“You’re welcome,” Stephens sounded off. “You heavy as hell too, ya know… wouldn’t kill you to do some cardio, lose some of that gut.”
Jacob looked down and removed the cap from the bottle he was holding. “Oak Street? That’s only three blocks over from my house.”
“Like I said, you heavy,” Stephens answered, glaring.
Murphy pointed at the window. “We barely made it in here, as it is. We were able to cut down the last wave. The grenade helped, but we had to move before they rebounded—they always fucking rebound. You’re damn lucky we decided to take you with us.”
“I’d ha’ left ya if it was up to me,” Stephens said, shaking his head. “Hell, Sergeant here, guess he figures better to take you with us than fight you later.”
Jacob stared at him blankly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means every time we lose someone, they come back as the fucking darkness.”
“The darkness?” Jacob asked.
“Those, things, whatever the hell they are,” Stephens said, moving away to a far wall and dropping down against it. He pulled his rifle into his lap and cradled it.
“What is it? The Darkness… is it like a sickness?”
“Hell no; it’s an actual thing, like a whole new person,” Stephens muttered, shaking his head.
Jacob found himself losing his patience. “You’re talking nonsense!”
Murphy dug into the plastic pouches in front of him and tossed Jacob a sealed package. “Eat this; you need the calories.”
Murphy put his knife back into a sheath on his belt. “It’s not a sickness; it’s… it’s something different.”
Jacob took the package, flipped it over, read the pound cake label, and set it on the floor next to him. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood for cake.”
“Then go ahead and eat it, because that shit is in no way cake. If you’re going to be strong enough to travel with us, you need to eat,” Murphy ordered.
Jacob took the foil package and ripped off the top. He looked at the yellow brick inside, and then looked back at Murphy. “I’ve seen them close up. The black eyes, the dark mouths, and their blood… it… it was like oil,” he said quietly.
Stephens grunted. “That’s cause they ain’t people; they the darkness. We already told you that.”
“What does that mean?” Jacob asked, looking at Murphy as he pulled the yellow brick from the wrapper.
“The Darkness, Zulus, Marble Eyes, Boogie Man—whatever you call them, it’s all the same,” Murphy said, spooning through his meal. “They are not us, not anymore.”
Murphy opened a drinking tube hanging from his vest and sucked water into his mouth, taking a long swallow. He stared at Jacob, then looked at Stephens who was leaning against the wall. “You been cut off since the beginning of this, huh?”
Jacob nodded. “We haven’t left the house since the sirens turned on. I saw the early news reports about the rioting and the PSA to shelter in place,” Jacob said, breaking off a hunk of the brick and putting it in his mouth. He made an odd face and took a long swig of water to wash down the substance.
Stephens pulled his rifle away from his lap. “Damn PSA; shoulda told people to run, get as far away as you can. Now we got so many pockets of people trapped in the city and they just waiting to get taken… soon they’ll all be gone, be one of them.”
“So, what are they?” Jacob asked.
Stephens spit on the floor near his boot. “I don’t know what they are,” he said, his voice rising. Catching himself, he turned back to Jacob and spoke in a low voice. “Doc Jersey, our medic, he cut one open after we killed it. No guts, man, just a black jelly glob all up in their bodies. We tried taking one prisoner… yeah, we captured and hog-tied its ass. They strong, but they ain’t no supermen. This thing was weird, though; the damn thing screamed until it died. We didn’t do a damn thing to it. It just fucking died, man. Then it dried up like a choked-out fish.”
“It’s true; they shrivel up… like dehydrate,” Murphy said.
Jacob’s jaw dropped, not understanding but seeing a connection. “The ones I killed; the blood, it shriveled and dried up too, like old paint—”
There was a loud thump on the floor above as a door slammed open. Stephens held a hand up and put a finger to his lip. Jacob looked up at the ceiling and watched the shadows as a figure walked over the planks. It paced through the house and then quickly left again.
Stephens quietly got to his feet and stepped lightly to the window. He looked out to search the street, then moved back to his position and looked down at Murphy. “Sergeant, we can’t stay here. That’s the fourth time they checked this place. They know we’re close.”
Chapter Seven
Jacob stood pressed against the wall with Murphy to his front. He was blinded in the night and kept a hand on Murphy’s shoulder, so he could be guided by him. Stephens had already cleared the basement doorway and advanced out into the shadows to scout the way ahead. They were waiting for his signal to proceed outside. A low clicking sound came to Jacob’s ears and Murphy turned, looked at Jacob, and waved him forward. The soldier then stepped off, pulling Jacob behind him. Once in the doorway, they pressed back against the wall. Jacob looked around, trying to orient himself before stepping up the concrete steps to the outside. He was shocked to make it up them without falling on his face.
Murphy moved quickly along the side of the house, then knelt beside a tall bush. He looked back at Jacob and lifted his night vision goggles from his eyes. “You, all right?” he whispered.
“I can’t see anything,” Jacob whispered back.
“Just keep a hand on my back
