Darkness on the Edge of Town Page 21

  It was the town.

  And Walden wasn’t the only thing dying. I noticed something else as I walked. The plants were starting to fail, too. With no sunlight or rain, they’d begun to wither and die. Their limbs drooped listlessly and once-lush leaves were now curled. This was the time of year they’d have started to change color anyway, but instead of going from green to red, orange, and yellow, they merely turned brown. I wondered how the lack of sunlight was affecting us. A sharp decrease in skin cancer seemed to be the only positive, but instead of dying from melanoma, we’d just get eaten by the darkness—or killed by somebody it had driven insane. The sun had to be up there somewhere above the black curtain. If it wasn’t, we’d have all frozen to death by now. But if it was there, we weren’t getting the full benefits. Scientifically, it made no sense—at least, not to me.

  I made it across town without any altercations, and I approached the church ruins with caution. The smell of smoke and burned wood was still noticeable, and even though there was no wind, I could taste ashes in the back of my throat. The ruins were deserted, except for a skinny cat, prowling through the debris. It ran when it saw me. I debated whether to turn the flashlight on, now that the coast was clear, and decided to keep it off.

  The dilapidated utility shed that Dez called home stood on the far corner of the property, just beyond the church’s parking lot, bordering a back alley. The building had seen better days. If the fire had touched it, instead of the church, it would have been a blessing. Four layers of paint had peeled away in various sections, revealing gray, weather-beaten planks, as if the building had leprosy. Entire swaths of roof tiles were missing, and a groundhog hole marked the spot where varmints had tunneled beneath the wall and gotten inside.

  The door wasn’t padlocked or barred. I crept up to it, listening for any sign of nearby activity, but the back alley remained silent. There was some faded graffiti painted on the door. I didn’t recognize it, but it was vaguely similar to Dez’s runes. I wondered if he’d painted this as well, and if so, what it meant.

  Taking a deep breath, I knocked quietly, and then waited. There was no response, so I knocked again—louder this time. Still nothing. My fingers closed around the door handle, and I pulled, gently at first, but more firmly when it wouldn’t open. I turned on the flashlight and shined it on the door, but couldn’t see any kind of blockage. I tugged harder, grunting with the effort, but still the door wouldn’t budge.

  “What the fuck,” I muttered. “Must be locked from the inside.”

  “No,” said a voice from behind me. “It just doesn’t know you. It won’t open if it doesn’t know you.”

  I spun around, nearly dropping my flashlight and the gun. Dez stepped out from beneath the shadows of a broad, dying oak tree.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I gasped. “You scared the shit out of me, dude.”

  “Sorry. I was watching you. I didn’t know what you wanted. But then I remembered who you were. You were the man who was nice to me.”

  “I…guess so.”

  “You were,” he insisted. “I remember your face and your colors—the colors most people can’t see. Your name is Robbie. Robbie Higgins. You were nice. You didn’t call me names or throw things at me, like some of the other people do. That’s nice. But the door won’t open for you, no matter how nice you are.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because it doesn’t know you,” he repeated, pointing at the symbol. “You see that?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “That’s like a special lock. It only opens for me.”

  “More runes and magic pictures, huh?”

  Dez shrugged. “They’re words. Just a different kind of words. Words are important. Words and names. They’re everything. If you know something’s name and you know the words to make it go away, then that’s a good thing, right? That gives you power over it.”

  “Sure. If you say so.”

  “Do you want to come inside? I have soda pop, but no ice.”

  I nodded. “That would be cool, man.”

  “No, it’s warm. Like I said, I have no ice.”

  I suppressed a smile. “Warm is fine.”

  Dez glanced toward the black horizon and shuddered. “He’s watching us.”

  “Who?”

  “He Who Shall Not Be Named! It’s like a big tumor, infecting the universe. And now it’s here. Don’t you understand anything?”

  “Not really. That’s why I’m here. I’m hoping you can explain to me just what the hell has happened. And I’ve got something to tell you, too.”

  “Inside. We shouldn’t talk out here. He’ll hear us.”

  Dez pulled on the door and it opened without re sistance. He walked inside and after a moment’s hesitation, I followed. The door swung shut behind us. I shined my flashlight around. The shed’s interior mirrored the outside. It was full of junk—old lawnmowers, gas cans, shovels, pickaxes, rakes, garden hoes, pruning shearers, canisters of weed killer and rat poison, plastic floral arrangements and tiny American flags for the nearby cemetery, holiday decorations, a child-sized plastic wading pool, and other debris. In one corner of the shed—the section with most of the roof still intact—six wooden pallets had been lined up side by side and covered with thick cardboard, forming a square platform. On top of this platform was a half-deflated air mattress, some dirty pillows, sheets and blankets, a Styrofoam cooler, and a small kerosene heater. While I waited, Dez lit the heater, and its orange glow filled the shack. His features seemed less grizzled in this light. Softer. I turned off the flashlight. He rummaged in the cooler and handed me a warm can of generic-brand ginger ale.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So…you live here all the time?”

  He nodded. “Yes. The people in the church were very kind. They didn’t mind me staying here. And now most of them are gone—and the ones who aren’t gone don’t come here anymore. So it’s just me.”

  “Well, listen, Dez. I’d like to ask you some questions about what happened to us. Remember? The darkness?”

  “I saved you.”

  “Yeah, you did. You saved all of us. Our asses would be grass right now if not for you. Like I said outside, I don’t really understand what’s happening. I need to learn more. I’d like to talk about it, if that’s okay?”

  He frowned. “You won’t call me a witch?”

  “No. Why would I do that?”

  “The woman who was with you called me a witch. And she’s telling other people that, too. She doesn’t think I know, but I do. I stay hidden and I hear things.”

  “Well, screw her. As far as I’m concerned, this town owes you. Her, too. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up out there. You seem to be the only person in town who’s got a handle on this whole thing.”

  “You mean the darkness.”

  “Right. What is it? Obviously, it ain’t an ordinary darkness.”

  “No, it’s not. It has a secret name, just like everyone else, but we can’t speak its name out loud. If we did, that would bring death and destruction to us all. Some people call it He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

  “So that’s what is inside the darkness? A thing? A…person?”

  “No. There’s nothing inside it. It is what it is.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Dez smiled sadly. “The darkness is just…darkness. But alive. It doesn’t always look like darkness, though.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We ran into that ourselves. It looked like my grandfather at one point.”

  “It can look like more than that. It can look like whatever we’re afraid of. And other things, too. A goat-man, fire, a storm cloud, a big snake—all kinds of things. If you’re afraid of something, the darkness can see it in your mind and then take that shape.”

  I nodded, thinking about how the figure in the darkness had kept changing form and shape.

  “Each time it disguises itself as some
thing like that,” Dez continued, “it frightens somebody and feeds off their fear. The darkness has unlimited shapes. More than infinity. And it has different names, too. Othel. Verminus. Nuada. Lud. Nud. Shub-Niggurath. Pahad. Lilitu. Lamashtu. The Father of Pan. The Living Darkness. The Sire of Kali. A whole bunch more.”

  “But none of those are its real name?”

  “No. Those names are just ones that people invented over time. None of them are its real name. None of them give us power over it. That’s why knowing its real name is important.”

  “But if you can’t say its real name out loud, then what’s the point of knowing it at all?”

  “You can use its real name in written words. Not spoken words. You can bind it and banish it if you know the words. Like I told you, words are important. Words and names.”

  I paused, trying to decide if he was crazy or if he really knew what he was talking about. When we’d confronted the darkness and Dez tossed the salt at it, he’d really seemed to know what he was doing. But now, sitting here in his hovel, I was starting to have doubts again.

  Something skittered and scratched in the shadows. It sounded like a rat or mouse. I glanced around. There was a mildewed cardboard box in the corner that I hadn’t noticed before. It was overflowing with books. I peered closer. Some of them looked very old, and judging by their covers, some weren’t even in English. There were pentagrams and other occult stuff on the covers. Weird symbols and drawings.

  Dez followed my gaze. “You like my library? I’ve never shown it to anyone before.”

  “You’ve read all of those?”

  “That’s where I learn the words from.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So this darkness is a living creature and we can’t say its real name. But that doesn’t tell me much, Dez. What is it, exactly? Where the fuck does it come from and, more importantly, how the hell do we get rid of it? Do those books tell us any of that?”

  “Sure. To answer your first question, the darkness is one of the Thirteen.”

  “The thirteen what?”

  “Just the Thirteen. They are the oldest things in the universe. Some people think they are demons or gods, but they aren’t. They came from a universe that was around before this one. The Bible tells us that God created the universe, but it doesn’t tell us that in order to have the power to do so, He had to destroy the universe that existed before this one. He needed the energy.”

  I groaned. “God, huh? I’ve got to be honest with you, Dez. I don’t believe in God.”

  “That’s because you don’t understand Him. He’s not just the God of the Christians. He’s the god of many. Yahweh. Allah. He has many names, and most of what you know about Him is probably wrong. They did that on purpose.”

  “And God, or whatever you want to call Him, killed an entire universe to create ours?”

  “Right. Everything in that old universe was used to make this one. It was completely wiped out, except for the Thirteen. Nobody knows how for sure, but they escaped the destruction, and they’ve been the enemies of God ever since. They blame Him for what happened to their universe, and they’ve sworn to destroy our universe in revenge. They go from planet to planet. They use floods or plagues or bring the dead back to life—whatever they can do to destroy things. Sometimes they work together, and sometimes they don’t. After they’ve destroyed a level, they move on to the next one. That’s what He Who Shall Not Be Named wants to do when he’s done here, but I’ve stopped him. He won’t leave till he’s finished us, but he can’t finish us. He’s stuck.”

  “You’re talking about the devil, right? Satan and his demons?”

  “No. I said, they aren’t demons. They’re worse than that. There is a real Devil, of course, but he’s not the one you have to worry about. Even Satan isn’t as strong as the Thirteen. You should learn their names. Ob, Ab, Api, Apu, Leviathan, Behemoth, Kandara, Meeble, Purturabo, Shtar, Kat, and…”

  Pausing, he scrunched his face together, frowning in concentration. Then he sighed.

  “Oh, shoot. I used to be able to remember them all, but I’m forgetting one. But it doesn’t matter. What was I saying before?”

  “That these Thirteen are stronger than the Devil.”

  Dez snapped his fingers. “That’s right! They are very powerful. But the most powerful among them is He Who Shall Not Be Named. It is alive—a living darkness, and it goes from world to world, gobbling each planet up like gumballs. That’s what happened on Mars, you know. It used to be just like Earth. People lived there, and they were shiny and happy, until the darkness came and sucked their planet dry. A few of them made it out before the end, but not many.”

  I took a sip of soda. “You’re losing me here, Dez.”

  “The darkness has infected other planets before ours. He invaded most of them, but a few planets invited him. They welcomed him. Worshipped He Who Shall Not Be Named as a god. The twin moons of Yhe and the fungal gardens of Yaksh. On Io. That big red spot in the middle of Jupiter. And on other versions of Earth, too. See, we’re not the only Earth. There are many other Earths, just like ours—but a little different. Maybe on one of them, you don’t live in Walden. Maybe you live in New York. Or maybe you have brown hair instead of blond. But it’s our Earth’s turn now. The darkness has come for us. It brought eternal nighttime—like a total, planet-wide eclipse. It’s eaten up every living thing—all the people, animals, plants. It sucked up all their energy and left an empty husk behind, like a locust shell. Did you ever play with locust shells? I used to when I was young. I remember that. I don’t remember much, but I remember that. I used to pick them off the trees and put them in a jar. Then, when I had enough, I’d line them up and have them fight my plastic army men.”

  “The darkness, Dez. Let’s stay focused, buddy.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. Another thing the darkness can do is possess people. It takes control of their bodies and uses them to do things that it can’t—like wipe out the sigils and seals. But it can’t do that this time because some of the words I used keep it from doing so. It can nudge us. Make us fight each other. But it can’t actually order us around like puppets. So now it’s waiting. When the darkness is done, it will go somewhere else. But like I said, it can’t yet, because I stopped it. Everything else is gone, but He Who Shall Not Be Named can’t get into Walden. And that has made the darkness very, very angry. I’m sorry that I don’t have any ice for your soda.”

  “That’s okay. It’s fine like this.”

  “Do you like it? I like ginger ale. It’s fizzy and tickles my nose sometimes.”

  Sighing, I set the can down on the pallet and ran my hands through my hair.

  “Look,” I said slowly. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re telling me that the darkness is alive, and it goes from planet to planet, sucking the energy out of everything before moving on, and now it’s here on Earth, which is just one of many different Earths, and it spread out over the planet, but you kept it from coming into Walden?”

  Dez beamed. “You’ve got it! I knew the words and how to keep it out. I did good, right?”

  “Yeah, Dez, you did great. If things ever get back to normal, I’m gonna ask the mayor to give you a fucking giant gold medal and the key to the city.”

  His smile vanished. “But things aren’t going to get back to normal, Robbie. We’re all that’s left. This is it. A key to the city won’t open any doors—at least, not the kind of doors we need now.”

  “Well, what happened to everyone else on Earth? Where are they?”

  “Inside the darkness. Inside its belly. Gone.”

  My stomach felt like somebody had kicked it. My hands shook and my feet felt cold.

  “So…they’re all dead? What, you’re telling me that the fucking Earth has been destroyed except for us?”

  “No, not destroyed. The Earth is still here. But everyone on it—every living thing—is dead. Swallowed by the darkness.”

  “Except for us.”

  “Right.”


  “Because of your magic fucking circle.”

  “It’s not a circle. It’s a square. It goes all around the town and up into the sky.”

  “You know what I mean, goddamn it!”

  “Are you mad at me, Robbie? Did I do something wrong? Do you think I’m a witch?”

  I sighed. “No, Dez, I’m not mad at you. I’m just frustrated. This is a little hard for me to believe. Magic and darkness that’s alive and fucking demons…”

  “I told you, the Thirteen are not demons.”

  “Whatever. It’s just a little hard to swallow.”

  “But you saw it for yourself. You saw what the darkness can do.”

  “Yeah, I did. I’m well aware of what it can do. But even still. All this stuff you’re telling me. Maybe it’s too much at once, you know?”

  “I’ve only told you a fraction. There’s so much other stuff—the Great Deep and the Void, Heaven and Hell, how the Creator’s soul is trapped in an endless cycle here on Earth, and the Labyrinth, with all those doors to all those different levels.”

  I set the gun and the flashlight down and rubbed my temples. I was starting to get a headache. Luckily, it was just brought on by stress and not anger. One thing I’d noticed was that since the moment we’d entered Dez’s shack, I hadn’t felt my negative emotions getting out of hand.

  “Levels?” I asked, trying to be polite and hoping that whatever tangent he was getting off on now would help me figure out how to save me, Christy, Russ, and Cranston.