Read Darkness on the Edge of Town for Free Online Page A

bad pun, wasn’t it? Fuck it.
    Candles and lanterns burned in a few windows, but most of the buildings were dark and silent. Muffled voices drifted from a few. Sobs from a few others. One house echoed with wild, maniacal laughter. It gave me goose bumps, and I think it disturbed quite a few other people in the crowd, but nobody went to investigate it. We heard violent shouting and the sound of glass breaking inside the two-story apartment on the corner of Pine Street, but no one moved to investigate that either. In truth, those things were a common enough occurrence at that address even before the darkness came. A bunch of white-trash meth-heads lived there.On boring Friday nights, we used to go down to the corner and bet on how long it would take for the cops to show up in response to a domestic-disturbance call.
    A gray and white cat knocked over a garbage can in an alley, then ran away. A few dogs barked at us from their backyards or from inside homes. Smoke curled from several chimneys, and I found myself wishing that Christy and I had a fireplace in our apartment. It was chilly, and I had a feeling that the longer the sun was gone, the colder it would get. We passed by an enterprising teenager selling bottled water and cans of soda at five bucks a pop. He sat in a lawn chair, and the drinks were in a foam container between his feet. There was no ice inside. He was bundled up in a winter coat. The dudes who ran the Blockbuster store didn’t seem concerned about the morning chill. They had the doors propped open to let in the breeze, and some hip-hop song that I didn’t recognize drifted out into the road. They must have had a battery-powered CD player or something.
    Not everyone was armed with a flashlight or candles, and I heard several people stumble and trip in the darkness. Feet shuffled all around us. At one point, many of us jumped at something that might have been a gunshot or a car backfiring or just somebody fucking around with fireworks. There was some nervous laughter when the sound wasn’t repeated. Still, despite all that, most people didn’t speak. We walked all that way in silence.
    The guys at the firehouse had their gas-powered generator cranked up, and they’d set up emergency lights in the parking lot. The dazzling glow beckoned us from far off, and as we neared it, I had to shield my eyes against the glare for a moment. After walking solong in the shadows, the brilliance was almost blinding. Once we were safely under the lights, the crowd’s spirits noticeably improved. It was like somebody had flipped a switch. Voices grew louder. A few people even joked and laughed with one another. It felt more like a pep rally or a community yard sale than an emergency meeting—until you saw people’s faces and looked into their eyes. Then it all hit home.
    All of them, regardless of their demeanor, kept glancing out at the edge of town, looking for lights, the sun, an airplane, or anything that was normal.
    The big ladder truck was parked in front of the building, and a guy I assumed was the fire chief clambered up on top of the cab. He was a big guy and no doubt working on a heart attack or diabetes—or both. He moved slowly, and I could hear him wheezing even over the noise of the crowd. The fire truck’s roof groaned, buckling under his feet, but it held. The movement startled him though, and the chief gave a small, strangled cry as it dimpled beneath him. A few people in the throng giggled, and his face turned red. There was a sound system hooked up next to the fire truck. Another fireman fooled around with it, conducting a sound test. It reminded me of a roadie setting up before a concert.
    “‘Freebird,’” somebody in the crowd shouted.
    “Shut the fuck up, asshole,” someone else responded.
    The man atop the ladder truck waited about ten minutes longer, and the parking lot continued to fill with people. Russ made a joke about the refreshments, wondering where they were and if there was