"No." The man shook his head in frustration. "That's all the way on the other side of town, and I don't want to leave my wife and kids home alone for that long. All I need is four. Two, even. I can make due with two. It's for my daughter."

"Yeah," Russ replied. "You told us that already."

"Well, then help me out. Please?"

The urge to punch him came over me suddenly, and its intensity was frightening. Fist clenched, I stepped toward him, intending to pop him right in the mouth. I saw it clearly in my mind. Me hitting him. Him hitting the floor. And then Russ and I stomping him until we heard his ribs snap, one by one. Until the broken shards jutted from his skin. Until we felt his teeth shatter beneath our heels. Until he coughed blood. Until his nose caved in and his eyes popped out. Until he stopped his f.u.c.king whining, after which we'd help ourselves to the contents of his shopping cart. Until he was dead. Mangled.

Pulped.

The images sickened me, but at the same time, they were exciting, too. I remembered what Christy had said the night before-how she'd gotten turned on when she thought about hurting me. I licked my lips and took another step. The man must have seen something in my expression or body language because he stopped talking and hurried away with his cart.

Struggling with the competing impulses, I quickly dug through our loot and found a pack of batteries.

"Hey," I called after him.

He turned and I tossed the package at him. The guy in the leather jacket flinched. Then his eyes widened in surprise. He caught the pack, fumbled with it, almost dropping both the batteries and his flashlight, and then glanced back up at me. His eyes were still wide, his expression one of stunned confusion. Sweat stood out on his brow, visible in the dim light.

"Th-thanks."

"You're welcome. What's your name?"

"My what?"

"Your name."

"O-ollie. Ollie Griffin."

"Mine's Robbie, and this is Russ. Introduce yourself next time, Ollie. Names are important. They were always important, I guess, but they're even more important now. They help us know each other."

"Yeah?" His look of confusion grew.

"If we know each other," I explained, "then it's harder to get mad when we disagree about something, and if we don't get mad at each other, this situation will go a lot smoother for everybody. No need for things to turn violent. Know what I mean?"

He nodded slowly. "I think I do. It's been eating at you, too, hasn't it? You're having visions? Urges?"

I nodded.

He sighed. "Thank G.o.d. I thought I was the only one."

"Nope. We're all in this together."

I pushed our cart toward the door. Russ stared at me, incredulous, and then hurried to catch up.

"The f.u.c.k, Robbie?"

"What?"

"What did you do that for?"

"Don't worry," I said. "I didn't give him your batteries. They were out of my share."

"I don't give a s.h.i.t about the batteries. I'm just surprised. I thought for sure that you were gonna kick the s.h.i.t out of him."

"So did I."

"I sure felt like it. I got this weird headache, throbbing right behind my eyes. All I wanted to do was kill the son of a b.i.t.c.h. Took everything I had not to jump him."

"Me too. But we didn't, so it's all good."

"But why didn't we? Both of us had the urge to. Why didn't we act on it?"

"Because human beings aren't supposed to act that way."

Russ laughed. "You really believe that, Robbie?"

I shrugged. "Maybe we're subconsciously trying to make up for yesterday, with that mother and her baby taking our car. Maybe the darkness hasn't completely claimed us yet."

Then we went outside, and it was still dark, and I wondered if maybe we were just clinging to hope because we hadn't yet realized that it had claimed us after all. My spirits plummeted.

Russ must have noticed my mood. "And another thing?"

"What?"

"That was the worst Robert DeNiro impression I've ever heard."

"What are you talking about?"

"Back there. 'We're all in this together.' Somebody's watched Brazil Brazil one too many times." one too many times."

"It's a good movie. What can I say?"

We took turns pushing the cart. It was heavy and bulky and the wheels kept jamming every time we hit a branch or a stone or a crack in the sidewalk. Our stuff tumbled off of it several times. We pa.s.sed other people-looters, like us, or frightened individuals looking for information, promises that help would arrive soon, or just a friendly face among the crowd of strangers. Some of them made small talk. Others ignored everyone around them. Some of the people looked dangerous. Most seemed scared, and one or two were almost catatonic, shuffling by like zombies, oblivious to everything else. I was a little surprised that no one tried to stop us. I mean, here we were, pushing this big-a.s.s cart loaded down with stuff. Stealing from us would have saved someone a lot of time. A few pa.s.sersby eyed our loot, but none made a move to take it. Maybe they were just as frazzled as we were, or maybe the .357 strapped to Russ's hip was a deterrent. I don't know. Whatever the reason, I was grateful.

One guy stood on the roof of his house as we pa.s.sed by, shining a powerful, handheld spotlight-the kind that cops and hunters use-into the sky. The darkness swallowed the beam, just like all the others, but the man kept at it, staring longingly at the sky. We could hear him weeping from the sidewalk.

"They're out there," he shouted to no one in particular. "They're out there, waiting."

"Who?" Russ hollered.

"The aliens. They've been studying us for years, determining our weaknesses and probing our defenses. Now they've done this."

Russ followed the man's gaze and shivered.

"You thinking about the stars again?" I asked.

"Yeah. It really freaks me out, man. After everything that's happened, I think that scares me the most. I could always count on the stars to be there, you know? No matter what kind of a day I had, no matter how much s.h.i.t life shoveled on top of me, I could come home at night and the stars would be waiting. But not anymore."

"No," I agreed. "Not anymore."

"They're out there," the man on the roof shouted again. "They'll be coming soon. This is the endgame."

I gave the cart a shove and we walked on.

"You think he could be right?" I asked.

"Who?"

"That guy back there, up on his roof. You think he could be right about this being aliens?"

Russ shrugged. "f.u.c.k it. Why not? It would make about as much sense as anything else I can come up with. Aliens. Government conspiracy. Who knows?"

When we got to the corner, we heard shouting. A man ran past us. Then another. Then two kids. Then a woman with her children. A crowd of people was cl.u.s.tered on the sidewalk and spilling out into the street. We tried to push our way through, but more people turned and ran past us.

Russ grabbed the arm of a pa.s.serby. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"The clerk inside the 7-11 started shooting people!"

"What?" Russ glanced around. "Why?"

Too late, I remembered what Ollie Griffin-the guy from the grocery store-had told us.

"They were looting," the man said. "The clerk told them they had to pay, but the crowd just swarmed the frigging store. It was chaos. They swooped in and just started loading up on things-knocking displays over and breaking gla.s.s. He kept trying to stop them, but for every person he caught, five more rushed past him with their arms full. So he went behind the counter and pulled out a gun and opened fire. He dropped a bunch of people."

"Jesus Christ."

The man pulled free of Russ's grip and hurried away. He hadn't gone more than five steps when we heard a shot. The crowd scattered. Most of them were screaming or shouting. A few were laughing. Russ and I ducked low, glanced at each other, and then backed away with our cart.

"Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here," he yelled.

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

Another blast went off, making me flinch. The crowd's screams increased.

Russ frowned. "That's somebody different."

"How do you know?"

"That first shot sounded like a pistol. The one we just heard was a shotgun."

"Maybe somebody returned fire?"

"I don't think we should stick around to find out."

We cut down a couple of side streets and alleys, making sure to stay clear of the 7-11, and then got back on our path. There were no more gunshots. Eventually, the shouts and cries faded. After we'd gone a few more blocks, Russ took over for me and pushed the cart. We were both sweating, but it wasn't overly hot. Wasn't cool either. In fact, the temperature didn't seem to fluctuate much at all. It remained just about what it had been when the darkness first arrived.

"I wish it would rain," I said. "Maybe if a strong enough storm came through, it would blow the darkness away."

Even as I said it, I knew that I didn't believe it. My words rang hollow. I was just making conversation, trying to change Russ's mood the way he'd changed mine.

"It was supposed to rain yesterday," Russ said. "At least, according to the weatherman. We were supposed to have scattered showers and thunderstorms all week. But we're not. I don't think the rain can get through...whatever that is."

"It has to."

"Let me ask you something, Robbie. Since this whole thing started, have you felt the breeze on your face? Have you heard the wind? Anything like that?"

"No. I noticed that, too. I was thinking about it when we left the grocery store."

"There you go. I don't think the elements can penetrate the darkness."

"Well, then how are we breathing? If the rain or wind can't get through, then what about oxygen? I mean, shouldn't we all be dead by now? We've got air. And people have been burning s.h.i.t all night in their fireplaces and burn barrels. Where's all the smoke going? The exhaust from the cars? How come that's not floating around?"

"f.u.c.ked if I know," he admitted. "Maybe it goes into the darkness, just like everything else. Maybe it can penetrate the veil."

"If things can go into the darkness, then it stands to reason that they can come back out."

"That's not what happened yesterday. That woman and her baby. Those volunteer firemen. Everyone else that left. None of them have come back."

"But that doesn't mean they're gone forever. Like I said, air must be getting through, at least, or else we wouldn't be breathing."

"I don't know." Russ stopped pushing the cart and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know s.h.i.t anymore. n.o.body does."

"That Dez guy seemed to act like he knew something."

"The homeless dude? Christ, Robbie. He's just crazy. n.o.body knows what's going on-least of all him."

"Just because somebody is crazy, it doesn't mean they're not intelligent."

"True, but it doesn't mean they are either."

I took over for Russ again and wheeled the cart around a broken bottle. A teenage girl approached us warily, then asked if we'd seen a brown and white cat. Apparently it had run away and she was trying to find it. When we told her we hadn't, she thanked us and quickly walked away.

"She shouldn't be walking around out here by herself," Russ said.

"No," I agreed. "She shouldn't. But getting back to what we were talking about a minute ago."

"How n.o.body knows what's going on?"

"Yeah. Maybe that's the problem. n.o.body knows what's going on. And we don't find out what's going on because n.o.body's in charge. n.o.body is calling the shots. We're all just running around like chickens with our heads cut off-worrying about ourselves but not thinking about the big picture. We need to get organized, you know? We can't just have store clerks blowing away people and girls out looking for lost cats while there are armed people on the streets. We need to restore order, and we need to find out what's really happened."

"Well, h.e.l.l. Why don't you run for mayor then? Maybe folks will listen to you."

Russ's tone was sarcastic, but I ignored the good-natured taunt and continued.

"Maybe I will."

"You got a plan to get us out of this? Because if so, then you've got my vote, Robbie. I'll be your d.a.m.ned campaign manager."

"I don't know about a plan, but I've got an idea. Maybe it will work, and maybe it won't. But at least we'll be doing something besides sitting inside our apartments waiting to see what happens next."