When the Sky Goes Dark

by Oliver C Seneca

  “You’re right, I can see his chest moving. Is he a friend of yours?”

  “No, not mine. His name’s Michael. He attacked my-well, it’s a long story. The cop,” Jon pointed back at Officer Cherry’s body, “had to handcuff him. He was mental. My roommate got killed by a swarm of them.” Jon became visually upset as he tried to explain the horrendous night.

  “I’m sorry, man.” Mark took a deep breath. “I was here last night in that crowd when all this shit went down.” Mark nodded over to the pile of bodies past Officer Cherry’s body behind Jon. “But we have to go. I can explain more once we’re inside.”

  “I just don’t want any trouble alright? Please…”

  “Hey, I don’t either. No trouble at all. We just gotta move. Are you with me or not?”

  Jon took a breath and looked back at his dead roommate and then at Officer Cherry. “Yeah, let’s go. We can leave Mike in there. I don’t know what he’ll do if he wakes up.”

  “Me either.”

  Chapter ELEVEN

  The Library

  Mark and Jon hustled through the vacant campus grounds of White Haven College. The morning was silent as they walked on the white concrete paths that connected all the buildings together.

  It was like stepping into a different time as they walked further away from the scene of countless bodies piled and thrown around in the dorm area. Usually, at this time, students would be getting up and heading out all over campus, hanging out, studying. Not today. Maybe not ever again. There might as well had been a tumbleweed blowing across the ground. No one in sight.

  If you were standing in the center of where they were and looked to the north, you’d see the main building: Lecture Hall. That’s where most of the classes took place in a large, rectangular structure with windows wrapping around it. If not there, you’d have classes either at the Science and Technology Building which was east, across from the library, smaller in size. Or you might have classes in the Activities and Cultures Building, which was almost as large as Lecture Hall, behind you. All of the buildings surrounded the square which had nice patches of grass and shrubbery that trimmed the walkways. Green, metal benches sat in the grass along the paths.

  One of the double doors to the library, which had a splatter of blood on it, opened upon their arrival. A tall, thin man with a scruffy dark-blonde beard and a John Deere hat held the door as Mark and Jon ran in. He shut the door, clicked the push bar in, and used a small, brass key in a hole on the bar. CLANK CLICK.

  “We got another one!” the scruffy man yelled out with a slight country accent. He sounded the way he looked.

  The library should have been filled with students at this time. Students taking up the square tables and computer desks, anxiously studying and writing papers. Comparing notes. Asking to proofread paragraphs. Someone would be in the bathroom throwing up from an all-night booze bender. But this morning it was just six people, Jon included, lingering around the library help desk that was front and center guarding rows of bookshelves.

  A girl with a nose ring and a blue streak in her black hair sat on top of the help desk with her legs dangling off the front. She was wearing a tie-dyed shirt and ripped jeans. Two guys were sitting behind the help desk on swivel chairs. One with glasses who kind of looked like Jon and the other a tall, Black guy wearing the same athletic attire Brandon would wear. He knows Brandon, Jon thought. They all looked like they hadn’t slept a wink.

  “This is Jon. He was over by that cop car,” Mark said to the group. Jon waved to the group. They waved back.

  “Is he. . .,” the girl sitting on the front desk said, looking at the bloodstains on Jon’s face and shirt, “. . . stable? Mentally stable I mean?”

  “Yeah, I’m alright, I’m not looking to fight like everyone was last night,” Jon said, answering for himself. “Are you guys alright? Do you know what’s going on?” Jon asked the question with his arms out. Sort of how Professor Weiss would put his arms out when he asked the class a question.

  “Come around here and take a look,” the Jon look-a-like said from behind the desk.

  Jon walked around the side of the help desk and leaned down at the computer monitor. They had CNN streaming on the internet. BREAKING NEWS was on the bottom banner of the screen in red text with MASSIVE RIOTING AND CASUALTIES ACROSS THE COUNTRY underneath. The blond-haired news anchorwoman was in the studio, speaking with a split-screen of images and video being played next to her depicting bodies lying throughout cities. New York. Los Angeles. Atlanta. Houston. All piled up and thrown about, just like at White Haven College. Some looked like they were breathing. Some dead. Their faces blurred out. Videos showed people running and being chased down streets at night. Neighborhoods were on fire. Cars were colliding on highways.

  “Could you turn it up please?” Jon said. The look-a-like turned the dial up on the speaker.

  “. . . we are getting reports sent to us from all over the country of these incidents that took place last night,” the anchorwoman said. “As you can see, we have unsettling footage coming from social media. Please keep in mind that viewer discretion is advised. If you have any children nearby, please make sure they are away from your screen as this is very graphic content. We’re now going to David Bernard who is out in the Los Angeles area where some rioting is still taking place. He has more breaking news for us. Let’s go there now.”

  “Oh man,” the Black guy sitting beside Jon’s look-a-like said. Mark and the country bumpkin came around the desk to watch.

  The camera cut to a dark-skied Los Angeles. Being three hours behind, the time in the corner read 4:30 A.M.

  A helicopter shot showed a highway of mayhem lit only by the orange light poles above and flames of a jumbo jet that crash-landed into the middle of it. Luggage bags and bodies sprawled out among the rubble and bits of the wings lay across every lane. Nearby cars were completely obliterated.

  Surrounding the plane were more cars. Scattered, crashed and torn apart. Bodies lay lifeless half outside of the shattered windshields. Blood was painted on the concrete ground. An overturned car was on fire with smoke billowing out of it.

  The screen split again to show the newsman, David Bernard, shaking and standing with the highway behind him in the distance. The helicopter footage remained rolling on the right side of the screen.

  “Sandra, we’re here just outside of Los Angeles where a major catastrophe has hit. As you can see from the helicopter camera, a United Airways jet has crash-landed onto the 405. We are not positive if this is an act of terrorism at this point. And, Sandra, it looks like there aren’t any survivors.”

  The girl with a blue streak in her hair still sat on the help desk, head facing the entrance. She didn’t seem interested.

  David continued. “This occurred in the middle of what appears to be city-wide rioting. People were reported to be driving recklessly, starting fights with everyone and anyone. We also have a lot of reports of this going on all over California, this is not just affecting Los Angeles. And I’m sorry to say I’ve also been getting reports that children are being attacked. It appears the attacks aren’t on any specific targets. It’s a free for all. Now we have the tragedy of a plane crash on top of it all.”

  The helicopter shot zoomed in on a woman getting out of her car that had just been rear-ended a few feet before the scene of the plane crash. She hopped out of the driver seat and was running toward the vehicle that struck hers. Bullets began to fly out of the car’s windows into her head and upper body. Blood spurted out of her. The whole split-screen cut to black. Then anchorwoman Sandra Smith was back on the screen.

  “We apologize for that,” Sandra said. Her mouth was agape until she made herself look more professional. “We had to cut David’s feed because it was getting too graphic to show what was going on just then. We’d like to tell our viewers again that this is graphic material we are showing and since it’s live, we can’t always cutaway in time. We truly apologize. As David said, we are still uncertain of the origin
of these attacks but will keep you updated with any information that we receive. We ask our viewers to continue to send us their information through social media with photos and videos as long as they are at a safe enough distance to do so. . . ”

  “Jesus,” Jon said. “So, they haven’t mentioned what caused this? Other than the possibility of terrorism?”

  Jon’s look-a-like nodded his head and remained staring at the screen. “That’s right. But this doesn’t look like terrorism to me. Well, maybe the plane crash. I don’t know. Those people on the streets and on the highway seem like regular everyday folks.”

  The country boy chimed in, “Yeah Kev, I didn’t see any of the terrorist-kind on those videos. Y’know, people from the Middle East and such. I wouldn’t be surprised if they at least crashed that plane though, just sayin’.”

  Jon’s look-a-like, now revealed as Kev, nodded his head again. His eyes remained on the news. “Why would this happen all at once? Maybe a terrorist EMP? Although it seems New York is already finished.”

  Kev was right. The split-screen now showed New York City on the left and Los Angeles on the right. New York was covered in bodies, but the carnage seemed to have ended as the emergency responders tried to treat everyone that lie on the ground. Some were unconscious and breathing. Much like Michael, who was sound asleep in the back of Officer Cherry’s cruiser.

  Meanwhile, Los Angeles was still shrouded in darkness with the blood still flying and death raining down from the sky.

  “Have you guys called 911?” Jon asked.

  “We all have. Multiple times. All we get is an automatic message saying there is a massive intake of calls,” Kevin replied.

  Then, Mark spoke. “Yeah,” he leaned closer to the screen, “just like last night. It all happened so quickly. One thing after another and now it seems to be over. For now, that is.”

  “You think anything’s gonna happen again?” the country boy said.

  “I hope not. I’m headed back to Philly. Fuck this shit,” the Black guy said, looking like he was ready to get up from his swivel chair.

  “I wouldn’t go just yet,” the blue-streaked girl said. Her head didn’t move. It hung still, aimed at the entrance doors. The Black guy remained sitting. His eyes rolled.

  “Emily’s right, Shawn,” Mark said to him. “None of us are leaving campus until we know what’s going on out there. Honestly, I didn’t even want to leave the library, but I figured Jon here seemed normal.” He put his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I didn’t want someone out there alone that seemed to have his shit together. Who knows what could’ve happened to him?”

  “Whatever man,” Shawn said, still sitting in his chair. “All I know is my cousin said the city is fucked up just like New York and LA and my mom’s ain’t pickin’ up her phone. Man, I used to get my ass whooped if I didn’t pick up the phone after like three calls. I tried like a hundred times by now. If she doesn’t pick after another hundred, I’m headin’ back to Philly I don’t care what ya’ll say, man. This is some twisted shit.”

  That reminded Jon about his own mom. His parents.

  “Hey Mark, you said I could use your phone?” Jon asked, looking over to him with wide, watery eyes.

  “Oh yes, of course. Sorry about that, it must have slipped my mind there,” Mark said, digging the phone from his pocket and entering his passcode to unlock it. He handed it to Jon. Mark’s hands trembled.

  “Thanks, I’m gonna try to call my parents. Give me a minute, I’ll be right over there.” Jon motioned over to the rows of bookshelves.

  Mark nodded and turned his eyes back to the computer screen with the rest of them. Emily remained where she had been on top of the desk.

  Jon knew his parents’ landline by heart. They had the number as long as he could remember. The dialing noise played after he tapped in the digits. C’mon.

  Dialing. Dialing. Dialing.

  Please pick up.

  Dialing. Dialing. Dialing.

  Then, Jon heard his mother’s voice. His heart rolled over in his chest.

  You’ve reached the Barnes’ residence. We’re unable to pick up the phone right now so please leave us a message after the beep, thank you!

  Ugh.

  BEEP.

  “Hey, it’s Jon. I hope you guys are alright. PLEASE call me as soon as you get this. I’m safe at the campus library with a few others. I’m using a guy named Mark’s phone. I don’t know if you’ve looked at the news at all but there’s a lot of stuff happening here and all over the place. Brandon’s dead.” Jon now spoke sounding as if he was out of breath, trying to get everything out. “I will have to tell you more about it when I get to talk to you. I’m going to call both of your cell phones too, okay? PLEASE call this number. It’s Mark’s phone. I’m gonna try to get my cell phone back from my dorm, okay? I love you. Okay, call me as soon as you get this!”

  Jon tapped the red button on the phone’s screen to hang-up. He was about to dial both of his parents’ cell phones until he realized that both of them recently changed carriers, which gave them new numbers. Jon didn’t have them memorized yet, he only had them on his phone which was laying beside his laptop that had an unfinished paper on B.F. Skinner. He almost laughed to himself remembering the paper that would be due in just a few hours. That paper isn’t going to be turned in anytime soon. Professor Weiss will probably give us an extension. He chuckled and then frowned as the horrid realization came rushing into his mind. Professor Weiss is probably dead.

  Jon stood for a moment in the middle of the forest of books, looking at the ground in fear and uncertainty until Mark came over.

  “You get a hold of anybody?” Mark asked.

  “No. Just got their voice mail. They’ll call your phone if they get my message,” Jon said, handing the phone back over to Mark. Now his hands trembled too. “Thanks for letting me use it, man. I gotta get mine from my dorm. It has my mom and dad’s cell phone numbers on it. I don’t have them memorized.”

  “I’m not sure how safe it is out there yet. There’s still all kinds of shit going down in Los Angeles.” Mark pointed his thumb behind him.

  Jon sighed.

  Mark could see the disappointment in Jon’s face and thought how scary and depressing the whole shit show was.

  “Alright maybe you, me, and Dan can go,” Mark said, hoping to raise Jon’s spirits. “If we all decide it’s safe that is…”

  “Is he the dude in the John Deere hat?” Jon asked, whispering.

  “Oh yeah, that’s him. I’m sorry. I guess you weren’t introduced to them during all this mess,” Mark said and turned to point at each of them. “That chick that’s been sitting on the desk with the colored hair is Emily. The Black guy from Philly in the shorts is Shawn. Kevin is the guy behind the computer. He actually got us into the library. I guess he’s an assistant to the librarians or something like that. And Dan Snyder there is a friend of mine who I had a few classes with. He always wears that hat by the way.” Mark laughed a little looking at it.

  “And you were in that crowd last night you said?” Jon asked.

  “Yep.” Mark turned back to Jon and took a breath. “In fact, we all were. I wasn’t standing by any of these guys though. We all sort of just ran this way. As soon as that first shot went off, we fled toward the library. If it wasn’t for Kevin and his key to the door, we would’ve been fucked. No doubt. Did you notice that big bloodstain on the door when we came in?”

  Jon nodded.

  “There was some dude chasing us the whole time from that crowd and was about to grab Shawn until we got in and his head slammed right into the door. Headfirst. Then he started pounding the door, smearing it all around. He even tried the handle. I don’t know if you saw that had blood on it too. Dan and I held that door bar as tight as we could. Then Kevin used that key again to lock it. Kevin’s really the one who saved our lives.”

  “Wow.” Jon didn’t know what to say. His mind was still on his parents.

  “It’s a miracle. Then we stay
ed put here. We could still see the area you were standing at through the windows of the doors. It was horrible. But it was like a train wreck, we couldn’t look away. I think it shook Emily up, that’s why she’s been sitting like that. She’s been that way for a little while now.”

  Jon looked over at her and she was still, in fact, sitting that way.

  Mark continued. “None of us have slept at all. We figured if someone was tired, they could go upstairs and sleep while someone was downstairs and watched the door. I think Emily gave that position to herself, although I’m not sure she’d move even if someone came through.” Marked looked down at Jon’s bloodstained shirt. “What’s your story?”

  Jon told the tale of his night. The little get together at Melissa’s place. The noises coming from upstairs. Michael and Kat’s tantrums. Officer Cherry coming in and handcuffing him. The big brawl outside. The death. Running from an Indian man in pajama pants. Then, running from an even more psychotic man. The scissors. Hiding in Melissa’s dorm room. All of it. Jon could remember every little detail from last night as the mental wounds were still fresh.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” Mark said. “I’m not sure about your friends but if they’re not out there in that giant heap of bodies, they might be alive somewhere. There’s no way they could’ve outrun those people for too long. They might be in hiding. Maybe they even somehow got to their cars and left.”

  “Yeah,” Jon said, looking down and nodding his head. He was so worried, so confused. Mark could pick up on that.

  “C’mon. Let’s go see what’s going on in the news. Maybe we can do something soon about getting your phone from your dorm so you can try reaching your parents again,” Mark said and patted Jon’s shoulder.

  The two of them walked back to the group. Kevin, Shawn, and Dan were still watching the news coverage while Emily stayed where she’d always been. Staring. The split-screen of the reporters and carnage remained on the broadcast.

  “Any updates?” Mark asked.