Demon Lights

by Michael M. Hughes

  There were drawings on the walls as the passage narrowed—animals, mostly, but strange human figures with horns and wings. He felt panic rising in his chest, his breath coming faster. This was too much like El Varón’s secret cave beneath his compound.

  And then the passage opened up. It was bright in there. When Victoria stepped through she gasped. He stopped cold as the other children filed in. He felt the wave of astonishment pass through all of them.

  The man was kneeling down in front of something, the torch smoldering on the rock floor next to him.

  “What is it?” Victoria asked.

  William couldn’t tell. It was a sphere, half buried in stuff that looked like the liquid mercury Ms. Fortune had smeared on their heads. But the sphere, which looked like it was made from black smoke that had congealed into rock, was alive. Alive like a person. Vibrations radiated off it like heat ripples in the air. And beneath its polished exterior, amorphous things were moving around. Swirling shapes, strings, and particles, like strands of iridescent smoke.

  It was absolutely beautiful.

  The man bowing before it opened his mouth and began to sing. A strange song, rising up and down scales. But simple, too, like a song for a child. It repeated, and each time it grew more familiar, like a lullaby his mother might have sung.

  William started singing along. The other kids joined him.

  Yes, children, sing and learn the melody. Good, good.

  The swirlings within the object quickened, pulsing in time with the song. William moved closer to see better. There were marvelous things in there. All sorts of beings staring out, trying to get his attention. They changed shape, so he couldn’t fix on any one before it mutated into another, but they were like snakes, jellyfish, funnels, and spiders and radiating stalks, all transmuting and collapsing and reforming. Hundreds, maybe thousands of life-forms.

  And they wanted to get out.

  Don’t get too close, children. Just remember what you see. What you feel.

  William moved closer. It was trying to say something to him. He could almost understand it.

  “William,” Victoria said.

  William stepped through the praying man. It felt sticky as he passed through, and for a brief moment he was inside the man’s head. Their thoughts ran together—scenes of a hunt, of a man bleeding in the snow, of children in black paint dancing around a fire. Then he pulled through with a distinct pop and stood so close to the swirling sphere it felt like there was nothing else in the world. He no longer heard Ms. Fortune, no longer heard Victoria warning him to stop, begging him to stay away from it. He couldn’t resist its call. It wasn’t an invitation; it was a demand.

  Come to us, it said in a thousand voices.

  William fell into it.

  —

  “William. William, can you hear me?”

  Dr. Regardie’s face hovered above him. It wavered in and out of focus.

  “Tired,” William said. “Where am I?”

  “In the infirmary. You have been asleep for”—he glanced at his watch—“almost twenty hours.”

  William wiped his eyes. “I feel numb. Like when your foot goes to sleep, but everywhere.”

  Regardie leaned in closer. William smelled the stinky pipe tobacco on his breath. “So what do you remember? About your experience?”

  William blinked. “Nothing.”

  Regardie raised an eyebrow. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

  William looked up at the ceiling tiles. “I just remember seeing that thing. And then falling into it. And then here I am.”

  Regardie sighed. He sat back in his chair and slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, if you do remember anything—anything at all—I want you to have someone call me right away. Even if it’s just something minor—a feeling, or an image, or a sound. Sometimes these things take a while and then you suddenly start to remember little bits and pieces. Or it can all just come back like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Will you do that for me, William?”

  “Yes,” William said.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Regardie stood, patted William on the shoulder, and left the room.

  William closed his eyes. He was becoming such a good liar.

  —

  He was trying to understand Ms. Fortune’s latest assignment—a paper about ultraterrestrials—when Dr. Regardie opened the door and entered the room. He didn’t even look at Colin but walked straight to William’s desk and sat on the bed, crossing his legs.

  An enormous nose hair hung from his left nostril. “Hello, William.” He patted his shoulder. “What are you reading?”

  William held up the paper.

  “Oh, good. John Keel was very ahead of his time. He didn’t get it all right, but he was on the proper track. Operation Trojan Horse was a big influence on my research in the seventies.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I was wondering if you had managed to recall anything about what you experienced.”

  “I feel like it’s starting to come back,” William said quietly.

  Regardie stiffened. “Good. That’s very good.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Hold on just a moment. I want to record this.”

  William shifted in his seat. “Dr. Regardie, you told me a long time ago I would be able to talk to my mom.”

  Regardie stopped poking at the phone and studied him silently. “Yes. I did say that.”

  “I want to talk to her. I think I might remember more about what happened if I can talk to her first.”

  Regardie laughed quietly. “Of course.” He stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “How about tomorrow?”

  William nodded. “That would be cool. Thank you, Dr. Regardie.”

  “Goodnight, William.”

  —

  That night William woke up. Someone was in his room.

  Colin was asleep, his pillow over his face. William sensed the man before he saw him, off in the shadows by the window. He felt like he was dreaming, but he knew he was awake.

  “Ray,” he said.

  Ray’s mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. He had weird-looking clothes on—like the hospital scrubs his mom used to wear at work, only all white. He was shimmering, too, and the way he seemed semi-transparent made William think of the hologram of Princess Leia in Star Wars. His mouth kept moving but William couldn’t read his lips.

  William held his finger to his lips. Shh. Think at me. He pushed with his mind and made the invoking symbol with his extended finger.

  The communication happened soundlessly, Ray’s words turning into thoughts in his head. A helicopter. A map.

  William nodded. Please hurry. Things are getting out of control. She is using us to do something bad. To let bad things in. Please be careful. I am worried about Mom. She—

  And then something moved between them. Vague forms of symbols flashed inside his eyes. They were being pushed apart. And then Ray was gone, as if he’d never been there.

  Now he understood. Ray was alive. And he was coming to get them.

  —

  “How are you, William? Are you okay?”

  It was her. She was upset, too, though she was trying to hide it. He could always tell. They’d both been given guidelines. No specifics about where they were, their captors, nothing but vague generalities. If they violated the rules, the call would be cut short. And might turn out to be their last.

  “I’m okay,” he said. His hand was sweating against the plastic telephone. He was pushing thoughts at her, too. “Are you?”

  “Yes,” she said, and he heard the tears in her voice. “I’m fine. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.” When he closed his eyes, he saw her, alone, in a tiny room. And then he pushed with all his might. We need to get out of here, Mom. We need to escape soon because really bad things are going to happen.

  His mom grew silent. Had she heard him? She cleared her throat. “How’s school?”

  “It’s fine. It’s gotten better.
” He pushed again. Hurry, Mom. I’m scared.

  “I can’t wait to see you,” she said. “I hope I get to see you soon. I’ll give you the biggest hug.” Her voice caught. She was hiding it, but he knew she was crying.

  Dr. Regardie knelt down and stared at him. He tapped on his watch.

  “I miss you, Mom. I hope I do see you soon.”

  “I miss you and love you, my baby,” she said. “I will see you, William. I promise.”

  Dr. Regardie took the phone from his hand. “There, there. Your mother is fine, like I told you.” He pushed the END button. “We’re taking good care of her just like we’re taking good care of you.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I expect you can see her soon. Maybe in a few weeks. Possibly sooner.”

  William felt his heart jump. But Regardie was a liar—he couldn’t forget that—a puppet doing what the wicked witch told him to do. “See her? Really?”

  The doctor nodded. “If you keep up the good behavior and continue to excel in your studies, I can assure you of it.” He reached into his shirt pocket for his pipe, but it wasn’t there. He stared at the empty pocket, then turned back to William. “Now let’s talk about what happened to you. We’re going to do the relaxation exercise together. Just relax, go as deep inside as you can, and tell me what you remember.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket again and poked his fingers against the screen. “Let’s breathe deeply together, shall we? I’ll count down from ten to one, very slowly.”

  —

  “Now you’re very deeply relaxed. So very deep. Let’s go back to what you saw, and what you felt, when you touched the artifact.”

  William was very deep, but a part of his mind was still alert, knowing it was best to not tell Dr. Regardie everything. Some things he was going to keep to himself. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew what the doctor didn’t know might wind up being useful. Not just for bargaining, like getting to see his mother, but maybe to use against them when the time came. And he was certain the time was coming very soon. They had told him so.

  “Tell me what’s happening.”

  William breathed deeply. His eyes moved jerkily under his eyelids, the telltale sign that he was deep in trance. But this was the first time he also existed as an observer. It felt strange, like his mind had cracked into two pieces. “There are voices. Lots of them. Telling me just to let go and fall in.”

  “And so let yourself. Just relax and fall into it. Tell me how it feels.”

  “Dizzy. Like flying really fast, flipping over and over. Then like being lost. Floating in space that goes on forever.”

  “And then? Do you see anything?”

  “Yes. Things. Not people, more like animals or bugs. Or sea creatures. They’re really weird and they keep changing. They’re coming from everywhere to look at me.”

  “Do they say or communicate anything?”

  “They seem surprised I’m here. My head is buzzing. Like too many words all at once.”

  “Try to slow down. Feel time slowing, everything just getting slower and slower. Can you understand better now?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Little bits.”

  He could feel Dr. Regardie’s mounting excitement. “Tell me, William.”

  “They are ready to come through,” William said. “They’ve been waiting for a long time. But they need our help. They need to get inside us. Like, in our heads. Something like that. We need to keep doing what we’re doing—the rituals and all that stuff—and soon they’ll all be able to get out.”

  “Yes. I understand. What else are they saying?”

  “The stars have to be right. I’m not sure what that means.”

  “I do. Keep talking. You’re doing great.”

  “There’s going to be a new star. In the sky. That’s when we’ll know they’re here. And that the passage…is opening.”

  Hold back, the observing William said. Don’t tell him the rest.

  “Good, good. Fascinating. And then?”

  William stiffened. “They told me I’ll be able to say more, but not yet. It’s locked up until the time is right for it to come out.”

  Dr. Regardie sighed. “Did they say when that would be? How long?”

  “No.”

  The doctor was silent. “Very well. What’s happening now?”

  “It’s like I’m being pushed. Through a long tunnel. I feel sick. Dizzy.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “And then everybody’s looking at me. You. The rest of the kids.”

  “Okay…We’re going to bring you back.” The doctor worked his way from ten backward to one and the recorder clicked off. “Excellent work, William. You have become quite the star pupil.”

  The observing William felt a surge of pride. Yeah, if only you knew what I didn’t tell you.

  —

  “Did you talk to your mom?” Victoria whispered. They were having some rare lecture-free time in Ms. Fortune’s class, having finished something she called inner contact drawing. Victoria had drawn a colorful Mr. Winston, with his lion’s head, multicolored wings, and taloned feet clutching a rock. William had tried to draw the things he’d seen in the artifact, but it was all a scribbly mess. But it didn’t matter anymore, now that he was obviously Dr. Regardie’s pet.

  William put down his pencil. The rest of the kids were talking and laughing, so he figured their conversation wouldn’t be picked up by the ever-present cameras and microphones. “Yeah. She sounded okay, but I could tell she wasn’t. She’s scared.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “But I think Ray’s coming. So maybe he’ll get us all out of here.”

  “God, I hope so,” Victoria said. “Because it really feels like something’s going to happen soon. Doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” It was true. There was a tension, or maybe an excitement, in the air, especially among the teachers. The way it used to feel right before summer vacation, only weirder. “Then Dr. Dogturdy hypnotized me. He wanted to know what happened to me when I went into that thing.”

  She chewed on her eraser. “Did you tell him?”

  “Not everything. Not what it said about us kids.”

  “Good,” she said. Then jumped. Ms. Fortune was standing behind them.

  “Interesting drawing there, William,” the teacher said. William didn’t like her smile and her breath smelled like old milky coffee. “What were you two discussing?”

  “Nothing, really,” Victoria said. “I was telling him how bad his drawing was.”

  Ms. Fortune laughed her fake laugh. “Oh, it’s not that bad. Not quite as good as your little friend Mr. Winston, Victoria, but William is doing his best. We all have our special talents.”

  William forced a smile. “Thank you, Ms. Fortune.”

  When the teacher walked away William rolled his eyes and Victoria mimed sticking her finger down her throat.

  Chapter 7

  After her shower, Ellen dried off with the rough towel and put on her scrubs. She’d been thinking about her conversation with William, and how she had a strong sense—no, more than a sense, more like some kind of psychic warning—that he was telling her their time was almost up. If she was going to escape, it needed to be soon. But though she had been thinking of almost nothing else, it seemed utterly futile. She couldn’t find a way out.

  Marlo walked in, dropped her pants, and sat on the toilet. “You feeling any better?” Ellen asked.

  The young woman was in one of her silent modes. Ellen had learned to leave her alone because persistence could cause her to blow up in rage. It was annoying not being able to talk, but the silence was better than Marlo’s cursing and screaming fits. Ellen left and curled up on her bed, her muscles burning from her workout. She’d begun to enjoy the dull, throbbing pain. It meant she was getting stronger. And if she was going to escape, she needed as much strength as she could muster.

  “What’s up with you?” Marlo asked. The circles under her eyes were darker than usual. She’d stopped eating and had grown so thin she looked like the slightest touch would snap her bone
s.

  “I’m just thinking. About life after this place.”

  Marlo rolled her eyes. “You’re fucking nuts,” she said. “We’re not going anywhere.” She sat on her bed. Fidgeted. Picked at her toenails. “Gross. I wish we had some clippers.”

  “I wish I had a razor. I’m hairy as an ape.”

  Marlo ran her hands along her legs. “I’m starting to like it. But your pits are disgusting.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Ellen said. “But speaking of hairy, you’re the one who has been walking around naked. You do know those guards are watching you on camera, right? The way the younger one looks at you when he brings our food—that’s disgusting.”

  Marlo grunted. “Good. Maybe I’ll fuck him.”

  “Jesus, Marlo.”

  The younger woman laughed.

  Ellen sat up in bed. “But seriously, what would you want to do if we got out of here?”

  Marlo snorted. “The only way we’ll get out of this fucking jail is in a coffin.”

  “But what if? Would you go back home?”

  “I don’t have a home. And don’t you know what it’s like out there now? There were nukes and shit. Riots, people going crazy, cities on fire. The world was falling apart.”

  “There must be someplace where things are okay.”

  “Dream on.” Marlo picked at a scab on her arm. “This is hell. I never believed in hell, but here I am. Stuck in a cage with Pitzilla for the rest of my life.” She kicked her legs up and down. “Fuck this. I wish I could kill myself.”

  “Don’t say that.” Because I know that feeling.

  “It’s true.”

  Ellen picked up the crossword puzzle magazine she’d been redoing for the umpteenth time. She wrote something in the margin and walked over to Marlo. When the young woman read it, she raised her head. Her eyes telegraphed skepticism.

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  Ellen took the book back and held her finger to her lips. “Yes.” She erased the message. I sure hope it works.

  —