The Living Dark

Chapter 6: Believe all of what you see...Mostly

    Ben glares down at his son. The boy fidgets nervously in his wheelchair. "Chip, I don't have time for this son," Ben says gingerly, stepping over the leg struts of his son's black wheelchair. Moving briskly to his workbench, Ben reaches for the sleek chrome-colored laptop. Chip catches his father's wrist. "Dad, seriously," he pleads. What passes next is one of those brief but tense moments of silence. That only a father and his eldest son can share. Ben Robert gives his son that stern "Oh, you're a man now" glare. Junior suddenly gains a brief moment of clarity. In conjunction with the realization that his father had often taken it easy on him. By withholding some of those life lessons. That if he were an "able-bodied" teenage boy. His father would've dutifully taught him long ago. Chip is aware of being spared the full brunt of his father's "physical" parenting. Just as Chip felt, his father had withheld the full depth of his love. Chip's emotional and physical states drew from a deep well of his father's gnawing guilt. Ben viewed his son's "condition" as his fault. Slowly the younger Benjamin relaxes his grip drawing back his hand. "Dad, trust me..."

   Muffled voices floating through the open shelter door break the stalemate. Chip says, "Dad, I was looking at my phone yesterday before the battery died. There are all these rumors drifting around the web and social media." Ben carries through with his initial plan powering up the charging laptop. Ben turns his back to the device as it goes through its setup. Leaning on the workbench crossing his arms, he resigns to hearing his boy out. "Look, dad I know you're stressed. I get that so are the rest of us, but we can't ignore facts." Chip slides the computer across the bench to him. He parks his wheelchair and deploys the brakes. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he plugs it in. Using the phone's internet signal, he opens a wifi connection with the laptop. The boy's hands dance about the keyboard logging onto the internet as he goes.

   "I heard what you told Mrs. Fullerton ...." Chip doesn't look away from the glowing screen. ".... dad, it's ok for you to indulge your rampant paranoia. But you think me saying Mr. Fullerton's gonna turn into a zombie needs proof." "Son, I......." Ben was cut off by his eldest. "A lot of web pages are down and more are going down daily, dad. Some of the wireless phone networks are still running on backup power." Ben's first inclination was to rub his temple in frustration. When his kids talked about technology, it made his head pound. He had worked with his hands all his life building physical things. Ben had no desire to understand the "internet." Or anything he couldn't see or touch with his own two hands. However, he feels terrible about dismissing his son, so he indulges him.

   "Watch this, dad..." Chip pivots the bright screen towards his father. A grainy image begins to play silently. "This news channel hasn't updated any of its stories since last night. This video is from Japan." Ben kneels resting an arm on his son's chair. The video was flickering on the laptop screen. It appeared to have been captured by some unfortunate soul on a cell phone half a world away. The photographer seems to be back peddling slowly as trying to remain unseen. The subject in the video is a humanoid-shaped silhouetted shadow. It stumbled about deep in the inky black shadows of a darkened alley. The figure materializes out of the gloom. It looks to be a short petite female. She appears to be looking for something or someone. She moves with an odd, hunched gait. Her neck pops and ticks spasmodically like a broken water sprinkler. The woman meanders from one side of the alley to another. Clumsily she searches for something or someone. Ben is vaguely aware that he is leaning into the screen and anxiously holding his breath. He wants to take his hand and wipe the screen to make the picture sharper by swiping the shadows away.

   The stooped-over form in the video isn't quite walking, but she isn't staggering either. "Son ..." Ben says nervously, rubbing his goatee. "You said zombie and I have seen a few of your movies. Don't zombies shuffle around slower than that?" He points to the computer screen. "Yeah dad just watch this." the boy whispers, placing his hand on Big Ben's back. Behind the female in the video, the darkness coalesces from a formless void. It slowly morphs into human forms. These shadows look as if they're swaying in place. While light dances behind them, obscuring their features.

  Suddenly the odd woman raises her slumped head and stares directly at the camera. Her face appears streaked with a dark liquid. Ben feels his heart skip a beat reeling back instinctively. For a millisecond, his mind told him the woman on screen had leaped through it and into his basement. She now moves with a purpose, and the photographer has noticed. Ben sees the woman from the neck down, her face obscured by her dark oily hair. She is wearing a torn, dark-colored blouse and a filthy white skirt. The person shooting the video appears to be running while filming over their shoulder. The shaking in the video becomes more pronounced, and the woman falls behind the fleeing cameraperson. In the silent movie, the woman appears to snarl, throwing her head back. Hunching down, she leaps into the air. She lands closer to the camera before vaulting off-screen again. Now the cameraperson is sprinting. The video shows their fingers clutching the device and the top of denim jeans. In an instant, the video shows the camera phone pirouetting wildly in the air before static fills the screen.