Free Darkness Falls by Keith R.A. DeCandido Page B

yelled when he was close enough to be heard.
    Fleishman and Walsh looked up at him.
    “What’re you doin’ back here, man?”
    “Do I know you?”
    Ray felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. After all that, the bastard didn’t even recognize him?
    “Think protractor, asshole.”
    Fleishman, at least, got it. “Oh boy.”
    “I thought they locked you up for killing your mother.”
    It got a lot quieter in the bar all of a sudden.
    “I don’t want any trouble,” Walsh said.
    “Tough.”
    Two beers sat on the table, one full, one half-empty. Ray grabbed the full one and splashed it on Walsh.
    Walsh got up and stared at Ray for a second. Ray figured this was it—finally, after more than ten fucking years, after all the physical therapy and the bullshit from the doctors, and after Marie and the job and Dad and everything, Ray was finally going to get a little payback.
    Then the son of a bitch turned around and walked out of the bar.
    Ray couldn’t believe it. He turned to Joe, who was right behind him. “You see that?”
    “Fuckin’ pansy,” Joe said.
    “Yeah, well, he don’t get off that easy.”
    Fleishman put a hand on Ray’s arm. “Ray, don’t—”
    “Fuck you, Fleishman.” Ray yanked his arm away. “He didn’t come after you with any sharp objects.”
    “You were kids, for Christ’s sake!”
    Ray ignored the lawyer and headed for the exit.
    It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the parking lot, which was adjacent to the forest. Bennigan’s was literally on the edge of town. Once it had been the last stop before you went into the wilderness. Now it was just a nice, out-of-the-way spot for the locals to hang out, away from the dumbass tourists.
    Walsh was standing under one of the streetlights that (barely) illuminated the lot, right on the far end.
    “Hey!” Ray cried out as he ran toward the punk.
    As he got closer, Ray saw that Walsh was holding some kind of pill bottle in his hand. Somehow it didn’t surprise Ray that Walsh was a pill popper. Probably on Prozac or lithium or whatever it was they gave to psychos who stab people.
    Ray ducked his head and rammed right into Walsh just as the punk said, “Ah, shit!”
    The pills fell out of his hand and all over the dirt of the lot. Dave never bothered to pave the lot, figuring that the grass and dirt of the forest worked just fine.
    As a result, Ray’s tackle had the two of them rolling around on the ground for several tumbles—right into the underbrush.
    They collided with some kind of shrub or other, and both of them clambered unsteadily to their feet.
    It hadn’t taken much for them to get deep enough into the forest that it was pretty much pitch dark. Still, Ray could make out Walsh’s shape.
    What was weird was the funny sound that suddenly started up. It wasn’t the usual outside noise—crickets or seagulls or any of the other noises you heard outside at night in Darkness Falls. This was something weird.
    Ray figured it was maybe a plane or something. Or maybe he was so drunk he was hearing things. Whatever.
    All that mattered was beating the shit out of Kyle Walsh.
    As Ray charged toward Walsh, a bright light shone in his face. Walsh had whipped out some kind of fucking Maglite or some other damn thing, and it hit Ray’s eyes like a blow.
    But Ray was already committed and leaped at Walsh, who swung at Ray with the flashlight.
    They struggled for a few minutes like that—Walsh trying to bean Ray with the light, Ray trying to strangle Walsh.
    Finally, Ray managed to knock the light out of Walsh’s hands and off into the shrubs.
    Walsh, though, scrambled away. He went straight for the light.
    What the fuck?
    Ray had no idea what the big deal was about that light, but he wasn’t about to let Walsh have it. He dove for the punk and tried to wrap his arms around the bastard’s neck. Walsh tried to kick him off, all the while going for that light.
    That damn noise wouldn’t stop. And now it was getting