The Darkening (A Zombie Awakening) (2 page)

             
In his closet, he’d managed to sneak a couple backpacks of food, but that had been harder.
Taking
the key to the lock on the pantry was near impossible, considering his foster mother kept it on a spiraled key chain around her wrist. But one night, she’d forgotten.

Other times, he’d managed to take a can here and there from the diner. He’d be all right for a couple of weeks. If, and it was a big if, the sky ended up falling like everyone said it would.
If not, he’d return what he’d taken.

             
Finally. Nine o’clock. Colton grabbed his backpack from a hook on
t
he wall, and dashed out the door. He’d like to snatch a few more things before the morning. A can opener, matches, that sort of stuff. The essentials
needed
for camping.

             
He unlocked his bicycle from
the garage
and pedaled
toward town
as fast as he could
, dodging cars, sprinting people, and a world gone mad
. If things were coming to a head tomorrow, he had a lot to do. He needed to hide the cartons of cigarettes he’d had somebody buy for him. They’d be like gold if humanity fell apart.
How could he get his hands on some liquer?

             
A small mom-and-pop drug store sat off the beaten path
.
Colton hopped off his bike and wheeled it through the open doors. A few patrons pushed full shopping carts to the register.

Colton swung off his backpack
and tossed
in medicines and first aid supplies. Since he planned on spending an indeterminate amount of time in a cave he’d found outside of town, he planned on being prepared for anything that could harm him.

             
An elderly lady shoved him out of the way and grabbed two bottles of NyQuil and some aspirin. Colton shrugged and moved to
the
antibiotic cream and bandages. He eyed the pharmacy counter. He’d love to get his hands on some real meds.
He spotted the pharmacist.

             
“Mr. Harper!” Colton shoved his way past several people. “Any way I can get back there and stock up on some things?”

             
Mr. Harper cocked his head. “I’ll lose my job. Get arrested too.”

             
“Come on. It’s not like anyone’s going to be around past tomorrow.” Colton grinned. “I promise not to say a word. Wouldn’t you rather I had some of it than crooks stealing it after the lights go out?”

             
“You’ve got a point there.” Mr. Harper pressed a button and Colton scooted behind the counter. “Don’t take anything to get yourself high. You’ll need your wits about you.”

             
“I’m only after antibiotics.
You can watch me if you want.
” He filled as many empty pill bottles as he could find
, adding a couple full of pain pills and prescription strength ibuprofen
. He fished fifty dollars out of his pocket. “Here. This will cover some of the cost. I’m not going to need the money anyway.” Colton patted Mr. Harper on the back, then vaulted over the counter.
By then, a crowd surged toward the pharmacy tech, intent on getting drugs of their own
.

             
Colton dashed to his bike and pedaled away before someone tried to snatch his pack.
A man tried to grab his bike.
He
thrust out a leg and knocked the
stranger
to the asphalt.
His thighs burned as he increased his speed and flew around the corner and back home.

             
Usually
, his foster parents were already snoring by
nine p.m.
or passed out in front of the TV
. Not tonight. The last night the Earth would be as sunny, as beautiful, the stars as bright, as they were used to
. He fished his key from the front pocket of his jeans and opened the door. He wanted to move the last of his things under the cover of darkness.

So much for having
his heart set on being a doctor someday. Oh, well, if anybody knew how life threw curve balls, it was Colton Morgan.

             
“Colton!”

             
“Yes, Mom?” He hated calling Mrs. Forrest
m
om. She wasn’t his mother and never could take the place of the woman who’d died of pneumonia two years before. As to his birth mother, well, he hadn’t a clue
who she was or where she was
.

             
“Dad and I are going to fill up the gas tank
, j
ust in case
, a
some containers while we’re at it.
” She walked past him, grabbed her purse, and blew a cloud of cigarette smoke in his face.

             
He grimaced and turned away. Perfect. They’d be gone a couple of hours at least.
             
By midnight,
true to their nature,
his foster parents were
passed out drunk in front of the TV
,
and
Colton had added another case of bottled water to his stockpile, written a note saying ‘thanks for taking
me
in, but
I’ll
be on
my
way’
note
, and moved everything to his cave. He propped his bike against the dirt wall, rolled out his sleeping bag, and wait
ed
for the
world to end
.

Chapter 2

             
Chalice pitched the last fork of hay to the horses and glanced to where
Mychal
barged
through
the backdoor of the house. She checked her watch for the hundredth time that day. Two hours until the fear in her heart burst free and shook her world on its axle.
For the thousandth time, she prayed that somehow the scientists were wrong and disaster would be averted. She wiped her forearm across her face to clear the sweat from her eyes.

             
Hanging in her closet was a royal blue dress, shorter in the front and trailing in the back. Her dream prom dress. Now, she’d never get to wear it or dance with the handsome senior, Mark.

             
A whistle pierced the sky. Then a flash of light.
Heaven
decided to
rain early. Chalice dropped the pitchfork, yanked her sister from
under
the tree where she read a book
about vampires
, and raced for the cellar. “Mom!
Mychal
! It’s here.”

             
“Coming
.
”
Mychal
sprinted toward her, his arms loaded with flashlights and batteries. “Mom’s coming in a minute.”

             
Chalice nodded as he and
Hanna
scooted down the stairs and into the dim pit they’d call home for a
good long
wh
i
le.
Lady, their dog,
yelped and
scooted past them.

A yellow pine tree near the house burst into flame
, then the roof of the house
caught fire
.

“Mom
.
”
Chalice turned.

             
More fire pebbles dotted the
ground
around them. Chalice jumped back and screamed
as one exploded between her and the house
.
Mychal
tried to push past her
,
and she shoved him back. “Stay down there
.
” She stared at the house and willed her mother to emerge as more missiles fell.

Mom ran from the house, ducking as a meteorite landed inches from her feet.
Then another
spark caught the hem of her dress on fire. She beat the
flames
with her hands. “Get in the cellar and close the door
.
”

Chalice shook her head. She couldn’t leave her.

She took a step farther on the lawn. Another fireball struck her mother in the back
, knocking her to her knees
. She screamed
and struggled to her feet before running to
ward Chalice with her arms outstretched. She resembled a whirling inferno. With a mighty lunge, she
grasped Chalice’s arm then
tossed
her
into the cellar. Her touch seared Chalice’s skin.

“For once in your life, do as you’re told.” She slammed the door.
Soon, her screams increased, then died, leaving Chalice’s heart chilled.

             
Sh
e crawled, sobs racking her body, and slid the lock into place. Like a crab she scuttled backward and wrapped her arms around her
stomach
while the sky fell in thundering slabs around them.
The ground over their head vibrated.

             
“Where’s
Mom
?”
Hanna
scooted next to her.

             
“She’s not coming, is she?”
Mychal
fell onto the bed. “She’s dead. We’re alone.”

             
Chalice shuddered. They were alone. The three of them shut into a growing darkness. And her last act had been one of disobedience. But how could she have scattered like a frightened mouse when her mother
raced toward her with brimstone falling around her?
Hiding in the cellar wouldn’t have saved her mother’s life.
“Light the lamp,
Mychal
, please.”
She couldn’t bear the dark. Not yet.

             
The ground around their sanctuary shook.
Blasts exploded
,
and they clapped their hands over their ears.
Grey light
, shattered by flashes of fire,
pierced the tiny window in the door. Chalice grabbed the cloth of black fabric their mother had set aside as a curtain and moved with wooden steps to the door.
Her heart pounded with the force of the raining rocks outside.

             
Their shelter under a small hill wouldn’t survive a direct hit. Would it
even
survive the smaller ones dotting the landscape? A tornado was nothing compared to what she witnessed going on outside.

             
Black clouds, streaked with flaming balls of orange swirled in the sky. Dust, kicked up from the ground, rose to further block her view. What if someone came tomorrow, or next week? Would they be able to tell Chalice and the others were down here? She glanced at the curtain in her hand. “
Mychal
, is that black paint still down here from when you painted your bike?”

             
“Ye
ah
.”

             
“Paint this window. I don’t want anyone to know we’re here.
Paint will work better than fabric.
”
As the oldest, she needed to take charge. It was up to her to care for the others, now that their mother was gone.

             
“Then how will we know when we can leave?” His voice trembled.
“We’ll be in the dark all day.
We can’t waste the oil and candles.
”

             
“We’ll leave in a month. No sooner.” Chalice dried her eyes on her sleeve
, avoiding the burn marks in the shape of her mother’s fingers
. “Mom died making sure we were okay. We’ll stay until no one knows we’re left here.”
Then they’d emerge into what
was left
of their world.

             
Chalice made her way to her bunk
and
drew her brother and sister close
as they
let the tears flow in earnest.

             
Who knew what waited them outside? Which direction should they go once they left the cellar? Not south. What if a meteor hit the nuclear power plant?
What if the air were tainted with a plague, every breath a danger?
That’s one thing Mom hadn’t purchased. Masks.

She
choked back a hiccupping sob. The decisions were now left to her, and she had no clue what to do.
She didn’t want t
o be the one in charge of a t
welve
-year-old and a
fifteen
-year-old.
Almost seventeen
was too young. She wanted her mother.