Out of the Dark (Light & Dark #1) Page 8

  Sarah reaches over and pries Lilly from me. I want to cry, because Lilly is scared—and I don’t like Lilly to be scared. I don’t want her to be sad. But she has to stay safe. I hand Sarah the car keys, our eyes locking as I try to get her to understand that she must look after Lilly for me, that she can’t let anything happen to her. That she must get rid of all selfish thoughts now, and protect this little girl.

  “I love you, Honeybee,” I say, and head to the bedroom door. I can hear the monsters down below, scratch-scratch-scratching… They’re unsure if we’re still here, but they know we were, and that will be enough to make them stay.

  “Wait!” Sarah says, coming forward. She hands me something: a piece of paper folded up.

  I frown at it and shove it in my pocket, disinterested. There is no time to question it or wonder what it is.

  I run across the landing to the back of the house, passing closed doors, until I reach the room farthest away. I’m not sure what I’m going to do until I get there, until I turn and see Sarah with Lilly on her back standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for me to cause a distraction loud enough and big enough to make the monsters move away from the front door.

  I look around, seeing all the normal things that belong in a normal life: a dresser, a bed, a cabinet, and a lamp. I pick up the lamp and grip it in my hand, pulling the plug out of the socket, and then I go to the window. There are one or two down here, all sniff-sniff-sniffing for something. For us…for our blood. I take a deep breath, reach back with the lamp in my hand, and throw the lamp as hard as I can at the window.

  It smashes through the glass, both lamp and window breaking simultaneously upon impact. The monsters all at once scream loudly for their brethren. With the window broken I can’t hear anything but their screams and growls, their nails scratching to get to me. I can’t know if Sarah and Lilly have made it to the front door, if they make it to the car, to freedom. I can only buy them some time.

  I grab anything within reaching distance and begin to launch things out the windows: photo frames and artwork from the walls, ornaments that smash as they crash down below. I throw and throw until there are so many down below that the glow from their eyes is like the setting sun.

  I back away from the window, wanting to run far and wide but needing to know that Lilly is safe first. I dart across the landing, making it back to our bedroom, and I run to the window and look out. I see the taillights of the car heading down the path and I pray that there are none left down there.

  I clutch my knife tightly and run out of the room and to the stairs, and then I run down them, taking them two at a time until I reach the bottom. The noise down here is insane, the scratching sound of their nails on the walls and doors sounding like a million mice trying to gnaw their way inside my head. I get to the front door and open it, warily looking out, but see nothing but darkness—no glow of eyes to still my rapidly beating heart and freeze the blood in my veins. I step outside, the smell of the monsters hanging thickly in the air, and I’m about to run down across the lawn when one of the monsters slinks its way around the corner of the house.

  It sees me and hisses, but it doesn’t scream for attention. It looks injured, and I remember how I once saw one monster eating another. It had been injured and dying, and its brother had clearly been starving. I realize that this one doesn’t call out for its brothers and sisters because it fears them as much as I do. However, it does not fear me.

  It charges at me, diving when it is within reaching distance, and I lift my arms to shield myself from its attack. I collapse under its weight, its muscle mass pressing my back against the cold concrete steps as the air leaves my lungs in a loud whoosh. My head cracks against the steps and I cry out in pain as stars dance before my eyes. Its body is a limp, dead weight on top of me. Its mouth is agape, its sharp teeth centimeters away from my face. Its blood drenches me, and I’m frantic as I try to shift myself out from under its corpse.

  I slide out from beneath its heavy body and realize my knife has pierced its belly and slid all the way up to its chest, and as I move, its insides tumble out on top of me. I think of the monster I killed when we first got here and for a second I think on what a peculiar coincidence that is. I stagger backwards, hearing the telltale scratching and clicking of nails on the path. The monsters can smell the blood, and they are coming.

  I press my back against the wall of the house, willing myself to calm down, to be invisible and to not release the scream of terror I feel trying to tear its way up my throat as the monsters come around the opposite corner of the house. I blend myself into the shadows, the first time they have ever been my friend, and I pray. I pray for it to be quick, for my death to be immediate.

  But they don’t see me. They are too busy with the dead monster at their feet—sniffing, scratching, biting, and tearing. They hold no mercy for anyone or anything; they are soulless beasts that only mean to destroy. I slide along the wall, my eyes fixed on them the entire time, my legs shaking with the urge to run away. But I hold steady and continue to slide my way slowly along, feeling the bricks digging into my back, until I reach the corner. I look away from the group of monsters for a split second and I peer around the corner, seeing nothing but shadows, and I slip around and out of their sight.

  I run along the side of the house, not knowing where I am going to go but aware that I can’t get to the road by way of the front of the house anymore—not until the monsters go inside. Around the back, several of them have smashed a lower floor window and I see the tail end of one enter the house. They are inside now, inside what was once our home, and that thought makes me so angry. They have ruined everything. Again.

  My eyes fall to the bike now lying on the ground. One of the monsters must have knocked it over, I decide. Its back wheel is spinning mindlessly, and I almost laugh at the irony that it is I that will be using the bike for my getaway, and not Sarah.

  I hurry over to it, keeping low and out of sight in case any of the monsters look out the window. I pick it up quickly. It’s lightweight and I wheel it quietly away from the house and toward the bushes, where it is dark. They’re murky, and not somewhere that I want to enter, but as more windows smash, and I hear the screaming and growling of the monsters inside the house, I know my best bet is in the shadows—somewhere I have avoided for a long time now. I climb on the bike, sitting on the saddle, and I take a deep breath before pedaling away quickly. I stick to the shadows as much as I can until I am at the front of the house once more, and I pedal as fast as I can around the island of grass and down the long, gravelly road, following the trail of blood left by Sarah earlier today, staying in the shadows.

  I look back at the house when I reach the bottom of the road. The noises coming from inside the house are loud and obnoxious as the monsters break and destroy everything we had come to cherish so much. I say goodbye to our peace, our sanctuary, and our supplies. It was good while it lasted. But nothing ever lasts forever. Not anymore.

  At the bottom of the gravel road, I turn onto the main strip of blacktop that was once a perfectly good road. As time has passed and the elements have taken their toll, the roads have begun to crumble and crack. They are dangerous to drive on at night, the giant holes left in some of them almost begging for you to drive into them and crash. I start to pedal quickly, the sound of screeching and smashing still echoing down to me from the house. I feel sad that we have lost that home, sadder still that Lilly didn’t get a few more days of peace there. But our supplies are my greatest loss. The food that we have had to leave behind. I had known it would happen—I had prepared, packing the car with water and food rations to last over a week—but the loss of the food left behind is still acute.

  I look around, my heart sinking when I don’t see my car. I have been left behind, and that should hurt more than it does, but I am just glad that Lilly is safe. I will mourn my loss when I am safe. I see Sarah’s beat-up car up ahead, the hood still crumpled around the base of a tree where she crashed. The car is in wor
se shape now than earlier. The monsters have torn the metal apart trying to taste the blood. I pedal to the side of it and stop, taking a second to witness the destruction. Blood is still pooled around and inside of it—Sarah’s blood from earlier today. It is dried and hard now, yet to the monsters it will still smell fresh. I feel stupid for not realizing that it would attract the monsters to us. Stupider still for not being prepared for them or packing our things and leaving before they came.

  And as I hear the soft whimpering of Lilly coming from underneath the wreck, I feel stupid for ever trusting that woman and allowing her into our lives.

  Chapter Eleven.

  #11. Hold tight to that which you love.

  I let go of the bike and drop to my knees, seeing the tiny form of Lilly underneath the car. I can’t make out her face, nor her arms or legs, but I know that it is her. I know her cry. It is like a brand on my heart and soul.

  “Lilly!” I whisper and reach under. My fingers graze her hair and she shrieks and backs away. “Lilly!” I whisper again, more urgently.

  Her eyes open, almost glowing in the darkness under the car. And she reminds me of a cat.

  “Mama?” she asks, her voice so soft, so scared. Almost as if she is afraid to believe that it is me.

  “Yes. Come quickly.”

  I don’t have time to ask Lilly where Sarah is or why she is hiding underneath the car, but anger, raw and hot, burns in my stomach at the thought of Sarah leaving behind my Lilly—my Honeybee.

  Lilly scrambles out, blinking away her tears as she looks into my face before burying herself in my arms. I scoop her up and squeeze her tightly, kissing her hair and breathing in her life. Sobs work up my throat but I push them back down. There will be time for that, but not now.

  “We need to go,” I say, and Lilly nods against my neck.

  I pick up my bike and straddle it, all without putting Lilly down. Because I will never let her out of my sight again. Her little legs and arms tighten around me as I begin to pedal, but after five minutes I decide that it is almost impossible to ride like this. We are getting nowhere, and the monsters will be out in force tonight, especially here, brought by the scent of blood.

  I stop the bike and think what to do. “Lilly, I need you to sit in the basket if you can,” I say, deciding on my plan.

  She shakes her head, not wanting to let me go, and I don’t blame her. I can’t blame her. The urge to ask what happened after she left with Sarah is strong, but the knowledge will do me no good right now. I would get angry and emotional, and I need to be strong. I need to have a clear head. I need to be quick.

  I pry Lilly’s arms away from me, which spurs a fresh bout of tears from her. I push her tangled curls back away from her face and I look into her eyes, my heart breaking at her sadness, wanting and needing to take it all away, but all I can do now is try and get us to safety.

  “I need to be quick. We need to get away from here. You have to sit in the basket, please.” I beg her to understand. My voice is forceful and calm, but she seems to find some comfort in it.

  Her chin quivers, tears pouring down her cheeks, but she nods. She loosens her grip on me, and I lift her and place her bottom into the basket. She’s facing toward the road, her legs dangling in front, and though she’s not comfy in any way, it is the safest way for her to ride for now.

  “Hold on tightly,” I whisper, to which she nods solemnly and grips the handlebars. She looks awkward and uncomfortable, but it’s the best I can do.

  I give a quick glance behind me, almost certain that I can see the dark shadows moving around at the site of Sarah’s earlier car crash. I turn back to the way we are facing and begin to pedal as fast and as hard as I can. It’s much easier like this, though it’s still too slow for my liking. Especially compared to a car. But we are moving away from them, away from the death that they would surely bring.

  My muscles are tight with worry and anxiety, and anger still burns in my stomach—a quiet fury that I want to release, but can’t. Yet when I look at Lilly, the pale profile of her face looking up to the trees that hide the moon from our sight, I breathe a sigh of relief. Because she is here. She is safe. I have her with me again, and I will never let anything happen to her. And that is all that matters. Not my anger and my rage, or the dread I feel growing inside of me. I will keep Lilly safe, no matter what. And I will kill Sarah if I ever run into her again.

  The night is a blur of blackness and monster screams, though thankfully, we do not see any of the monsters. But their screams are enough to chill me to my core. I say a silent prayer of thankfulness as the trees open up and give way to a wide open highway. I can see on either side of us now. The ground is flat on both sides, allowing me to take a shaky breath as the realization that we are truly alone settles in. We are not being followed, or stalked through the night. There are no monsters waiting for us. It is just Lilly and me right now. The moon is glowing full and round in the blackened sky, another thing that calms my fractured nerves.

  I slow my pedaling, feeling hot sweat beading down my spine and across my forehead. My muscles are aching, tiring after riding so hard for so long without a break, but I can’t stop now. Not yet. Lilly’s body slowly slouches sideways as she finally falls into a deep yet troubled sleep. I hold the handlebars tightly with one hand and keep a grip on her body with my other. It makes pedaling twice as hard and makes the bike wobble, but it’s the only way for her to sleep. And damn it, she’s a little girl, she should be safely tucked up in bed somewhere, with a fluffy pink blanket in her little bedroom filled with cuddly toys and Barbie dolls. She should be dreaming sweet dreams of cotton candy or riding on flying unicorns. She should be looking forward to going to school, to playing in the park, to seeing her friends, to eating Pop Tarts for breakfast. But she’s not. She’s running for her life through the night, being chased by monsters and slowly turning into one of them herself.

  We’re doomed. No matter which way that I look at it, no matter which way I try to decipher the problem. We. Are. Doomed. Yet I still try, my heart refuses to give up—to give her up—even though there really is nothing to give up on anyway. The end is inevitable. It is death, and one way or another, it will come for us.

  The night is humid and quiet, leaving me to the darkness of my bleak thoughts. My worries swim around in it, never-ending, restless, warring for something that I cannot give to them or myself: peace.

  We have nothing now.

  Nothing at all.

  We are worse off than we were previously. Tears sting my eyes, the world blurring as I fight to hold them back. What will we do now?

  We have nothing.

  My body shivers, trembling up and down as it begins to give in—give up. We have nothing, there is no escape from this. Only time…such little time left with each other. It will never be enough. Lilly’s soft snores interrupt my downward spiral into the blackness of my internal misery. I stop pedaling, my mind more exhausted than my weak body. I place one foot on the ground to balance us and the bike, and then I watch her. Her little pink mouth is slightly agape as her soft breath leaves her lips. Her eyes move behind her closed lids, and I wonder what she is dreaming of. She seems so peaceful, and yet so thoroughly exhausted. The tears from earlier are still evident on her cheeks, and I grip my chest—the place where my heart lies just beneath my ribs—as pain burns deep within it.

  Is this what it feels like when your heart breaks? I wonder.

  A screech in the night echoes out loudly and I jump, the tiny hairs on my arms tingling with recognition of the danger. I look behind us, seeing nothing but darkened blacktop and empty fields. Up ahead there is a large square shape in the distance—a barn, I think it is. I look at the bike and contemplate climbing back on it, pedaling to get us there quicker, but my legs and butt are sore and aching. So I stay standing, choosing to push the bike forward while still awkwardly holding onto Lilly and stopping her from falling out of the small wicker basket.

  Despite the adrenalin and the fear, I yawn
as I push us onward through the night. My eyelids feel heavy, my body weary. I walk and push and I ignore the dark thoughts that wander my mind until we finally, mercifully, reach the barn. The shadows surrounding it scare me, the shadows that I know will be inside it are even scarier, but I simply can’t go on any further. We have to stop…I have to stop. We’ve been going for hours, and no matter what hunts us, my body needs sleep. I lean the bike against the wooden wall—the side that is currently bright with the glow of full moonlight shining down on it. Lilly mumbles as I pull her from the basket, and she automatically wraps her little arms and legs around me, her face burying into the space between my shoulder and my head, and she falls back to sleep.

  I move slowly, cautiously toward the door, dread filling my gut, heavy and foreboding. But I’m at the point of no return. There is nowhere else to go. There is no more I can give right now. One hand is planted beneath Lilly’s butt as I hold her to me, her little body going slack in my arms as sleep takes her deeper. With my other hand I grip the handle of the barn door and pull it open fractionally. I breathe in the warm, rank air that slips out through the small crack, smelling straw and mildew. I pull the door open some more and peer inside, my eyes taking in what they can.

  Nothing moves.

  Nothing screams.

  Nothing comes forth from the blackness within.

  I carry Lilly inside and shut the door after me, standing still as my eyes adjust to the deep blackness. I am glad that she is asleep now. She wouldn’t like this place. This is everything we should run from. But I can’t run anymore tonight; I need to rest.

  The moon glows bright through a gap in the broken roof, a window or hatch I think that was once there. I see steps leading up to a hayloft and I step on the bottom one, testing my weight against the aged wood and finding that it is still sturdy after all this time. I climb, holding onto the wooden ladders with one hand, my other still holding onto Lilly. My body shakes with the strain, but still I go on. I reach the top, and know that I need to put her down to climb up onto the ledge.