Dark Vanishings 4: Post-Apocalyptic Horror: Dark Vanishings

By Dan Padavona

"The much-anticipated fourth and final book in the Dark Vanishings series!"

On a May afternoon, people awakened to find themselves alone in their towns, their neighbors mysteriously vanished. The abandoned survivors searched for friends and family, battling to stay alive.

But they were not alone in the world.

An evil older than time gathers its army and marches south, destroying everything in its path. A band of survivors in Florida, the world's last society, must learn to fight if they hope to make a stand and keep the human race alive.

"One of the most exciting writers to burst upon the scene." - Brian Keene

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan Padavona
• Release date: Jun 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386677925

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Jada

The electrician’s head was found wedged under a rusted pickup truck beneath the pale light of a screaming moon. It was Sam Aiken who found the gory remains in the Holiday Inn parking lot, no more than ten steps from the entry doors. That had been 24 hours ago, and now the moon was perched in the night sky. Sam could almost feel its malevolence pressing against the window.

For five days and nights, the makeshift community of survivors had occupied the hotel just south of Fayetteville, North Carolina, along the abandoned ribbon of I-95. They were nearly 200 strong, including people from as far away as northern Alberta. The majority were Americans, some from nearby North Carolina townships, others from New York, California, and all states in-between.

A pudgy teenager with golden hair that touched the tops of his shoulders, Sam had awoken on Saturday, May 23, from a nightmare of dark things chasing him through the night, to find himself completely alone in his hometown of Lacrosse, Wisconsin. Knocks upon neighbors’ doors had brought no answer; attempted phone calls resulted in infinite ringing; lights shone in open stores, but the aisles were empty of customers and proprietors. After two days of wandering empty streets, Sam had driven southeast along oddly deserted strips of interstates until reaching I-95 in Virginia, a vague impulse to continue southward pulling him forward. Beyond Fayetteville he’d recognized the first signs of life he’d seen in over 48 hours—he’d almost driven past on the interstate when he saw a car backing out of the hotel parking lot. Slamming hard on the brakes, he’d stared in wonder, seeing a group of people congregating outside the hotel, as though they were members of a post-apocalyptic convention.

There had been hope then. Hope that not everyone was gone and the world he’d known all his life could be recaptured. Bradley Rayburn, the graying electrician from Detroit, had been the one to power the entire hotel with industrial quality generators. The lights worked, the elevators ran, hotel doors opened via electronic key cards. Even the ambient muzak functioned, audible in the hotel lobby and inside the elevators.

Now it was Wednesday, June 3, and Sam felt a growing uneasiness. Two days ago, several survivors had packed into a minivan and driven to the grocery market for supplies. Nobody had seen them since. The electrician, out for a moonlight stroll, had vanished the next night.

This isn’t the place for me. It’s dangerous here.

His instincts urged him to drive south, but he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again, wandering aimlessly in a lost world.

And if he left, he wouldn’t have Jada to keep him safe anymore.

At the thought of the woman’s name, he found himself rubbing a chill off his arms. Dark skinned and tall, Jada had drawn the initial survivors to this location, as though she were the only lighthouse visible in stormy waters. Something about Jada seemed almost electric, combustible, and he was not ashamed to admit she frightened him. An air of authority surrounded her, and the other survivors willingly submitted to her leadership.

He’d first become aware of her powers while scavenging for supplies at the home improvement store. Wild-eyed and armed with a knife, a huge man had burst out of a darkened aisle. Jada had uttered something under her breath, and her gray eyes had briefly flared with heat. As Sam fell back into the small group of community members sent to collect supplies, a white light had exploded out of Jada’s hands, striking the man in the chest and hurling him to the back of the store. On another hunt for supplies, Sam had witnessed the woman summon fire out of clear air to light a torch.

Jada’s powers terrified Sam, but he knew she was the only thing keeping him alive. Nowhere was safe, and danger hid behind every darkened corner.

Yet something about this night disquieted him more than usual. Shutting off his CD player, he stood in his silent room, listening to activity and the indecipherable drone of conversation from surrounding rooms. Silver in the moon glow, the northbound and southbound lanes of the interstate ran outside the window. As he turned away from the view, movement to the north caught his eye. He stood studying the horizon for several minutes, a feeling of dread creeping down the nape of his neck. When no sign of trouble manifested itself, he pulled himself away from the window and turned back toward his music, thinking he’d let his imagination get to him.

Then the north side of the building exploded.

Instinctively covering his head with his hands as he sprawled on his belly, he remained motionless, half-expecting the plaster ceiling to drop down on him. Frantic voices shouted up and down the corridors; a group of survivors raced past his door, calling out for Jada.

Had the generators overloaded a circuit and caused an electrical explosion? He doubted it. The explosion sounded like a bomb blast. But who among them would detonate a bomb?

A second explosion struck the side of the building. Bits of plaster crumbled off the ceiling and coated his hair. Cautiously, he crawled toward the window and fought back a scream. The north side of the building was lit by the headlights of an army vehicle—a Hemmet eight-wheel truck with a machine gun mounted to its top. What appeared to be at least several hundred people, most armed with guns, surrounded the building.

Where did they come from? How could so many have crept up on the building without anyone noticing?

Up until this point, he’d doubted another several hundred people existed in the world, and now a small army laid siege to their compound. At the front line of the assault rumbled an army tank painted in gray and black leopard spots, the main gun aimed at the hotel.

Before Sam could clutch his ears, the tank fired a deafening blast that shook the floor. Stumbling over the corner of the bed, he ran for the door. Upon entering the hallway he was nearly trampled by a group of survivors rushing for the stairwell. A thick cloud of dust choked the air, making it impossible to see beyond a few feet. Risking being crushed under his panicked neighbors, he threw himself into the river of people pushing toward the exit door at the end of the hall. His hands were on someone’s back, and he felt bodies pressing him forward, though the glut would not allow him to move any faster.

What’s happening, Sam?

He recognized the voice. Chris Boggins, a teenager with brown, curly hair, was right behind him with his hands on Sam’s shoulders.

Whatever you do, Chris, hang onto me. And don’t fall.

Another blast rocked the building. Screams rose out of the dusty fog, the silhouettes of the survivors like specters shuffling toward the barely visible exit sign over the stairwell door.

Who’s shooting at us?

Sam reached behind and pulled Chris forward, locking elbows with the boy. A tank.

A tank? Who would attack us with a tank?

There’s an entire army on the street.

Jesus! How could Jada let this happen to us? What are we going to do?

Sam’s stomach fell out from under him at the mention of Jada’s name. But what sickened him most was the way everyone had come so quickly to depend on her.

Blind faith.

Just concentrate on getting down the stairs before the hotel collapses. We’ll figure the rest out later.

Too many people tried to squeeze through the exit door at once, and Sam lost his grip on Chris. Caught in the flood of survivors, Chris disappeared into the flow. Sam reached out and clutched an arm—it could have been anyone’s. But as he reeled the person in, Chris grabbed hold of Sam’s shoulders and fought himself forward until they walked together.

How they ever made it into the stairwell alive, Sam never knew. One minute the crowd crushed his chest against the door jamb, the next minute Sam and Chris were at the front of the onrush, racing down the southern stairwell where visibility was better. After descending four flights of stairs, Sam and Chris crashed against the main floor doorway and staggered into the lobby, where they were quickly swept up by another crowd. A battle cry drowned out the shouting, and a spray of machine gunfire blew through the glass entryway. Sam saw neighbors fall, some rolling toward the safety of the main desk, others dropping with bloody holes ripped into their bodies.

As the attacking army’s front line burst into the lobby, Sam felt his hair stand on end, as though lightning were about to strike. The air rippled, and a sheet of white fire ripped from the back of the lobby toward the entryway. Sam pulled Chris’s head down before the flame burned him to ashes. The battle cry turned to screams of pain.

Jada.

A second wave of attackers replaced the fallen front line and was immediately met by another fire blast. Many of the attackers retreated, while some rolled across the carpet, screaming as they burned. Sam pulled Chris toward the wall, away from the direct fire of machine guns. Yet another line in the seemingly endless assault pushed through the entryway. As the survivors retreated from the advance, Sam watched with disbelief as Jada, visible as a shadow amid dust motes, walked straight into the firefight.

Sam covered his ears from the gunfire. He expected the next sound would be Jada’s body collapsing lifeless, yet when he worked up the courage to raise his head, he saw her striding arrogantly at the army. When Jada’s arms raised, a piercing tone dug into Sam’s ear. He cried out as the air tingled with static electricity. A group of enemy soldiers flew into the air as though hurled by an invisible Goliath; they struck the back wall and crumbled to the floor, their dead eyes staring in frozen horror. As more soldiers fought their way into the lobby, still more fled from the woman hurling white fire. They had seen what Jada was capable of.

Two hands began to slowly clap together.

The sounds of the fight died, and all eyes turned toward the sound. Incredulous, Sam crawled up to his knees for a better look at the fool. When he saw the silhouetted form standing in the doorway, he felt as though an eel slithered down his throat and curled around his heart.

What’s that man doing?

Sam jumped at Chris’s voice, having nearly forgotten the boy. Pressing a finger to his lips, Sam urged the boy to stay quiet. Something about the man in the doorway terrified him.

Very impressive, the man said, and delivered one final clap that rang off the walls and made Sam wince. You killed at least… The man appraised the bodies at his feet and those crumpled at the far end of the lobby. Two dozen? Yes, I think that is a fair estimate.

I don’t know who you are, said Jada, but if you don’t step back and take your mercenaries with you, you’ll suffer the same fate.

The man began to giggle, and the giggles grew to a breathy laughter that made Sam think of beetles skittering through dead leaves. Except for a few wounded moans, the room went deathly still. Sam watched as several survivors rose brazenly to their feet to stand behind Jada.

Fools.

He wanted to warn them, but he dared not open his mouth and give away his position.

You will leave now, Jada said, walking toward the shadowed man. I will not warn you twice.

For a brief moment, Sam swore he saw two flames flicker in the darkness where the man’s eyes were hidden. Grasping Chris’s hand, Sam whispered, Run. Get out of here while you still can.

The boy shook his head. I’m no coward.

Then you’re a fool.

Jada was no more than ten feet from the man now, her arms raised threateningly at her sides. Sam felt certain any display of her power against the man would mean the end of her.

Go, said Sam. Chris looked back at Sam defiantly and crept to his feet. Sam panicked; the boy strode out of the shadows and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the survivors behind Jada. Sam’s eyes went back to the man, and there was no longer any mistaking the two eyes burning in the darkness.

Kneel before me, the man said. Swear to me your oath to serve, and I promise you will not suffer when you die.

Jada stepped closer; the community fighters followed. To Sam’s horror, he saw Chris walk ahead of the line to stand beside Jada. Even in the darkness, he sensed the boy’s undying faith as he stared up at Jada.

I gave you fair warning, Jada said. Now you will face the consequences you’ve brought upon yourselves.

The air turned electric again, a hint of ozone drifting through the dusty smoke. As Jada unleashed the power, a bolt of lightning burst into her chest. She gasped and hurtled backward to land a few feet from Sam. Stunned, she scrambled back to her feet as the man walked out of the darkness. Cast by numerous small fires burning inside the lobby, flickering light washed over the approaching figure, who Sam noticed wore black robes and a hood. Sam recoiled, noticing that the light failed to pull the man out of his shadow.

Kneel before me, you stupid little—

Jada’s power exploded with blinding light, engulfing the man in fire. In the confusion of the battle, a strange memory surfaced—Sam remembered childhood nightmares about a cloaked figure following him. How young had he been? Eight or nine years old? He tried to shake off the memory, but it clung to him like snake skin that refused to shed.

As quickly as the flames enveloped the man, they flickered out. Plumes of smoke snaked up from his robes, and a scent of carrion drifted to Sam’s nose.

This can’t be, Jada whispered.

The man laughed, and again Sam thought of dark things crawling through underbrush. His eyes flared, and Jada lifted into the air, clutching at her throat. Flailing her legs a foot off the ground, she fought unseen hands choking her. Jada’s eyes grew wide and bulged.

Profess your allegiance to me.

Jada shook her head, the sounds of her choking echoing off the walls. Some of the survivors, brave only moments earlier, edged back into the shadows with looks of disbelief. In the mottled light thrown by the small fires, Jada’s face turned a bruised purple.

"Foolish woman. You will kneel before me on this night. The dark man turned to regard the stunned onlookers. Let this be a lesson to you all. See me as your one true master, or you shall not see at all."

Jada started screaming. Her hands moved from her throat to her eyes. Blood trickled down from her eyelids.

Stop! she screamed.

Now suspended several feet above the floor, Jada’s body heaved and writhed. A crimson torrent gushed out of her eyes, splattering on the floor. Two gorges were all that remained of the woman’s eyes. As she trembled, the cloaked man waved his hand dismissively, dropping Jada to the floor. She lay sobbing, screaming.

Please, she whispered.

Get on your knees. Tell your people who your master is.

When she tried to crawl away, flames sprung out of the floor to block her. She cried out, her hands caught in the flames. Drawing back from the fire, she turned toward the man’s voice.

That’s a good little pet. Kneel before me.

Her face stained with blood, Jada pulled herself up to her knees.

Who is your master, woman?

You’re my master. The other community members averted their eyes in shame and horror. Please don’t hurt me anymore.

You murdered so many of my men. Surely you deserve to suffer.

I was a fool. I will serve you now.

Sam sensed the man smiling beneath his hood. He looked around, trying to find Chris, and saw the boy just before Chris flung himself at the cloaked figure.

No!

The echo of Sam’s scream hadn’t yet perished when a bolt of electricity burst into the boy’s chest. Chris crumbled to the floor, his dead eyes staring back at Sam. The sobs of the other community members filled the room.

Turning back to Jada, the man said, Pathetic fool. You are not worthy to serve me.

As quickly as Jada began to scream, her chest convulsed, and she collapsed to the floor.

He murdered Jada.

Sam crept through the darkness toward the hallway, only several feet away. The last thing he heard was the cloaked man say, Kill them all.

Machine gunfire ripped through the lobby. The death of Jada having taken the fight out of them, the community members fell where they stood, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. The spray tore into Sam’s back.

All went black.

The coppery scent of blood hung in the air as the smoke began to dissipate. Kyle Reevers brushed the shoulder-length, sweat-matted hair from his eyes. Seeing the grinning visage of Victor Lupan before him gave Reevers a start. The cloak and robes were gone, replaced by casual, elegant clothing, as though Lupan were meeting friends for dinner.

How many did I lose?

Reevers nervously rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the far wall, muttering under his breath.

Speak up.

By my count, twenty-five.

Lupan’s eyes momentarily glowed like hot coals before fading to black. Lupan’s brown hair, tinged with gray, remained well-groomed and neat despite having led a siege. Not for the first time, Reevers wondered about Lupan’s age; the man’s ageless face revealed no clues.

The woman was quite powerful. Don’t you agree, Mr. Reevers?

I suppose.

"You suppose? Twenty-five dead at her hands alone, and you suppose?"

Well…yes, sir. Reevers stammered, uncomfortably shifting on his feet. But obviously not as powerful as you…sir.

A grin spread across Lupan’s face. Obviously not. Lupan walked over to where Jada lay, beckoning Reevers to follow. You will torch the woman’s body before we leave. Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

After she is little more than charcoal, you will prop her remains in the middle of the interstate as a warning to all who would be foolish enough to challenge me. Reevers nodded. As he started to move away, Lupan snatched him back by the arm. And Mr. Reevers, I want you to affix a sign to the woman, identifying her as a user of magic. Think of something creative. I trust your judgment.

Drifting off into the crowd, Lupan shouted orders at soldiers who flinched under his glare. Reevers was almost relieved to begin the unenviable task of peeling the magic user’s carcass off the floor. Anything to be free of Lupan.

As he looked over his shoulder, he gave a start. Two glowing eyes looked back at him from an alleyway across the street. At first, he thought the eyes belonged to one of Lupan’s beasts— borne of Lupan’s magic, the huge, wolf-like monsters had changed in the last few nights, beginning to walk on two feet—but it didn’t make sense that a beast would watch from afar. A beast would have participated in the compound massacre. Reevers stood staring at the eyes, and the eyes back at him, when at once they blinked and were gone.

Licking his lips, Reevers unglued himself from where he stood and headed for the woman’s remains. As he walked, he kept looking behind him, searching for the eyes in the night.

CHAPTER TWO

One Dark Night

Starry and clear, the night sky etched knife-edged shadows down from the buildings of Florida Bliss. The tall, pale Victorian houses of the solar-powered neighborhood radiated with light, a