The Living Dark

The Living Dark, Chapter 5: Neighborhood Watch

    The front door rattles in its frame. Someone pounds at it from the other side. The assault on the sturdy door is relentless and panicked. "This ain't our local Mormons," He muses as he posts himself next to the door. He strikes a classic Hollywood movie pose, his burly back to the wall. Gun held out in front of him, gripped tightly in both sweaty hands. Ben!" a man shouts in panic. His voice reverberates through the thick wooden door. He knows the voice belonged to his neighbor Carl. Scrapping along the wall, Ben positions himself behind the door. Leaning forward, he peers through the peephole. A bandaged fist arches into view and pounds on the door again. Ben recoils backward, almost spilling his treasure trove of chargers. "Just wait, Bianca ...." Ben hears the man on the porch stammer. Somewhere he hears a child crying along with a little girl whimpering softly. Spurred into action by the distressed child, Ben yells out. "Hang tight, Carl, I'm coming." with that, Ben sets down the equipment in his hand. "Wait a minute, Carl, I need a hammer," he shouts. Ben sprints into the kitchen, returning with the tool to remove the door's last lines of defense. He begins to open the door in a precise sequence. The same wood planks they had nailed up with care yesterday. Lastly, Ben removed a brace he had installed, which connected the door to the floor. With some effort, he pries two-by-fours from the doorframe's top, bottom, and middle. Tossing the wood behind him, Ben opens the door. To his immediate shock, a disheveled Fullerton family meets him.

   "What's... what's going on, Carl?" Ben demands. But before he answers, Carl ushers his family into the James house. First comes Mrs. Fullerton, his wife, with her long blond hair in a no-frills ponytail. She holds their youngest daughter. Then he hefts his oldest daughter over the threshold. Both Fullerton girls were genetically gifted, their mother's luminous blond hair. Everyone except Carl is still in their pj's. "Ben..." the man stops mid-sentence. Carl turns and closes the door to Benjamin's house. "This morning ...." he pants out of breath. "I was jogging, and some guys jumped me. We got into a scuffle, then one of them bit me on the arm. And the other took a good chunk out of my pinky too." The man holds his left arm aloft. Around his mid-forearm is a white bed sheet. The center of which sports a circular smeared bloodstain. "Wait; what?" Ben yelps as the little girl nestled in her mother's arms, whimpers again. Soon Carl's oldest daughter Dakota starts crying as well. Her mother pulls the eight-year-old girl nearer to her. "I need a favor, buddy...." Carl looks around cautiously. "Look, can Bianca and the girls stay here with you guys while I run down to the ER at St. George's Hospital?" Ben stands in the doorway, stunned, mouth agape. "Uh ... Uh yeah ... Yeah, no problem Carl." Ben extends a hand to the woman and her daughters. Instinctively, the thin little girl clings to her mother's nightgown. She attempts in vain to squeeze further behind her mother. "Aw, Dakota, you know Mr. James, you always play with Belinda." The injured father goads his child with his soft words. "Carl ... Carl, it's ok, man." Ben licks his dry lips. He feels exposed as they are out in the open with the door unsecured. This fact begins to strum his nerves like an out-of-tune violin. "Why not just stay here and let us patch you up? I'm sure having you around will make Bianca and the girls feel better." Ben implores.

    Carl holds his arm aloft with a smirk on his face. "Damn drug addicts..... it was three of them wearing Halloween mask or make or some crap." Carl seems to acknowledge the damaged limb and digits almost as an afterthought. "Ben ..." he says, looking at his homemade wound dressing. "Do you know how many germs are in the human mouth? It's disgusting, my friend, that much I will tell you." He chuckles almost as an afterthought. "I'm going to run down to the hospital. They have a military-style triage in the parking lot, and they still have power too. From generators, I presume."

   Carl embraces his wife, gently kissing the toddler in the woman's arms, and then he hugs his wife. "I'll be alright, sweetheart, I promise..." Bianca sniffs back tears. Carl reluctantly releases his grip on his spouse, kneeling before her. He coaxes Dakota from her maternal hiding spot, softly calling her name, "Dakota honey." In an instant, Dakota buries her tiny body in her daddy's loving arms. Carl takes his daughter with his uninjured hand. "Dakota, can you be a big girl and help Mommy until I get back from the doctor?" He asks. His daughter's response is so soft. That Ben can't hear it from where he's standing. Carl stands with some effort turning to Ben. "Thanks, buddy." He says, extending his right hand; both men shake warmly. That conveys true friendship and trust. Carl moves for the door stopping abruptly. "When I get back, we'd like to come over if the offer still stands?" "Of course, it does, Carl. we'll be here when you get back." Ben tells his friend. "Tell you what, Carl, I will come back up and check every two hours on the hour. I will wait fifteen minutes before I head back down to," He finishes with mimed air quotation marks. "The Batcave, as the kids have named it." The two men share a laugh as Carl opens the door, "Hey Ben, we have some supplies at our house. We can get them when I get back, neighbor." Ben signals his agreement with a nod of the head. "Sure thing Carl." The man trots off the porch, and Ben watches him head toward St. George's. He closes the door, locking it, and for the time being, places the three two-by-fours back in their respective slots.

   Picking up the chargers and laptop again, he becomes aware of eyes following his every movement. A deep sense of foreboding follows him into the house like vermin. Bianca is trembling visibly. He struggles to find words to reassure the woman and her children. If this were his wife, this wouldn't be an issue. However, Ben had never felt comfortable showing his emotions. Especially to someone who he knew wasn't vested in them. "Welp ladies this way, please," .... was all he could force out. "Ben... "The timid woman spoke up without moving. Finally, he notices Cammy as the infant dozed softly on her mother's shoulder.

   "Ben, do you think ... believe... everything will be ok?" Ben froze, attempting to make his way to his hidden sanctuary downstairs. He would never honestly know whether or not he could hide the look of exasperation that crossed his face. Ben had grown tired of hearing this question, but what irritated him the most. He had to lie to everyone who'd ask him the question. I was like covering his true feelings with makeup to hide a blemish. "Bianca ..." he said, urging the woman forward. "If I believed everything was going ok. I would not be living in a locked dungeon in the basement of my boarded-up house." Strangely the woman cracks an awkward smile and moves for the open basement.

   "Thank you, Benjamin." She mutters. He stops with one foot dangling over the empty blackened void below. It was his turn to be shocked. "Why are you thanking me?" She took his elbow and instructed Dakota to "Go with Mr. James." Ben swept the girl up to his broad chest, "for being honest with me." She tells him. "Carl keeps giving me that overly confident everything will be alright garbage, acting like he's not afraid. It's like he's at work and giving me the same pat answers he feeds his clients." He watches as a well of emotions. Flashes across her eyes in an instant before settling in her eyes like puddles after a rainstorm. "Ben smiles at his neighbor's wife, and they begin their descent. A light flicks on from below them, cascading up the bare staircase. "Dad, is that you?" Echoes up from the basement, "Yes, son, it is." Ben calls back to the disembodied voice. "Dad, it's Brandon and me. Mom got worried you were gone so long, then we heard a racket." Ben takes a cautious step down and turns to assist Bianca Fullerton. "Brandon ...." he hollers, "Go tell your mother I am bringing Mrs. Fullerton and the girls down. Mr. Fullerton got attacked this morning while jogging. He went to the emergency room." "Ok, Dad..." Ben hears his son's sneakers scuff across the floor in the basement. Then seconds later, as they make their way down the stairs. A cry of "MooooooM" Erupts through the silent cellar.

  Ben Junior uses the flashlight to guide them the rest of the way down. No sooner than Bianca's slipper-covered foot touches down on the floor. Ann moves swiftly from behind the bench. "Bianca honey, how are you?!" The Women hug tightly. "Tell me what happened to Carl." Anne ushers Bianca and the Fullerton girls behind the bench and into the shelter. Ben places his haul of chargers on the workbench. Muffled voices soon filter in from the other side. Chip rolls over to the generator. His wheelchair moved silently across the smooth cement floor. The boy flips the switch just above the blinking red light for the second time in many days.

   The shadows in the dank basement disappear in a flood of fluorescent light. Chip watches his dad dutifully plugging the chargers into a power strip. Ben starts to round the bench and heads for the passageway. He stumbles as Chip uses his wheelchair to pin him into a corner. "Umm, son, I wasn't going to leave you ...." the boy wedges the wheelchair painfully against his father's legs. "Dad, what happened to Mr. Fullerton?" He says, ignoring his dad's words altogether. "He ... he was jumped by some guys, son. Now, why are you so jumpy, backup? I will take care of you. I wasn't going to leave you out here." Chip glances down the corridor to where the others have gathered. "Dad was he hurt ... injured." Hunching his shoulders. He'sing forward. Chip locks the wheels on his chair and meets his father's gaze. "Define injured, Dad."

  Ben Jr. continues his interrogation. "Uh, he said he the guys were drug addicts or something. And that they bit him on his arm and hand. He was bleeding from what I could see, son. Now explain yourself, Junior." The boy reaches forward, pulling his father down by his shirt, and whispers into his ear. "Dad, you know you can't let Mr. Fullerton back in here, right?" Ben draws back, glaring at his child. "Please, son ... what the hell are you talking about?!" Ben's forehead creases in frustration. "He was bitten, Dad." Chip tugs his father closer. "Come on, dad. You know what happens next. You've seen all the movies. Heck, you're the reason I've seen all the movies." Ben throws his hands up in anger and exasperation. "... Mr. Fullerton's been bit, and he's gonna turn into a zombie dad!" Benjamin James stares at his son as words refuse to part his lips.