by Mark Tufo
Lynn turns her head from kitchen, obviously interested in the conversation.
“I came down to find someone to talk with about that. We need…” I respond.
“I wouldn’t tell anyone if I were you. While you may not remember this place, no one is going to appreciate hearing that you were up there. They’ll likely throw you behind bars,” Bill interrupts.
“Why in the hell would they jail someone for taking a nature hike?” I exclaim.
“The rules, Jack. They don’t want us bringing attention to ourselves and drawing whatever is up there down to us. To be honest, I’m not sure anyone really remembers why, but that’s the way it is. I think most of it is because people around here get bored and need the excitement, real or imagined, but rules are rules. Old stories mention something about breaking a barrier, but I’m not sure what to believe,” Bill answers.
“So, you can never leave town?” I ask.
“Of course we can, just not up there,” Bill replies.
“It sounds like a conspiracy to me,” I say.
“Maybe, maybe not. I knew some of those who went up and never returned, so the stories have some merit. So, what did you see?”
“Well, I’m not sure how to put this, but there are creatures up on those slopes. Although, when I was up there, it was different,” I respond.
“Different how?”
I shake my head, remembering the lava fields and cauldron, not at all what I see from this town. It was a different reality, although I could see the town from up on the slope. With the barrier I encountered, maybe I was looking into a different reality, like looking at a scene inside a glass globe.
“That doesn’t matter. Those creatures will descend on this town come nightfall, and they won’t be selling Girl Scout cookies,” I state.
“Girl Scouts?”
“Never mind. I’m telling you that these night runners are no laughing matter. They’re feral and will carve their way through this town, leaving nothing alive,” I say.
“Night runners? What are you talking about?”
“That’s what I call them.”
“And they’re coming here. How do you know that? Is that what you ran into?”
“Yes, that’s what I met on the slopes above. And we’re their prey. They explode from their lairs at night searching for food, and I know that from experience,” I answer.
“What you’re saying is kind of unbelievable, Jack.”
You’re not kidding about that.
“This place has always been, well, protected. The stories of monsters in the hills have always been around, and none have never come here,” Bill continues.
“I’m telling you, they’re coming—the people here need to find a secure shelter before night sets.”
“You’ll be hard-pressed to convince anyone here of that. Look, I’m going to be honest here, Jack. I’m not sure I believe it. On one hand, you have all of those wounds, but you did hit your head and can’t even remember me or your home town. We need to get you to the doctor,” Bill says. “Tomorrow. After a good night’s rest.”
“You truly aren’t getting it, Bill. There isn’t going to be a tomorrow for anyone if something isn’t done in the next couple of hours.”
A measure of worry crosses Bill’s features, but I’m not sure if it’s from my story or my “condition.” I can’t really say that I blame him, considering his “brother” shows up out of blue with a fantastic story of impending devastation. Especially knowing my memory might be faulty.
My thoughts are broken by the sound of the front door opening. In walks a tall boy in his upper teens who tosses a backpack against the wall and shuts the door. The lad turns around and I see my son, looking at us seated at the table.
“Robert?” I exclaim.
Bill looks at me with a deep look. “So, you have some memory. You remember Robert, although he’s grown some since you last saw him. Come in, Robert. Meet your Uncle Jack. You were just a tyke when he was around.”
I’m just fucking too stunned to say anything. Bill’s Robert is the son I’m trying to get back to in every detail. I’m torn between wanting to throw up or dash over to throw my arms around him. Robert is now Lynn and Bill’s son. This is truly fucked up beyond any measure.
“Nice to meet you,” Robert says, walking forward to extend his hand.
I stand, feeling extremely light-headed and on the verge of passing out.
“Robert,” I say, shaking his hand. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”
“I sorta remember you. I have a couple of memories of you taking me to the beach,” Robert says.
I sit without replying, running my hand through my hair with a deep sigh. My heart is racing with a thread pulse and I feel dizzy.
“Are you okay?” Bill says, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah…yeah, just a little dizzy, I guess.”
I force my scattered thoughts into a semblance of organization, trying to keep in focus the fact that this isn’t my world. Seeing Lynn in the kitchen and Robert nearby makes me incredibly sad and I need to get back home. This place is so fucked up. I fight back my desire to run out the front door and flee.
With a deep sigh, the dizziness begins to fade. “I’m okay. Just a little tired, I guess.”
“Nic will be in shortly. She’s outside talking with her friends,” Robert says.
“Okay. Go get washed up, dinner is about ready,” Lynn says.
Nic?
I’m not sure how much more I can handle. The nausea returns in full force and I nearly rise to find the bathroom. I know now without a doubt who is about to walk through the front door. Here’s my family…MY FAMILY…with someone else.
“What happened to you?” Robert asks, the wave of his hand indicating my wounds.
“He was in the mountains and, um, fell,” Bill answers.
“In the mountains?! Get the fuck out of here!” Robert exclaims.
“Watch your mouth,” Bill says.
“Sorry, Dad,” Robert replies.
Dad?! Fuck this shit.
Hearing that is a kick to the gut and I’m going to wring Trip’s neck if I ever see him again. I won’t say a fucking thing, just walk up and lead with a throat punch. This is unforgivable. Of course, I’ll need an answer, so I may have to do that after we have ourselves a little question and answer time.
“And you made it back?” Robert continues. “Now, that’s something. Didn’t you go into the Army or something like that?”
“Something like that,” I reply, not knowing what else to say and not trusting my voice at this point.
“Hi guys,” a voice calls as the front door swings open, then closed.
“Hi hon. Get ready for dinner,” Lynn calls back.
“Okay, Mom. Who’s this?” Nic asks, looking in my direction.
“It’s our Uncle Jack,” Robert answers.
I’m sitting with jaw dropped and feel tears forming. My daughter is staring back at me. The daughter I lost. The daughter I buried. I lost a significant part of my heart when she died. And now my little girl is standing in front of me, alive. I can’t help the flow of tears down my cheeks. I sniff loudly, trying to stem the tide but unable to. I feel hands and arms wrapped around me from Bill and Lynn.
“It’s okay, Jack. Whatever you went through before, none of that matters now. You’re with family,” Lynn whispers soothingly.
“That’s right, brother. We’re here,” Bill says, clenching his hand on my shoulder.
They don’t get it. Hearing that I’m with family makes it even worse. They just have no idea. Robert and Nic stand still, feeling awkward. It takes a moment, but I recover, drying the tears.
“What about Bri…Brianna?” I ask, wondering if the name would ring a bell.
I see Bill and Lynn exchange a look, tears welling in Lynn’s eyes. Bill startles.
“How…how would you know about Bri? She was born after you left,” Bill declares.
I remain silent, not really knowing wha
t to say.
After a moment, Bill continues, his voice cracking at times.
“She was…she was one of those who went into the hills and never returned,” Bill says, and then tells her tale. How she didn’t believe the stories and set out to prove them false.
“She was always hard-headed and fearless. Always pushing the limits,” Bill says, finishing.
An awkward and sad silence settles in the room. The thought of Bri gone sends a wave of sadness through the turmoil of emotions raging throughout. Here’s Nic, my daughter alive and well, while my other daughter Bri is gone. And my son…and Lynn. It’s just too much to bear. I’m sad, elated, confused, overwhelmed. My heart is being torn to pieces.
“I’m sorry. You have no idea just how sorry. She was…I mean, you must have been proud. I’ve lost a daughter and know how you feel,” I say.
“You…you had a daughter?” Bill exclaims.
“You were married?” Lynn says at the same time.
“Yes on both accounts,” I answer, looking at Nic and Lynn.
“And you remember them?” Bill questions.
Yes, only too well,” I answer.
“I think it’s story time. Kids, go get washed up. Dinner’s ready and we’ll hear it when we sit down,” Lynn says.
“Bill, I’m not kidding about this place being in danger,” I say as plates are set.
“Dinner and your story, then we can talk about it.”
“We may not have the time.”
Regardless, we sit down to plates of steaming vegetables and a roast. I haven’t eaten this well in some time and I try to control myself. I want to dive and shovel the good food into my mouth, leaving an aftermath of destruction and confetti of shredded paper floating down. I’m sure I smell ripe—I mentioned wanting a shower beforehand, but Bill and Lynn said they didn’t care. It’s really fucking weird having dinner with Lynn and my kids, one of whom, well, we’ll just leave that there.
I’m in an alien world, so I figure telling my whole story won’t really hurt things. I broach the tale by asking if they’re open-minded about the possibilities of alternate worlds. That brings a look or two from Bill and Lynn as they ponder just how hard I hit my head.
In for a penny… I think, diving headlong into a tale of being from a different place.
Everyone is silent as I tell of my kids. Talking about Lynn brings a hard look from Bill and a look of astonishment from Lynn.
“Look, I realize this is weird, but you asked,” I say at one point.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” Bill says as I end. “That’s quite a fantastic tale you have, Jack.”
“Well, it’s true nonetheless. I don’t have anything wrong with my memory. I’m not your brother; he’s still out there somewhere,” I state, drawing looks of worry.
“I’m your son…I mean, in that other world?” Robert asks.
I nod.
“I’m sorry about your daughter,” Nic states.
“Me too,” I reply. “And thanks.”
It’s kind of amazing just how receptive kids are to ideas. I can tell that they want to believe my story, and do for the most part. Bill and Lynn are silent; their expressions indicate disbelief and that my mental state is in question.
“Jack, um, we have a spare bedroom. You look tired and I’m sure some rest will do you good,” Bill says, Lynn nodding. “Why don’t you shower and go lie down? I have spare clothes you can borrow, and we can wash the ones you have.”
Bill eyes my pack as if I have dirty clothes to pull from there as well.
“I only have what’s on my back,” I reply to the unspoken question.
“Then what’s in there?” Bill queries.
“Stuff,” I respond.
“Like what kind of stuff?” Bill asks.
I grab my pack and set it on the cleared table. Unzipping it, I’m a little cautious about extracting the weapons, but I also know that with the coming night, I’ll feel better having them assembled and ready. I withdraw carbine parts, knives, a handgun, my folded vest, and several mags.
Lynn pushes back from the table, disquieted. Bill looks at the pile as I begin assembling the carbine.
“Jack! You know…you know guns aren’t allowed. You know that!!! You’re going to get us all in trouble,” Bill says, looking toward the front door and window.
“Cool,” Robert and Bri simultaneously state.
“Not allowed? Really? Well, like it or not and whether you believe me or not, there is danger coming and I’m not going to be unarmed when it arrives,” I respond.
“Lynn, the curtains,” Bill says.
Lynn jumps up and walks quickly toward the front window. Looking outside to the left and right, she pulls the drapes closed.
I finish assembling the M-4, checking the bolt action.
“Did you take that from the Army? Surely they didn’t just give it to you,” Bill asks. “Especially as they know guns aren’t allowed for civilians.”
“Well, I wasn’t given it as you mean, but I can assure you that those who used it are beyond caring if I have it,” I answer.
“You stole it?” Lynn questions.
I sigh. “Yes and no. I’ve told you about my world. There’s barely anyone left to care. Now, time is running short and I’m serious that we need to warn others.”
“Jack, I’ll go talk with some folks if you promise to get some rest. And I’ll…not mention you, or that you were up in the hills,” Bill says. “I’m not sure that anyone will listen, but I’ll wake you and let you know what they say when I get back.”
As much as this surreality is getting to me, the sun isn’t slowing to permit my grief, and nighttime is approaching all too quickly. Bill is correct in that I need to get some rest, even if it’s only a couple of hours. This town needs to be warned and organized, but it sounds like that may not be an option. To them, I’m mentally unbalanced resulting from head trauma. I mean, I know I’m not right in the head, but not to extent they believe. Bill may or may not go “talk” with people and is likely to return with a doctor. Come dark, I’m going to be somewhere fortified—the rest of them can go fuck themselves. Well, I’ll make sure Lynn, Robert, and Nic are with me, safe…and maybe Bill.
Even if it’s just a basement with a single entrance, I may have enough rounds to keep a large pack of night runners at bay. Anything would be better than sitting in the open with our collective thumbs up our asses. The emotions of the day have come around and my mind is now in survival mode. I’ll rest a couple of hours, then find a secure place and haul everyone into it, by their ears or heels if I have to, and tie them to a pillar if they resist. One way or another, we’re going to get through the upcoming night; then they can toss me in an insane asylum.
I ask Lynn if they have a basement. She nods and shows me the way. It’s a fucking strange feeling, being alone in the house with the spitting images of Lynn, Robert, and Nic. Every time I see Nic, I feel a fresh wave of both elation and sadness wash over me. Given the choice of worlds, I’m not sure which one I’d pick. In one, Nic is alive; in the other, she’s not. I don’t know how I’d be able to choose between Bri and Nic. Of course, that choice may not be mine to make, and in the end, this isn’t my world. I wish I could find one with all of them alive and well, but that would also mean that Lynn and the kids in the real world would be dealing with my loss. I just wish I didn’t know this place existed. I feel anger rising and I force it down to concentrate on the matter at hand.
The basement is a full one, surrounded on all sides by concrete walls without any exterior entrances or windows. Thick poles hold up the rafters with an assortment of shelves against two walls. In all, it looks defensible, the weak point being the door from the kitchen. The wooden entrance won’t hold up for long under the night runners’ gentle ministrations.
After a shower, I sit on top of a quilt in the spare bedroom. At the doorway, Lynn gives me a worried look and forced smile.
“I’ll wash your clothes and you can change into so
mething of Bill’s. But, for now, get some rest,” she says, closing the door.
Setting my carbine against a nightstand and my pack beside the bed, I lie back with my hands behind my head. I have a lot to process. This new world, Lynn and the kids, the looming danger of the night runners, and how in the fuck I’m going to extricate myself—not only from this current situation, but from the world.
My eyes snap open at the sound of the shriek. Instantly alert, I silently condemn myself for sleeping too long. It’s not often that I sleep through one of my mental alarms, but of all nights, this is one of those times. I guess I mentally counted on Bill to wake me when he returned, but that scream in the night shows that never happened.
I quickly sit up, realizing that things have changed since I inadvertently fell asleep. For one, the soft cushion that I had laid upon is that no longer. With my movement, the bed squeaks from the bare rusted springs of the mattress. Dust rises from the floor as I set my feet on warped boards. In complete darkness, I reach for my carbine to find it leaning precariously against a partially caved-in nightstand. A shattered lamp lies on the floor, covered in dust, the fabric of the shade having rotted away seemingly long ago. Behind, a curtain rod hangs by one end across a grimy, partially broken window, the curtains it once held having disintegrated and fallen away.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, the wood creaks under the strain and then lets go, the side rails falling to the floor in a cloud of dust.
Fuck!
I quickly don my boots, gloves, knives, and sidearm while looking at the rest of the room, hearing continued screams outside of the house. Sheetrock lies in shards and clumps at the base of walls where it’s fallen off, the closet doors leaning inward and off the slumping rails. The ceiling bows inward, the sheetrock cracked and deeply stained. The light fixture hangs from the sagging ceiling, barely held by strands of rusted wire. Mold creeps along many of the walls and the smell of must and decay is prevalent.
I have no idea what happened, and I feel a little like Rip Van Winkle, but the shrieks outside have my complete attention. Nobody who has heard them could ever forget the immediately recognizable sound. Outside of the decaying house, night runners are on the prowl. With boots on, I quickly don my vest, throw my pack over my shoulders, and grab my carbine. The door in the entry lies inward and twisted, the screws of the hinges having pulled from the rotting wood of the jamb.
