The Expanding Universe

by Craig Martelle

  “Teddy,” Paige whispers.

  “Hush, Paige, get some sleep, you’ve got school tomorrow. Before you know it, you will be able to cuddle Teddy.”

  “Can you stroke my hair?”

  “Sure, lie down.”

  Paige does as I ask, and lies in the fetal position with her head resting on my lap. This is another good thing about Mom not being in here: Paige can lie down. Mom let me put blankets on the bottom of the closet, and extra ones to wrap over Paige. Nothing else is allowed in here; she inspects it every day. I haven’t got a clue how many times, it’s just another one of her ticks.

  Dad thinks she just likes cleaning, because she’s always cleaning closets out and mopping the floors. Years ago, I gave up hanging up clothes; they are now all in my drawers. Mom would always come up with a good reason why the closets were empty. ‘Spring cleaning,’ or, ‘the girls have got so big, they need new clothes,’ things like that. Dad would always agree with her.

  From the outside looking in, we are a perfect family. No, actually from the inside we also look like a perfect family—to Dad. It would break his heart if he knew what she was really like when he was working the night shifts. The days when he’s not on the night shift, she pretends one of us was having a nightmare and that she slept in our room.

  I gently stroke Paige’s hair; I know she will be asleep soon.

  I try to get comfortable, but the throbbing pain in my hand is going to make it impossible to sleep. I hope it’s just badly bruised.

  This lack of sleep is going to make me cranky at my own birthday dinner. It’s a good thinking Jessica, my best friend, planned for us to go to the movies first—I can sleep through it. I’d totally cancel tonight if it wasn’t for Jessica planning everything.

  Paige’s breathing has turned into a rhythmic flow as she sleeps. I stare at the keyhole, wishing that I had some magical power to unlock the door from the inside.

  Another sound is added to Paige’s breathing and it’s not my own. It sounds like … water, running water. Did Mom leave the faucets on when she was filling the bucket?

  The water is stronger now, almost like a wave raging through the house. There is no way I could hear the faucets downstairs. Maybe she left the bath running as well as the sink—she has been getting worse over the last few weeks. I think from the lack of sleep and being so close to the end of her pregnancy.

  There is a creak as our bedroom door opens; it’s too soon for Mom to come back. I peer through the tiny hole in the lock, and see the large puddle of water in the doorway being lit by the outside street lights.

  A dark object lurks at the edge of the puddle. The object looks like hundreds, no thousands of ants. There is a gap in the puddle: Mom missed a section. The dark object rolls through the gap; it quickly covers our bedroom floor.

  I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to stop any sound from coming out, but it very nearly has the opposite effect as pain sweeps over my body from my hand. My heart pounds in my ears, but it does nothing to block out the sound of the waves around us. They are calm, eerie and out of place all at the same time.

  Teddy moves on top of the black matter, as if it’s surfing.

  The dark matter creeps up onto our beds, covering them, then drips back to the floor, towards me.

  I edge back away from the keyhole and into the corner of the closet, holding Paige tightly.

  The closet starts to gently rock as the black wave swirls around it.

  It’s the shadow people Mom has been protecting us from all this time. She wasn’t crazy.

  Chapter Three

  As soon as the black tide had come, it was gone, leaving me with a feeling of emptiness and dread from the unknown. I have to find out what Mom knows.

  I stare at the keyhole, waiting impatiently for a glimpse of the first light, or the last light as the street light goes off.

  Luckily Paige slept through the evening’s events, whatever they were. Maybe I was just seeing things; Mom can’t be right. Or am I really turning into her?

  The click from the key wakes me from my sleep. I jolt my head and a shooting pain flies down my neck from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. I feel like I’ve had ten minutes’ sleep, if that!

  “Paige, it’s time to get out.”

  Paige stretches her legs. “Mom!” She lets out an angry yell as her legs slam against the closet, which is not big enough to sit in, let alone stretch.

  The closet door flies open. “Happy birthday, Brooke,” Mom says, beaming.

  Paige looks up at me. “Happy birthday,” she says somberly.

  “Mom, I need to talk to you,” I say as Paige climbs out of the closet. Paige looks around the room then heads over to my bed.

  “Yes, sweetie.”

  My picture-perfect mom stands in front of me with her cooking apron on; she looks so happy. Like she’s trying to erase another awful night. If I tell her they were here last night, will she ever let me out of her sight again? Or Paige, or Willow? And there is no way she’ll let me go out tonight for my birthday.

  “My hand.” I hold it out for the first time and see what state it’s in: my fingers have swollen up, and one for sure is broken.

  “Oh, Brooke. I’m sorry, they were”—she looks behind her—“they were coming. I had to get you in the closet. I needed to keep you safe.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  She brushes my hair off my face. “You are a beautiful young lady. I can take you to the doctor today and get your hand seen to,” she says, resting her hand on my face.

  “Tomorrow, let’s go tomorrow. I was thinking we could tell Dad I did it at lacrosse practice.”

  “Good idea. Now, let’s get your birthday started off how it should be, with a lovely breakfast and gifts.”

  “Mom,” I call to her as she gets to our door. Paige is hugging Teddy by my bed. Her eyes keep wandering to the closet, like she knows that’s where she should have found Teddy. Then she looks back at Mom, and nods, as if Mom had put it there.

  “Yes, Brooke.”

  “How do you know that the water will stop them?”

  Mom freezes, and looks at me intently. It’s been years since I spoke about the shadow people. She strides towards me. “Why do you ask, Brooke?” She is giving me the ‘don’t lie to your mom’ look.

  “I just wondered,” I say, trying to keep a casual tone.

  “Paige, go wash up for breakfast.”

  Paige follows Mom’s request, taking Teddy with her.

  Mom fiddles with her hair, which has lost the wild look it had last night. Now it’s sleeked back in a tight bun.

  “The Watchers.”

  “Who are the Watchers?”

  Mom looks up towards the sky. “The ones that are helping me keep you safe.” She comes closer to me. “They told me to lock you in small, dark places. I begged them for another way,” Mom whispers. “They make me. You believe me, don’t you. I don’t want to have to lock you away. They told me it’s the only way,” Mom repeats.

  “What else did they tell you?”

  Mom starts shaking her head, and then fumbling with her hands.

  “What is it, Mom?”

  “It’s … It’s …”

  “Where’s my birthday girl at?” Dad yells from the living room. The wood creaks beneath his boots as he walks towards us.

  Mom shakes her head in a panic. “The floor, the floor,” she mutters, and quickly gets her mop, but pauses before she starts.

  I’m staring at the gap where the black mass came through last night, and Mom catches me staring. Her mouth gapes open. I quickly look away, trying not to give it away.

  She bends over, placing her hand on her stomach, and starts to pant.

  “Mom. Is Willow coming?”

  “No, she’s can’t, not today, on your birthday,” she says, trying to control her breath. “It’s your day … you need today.”

  “Here are my girls,” Dad says as he walks into our room. He also looks down at the puddle. “Spilt some wat
er? Good thing I didn’t take off my boots yet,” he says, walking towards me with his arms in midair. “Are you too old to give your dad a hug?”

  I shake my head. A hug is just what I need. I wrap my arms around him. A little too tight, and I let out a yelp—I forgot about my hand.

  “What did you do?”

  “Lacrosse,” Mom and I say in unison.

  Then Mom drops the mop to the ground and starts panting.

  “Is it time?” Dad asks eagerly.

  “I’m sorry, Brooke, it is. Willow is coming.”

  Chapter Four

  “Eric, get my bag for me, and call your dad,” Mom tells Dad, then turns and smiles excitedly at me.

  “What a great present, a new sister. Don’t worry, that’s not your only present, the kitchen table is lined with gifts.” Dad pecks me on the forehead, then leaves to get Mom’s things.

  “Brooke, did you see them last night? Were the shadow people in your room?” she asks sternly.

  I gulp.

  Her eyes widen, then she starts panting again.

  “I can’t leave you, not tonight. They will be back for you, they’re coming for you.”

  “You have to leave. Willow is coming.”

  Mom looks down at her overgrown body, and shakes her head.

  “I can’t. Not tonight. The Watchers, they said …” Mom pauses. “They said they would come for you tonight.”

  Fear and pain flash over my mom’s face.

  “Yeah, Dad, the baby’s coming,” I hear Dad say in the other room—he’s speaking to Grandad.

  “I will be okay. I will put the water down and hide in the closet. Give me the key.”

  “No, I can’t. I’m not going to lose you.” She exits my room.

  “Mom,” I yell after her. I look over at my bed and want to slump into it, worn out from the night’s events. I cast my hand over the sheets, which are crumpled—anyone would think it’s from a night of being slept in. There is no sign of the black mass on my bed. I peer down for a closer inspection—not a single atom. All signs of the black wave are gone.

  Last night it must have just been my mind playing tricks on me from the lack of sleep. Yeah, the lack of sleep, it has to be the twenty nights without a full night’s sleep. I shake the whole stupid idea out of my head. I can’t let Mom’s crazy mind games get into my head.

  Dad was right about the presents—a part of the table is covered in them.

  “Brooke, will you tell her,” Dad says as I walk into the kitchen. “Tell your mom she’s being crazy; she can’t have a home birth!”

  “Mom?”

  Her face is pale, and sweat darkens the edges of her hairline.

  “I can’t leave you. Not today.”

  “It’s fine, we’ll be fine,” I say, nudging my head over at Paige, who’s eating dry cereal from the box. Looks like that lovely breakfast is out of the window now. I’ll grab something at school.

  “We can celebrate Brooke’s birthday when we get back from the hospital. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, it’s fine. Really, it’s fine.”

  Mom shakes her head, and starts panting.

  “How far apart are the contractions?” Dad asks.

  Mom remains silent; the pain on her face says it all.

  “Brooke, make sure Paige gets to school on time; you too. Grandad will be home when you get back from school.”

  “Don’t go anywhere after school. Straight home,” Mom orders, making Dad look at her. The Mom we hid from him came out for a moment.

  Dad looks at me. “Yeah, straight home from school.” Dad winks. “Have fun with your friends,” he whispers.

  Dad picks up Mom’s hospital bag. “Come on, they will be fine. It’s you and Willow I’m worried about.

  Mom starts to say something, but Dad leads her to the front door.

  She glances over her shoulder and looks at me with guilt.

  “I’m sorry,” she mouths.

  Chapter Five

  Paige takes the passenger seat. Poor kid looks worn out; luckily she was too tired to fight me about brushing her hair. One thing she hates more than the closet is her hair being brushed. I just wish one day Mom would cut it off and stop the morning nightmare of hair brushing. We really have enough nightmares in our lives.

  I smile at Paige as she gets comfy; she knowingly smiles back. Our family secret kept for another day.

  “Get a little more sleep before school if you can,” I say, lowering the music.

  Paige rests her head on the window.

  I hope Mom’s in hospital overnight, that way we at least get one good night of sleep. Darkness creeps into my mind, like the dark matter of last night. What if it was all real, and they will be back tonight? Brooke! It’s just your mind, tired from no sleep! I curse myself.

  We are silent as we drive to Paige’s school. Paige’s breathing is soft and gentle—she’s sleeping. That kid truly can sleep anywhere. Unlike me.

  It’s a good thing we both got our dad’s smart genes, because my brain is fried most of the time from lack of sleep. People say you get your brains from your mom. In our house, we for sure got them from our dad. Dad is a scientist, and currently working on a tourist shuttle which will go to Mars. He says it’s years away from being finished, which I’m totally happy with. Unlike Paige and Dad, I want nothing to do with other planets. What will they really find when they get there?

  I stop the car and watch Paige as I turn the engine off. She stays asleep. A few more minutes’ sleep is more important than being at school on time.

  I watch as parents drop off their kids at school, leaning over to the passenger seat to give their loved ones a kiss. And off the kids go for the day. A nice, simple life.

  I slip my old phone out. I know Dad’s got me a new one—he asked a hundred times which cell phone I wanted. No missed calls from Dad, but there’s a text: ‘Mom’s fine, doctor said we’ll be here for at least 24 hours. Looks like Willow wants her own birthday. Have fun today, Mom and Dad xxx.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. Send Mom my love xxx,’ I text back.

  There are loads more messages from my friends wishing me a happy birthday. Some say they will make it for dinner tonight and that they can’t wait. That puts a smile on my face.

  I slip my phone into my leather jacket pocket; I will text them back later.

  A light catches my eye. It’s coming from a man standing on his own in an open field by the parking lot. A golden aura radiates around him, a stark contrast to his pale skin, white hair, and dark eyes. His eyes are locked on mine, and I can’t help but stare back at him.

  He brings his hands upwards towards his chest like he’s praying, then parts them.

  It can’t be! I press my face against the window for a clear look. He’s got the black atoms, the same things that were in my room, in his hands.

  A black stream pours from his hands, then before it touches anything it looks like it freezes mid-flight. It starts to fade away, until there is nothing left, like it was never there to begin with.

  “Earth to Brooke.” A small hand waves in front of my eyes, making me blink. The man is gone.

  On the window, there are fingerprints. My hand is still in the air, just like Mom does, like I’m typing on an imaginary typewriter.

  I turn to face Paige, and she’s not giving me the weird look she gives Mom, so she can’t have seen what I was doing. I wipe away the proof.

  “Sorry, what? Oh, before I forget, get the school bus home tonight.”

  “I thought you were going to come straight home. Mom said you had to.”

  “Dad said it’s okay. I’ll keep checking for news on the baby.”

  “Is Mom going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, Dad texted while you were sleeping. It will be while before Willow comes.”

  “Not the baby. Mom’s getting worse.” Paige looks down at her knees.

  “Hey.” I cup my injured hand under her chin. “It will get better. She’s just bad at the moment. I think it’s
because the baby is on its way.”

  “I hope so, Brooke, because she’s being mean!”

  “She’s doing it for our safety.”

  Paige reaches for my hand. “Our safety? It’s not right, Brooke! I’m going to tell Dad when they get home.”

  Paige swings open the door and makes a quick exit.

  “Paige, you can’t, they’ll send her away. Please don’t tell,” I yell out to her.

  “You can’t tell me what to do! I’m telling him!” Paige merges in with her classmates.

  “Paige!”

  I slam my hands on the steering wheel. Pain ripples through my bones—if none of them were broken, they are now. Maybe Paige is right, but she’s not the one that should have to tell Dad, I am.

  I will speak to them when I get home—a great homecoming for Willow. ‘Hey, your mom’s crazy. And if you hang out with her too much you’ll become crazy too.’ Because I must be. There’s no such thing as aliens, and if there were, why the hell would they come to our house?

  My eyes are heavy from last night. Being sleep deprived is the only real answer for seeing anything.

  Chapter Six

  I feel sick to the pit of my stomach each time I think about telling Dad about Mom. I just can’t do it … I have to. I fight with myself as I push my food around my plate.

  “Would you like that to go?” the waitress asks, as she looks at my plate filled with food. There’s enough food to feed one whole family on my plate. It’s crazy how half the world is overweight and the other starving.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Brooke, what did you think of that part in the movie?” Jessica asks.

  “What part?”

  “Were you even listening? You’ve been quiet all night, which is not the way a birthday girl is meant to be.”

  “Sorry, its … my hand.” As the day went on the pain got way worse, and my hand more and more swollen. “It feels like the pain meds are wearing off.”

  “I’m surprise your mom didn’t take you to the doctor.” Jessica pauses. “Oh yeah, she couldn’t, what with going into labor and all that. Any news?”