In The Darkest Hours before Dawn

In The Darkest Hours before Dawn

By Shane LaGrange

Write a story set in the city where the power suddenly goes out leaving everyone in the dark.

Lasing, Michigan

October 22nd. Eleven fifty-eight pm. 

When my world went dark.

My name is John Peter Fitzgerald. Yeah, I know, but mom was big on religion. Although, when you are 6 1,” black and look like you were birthed straight out of a fitness magazine, people tend not to ribb you.

Back to my point. Normally I would sleep through a small thing like a power outage.

Jennifer Shaw came bursting into my room. The flashlight played all over my bedroom like a drunken spotlight operator that can‘t see for shit.

Like I said, normally.

The flashlight beam hit me square in the face.

“What are you doing?” I said, holding the palm of my hand in front of my eyes.

“Sumupthing is wrong, J! The power is out!” 

“Geez, turn that damn thing away from my face.”

Jennifer Shaw, twenty same as I, but of mixed heritage, toned down the power of the flashlight. She wore a dark blue terry cloth robe. Not much else underneath I managed. Single. Smart and beautiful. Always with high expectations.   

“Everything is shut down,” she said coming closer.

I turned over and looked at my Smart Unit.

“Call the power company.”

Nothing. Not even a busy signal.

“Exercise play list. . .tell us a joke?”

It continued to be dark.

“Thing can’t be busted,” I mumbled. 

I got out of bed; threw on a pair of Checkered Loungers and my slipper. I went to my window and carefully looked out.

An early frost settled in. Not a whole lot of snow, but enough to feel it. No power meant the heating unit was out.

“This just the neighborhood,” I mused.

“All I know is nothing is working.”

For a second, I thought I saw figures moving around. 

“Couldn’t you have got a regular apartment?” Her voice quavered.

“I like my loft downtown,” I said, still trying to figure out what was going on.

Then I heard it. The light sound of glass breaking. Looters.

“Where were the police?”

“Everyone is up,” she said.

My birthday. Celebrating twenty years of life on Earth. My brain started going into overtime, as I saw more shadowy figures. More noise. I am big into the Crime and Mystery novels and always wanted to get into law enforcement and the FBI.

“Let’s talk to the bunch,” I said, exiting the room with Jennifer. “As long as we keep quiet and no candles or flashlight near the window, we should be fine.”

There they were. My friends. Sitting around my black leather sectional. The television was on, but nothing came out. What the fifty-inch flat screen did though, was give off light. Plenty of light.

“Shut that damn thing off.”

Jade Peltier, picked up the remote and turned it off. Also mixed, she was fresh from California and eighteen. The youngest of the group. 

Mike Stone, twenty was near the window peering

 out into the darkness.

“More looters?” I asked.

He nodded his head.

“Where are the cops?”

“Don’t know,” he said.

“Fucking weird.”

More noises. This time much closer; like one of the spare bedrooms close. It was the racket of someone falling and tripping over stuff.

“Shit! Godamn it!” We heard. 

My heart skipped a beat. Only one person could make that much of a big deal, simply from getting out of bed, and walking across the floor.

More swearing.

“Who brought him?” I demanded turning to my friends. Who brought Charles?”

Charles parker, fifteen, was a walking disaster. Everything about him was wrong. Thin and sickly. Sensitive eyes to light, he walked mostly with his head down to the ground. The dude walked like a duck and his piratical vision was next to useless. Tonight, of all night he was in my house.

Ginger Baker, twenty-five raised her hand meekly. 

 Our parents are out of town; you know he cannot be by himself.” “  

` “Probably because they needed the vacation away from him,” I said.

I looked again at the suede sofa.

“Where is Albert?”

“Right here, Bruth,” he said, wearing Nike shorts and same brand of high tops. A blue jersey covered his wide chest and he was carrying his smart phone in disgust.

“This thing is a piece of shit. I paid good money for it.”

He plopped himself on the end of the couch.

 Turning back to the window, my worst fears realized. I heard the loud banging of a door. He just entered the bathroom and all the noise gave us away, as several looked up at us.

“Oh shit,” I said.

“Shit is right,” Mike echoed, as waving arm movement followed by several others brought us to their attention.

“You carrying, bruth?” 

“Carr. . .no, I don’t. I suppose you do?” 

“Always packing,” he said with a grin, revealing gold and diamond encrusted on his teeth,

“How can you sit like that and not shoot your own ass off?”

“Safety.”

I heard the shower come on; more things clattered to the floor of the stall. Razors, shampoo. . .the only thing was not falling was Charles. At least not yet.

“Ginger! Go control that mess and keep him quiet.”

I looked back at the other. Four, silent and scared. A frenzied mob was a stupid mob. Like hyped on PCP or Coke. Sheer violence ruled their brains. They would come and we most likely would die, at least not without a good fight. Although, I had female friends up here. . .I shook my head at what might happen to them. It was up to me. We needed a plan, as Ginger bolted for one of the spare bedrooms to quiet her brother down.

“My boys will be here soon,” Albert said. His arms comfortably tucked behind his head.

“They won’t get in, J,” Peter Tucker said. He rigged my elevator, so that you needed a five-digit combination to get it moving. We were safe for the moment. 

I could hear frustration down below. The rustling of hands across metal and hateful voices heard. Like rabid convicts screaming, more blood.

“What are we going to do?” Shelia Franks asked. 

“I said, my boys will be here.”

I heard Ginger barking at her brother, who responded even loader. That was another thing he had problems with: understanding others. I could understand. Taken out of school; placed in one of those special programs. Mainly because, he kept shooting off his mouth off, and getting his ass kicked by other students. 

Great, I thought. A massacre on top of a massacre.

“Can they get through?” Shelia asked.

“If enough come,” Mike said, still looking out the window. “Given enough time. The roof of that old elevator could be torn.”

“Then, they could climb the cables,” Jennifer said.

“Mike left his post.

“Come on Al, let’s go secure that door.”

Ginger came into the room and sat Charles down, as Albert looked at him in disgust and left with Mike.

“That boy ain’t no niggah,” he said. “He is all white.”

“I am cold,” Charles said, starting to shiver violently. “So fucking cold.”

He was practically screaming these words out. I went to the window where Mike was. Sure enough, more was coming. What the hell was going on?

Jade went to the bedroom; then came back with a thick blanket, which she draped over Charles.

“Goddamnit! I can’t fucking breathe!”

Ginger repositioned the covers behind her brother, and wrapped it around his quivering body.

“I came back to the sofa and knelt down looking him in the eye.

“You hear that noise downstairs?”

Charles strained; then nodded.

“That is the sound of death comin’. Eventually, they will tear the roof off that ancient elevator. When they do, we are toast. Got it.”

Charles nodded.

“Good guy,” I said, as Mike and Albert came back.

“Well,” I asked. 

“That’s a deep subject,” Albert joked.” My-boys-will-be-here.”

“Not deep enough,” I frowned, turning back to the window. “If they are coming, we need a plan to stay alive.”

***

Forty-fie minutes have passed since our world went dark. Forty- five minutes of listening, as metal rattled and bent under frustrated cries. No one else came to join the party. Nor did I see anyone leave. Tireless. They would not rest until they got up here.

I looked at the window. A plan was forming. Crazy, but it might keep us alive for a little time anyway. Snow was starting to fall. The temperature was dropping; I thought of Charles and frowned. 

 A jarring ripping sound heard down below.

“What was that?” Shelia asked.

“Sounds like part of the roof gave,” Mike said quietly.

“We need weapons,” Albert said, putting his gun on the glass coffee table. That elevator shaft is cramped. We get ready and take out as many mutherfucker as we can. Kick the rest down to the bottom.” 

“We don’t know how many are down there,” Mike said. “They will come rolling out of that shaft like roaches. Sooner of later, one of us is going to get grabbed.”

“This window pushes outward,” I said. “The ledge is large enough for us to get on. From there, we make our ways on top. They burst in and not see anyone. We stay safe.”

“No,” Charles said. Just the thought was throwing him into convulsions. “I can’t make it in the cold.”

He started shivering more and more violently.

“We need to hide him,” Mike said.

“Oh no fucking way,” Ginger said. “My parents would have my ass. J! There has to be another way.”

“That mob breaks in and we are still here. What your parents would do is the least of your worries.”

I carefully pushed open the window. A blast of cold air greeted my face and enveloped the room. 

Charles started crying--in loud hic-cupping wails.

“Pussy,” Albert scowled.

Another piece of the elevator roof gave way. 

“My God,” Ginger whispered.

“Everyone,” I said turning. “Get on as many clothes as you can. Raid my closet if you need. Jennifer, find something for Charles.”

***

One a.m. In the morning.

We were set. Mike would take point. Sandwiched between him and Albert, Charles was tethered. Then the girls; myself bringing the rear.

We were on W. Ottawa Street. Where we needed to go, was in Old Oakland. A bunker long forgotten by a condemned house. Mike, Myself and a few childhood friends use to play Survivors. Over the years, we stocked it. Food, drinks, television. Tucker managed to get the power running

“Ready?” Mike asked opening the window. He raised the window and started to crawl on the ledge. The line grew taunt, and Albert shoved Charles ahead, as the elevator to the roof finally gave way.

“MY God,” Jenifer said.

“Don’t they ever give up?” Jade asked.

“They gonna be crawling up here like Rats soon. Get a move on!” Albert said.

Charles hesitantly came to the window. A blast of frosty air greeted his face; he shrunk back.

“No. . .I--I can’t do it.”

Albert drew him aside.

“Look Bruth, Shit’s hard. I get that. Right now, you have to be stronger then what ails you. Get on that ledge, and no matter what, keep saying, I can do this. Understand?”

Charles nodded, and approached the window. His teeth chattering. I could see his frosty breath; silently repeating what Albert told him to say.

He may pretend to be all that and put on his Gangsta Airs, but he was well intentioned. 

Charles made it onto the ledge on all fours. Crawling inch by inch and not looking down, as Mike helped him to his feet. Albert, then the girls. I came. We used an iron rail above the window, for support, as we made it along the roof.

Where are we going?” Ginger asked.

Mike pointed in the direction of Old Oakland.

“Shit!” We will never make it with those things behind us.”

He unhooked himself and went back into the loft.

“Albert!” Jade and Ginger yelled.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. I ain’t planning on being lunch meat,” he said. “Get going!”

The frigid wind whipped and howled, and the snow started falling faster. Large flakes floated downwards. I hooked myself to Charles and we kept moving. The girls held each other’s hand, and Jennifer kept a tight hold on my belt.

***

Inside, Albert found what he was looking for. Behind the refrigerator. A solid steel hockey stick. He felt the harsh sharp lines, and tapped it against his palm. This would work.

He ran back to the open window. The howls of blood were getting closer.  

“I told J, he should oil that thing more,” he muttered, stepping onto the ledge and positioning his body above the window, and balancing himself on the iron rail. “They be sliding their asses to the bottom, giving my boys time to get here.”

He could hear the pounding at the door. It would not be long. They would be sticking their fingers between the door, and no telling how many. 

He heard the doors creak open. The makeshift barrier giving way as they spilled into the room. Crazy maniacs going all such ways. Sniffing the air like Hounds, and breaking things as they went from room to room. 

Finally, seeing the open window as everything went quiet.

The hairs on the back of Albert’s neck stood on end. His neck veins bulged, as he stood ready. The hockey stick rose over his head. 

The howling started again. Eerie strange wailing, carried on by the scent of whatever, Albert was not sure. He just knew they were heading his way.

“I am Agent Crane!” He announced. “Dying Light Mutherficker!” 

The first two heads that popped out, he hit. The steel stick made a satifisfactory double crack along the heads; dropping them to the icy pavement below.  

  Conserving his stamina, he took his shots where he could, but there was too many rushing out and not caring if they fell down to the ground or not.

“You bustards are crazy,” he said, stepping onto the ledge; still swinging. “How many of you assholes are in there?”

Knocking a few more down below, he stepped back; then turned to see where he was going. Two he thought he pushed off, held onto the ledge. Those two grabbed his legs. Before he knew it, he was overwhelmed in a sea of bodies. Clawing and scratching. 

***

The faint sounds of a car alarmed got out attention as we made under the W. Martin Luther King Blvd. 

Ginger turned to go back, but I stopped her.

“We can not do anything for him. The noise will just bring more. All we can hope for, is that he is al right.”

Old Oakland. 0ne Thirty a.m.

We walked into a nightmare straight out of Creature features and George Romero. Cars overturned and burning. People running for their lives; given chase. Above, horns were honking at the snail pace; we were sure check points were now in place, as we steadidly made our way to the old property.

We saw another overturned car, with what looked like a hand sticking out from under the overturned car. A car passed us without a second glance; stopped, and got out to see what he could pilfer. Immediately, several maninacs jumped from behind the car. He started running; slipping on the road. Immediately catching him. He disappeared underneath writhing flesh. A young couple from behind the bushes saw their chance. His wife pushing their two children carefully in the back sear. They backed up and drove down another street. 

As we neared safety, we became aware of several shadows that were following us. They were following us because we were going a specific route. Not wavering or anything. With all that was going on, we considered that foolish. 

Paasing an empty house with huge treess in the front, I yelled, “Dinner is here!”

We took off down a separate street as several bodies fell out of the trees. Those that were following us took off in seprate direactions as we finally made it to the old house.

Taking a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the the hatch. Charles went down first, then Mike and the girls. I came last, as angry shouts came my way. Two, that evaded the Maniacs started running for the shaft cursing all the way. 

“You idiots!” I screamed. “Look what you are bringing with you!”

“Keep that open if you know what is good for you!” One said, swiftly tackled, to the ice and snow. The other made it to the shaft as I closed and locked the door.

  Fruitless attempts at pulling and kicking before his screams told us, he was a goner.

Inside, Tuck started the generator and we had power. I went to the refridgearator and pulled out a beer. I came back and gave it to Charles.

“Dude, you earned this,” I said. “Drink up.”

“You sure he should have that?” Ginger questioned. “What would mom and dad say?”

I popped the tab for him.

“Do we even know they are even still alive,” I said, as the others followed my example.

Soon, we were feasting on cold cans of Spaghetti-Os. Jade turned on the television.

Nothing. Not even a test patttern. We were sure the president and everyone were safe wherever they might be, and that it would take a while to reorganize.

Halfway through his first beer, Charles started drifitn off. I caught his can before he dropped it, and Ginger tucked him into bed. Thinking that was a good idea, we all did the same. Not sure where we would go. That discussion was tabled for the morning’s light.