Free Armageddon by Thomas E. Sniegoski Page B

even the shapes of the cars that should have been parked there, no matter how hard he strained his eyes. He pulled his car keys from his satchel and hit the button to start his car, watching for the flash of lights and listening for the sound of the motor.
    Nothing.
    Aaron hit the button again. Nothing. There was nothing out there.
    How is that possible?
    He double-checked the panel inside the elevator. PG was lit. He should have been in the parking garage.
    But he wasn’t.
    Part of him was tempted to go stumbling off into the darkness, but there was another part that warned him to be careful.
    Something wasn’t right.
    Aaron hit the button to close the doors. He’d exit through the lobby and let security know there was an issue on the lower level.
    The elevator reached the first floor with a ping . The cab shuddered. The doors parted.
    Total darkness.
    Impossible!
    Aaron poked his foot out of the elevator. The ground was solid. He reached out in front of him, hands searching for thewall, but finding empty space.
    “What the hell is going on?” he asked aloud. “Hello?” he called out. “Anybody here? What’s going on?”
    His questions were met with an eerie silence. There was absolutely no sound. No buses, no cars, no noise filtering through the lobby from the busy Boston street outside.
    Aaron suddenly experienced an excruciating pain in his stomach. He doubled over at its intensity.
    Great, he thought, breathing rapidly through his nose in hopes of lessoning the agony. I’m having a medical emergency in the middle of a blackout.
    As the pain began to subside, he reviewed what he’d eaten that day. Vilma’s salad was super healthy; surely it wouldn’t make him feel so terrible.
    He turned back toward the elevator, and the doors closed. The darkness wrapped around him.
    “Shit,” he muttered, the all-encompassing black starting to make him feel a little bit dizzy and unsteady on his feet.
    Again he took a deep, calming breath, trying to get a handle on the increasingly bizarre situation. He fished through his bag for his cell phone. He stared at its illuminated face, finding some comfort in its glow; then he hit the speed dial for home.
    The call didn’t go through.
    He tried three more times without success and was tempted to throw the phone away, but managed to keep himself together.
    Aaron used the light from his phone to try and see aroundthe building lobby. The light only went so far before it was eaten up by the inky blackness. A chill ran up and down his spine.
    Where there should have been marble tile, there was only shadow.
    “I’m close to freaking out here,” Aaron said aloud just to break the silence.
    And then he saw a light, so faint that it must have been very far in the distance, but who could tell in this dark void?
    “Hello?” he called, walking toward the pulsating beam. It almost looked like a flame, but what would be burning inside a Boston office building, and wouldn’t there be smoke?
    Aaron stopped. The lobby wasn’t that big. Surely he should have hit a wall or a doorway by now.
    “Hey!” he called out again, remaining perfectly still, eyes riveted to the light, which now seemed to be slowly—oh so slowly—moving toward him.
    But the closer it got, the more it seemed that his eyes were playing tricks on him.
    Two human shapes were making their way toward him.
    But why does it look as though they’re on fire?
    Aaron suddenly had the urge to run. But his legs wouldn’t move.
    The figures walking toward him were burning.
    Their clothes were charred, their exposed flesh melting like candle wax.
    This is a nightmare. I need to wake up.
    The figures were close enough now that Aaron could smell the awful aroma of their burning clothes and hair—
    And he recognized their faces.
    “Dad? Mom?” He started toward his foster parents but recoiled at the heat from their bodies.
    “Tom . . . Lori, what’s happening?” Aaron began to panic.
    A sharp pain shot through his stomach