The Dark Trilogy 02 - Into the Dark Read online

  Megan fell to the ground as Cindy released her and walked away. Looking up, Megan saw Frank and Marcus laughing, although Michael wasn’t pleased by Cindy’s little display. The girl strolled by him, ignoring the tirade he was directing at her. He gave Megan a brief, apologetic look and followed Cindy into the RV, slamming the door behind him.

  Megan nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt another hand on her shoulder. She recoiled, but then relaxed when she saw it was Lydia.

  “Oh dear, I am so sorry.”

  Lydia shook her head with regret as she glared over at where Cindy had just been standing. “There’s something wrong with that girl.” She looked back at Megan and extended her hand. “Don’t worry about anything she says. She’s a mental case, but Michael keeps her on a pretty tight leash. Rest assured he’ll set her straight about what she just did.”

  Megan brushed herself off and let Lydia help her back to her feet. “She really is a twisted bitch, isn’t she?”

  Lydia chuckled and shook her head. “You have no idea.”

  They walked back toward the children. Megan glanced over at Frank and Marcus one last time, and they were still chuckling at her. She gave them the finger and smiled delicately. Frank’s face tightened, but he gave no other response as she kept walking.

  Chapter 7

  Jeff woke about an hour later, having only slept in fits and starts throughout the night. He looked over at George, who had chosen a chair to sleep in, and realized that only the two of them remained in the RV. The older man had covered his head with a pillow and had propped his legs up on an ottoman.

  Jeff got up and moved over to the sink. He put the stopper in, lifted the tap, and splashed his face, rubbing away a layer of sweat. Staring in the mirror, he examined himself.

  The itchy beard and hair still annoyed him, but at least the dark circles under his eyes had retreated a bit over the past couple of days. He had a farmer’s tan—all the skin besides his burnt arms and neck remained bleach-white. Stepping back, Jeff examined his physique. The gut that been sneakily getting bigger over the past few years had shrunk significantly and was barely visible anymore. He was surprised to see that there was even a bit more tone to his arms and legs.

  “You may look like a serial killer, but at least you’re a sexy one,” Jeff smirked as he flexed.

  He grabbed the toothbrush he had been allocated from the supplies and brushed his teeth. Pooling some of the water in his hands, he rinsed and spit.

  Moving toward the bedroom, he sifted through the pile of clothes they had dumped on the floor the night before and picked out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He knew it was going to be hot again today, but the less exposed skin, the better.

  He saw George shift in his chair, the pillow falling away from his face.

  “You going to get up?”

  George slowly turned toward him. He stared at Jeff like he barely recognized the man.

  “Maybe we can get some breakfast. I think it’ll be a little while before we go into town.”

  George did not respond immediately. He simply continued to stare sullenly at Jeff.

  “Not hungry,” he said before twisting around on his makeshift bed and moving his face into the pillow once again.

  “Look, George, I’m sure we can figure out some way to get you out of here. It just might take a few days… ”

  George raised his arm and waved the discussion off.

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just go have your breakfast. I’ll be fine; I just want to sleep a little longer.”

  Jeff opened his mouth to say something else but knew it would be pointless. He sighed in frustration and turned to head out.

  When George heard the door closing, he tossed the pillow off his face and stared at the ceiling of the RV. The resignation that had been in his eyes ever since Jeff’s unsuccessful meeting with Michael had changed, replaced by a look of determination he kept hidden from the others. He knew it would be best if everyone thought he had given up and would play ball with Michael and his ridiculous demand that George stay in the camp.

  A thin-lipped smile appeared on his face. He would only have to play gloomy and sullen for a little while longer. Soon they would be heading out to Manchester on Michael’s supply-gathering expedition and then things would change. There was no telling what might happen once they were outside the camp. George’s smile expanded as he thought more about it.

  “Yep, things could get crazy out there.”

  Chapter 8

  Jeff stepped outside and shaded his eyes. Even in the morning, the air was already sticky with humidity. It was going to be a nasty, uncomfortable day. He looked around the courtyard and spotted a large pot boiling over a metal grill. Lydia and Megan were sitting next to it, giggling like schoolgirls. He saw Ray, Teddy, and Jason playing cards at one of the tables while Ben whittled on a tree branch in front of his trailer. Jeff moved over to the women.

  “So what’s for breakfast, ladies?” He rubbed his hands together and plopped down beside Megan. They gave him a brief glance and looked at each other, then began giggling again.

  “What?”

  Jeff waited as they fought to compose themselves. Both kept sneaking glances at him between snickers, Lydia in particular. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, though he had no idea why he should feel embarrassed.

  Megan waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Just girl talk.”

  Jeff rolled his eyes, knowing it would be pointless to press. “Okay, fine. But what have you got going in the pot?”

  Lydia looked at him, still grinning. “Just boiling some water. You missed breakfast.”

  Her smile widened when she saw his crestfallen look.

  “Don’t worry; you can have a Pop-Tart. The stuff you brought us was a real godsend. You only missed me heating up some of the meat we had left over from last night.”

  Jeff grabbed one of the silvery packets nearby and ripped it open, gulping down the dry pastry. He accepted a bottle of water from Megan and made quick work of the skimpy meal.

  The women’s conversation had died out, and he was beginning to feel awkward in front of them. They had stopped laughing, but shared knowing grins with each other as they watched him eat.

  “Okay, so what’s the boiling water for? If it’s not for breakfast… ?”

  Lydia stood up and gave Jeff a mysterious smile.

  “Why don’t you come with me?”

  Chapter 9

  Lydia held a small mirror in front of his face, and for the second time within an hour, Jeff stared at his reflection. He touched his hairless jaw, and it felt strange. It had a slight numbness to it after such a long time of being covered with the scraggly beard, as if a bandage or a layer of thick leather had been removed. The skin was slightly paler than that of the cheeks above the razor line. He took the mirror from Lydia and admired the haircut as well. The pile of hair covering the floor was immense. He was beginning to recognize himself again.

  “So did I do okay?”

  Jeff continued to admire her handiwork.

  “I would show you the back, but I don’t have another mirror.”

  “No problem.” He looked up at Lydia and smiled. “You did great.”

  Lydia beamed at Jeff. “I’m so glad you let me do it. Megan said she was tired of hanging out with a hobo.” His grin broadened, and she laughed. It was not long before he joined her.

  “So that was what you two were laughing at, huh?”

  Lydia nodded slyly. She had taken a coffee cup of scalding-hot water from the boiling pot and surprised Jeff when she brought out some of the shaving cream he had gotten at the drug store along with a straight razor, a plastic bag of scissors and other grooming implements she already had. The cloth she had doused in the hot water had done the trick, and his beard felt like it was sliding off his face when she took the razor to it.

  “I tried to get some of the others to let me do this to them, but only Michael and Ben seemed interes
ted. Ben kept his beard, but he lets me trim it. Frank and Marcus apparently like looking like chimps.” Lydia swatted the excess hair off of Jeff’s shoulders as she spoke.

  “Michael looks like the type who would want to keep well groomed.”

  The hand on Jeff’s shoulder paused. After a few silent moments, Lydia continued brushing off the trimmings. When she was done, she sat down at the table with a determined look on her face.

  “You and Megan don’t trust Michael, do you?”

  The question caught Jeff off guard, but he hid his surprise well as he continued to admire Lydia’s handiwork in the mirror. After a few moments, he looked at her and carefully set the small mirror on the table.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Lydia gave him a world-weary smile, and there was an intelligent gleam in her eyes.

  Jeff shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he continued to stare at her. Lydia was plain. Not unattractive, just simple, clean, and careworn. He guessed she was in her early sixties. Unlike many women her age, she kept her hair long and didn’t bother to dye the gray out of it. Even with it falling past her shoulders, it was well maintained. She was solidly built and sturdy looking. He guessed that she had probably never been much of a looker, but she had a gentle aura that made her look like she would make an excellent companion in life. There was a crinkling of age lines around her eyes—and the eyes themselves held sadness, but also a great deal of wisdom.

  The smile changed slightly as her eyes danced. “Come on, Jeff. I might have been born at night, but not last night.”

  Lydia paused for a second. Jeff squirmed in his seat again, and she chuckled quietly. “I know what happened out on the road. Megan told me everything.”

  Jeff’s nostrils flared, and his lower lip quivered in anger. “So you know your buddies shoved guns in our faces and took all our stuff.” He tried to keep his tone neutral and matter-of-fact. Lydia did not flinch, but her eyes acknowledged the comment.

  “Our guns were taken from us, and we were brought here with no consideration for what we wanted.”

  Jeff kept glaring at her, but she didn’t respond. Lydia simply matched his glare with her own relaxed expression. “That stuff that you thanked us for? All the food and other supplies? That was ours. But now it’s yours.”

  Jeff’s voice grew more irritated in the face of Lydia’s impassiveness, but still she didn’t react. He forced himself to remain calm as he sat across from her, refusing to show any signs of awkwardness as he waited for her to come up with an excuse.

  She moved her hands over to Jeff’s, which were twisted together. He realized he had been contorting and squeezing them as he spoke. Lydia covered them with hers, and a gentle look came into her eyes.

  “Jeff, we’ve all been through so much. We’re barely hanging on here. Every day is a battle for us to get by and to figure out how to keep going.”

  Lydia’s fingers were warm and smooth as they wrapped around his. Jeff forced his hands to relax and stop clenching and unclenching beneath her gentle touch.

  “If you want me to say I feel guilty for what happened, okay. I do. But you need to understand that I knew what Michael had planned on doing long before you showed up.” Lydia gripped his hands tighter as Jeff’s eyes widened in surprise and he tried to pull away. “Jeff, what he did was necessary. It was the only way we could get you to stop.”

  There was no pleading or embarrassment in her eyes, just conviction. Lydia might have regretted Michael’s methods, but she was happy with the end results.

  She tugged on his hands again. Jeff realized he had been staring at them. He blinked and looked back at Lydia.

  “I just hope that someday you’ll understand that Michael is just trying to do his best… for all of us.”

  There was still no pleading in Lydia’s voice. A stab of irritation rose back up in Jeff.

  “Well, it’s not as if Michael gave us much of a choice, now did he? It’s not like he waved us down and asked us what we thought about joining your little club,” Jeff fumed. “I’m sorry, but your perfect leader ain’t so perfect in my estimation.”

  Lydia gave him a frown. “Now, Jeff, did I ever say I believed Michael was perfect?” She shook her head. “He isn’t perfect. Far from it, in fact. But neither are you or anyone else. So let’s not start picking nits, okay? I already told you: Megan shared everything. I’m pretty sure you don’t feel like what you’ve done over the past few days has been perfect.”

  Jeff’s face turned beet red with embarrassment and indignation. His head swam as he tried to recall everything that had happened, every crazy thing he had done since fleeing his house. He had done the best he could. Maybe Megan thought him foolish for that, but they were still alive…

  “Hey.” Lydia’s voice was soft once again, grandmotherly. “You did what you had to, Jeff, to survive. Don’t think for a second that Megan doesn’t appreciate that.”

  Jeff shook his head. Most of the time, Megan seemed angry or frustrated with his decision making, not appreciative.

  “She is so proud of you. More than she would ever admit.” Lydia smiled conspiratorially. “More than she would even admit to me, but it was obvious as we spoke.”

  Jeff continued to shake his head, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Megan thinks I’m nuts. That everything I’ve done is crazy.” He glared fiercely at Lydia. “And she’s so damn stubborn, she drives me nuts.”

  Lydia laughed. It was a pleasant sound, and the tension in the room eased a bit. “It’s so obvious, Jeff. You’re both pigheaded! Everything one of you does is going to drive the other one crazy. Just accept it and move on.”

  Lydia gave Jeff a knowing look. “Let’s just agree that you aren’t perfect and no one else is either. But if Michael has done anything really terrible, then I’d like to hear about it.”

  Jeff thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll admit he’s been hospitable for the most part. But you should have seen him jump on Frank when he threatened Megan.”

  Lydia sighed and shook her head in frustration. “That man is a pain in the ass.”

  Jeff snorted and nodded in agreement.

  “Frank and Marcus aren’t the sharpest tacks in the box, but they are loyal as hell to Michael. I just wish they would stop trying to pretend they’re generals in his army.”

  Lydia shifted in her chair as she continued. “I know Michael gets frustrated with how they act, but we need them.” She smiled slightly. “And now we have you and George here as well.”

  “Yep, and those two are probably feeling threatened by our arrival.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that. They have loud mouths, but they follow Michael’s orders. They won’t try anything stupid, no matter how much they bray like jackasses.”

  “So what about Ben?”

  Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Ben is such a sweetheart. He is so good with the children. I tell you, I wouldn’t know what to do without him. He does whatever I ask without a word of complaint.”

  “Well, that’s all well and good, but why doesn’t Michael put him in charge of things and demote Frank?”

  Lydia shook her head. “Ben doesn’t care about any of that. He just does what needs doing and minds his own business. Frank, on the other hand...well, I guess it trips his trigger to boss people around.” She rolled her eyes, and a smirk crossed her face. “He tried telling me how to manage the food situation and what to do with the children about a week ago. I gave the little smartass a piece of my mind that day, I’ll tell you. He never saw it coming.”

  The grim satisfaction on her face faded, and Lydia looked serious once again. “Pickings are slim these days, Jeff. There were more of us not so long ago.” Lydia had a faraway look in her eyes for a moment, as if she was remembering the people they had lost. Her back stiffened, and her face became stern. “We have to make do with those still with us.”

  She looked Jeff in the eyes. “But as I said, you and George are here now.” She paused, correcting hersel
f. “Megan too, of course. She’ll be a great help around the camp. Some other people, who shall remain nameless, are not much of a help at all.”

  Jeff could guess who Lydia was talking about as she pursed her lips and looked irritated. Cindy didn’t seem interested in doing much except hanging all over Michael. Jeff blotted the punker girl out of his mind as he tried to focus on the rest of what Lydia had said.

  “Well, you should know that George wants to leave, if Michael will let him go.”

  “Megan told me about his family. It’s so sad. But I guess it can’t be helped.” Jeff could hear the regret in Lydia’s voice.

  “So… is there any chance Michael might let him leave?” Jeff already knew the camp leader’s position on the subject but was hoping to learn more about how he operated and perhaps find a way to convince him to let George go.

  Lydia paused as she thought about it.

  “Do you honestly believe his family is still alive?”

  “I’ll tell you what I told Michael yesterday. It really doesn’t matter what I think. The man has the right to try to get to his family, and none of us should stand in his way. Do I want George to stay with us? Hell yes! But I know he’s sitting in that RV right now staring at the walls, thinking about his family. He’ll go crazy if he’s forced to stay here much longer. So again, I ask you: Will Michael let him leave?”

  The tears Jeff saw in Lydia’s eyes as she shook her head were disconcerting.

  “It’s such a shame, Jeff. I feel so horrible for him. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have the heart to make him stay.” Lydia dug into her pocket for a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “But Michael is more of a realist than I am. You have to understand, if we let people go off on suicide missions to try to save someone they think might still be alive, there wouldn’t be anyone left inside of a week.”

  Jeff felt the urge to agree with Lydia. George had not come to grips with the fact that his family was dead. But as he sat there trying to imagine himself in the other man’s shoes, he knew how hard it would be not knowing for certain what had happened to the people he loved.