looked back at Jacob.
“Continue.”
    “Ah, I was at my home,
the convoy came down the street picking people up, my family got on the truck,
but we were attacked. I got separated from my wife and kid; these men helped
me. They’ve been helping me.”
    “Where’d the cop car come
from?”
    Jacob looked at Murphy
who stood, not speaking. He shrugged to signal Jacob to continue. “Up the road;
two cops… two… of… they… we killed ’em and took it.”
    “What did they look like…
the cops?” the man asked, pressing his face uncomfortably close to Jacob’s.
    “It was dark… but they
had the black blood,” Jacob said, stepping back and looking away.
    The man reached out an
arm, slapped Jacob on the shoulder, and nodded to Murphy. “Okay, fair enough;
my name’s Johnny and this is my shop. Sorry to be an asshole, but things have
gone sideways in the last week. You’re free to stay the night here, but I’m
afraid I can’t offer you anything.”
    Murphy, having heard the
man out, extended his hand. “I’m Sergeant Murphy with the Illinois National
Guard; this is Corporal Stephens. We’re assigned to the Wilson Street Park.
Have you heard anything from them?”
    The man looked at Murphy
with wide eyes. “You’re joking, right?”
    Murphy stood silently,
then turned to face Jacob and Stephens and shrugged his shoulders.
    The man called out in the
direction of the loft behind him. “Miller, get down here.”
    Jacob watched as a
younger man dressed in an identical Carhartt jacket ran down the stairs, taking
them two at a time. He stopped just short of Johnny.
    “These two say they’re
stationed at the Wilson Street Park,” Johnny said.
    Miller shook his head.
“Shit no, they gone. Pulled out this evening—shit-load of trucks, tanks,
helicopters… everything. That camp they built is empty,” Miller said. “I
watched ’em leave with my own eyes.”
    Stephens clenched his
fist angrily and swiped at the air. “Dammit! The jump order must’ve come down
and we missed it!”
    “What does that mean?”
Jacob said, panicking. “Where the hell did they go? Where is my family?”
    “It means we’re fucked,”
Stephens said, disgusted.
    Murphy turned to face the
younger man who had come down from the loft. “Miller is it? How do you know
this?”
    “I was there when they
left, moved off to the big evacuation point. I came back here to stay with Uncle
Johnny; we’re waiting on my dad and some others. The soldiers said they were
pulling back to the lake front.”
    “Northerly Island,” Jacob
mumbled, feeling lightheaded.
    “Yeah, how’d you know?”
Miller answered, looking Jacob up and down. “Hey man, are you hurt? Your leg’s
all bloody. You don’t look so good.”
    Jacob suddenly felt far
away and unable to