Darkness on the Edge of Town Read Online Free PDF Page B

reached the bottoms of the wicks, and I replaced them with fresh ones.
    “If this goes on too long,” Christy said, “we’ll run out of candles.”
    “If this goes on too long,” Russ replied, “we’re going to run out of a lot of things. You guys use your toilets yet?”
    I tried not to chuckle. “Why?”
    “Conserve water. Unless they get the pipes working, that might be all you got.”
    “I think that’s a little far-fetched,” I said. “Whatever this is, it’s not going to go on that long. If it’s really bad, sure, it might be a few days. But even then, there’s plenty of bottled water at the stores.”
    Christy made a gagging noise. “I’m not drinking out of the toilet. That’s gross.”
    Before Russ could respond, the fire siren croaked to life. I say croaked because it’s old and slow, and it has to build itself up before you can really hear it. At first, all you hear is this choppy, staccato grumble. Then it turns into a low whine before it finally starts to wail. Our volunteer fire department always needs money, and they hold a lot of fundraisers, but so far, they hadn’t invested those funds into a new siren. At least we had a fire department, though. We didn’t have an ambulance corps or a police force and contracted out to other towns for both. Even if we’d had our own police department, I don’t guess it would have mattered. Not now, with everything that’s happened. If we’d had cops running around, people would have just started dying sooner.
    The siren built to its crescendo and didn’t stop. The shrill, bleating wail drowned out the noise from the street. All three of us rushed to the window and looked toward the firehouse, but we couldn’t see the building. It was too dark. The people on the sidewalks were gazing in that direction, too. There weren’t many cars left on the street, but the ones that were pulled over to the curb as a fire truck cruised slowly by. Its lights rotated, throwing red and blue flashes against the buildings. The interior light was on inside the cab. I caught a glimpse of the driver. He seemed haggard and scared. A man sat perched on top of the truck, holding a battery-powered bullhorn to his mouth.
    “WE ARE UNDER A STATE OF EMERGENCY. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. THE SITUATION IS FLUID BUT UNDER CONTROL. AGAIN, WE ASK THAT YOU PLEASE REMAIN CALM. ALL RESIDENTS OF WALDEN ARE ASKED TO ASSEMBLE AT THE FIREHOUSE IN HALF AN HOUR. REFRESHMENTS WILL BE PROVIDED.”
    That last part seemed bizarre and comedic, and I chuckled. If you wanted people to turn out for your event, even during the end of the world, then you had to make sure that refreshments were provided. I wondered if they’d be holding a raffle as well.
    The people on the street watched the fire truck roll by. Some of them shouted questions at the man with the bullhorn, but he simply repeated the message. Then the truck made a left turn, and the siren sounded again.
    Christy, Russ, and I sat back down again. Christy clutched my hand hard enough to make my fingers grate together. We listened to the siren until it faded.
    “You heard what he said, Robbie,” Christy whispered. “A state of emergency.”
    “Yeah.” I nodded. “I guess we should head for the firehouse and see what’s going on.”
    Russ stood. “Before we do, if you don’t mind and you’re still offering, I’ll take a shot of that tequila.”
    I glanced at Christy and then back at Russ.
    “Hell,” I said, shrugging, “maybe we should all do a shot.”
    I poured three shots, and we downed them in silence, not offering a phony “cheers” because there was nothing to be cheery about. I grimaced as the tequila hit the back of my throat. It sat in my stomach like acidic sludge. I burped, cringing at the aftertaste. Russ helped himself to a second shot.
    “Thanks,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
    “No problem, dude.”
    While I put the shot glasses in the sink, Christy reached for the bong. Her hands were