After Dark (22 page)

“Yeah, and Miles,” I said, feeling sick that he hadn't made it down here with us. “We've got to do something to help them!”

“Come with me,” Hal said, waving me over to the door.

For a second, I thought he was going to kick me out, and I have to admit I momentarily regretted all that hero talk. But instead of opening the door, he slid open a shoebox-sized panel beside the door, revealing a small screen. It showed the inside of the concrete tunnel outside. Johnny and Baxter were taking turns crashing into the door.

“Now tell me, kid — do you want me to open up the door and send you outside, or are you going to take some time to clean up and figure things out? By the time you're done washing up, those two yahoos might actually be gone.”

“He's got a point, Charlie,” Elizabeth said. She was standing behind us, looking at the screen over my shoulder. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face was smudged with dirt and she had about a half dozen scratches running across each arm. “We need rest and some time to think. Just an hour or so.”

“Listen to the girl, kid,” Hal said, sliding the panel shut.

“All right, fine. But tell me this, Uncle Hal — how do you have a functioning shower down here? The plumbing in the inn is shot. I haven't been able to shower for days.”

“Near the end of his life, my father became obsessed with the idea that nuclear war was going to erupt at any moment. So, he spent what was left of his fortune upgrading this bunker. One of the improvements he made was connecting the plumbing system in here to the well, using a state-of-the-art filtration system, just to make sure we didn't end up drinking contaminated water,” he said, strolling toward the back of the bunker. “Long story short, kid, the bunker siphons water from the same well as the house. I guess that might have been useful information for your mom and the plumbers.”

“Probably,” I said, stepping behind the wooden divider. The shower stall was just a small square tub, about three feet deep, with a showerhead on a hose attached to the side.

“We don't have any water issues down here, so take your time. Of course, if you want to be a gentleman, Charlie, you could let Miss Opal go first.”

“No, that's okay, Charlie,” Elizabeth said.

“No, no, he's right,” I said. “Besides, it will give me more time to gallivant around without my shirt on.”

“I'll grab you some new clothes,” Hal said. “When they built the bunker, they stocked it with about fifty uniforms.”

“That sounds fine,” she said.

Hal strolled over to the large dresser, which stood against the wall a few feet from the bunk beds, and opened a bottom drawer. It was stuffed with sealed bags of orange uniforms.

“They're vacuum-packed, so they're as fresh as they were in 1955,” he said, pulling out a bag from the bottom. “A small should do for Miss Opal, and a large for you,” he added and tossed me one of the bags.

Then he opened the dresser and grabbed one of five or six thick white towels that were stacked on one of the shelves. I noticed the other shelves were stuffed with his own clothes. There was even a section where he had a dozen or so dress shirts hanging.

“You don't go in for orange jumpsuits?” I asked.

“I had time to pack,” he said, brushing past me.

“Miss Opal, I'm going to toss over your uniform and towel,” he called from our side of the divider. Elizabeth had already started the shower, and I could see steam rising toward the ceiling.

“Okay,” she called back.

Hal reached over the divider and dropped the towel and uniform bag, then he turned back to me. “Let me show you something, Charlie.”

I followed him over to the large desk, which was about halfway to the front of the room and covered in newspapers and notebooks.

“I'm writing my memoirs,” he said, sweeping his hand over the papers. “So I've been looking at old photos.” He pulled open a side drawer and removed a thick file folder. “I think you'll find this one interesting.”

He handed me a photo of a group of kids, about my age, standing on the front porch of the inn. There was a
Happy Birthday!
banner hanging above them and they were all dressed in shorts and T-shirts. I spotted my mom almost right away, but it was the kid standing next to her that made my jaw drop.

“I knew you'd find that interesting,” Hal said, chuckling.

I pulled the photo up to my face for a closer look, but that didn't make what I was seeing any less bewildering. There, standing on the porch beside my mom, in a picture that was probably taken about thirty-five years ago, was me.

“That's me,” Hal said, tapping my doppelgänger.

I looked at Hal, then at the photo, then back at Hal.

“You've got all this to look forward to, kid,” he said, grinning with that crazy look again.

“That's you?” I said.

“The rest of the family has the blond hair, blue eyes, square-jaw genes. You and me, Charlie, we've got the curly hair, brown eyes, slightly crazy genes. I think we get them from my great-great-uncle Max. He tried to sail around the world — only from north to south instead of east to west. He didn't make it.”

“We're twins,” I mumbled.

He nodded. “We're family, kid. We're not that different, and we need to stick together. I'm looking out for you — you're just going to have to trust me on that.”

Elizabeth cut in before I could answer. “How do I look?” she asked, stepping out from behind the wooden divider.

I was expecting the orange uniforms Hal had given us to be like coveralls, kind of loose and baggy, but they were more like tights. They reminded me of Lilith's Uber-Jams.

“You kind of look like a carrot, or a very thin pumpkin, Winehurst.”

“Always the charmer,” she said.

“Let's see how
you
look in one of those, smart guy,” Hal said. “And grab a towel out of the dresser on your way by.”

I took a long, hot shower. It was hard to enjoy, considering every time I closed my eyes I saw little red spiders floating around. Plus, I couldn't get Johnny's thousand-yard stare out of my mind. It was all too horrible to be real — it couldn't be real. I couldn't accept it. There had to be a cure, and we had to get out of here to find it. Lilith and Mom were out there somewhere. The only consolation I could take away from that was that if I had to pick any one person in the universe to help Mom survive, it would be Lilith.

When I was done with the shower, I put on my I-survived-an-atomic-blast uniform. I felt like Superman, only without the cape, bulging muscles or any super-powers that might make wearing a skintight outfit acceptable. The only bonus was that it came with padded booties.

“I don't suppose you've got an extra-large one of these uniforms, Uncle Hal?” I called from behind the divider. “Or an extra-extra-large?”

“Afraid not,” he said.

“Maybe I could borrow some of your clothes?” I said.

“Not going to happen.”

“Just come out, Charlie,” Elizabeth said. “Hal's made us tea and oatmeal.”

“You might want to look away if you're eating,” I said and ventured out.

Elizabeth froze, holding a spoonful of oatmeal about halfway to her mouth. Hal, who was looking over the edge of a mug that he was sipping out of, did the same.

“I warned you,” I said.

Hal lowered the mug. Elizabeth crammed the spoon into her mouth and tried not to laugh, but couldn't stop herself.

“Go ahead, laugh, but I think you should know I've always been good at holding a grudge, and you two are going down on my list of people who deserve to be grudged, and for a long time!”

“Sorry,” Elizabeth sputtered. “It's just that you look so … well … so …”

“Ridiculous,” Hal chimed in.

“Yes, but apparently I'd fit right in if this were 1955 and we were living down here after a nuclear blast,” I said, strolling over to a chair beside Elizabeth and sitting down. “And I'd also like to note that these booties are pretty comfortable.”

“Here,” Hal said, thrusting a bowl of steaming oatmeal into my hands. “Eat up.”

I tasted a spoonful. It was pretty darned good, and I was starving, so I dug in. Elizabeth must have been hungry, too, because we sat in silence for a few minutes, gorging ourselves on the stuff. When I was done, Hal handed me a mug full of tea. I gulped down a few mouthfuls and sat back, feeling warm and full and comfortable — too comfortable, considering my sister and mother were out there, fighting for their lives. Or their brains at the very least.

I looked at Elizabeth and then at Hal. “We have to talk about getting out of here and helping Lilith and my mom, and Johnny, your dad, Miles … the whole flipping town if we can!”

“We should get the word out, too, to anyone who will listen, before this thing spreads to other places,” Elizabeth added.

“There'll be time for that later,” Hal said.

“No. There's no time,” I said. “This is an emergency, Uncle Hal. We have to do something now.” I tried to stand up, but my legs went rubbery, and I fell back into the chair.

“I feel sleepy,” Elizabeth said, her words slurring together a little.

“Me, too,” I said, and the room tilted.

“Come on,” Hal said, grabbing me under my arms and hoisting me out of the chair. “I'm not going to let you go out there and get yourself hurt just because you think you need to be some kind of hero. The world doesn't want heroes, Charlie. You'll learn that eventually.”

“Did you put something in our food?” I mumbled.

“I have a hard time sleeping sometimes,” he said, guiding me toward the bunk beds. “The doc gives me sleeping pills. I just sprinkled a few granules into your oatmeal. It's nothing serious, and in the morning, you'll be able to think straight. Then you'll see I was right about playing it safe.”

“That isn't right,” I muttered, and he dumped me into one of the beds.

Hal smiled down at me, and then I passed out.

Monday, 3:30 a.m.

I woke up in the dark, to a voice whispering in my ear, “Wake up, Charlie.”

I couldn't place it.

“Wake up,” it hissed.

I couldn't figure out where I was. In my room at Choke? Hawaii? No … the inn?

“Charlie, wake up,” the voice whispered. “Please, wake up.”

Then it hit me. I was in the bunker; Hal had drugged us. Us …

Elizabeth was with me.

My eyes popped open. A hand shot over my mouth, and Elizabeth's face appeared inches from mine.

“
Shh
,” she said, holding a finger in front of her lips. “He's asleep.”

I gave her the okay sign, and she moved her hand off of my mouth. “What time is it?” I whispered.

“Three thirty in the morning.” She pointed at a digital clock mounted on the wall. The numbers were green and sending a faint glow out into the room. It was the only light in the place.

“Where is he?”

She pointed toward the sofa, and I saw him splayed out, still wearing his bathrobe.

“We can't stay here,” she said. “I think he's gone crazy.”

“Oh, he's definitely gone crazy,” I whispered, and eased my way up and into a sitting position on the side of the bed. I added
don't end up hiding in a bunker when you get older
to my mental to-do list. Hal and I might have a few genes in common, but that didn't mean my life had to follow the same path to Crazy Town.

“We need to go now,” she said, standing up slowly.

I got up, too, and followed her across the room, toward the door. We inched our way along, being careful not to run into anything.

We were between the sofa and the kitchen area when about a dozen pots and pans came crashing to the ground all around us.

“Darn!” Elizabeth hissed, and a flashlight flicked on.

“I thought you might try something like this,” Hal said, sitting up and pointing the light into our eyes.

“We just want to go, Uncle Hal.”

“What?” he said. “What did you say?”

“We want to leave.”

“Huh? You'll have to speak up. I don't have my hearing aids in,” he said, getting up off the sofa.

“He can't hear a thing without those hearing aids,” I whispered to Elizabeth. “Get behind him.”

She nodded and drifted back toward the beds.

“I left them on my desk,” Hal grumbled.

While he got up and headed for the desk, I quickly slipped around the sofa.

“Not so fast, kiddo,” he said, and I heard a click. “I've got a flashlight in one hand and my shotgun in the other. Like I said before, making you stay put is for your own good.”

“Hal, don't do anything crazy. Please, listen to me,” I pleaded.

“Huh? What?”

“Listen!” I screamed. “Mom and Lilith are out there! I need to see if they're okay!”

“That's what I've been saying, kid — we'll wait until the day,” he said. “Then you'll see what I'm talking about.”

Hal was at the desk now and put his flashlight down, although he kept it aimed straight at me. I could hear him patting around for his hearing aids.

“No! We need to help Mom! And Lilith! And everyone else for that matter!”

“Here they are,” he said.

With the flashlight blazing in my direction, I couldn't see Elizabeth. I could only hope she was behind Uncle Hal and could get the drop on him.

“I don't want to stay down here, hiding like a chicken!”

“You don't have to yell,” Hal said. “I can hear you. I've got my hearing aids in. Now where's the girl?”

“Right here,” I heard Elizabeth say, and then there was a loud clanging sound, like two pots being bashed together.

That's when three things happened, almost all at once: Hal screamed in pain, the flashlight dropped and the gun went off.

I threw myself at Hal. We crashed onto the floor, the gun clattering away.

“My ears,” he roared, thrashing his way out from under me and getting back up onto his feet. “She's deafened me!”

I scrambled after him and jumped onto his back. Amazingly, he stayed up, with me hanging on to him, piggyback style. I bucked and twisted, trying to bring him down.

“Get off!” he grunted, stumbling around.

“Let us leave!” I shouted, straight into his right ear.

“Gard-darn it, kid, it's not safe out there!” he cried, whirling around and around in the dark, bumping into things, kicking pots, until Elizabeth rushed over and rammed us from the side.

“Raah!”
Hal cried, as we sidestepped into the record player. The whole thing toppled over, crashing to the ground beside us.

We hit the concrete floor hard, with me on the bottom, and all the air exited my body. Hal rolled off of me, and I wheezed violently, trying to breathe.

“Are you okay, Charlie?” Elizabeth asked, rushing over.

I tried to answer, but couldn't. I gasped and struggled to my knees.

“What's wrong?” Elizabeth pleaded, helping me stand up.

I gulped in air and nodded. “I'm okay,” I squeaked.

Hal didn't get up. He was kneeling beside the record player, which had broken into two big pieces. Wires were hanging out, and a few of the internal pieces were now external pieces.

“How could you?” he moaned. “You killed my music, you maniacs!”

“You shot at us,” I said weakly.

“The music,” he grumbled, trying to fit the two pieces of the record player back together.

“Come on, Charlie,” Elizabeth said, grabbing Hal's shotgun, which he seemed to have forgotten. “Let's go.”

She handed me the gun and held out her phone in front of us to light our way with the display.

“My music,” Hal muttered mournfully. “How am I going to listen to it now?”

Elizabeth and I rushed to the door and I slid open the panel, revealing the video monitor. There was no sign of Baxter or Johnny outside.

“They're gone,” Elizabeth said.

“Yeah, but how far did they go?”

“There's only one way to find out,” she said and grabbed on to the disk in the middle of the door.

That's when Hal came looming out of the darkness, like a monster coming back to life. “Do not open that door!” he roared.

I wasn't willing to shoot Hal, so I swung the gun in front of me like a baseball bat, to ward him off.

“Stay back, Uncle Hal! We're leaving!”

“You can't leave!” he shouted. “They're out there, kid, and they'll get you. Don't you see, I'm trying to keep you safe! There's no need to risk your life! Just stay down here with me until this all blows over.”

“It's not going to blow over!” I said. “And Mom's out there, and Lilith — I've got to try to help them.”

“Don't try to be a hero, kid,” Hal said. “Believe me, it's not worth it. You just end up by yourself.”

“I've got to try,” I said, and I heard Elizabeth turn the disk. An instant later, the bolt clicked, and the light above the door changed from red to green.

“I'm taking the gun,” I said, as Elizabeth pulled the door open.

“I didn't mean to shoot, kid,” Hal said. “That was an accident.”

“Just the same, I'd like to hang on to it. And when all this blows over, I'll buy you a new record player,” I said as we stepped out of the bunker and into the concrete shaft. It was still empty, and the trapdoor at the top of the ladder was still open. Beyond it was only darkness.

“Don't be a hero,” Hal repeated weakly, and he stepped forward and pushed the door shut. It closed with a hiss.

“What now?” Elizabeth whispered.

“I hate to say it, Winehurst, but I think the smartest thing to do is get out of town as fast as possible. There's no way we can risk trying to find my mom, or anyone else, and the sooner we get help for your dad and Johnny, the sooner they'll be back to normal.”

“I'm not sure anyone's going to be able to help my dad and Johnny,” she said.

“We have to try,” I said. “Otherwise we may as well stay holed up in that bunker. Is that what you want to do?”

“I don't think he'd let us back in,” she said.

“Which means there's only one way to go now …” I said. “Up.”

She nodded. “If we can get to my car, we might have a chance.”

“I'll lead the way to the cellar door,” I said, grabbing on to the ladder. “If it's locked, I'll try to blast it open with the shotgun.”

“And if we can't get it open?” she asked, starting up behind me.

“Then we'll have to go upstairs and through the front door.”

She didn't say anything else and neither did I. We both knew going upstairs and through the front door would probably be the end of our story. Heck, I had a feeling that popping my head out of the trapdoor and into the cellar was probably going to be the end of the line for Charles Harker. But I didn't have a choice, so when I got to the top, I just scrambled up and out as fast as I could. I was expecting one of them, or a lot of them, to spring out of the darkness, but nothing happened.

Elizabeth popped out behind me and we made our way through the cellar, leaving the trapdoor open. Thanks to the light in the shaft, I could see a few feet in every direction, but the edges of the room were still cloaked in darkness.

I tapped Elizabeth's shoulder and pointed toward the corner where I thought the back door was located.

She nodded, and we crept around the boxes and paint cans that were strewn on the floor. Once we were a few feet away from the trapdoor, though, the light faded away. That's when I heard something. It was a shuffling sound. Someone
was
down here. They were walking.

Elizabeth reached for my shoulder. She was shaking, or maybe I was shaking, I couldn't tell. The footsteps were coming faster. Coming at us.

Maybe if I'd been able to keep my wits about me, I would have used the gun, but my wits were long gone. Instead, in an insane panic, I threw myself at the cellar doors, like a cartoon character rushing at a brick wall. And, like a terrified cartoon character, I actually managed to crash through them. Bashing through doors like that should have hurt, it should have hurt a lot, but apparently I'd managed to turn off the pain centers of my brain, and all without the help of a mysterious parasite.

Fresh air wafted across my face. The rain had let up and been replaced by a fine mist.

“Run!” Elizabeth screamed, rushing past me and into the backyard.

I spun around, holding the shotgun across my body, but Jimmy Brooks grabbed it and pulled me back down a few steps into the cellar. He yanked the gun out of my hands, tossed it sideways and snapped at me with a mouthful of needle-sharp fangs. I cringed, frozen, but an orange blur crossed in front of my face, and he fell backward into the cellar.

I looked up. Elizabeth was standing in the doorway. She'd kicked him square in the face.

“Run!” she screamed again, and I scrambled out of the cellar and across the lawn behind her.

The clouds were still blotting out the stars and the moon, but even in the dark, our orange unitards were going to make us stand out — unless we somehow managed to wander into a field full of prison inmates.

I skidded around the corner of the inn, but the padding on the feet of my unitard was soaked and slipping all around. I managed to catch my balance and glanced over my shoulder. Jimmy, Lennox and Baxter were rounding the corner behind me. I'd never make it to the car; I'd never be able to outrun them. I knew that for certain. But I could buy Elizabeth some time. She was almost at the front corner of the inn and might be able to make it into the woods if she had a few more seconds. Jake's pickup was parked in the driveway, beside the inn, leaving a gap that Elizabeth was just passing through now. If I fought them there, in that bottleneck, she might be able to get away.

Jimmy was close now; I could hear his footsteps pounding behind me as I reached the front bumper of Jake's truck. When I got to the passenger-side door, I tried to turn. My plan was to hit him with a surprise left hook, but my feet slipped sideways again and I fell, crashing into the side of the truck and landing on the gravel driveway.

Jimmy was running straight at me, his face expressionless, his mouth open. There was no way I could get back up in time. All I could do was watch in terror as he closed in on me, snapping his new fangs as he came. He was only a few feet away, when the passenger-side door flew open. I heard Jimmy thunk into it, face first, and then I watched him fall backward, Lennox and Baxter crashing into him and falling over him in a heap. I scrambled onto my feet, and Miles Van Helsing jumped out of the truck, holding a hammer in one hand and a wrench in the other.

“You're okay …” I stammered.

“No time!” he said, shoving me toward the front of the inn.

By some miracle, the Porsche was parked in the driveway. I assumed the miracle went by the name of Miles Van Helsing. Elizabeth was getting into the driver's seat as we ran by Hal's precious rosebushes.

She slammed the door shut, and a moment later the car's engine roared to life. We only had about seven or eight feet to go when Dutton, the indestructible zompire, limped in front of us. His jaw was jutting off to the side, way out of place, and he could barely walk on one leg, but there he was, blocking our way.

Without a moment's hesitation, Miles threw the hammer at Dutton. It hit him right in the forehead. He wobbled backward, and Miles sprinted past him. Dutton blindly grabbed at me as I went by, but even in my soggy booties, I managed to scoot past him.

Miles was already in the backseat and had left the door open.

“Go!” I yelled, cramming myself in.

Elizabeth slammed on the gas, the tires spun and gravel spit out behind us. The car fishtailed before the tires caught, and Johnny's face slammed against my window. Dried blood covered his mouth and chin, and his nose was swollen and bent, probably thanks to Hal's smack with the gun. His lips were curled back, fangs snapping, but his eyes were empty.