Dark November

Excerpt from Part 1

“I am going to come there as soon as I can. But it may be a few days before I can make it to Indiana …” Tom’s voice trailed off as he watched a woman screaming get pushed down in the street. The man grabbed her by the throat and began smashing her head against the pavement. He could hear the sirens but wasn’t processing that it was a police car that had pulled up.

An officer stepped out of the car as it came to a stop. His gun was drawn. Tom could see the man with the sledgehammer in his hands running towards the scene from behind the police car. At first, he thought it was to help the woman. Then the officer’s head exploded, his body crumpling to the pavement. From his perspective, Tom could see down into the front windshield of the police car. The muzzle flashes came first and then the sound. The man with the hammer fell. The man who was attacking the woman stood up, presumably looking for the source of the gunshots.  To Tom’s right, across the intersection and behind the officer who had fired the shots, a man ran towards her. Still half in the vehicle, she couldn’t see him coming. Tom wondered if she was unsure of what to do next because neither her, nor the man standing in front of the police car moved. The man coming behind her picked up speed as he ran with a peculiar awkward gait—sort of like an ape—and something in his hand. By the time he was only a few feet behind the officer, Tom realized he intended to attack her. His fist, still clutching the object, came down on her head and she dropped to the ground right outside the driver-side door. The man raised his fist holding what looked like a gray rock, strikingly similar to the rocks that lined the beds around his apartment complex. The man with the rock let out some sort of high pitch shrieking noise.

Now that’s fucked up, he thought.

“Son, I need to call you back. When you hang up the phone call 911 and tell them what happened. If they don’t answer, keep trying. Then do everything I told you to do,” Tom finished quickly. At that moment, he was only vaguely aware of rational thoughts. It was as if he was acting out of instinct, not something that resembled a plan or based on clear reasoning. He dropped his phone on the sofa next to him and rushed downstairs. Once inside the boys’ room he grabbed a black lacrosse helmet off the shelf, pulled his glasses off, and loosened the helmet to the largest setting. Thank God the boys have big heads, he thought. Putting his glasses back on under the helmet proved to be a little trickier than he would have liked, but he was blind without them. He fastened the chin strap and stepped into the hallway grabbing his keys off the hook and reaching down and picking up the sword at the bottom of the stairs.

Clarity and calmness had overtaken him. He moved quickly out the door, shutting, and locking it behind him. Through the courtyard and to the stairs he moved at a jog, careful not to run too fast and risk exhausting himself. He reached the glass door to the street in a few seconds. Pressing himself against the wall, he scanned the street leaning his head forward until the brim of the helmet bumped the glass. There was nobody near the door on either side. As quietly as he could, he opened the heavy door. Tom stepped out onto the sidewalk. He could see the man standing by the police car over the parked cars lining the streets. His hand raised in the air holding the rock, he was making noises, but they sounded mostly like more shrieks. The man who attacked the woman in the street was standing in the same place looking at the man with the stone. He had a puzzled look on his weirdly contorted face.

Tom crouched and moved quickly along the parked cars so neither man could see him. An old white van was the last car parked along the street before he reached the intersection. He gripped the sword tightly in his right hand and realized he should have taken a few practice swings with it. Reaching the rear of the van, he stopped and looked slowly around the back. Both men were in the same place. Tom took a deep breath and stepped around the side of the van and into the intersection.

He moved faster now—something between a fast walk and a slow run—while scanning the intersection and the street. The only people he could see were the two men. Instinct told him to look around and a vague memory of someone saying something about keeping your head on a swivel popped into his head as he crossed the street. The man who had smashed the woman’s skull on the pavement was looking at him now. But he hadn’t moved. He just stared intently at Tom, saying nothing and standing still. Tom moved towards the man with the rock, closing the distance quickly. The man was facing the open door of the police car as he stood over the lifeless form of the female office. His hand in the air proclaiming his victory. Tom brought the sword behind him and over his shoulder with both hands on the grip as he approached, slowing enough to time his strike. Just before getting within range, he gave a short, “hey!” to get the rock-wielder’s attention.

The rock-wielder turned quickly with a snarl on his face, the rock firmly in his grip and still high above his head. In the time it took the man to completely turn his body, Tom had closed the distance and the sword came down at an angle across his body with all the force he could summon. Unable to avoid Tom’s sword, the blade hit the man in the face with the tip striking him near his ear. Tom heard a loud cracking sound and saw a flash of red as the blow drove the man to the ground. The rock, flying out of his hand, bounced a few feet away and the man landed on his stomach. Tom stopped, took a step back, both hands on the sword now in front of him. Tom was sure the blow had probably killed him. But the man lay motionless for only a second before pushing himself back up by his arms and turning his head to look at Tom, blood poured from what remained of the lower left side of his face. The sword was not sharp, but the blow had been powerful enough to cut the skin, shatter the jaw, and tear half the man’s face off. Skin, portions of the jaw, and even the man’s tongue dangled from what was left of his face. Blood flowed from the gaping wound with alarming vigor. It was horrifying in a familiar way, reminding Tom of the gore he had seen in movies and on television.

Stunned by how quickly the man was back on his feet, Tom readied the sword for another strike. The ghastly figure before him raised his arms, like a wrestler, and began to shuffle to Tom’s right. Whatever sounds the man was trying to make were lost in the gurgle of flowing blood. Baiting the man to rush him head on, Tom circled in the opposite direction and kept the blade pointed at the wild man. Tom lifted the sword above his head. Time moved slowly now, and he became keenly aware of everything around him—like he was able to see everything with perfect clarity. He could see the police officer on the ground near the open door of her police car, a large purplish lump and blood on the side of her head running down her jawline. Tom could see the man who had attacked the woman standing on the other side of the police car watching him engaged with the wild man with no jaw. He was able to see the red and blue lights on the roof of the car flashing in slow motion. And, with near perfect anticipation, he could see the wild man getting ready to spring at him.

The wild man lunged towards him, and Tom brought the sword down on the top of his head with all the force he could muster in an attempt to drive the blow down into the man’s stomach. The sound of bone crunching—as the blade came down—was equally sickening as it was loud. The man’s head seemed to collapse into itself, and his body dropped to the pavement. The blade was wedged into the man’s skull and when Tom tried to pull back it lifted the man's head and upper body before Tom realized the sword was stuck. What was left of the man’s head was bent back in an unnatural position still clinging to the sword that felt heavy in his grip now. The man’s body twitched convulsively, and Tom released the sword. Blood was everywhere.

Tom moved to the officer keeping his eyes on the other man that had been watching him in front of the police car. He could see the officer’s pistol on the floor next to the gas pedal. Leaning over her, he grabbed the gun, and aimed the weapon at the man who attacked the woman. The snarling expression on the man’s face was one of confusion. The officer was crumpled at his feet, half leaning against the open part of the police car. He reached down and felt under her nose while trying to stay tall enough to keep the weapon pointed at the man between the open door and the frame of the car. Twenty-year-old training was not entirely gone once the weapon was in his hand. He placed the trigger finger of his right hand along the slide, outside the trigger guard, as he was taught. With his left hand, he fumbled for the officer’s neck trying to find a pulse. She was alive and breathing. He decided not to examine her too closely and kept his attention on the man in the sight of the handgun.

Not sure what to do next, he squared off at the man across the hood of the police SUV bringing his left hand up to support the weapon. The officer was tall and it would require both of his hands to pull her up into the car. He wasn’t ready to focus his attention away from the second potential attacker. Tom wasn’t sure what to do next. The man made the decision for him.

As if defying the unnatural expression, the man’s face contorted even more than it already was. A mix of anger, frustration, and fear. He stepped towards the front of the SUV and brought both fists down on the hood of the vehicle, leaving a dented crease in it before turning and running away in the same awkward style as the rock-wielder had. Tom realized he was breathing heavily and the helmet suddenly felt constricting. He leaned over to see if the woman was still alive and noticed that there wasn’t much left of her head. Tom watched her killer lumber away and then moved to the rear of the police SUV. He scanned the entire area for more threats. There were people in the distance running one or two streets down the block, but nobody nearby. Placing the gun on the front seat, Tom knelt and double checked to see if she was still alive and breathing. He examined the cut and swelling on her head from the now dead man’s blow. She was covered in blood. Lifting her body he moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her under her arms across her chest. He dragged her behind the door for the backseat. Opening the door, he entered first and pulled her into the back seat. Every few seconds, he stopped and looked around to make sure nobody had come closer. Once she was completely in the backseat, he let himself out the other side of the car and saw the man with the sledgehammer who the female officer had shot alongside the younger officer. There wasn’t much left of the young officer’s head. It was a gruesome scene. Tom shut the passenger side door, ignored the blood covering the passenger side window and inside the windshield. He made his way back around the rear of the police car. When he reached the driver’s side, he picked up the handgun, and sat in the driver’s seat. The keys were still inside, and the car was running. Turning off the flashing lights using the knob behind the laptop sitting on the center console, he put the car in reverse and backed away from the four bodies and the expanding pools of blood. He wanted to take off the helmet but decided against it.

He drove slowly out of the intersection towards his apartment building and the gated entrance to his garage. Digging into his pocket he pulled his keys out. The keyring was attached to a small key fob with two buttons on it. One was the button to unlock the outer doors and the other was for opening the large metal garage gate. The door opened slowly. He scanned both left and right for any signs of people while he waited. When the door was high enough for the SUV to enter, he pulled into the garage. Parking the vehicle in one of the open spaces. Turning off the car he realized his hands were shaking and he suddenly felt like he was going to vomit. Tom Jumped out of the car and made it only a few feet before throwing up all over the face mask of the helmet he was wearing.

He couldn’t believe he was still alive. And he couldn’t stop shaking.