And Darkness Fell Read Online Free PDF

turned off 192 and cruised down one of the residential streets running
perpendicular to the main drag.
Rows of one-story stucco homes, each with its own tiny front yard, extended
as far as the eye could see. I stopped in front of a small yellow ranch. A darkbrown SUV sat in front of the garage door. I listened for a few moments but
heard only a distant barking dog and some birds chattering away from the pines
across the street. A careful scan of the neighborhood revealed no sign of life.
The front door was locked. I went around to the rear of the house. The back
door was locked as well, but the bathroom window was partially open. I pulled
out the screen, pushed the sash open all the way, and climbed through.
No sign of life in the living room, kitchen, dining room, or hall. In the master
bedroom, a thin young guy around thirty sat on the edge of the bed, watching me.
He wore only his stained undershorts. A pair of black socks lay on the carpet at
his feet. A slender, naked woman about the same age stood in the shower, gazing
at the tile.
Two wallets sat on top of the dresser. One contained a hundred bucks, the
other nearly two hundred. I took half from each.
They’re gone now, a voice inside me said. They won’t need anything .
I reluctantly pocketed the rest of the cash and felt a stab of guilt. I was no
thief.
These are extreme times , my interior voice added. Those still functioning need
to survive—this means you .
It didn’t matter. I couldn’t overcome my feelings. I pulled out the wad back
out of my pocket and left them two hundred bucks.
I checked the dresser drawers next. Three handguns lay hidden among two
stacks of tee shirts. I selected two of them, found them loaded, and pocketed
them. I checked the third, verified it was loaded as well, put it back among the
shirts, and closed the drawer.
I went back out to the kitchen and found another two hundred bucks in a
cookie jar on the counter. I took half and dashed outside before I could change
my mind.
    The Walmart was practically empty. The few people in the aisles slumped over
their carts, gazing dumbly at their purchases. They weren’t any more animated
than the mannequins decorating the women’s clothing section. Other than a few
lifeless clerks and about two dozen others lying on the floor in Produce, I had the
place to myself.
    I left the store pushing two carts filled with supplies—a first-aid kit, sleeping
bag, gasoline can, flashlights, batteries, lantern, cooler, butane grill, canteen, bug
spray, binoculars, a box of MRE, a can opener, and a hunting knife.
    I’d managed to acquire more than a thousand dollars of supplies without
having to pay. My cashier had forgotten how to ring me up, and the store
manager was too busy trying to remember where’d he’d put the key to the office.
I felt sorry for them but was greatly relieved. I could never have paid for
everything with the few hundred in cash I carried in my pocket.
    I stashed the stuff in the back of the van and slipped behind the wheel. Then I
coasted down the center of the parking lot to the entrance that would take me
back to 192. Just then, about fifty yards to my left, at the east end of the parking
lot, a slender figure paced frantically. Not an unusual sight in normal times but in
these circumstances an unforgettable image.
    I didn’t want to stop, but my soft side had already taken over, and my foot
mashed down on the brake pedal. Reluctantly I turned the wheel and moved the
van closer to the grove of scrubs, where the agitated figure stomped about,
talking to himself—or, at least, that’s what I thought he was doing.
    He appeared to be around my own age, fairly tall and wiry, with thick, lightbrown hair. He wore a loose-fitting, short-sleeve tan shirt, plus jeans and
sneakers. I didn’t see his face until he spun around and gawked at me. Then I saw
the blood covering his forehead.
    For some reason, I didn’t fear for my safety. I didn’t even think of