When the Sky Goes Dark

by Oliver C Seneca

  “Oh no.” I’ll show…

  “I had to cover Rae’s mouth. I didn’t want him to hear her and come get us next. She ran and called 911 and they said they were sending the police, but before she even hung up the phone, Mr. Hannigan came back out of the door, covered in blood. All over his shirt and tie. He gets back in the SUV like nothing ever happened. He drives off and we never see him again.

  “The following morning, Rae and I go over to the house. Rae wanted to go in after the dad left but I said absolutely not, we’re gonna stay inside until the morning. Well, then the morning came. I promised Rae I’d take her over to check on Molly and…well…we found her beaten to death.”

  Jon blew air from his mouth. Untie me. . .I’ll show…I’ll tell. The thoughts wouldn’t let up, not even to let Jon become emotionally invested in Dominic’s story. The death of innocent families and friends were getting stale now. Old news. Say something to Jon that he didn’t already know.

  “And that’s pretty much how it all started in terms of getting to bed during the day,” Dominic said. “We were so exhausted between our mom and seeing Rae’s best friend and mother taken from this world that we both collapsed. We woke up before sundown, holding onto each other. It’s sick, Jon. Really sick… Rae and Molly were about to graduate and head off to college. Now it’s all over.” Dominic wiped his forehead as he shook it and turned back to Jon who was still looking past Dominic, staring at his house.

  Untie me and I’ll show you…

  “I’ll let you get some rest, Jon. I’m sure you’re tired of it all. We need our energy to face another day. If there even is another day. But we have to try. I’ll die before giving up. I’ll die before I let my mother die, you know?” Dominic stood and stared at Jon for a moment.

  Jon nodded. I’m sure you’re tired of it all. Dominic was fucking right he was. But even though he felt as tired as he ever did in his entire life, Jon was awake. Wide awake with no interest in rest or sleep.

  I’ll tell you. . .

  “Bathroom is down the hall on the left before my mom’s room. All the water’s cold. Don’t be looking for a nice, hot bath. Also, take this.” Dominic pulled a mini orange flashlight from his pocket. He threw it on the bed by Jon’s belongings. “So, you can see where you’re pissing. If you need anything else, I’m across the hall. Rae is in the first room. Best not to wake her, so try to be as quiet as possible.”

  “Ok, thanks a lot,” Jon said as Dominic let himself out. “I appreciate all this. Really.”

  Dominic nodded. “Have a good night, or day should I say. I’ll see you in the evening.” Dominic’s head disappeared from the side of the door as it closed shut.

  Now, Jon stood alone in the guestroom. He walked over to the window and scanned across the houses around the cul-de-sac until he stopped at his house. Again, he stared as the words of Mrs. Cooper played relentlessly in his head like a broken record. A vinyl record playing an ominous song against his skull, drilling the words deeper and deeper.

  I bet you’d like to know where your mommy and daddy…

  I’ll tell you…

  Untie me…

  I’ll show you…

  Her eyes of rage had subsided for a moment when she locked eyes with Jon. Why? Did she know? Did she truly know where Jon’s parents were? Could she show him if he let her free?

  The pit of his empty stomach growled and moaned. He was weak with days of poor nutrition, lack of rest, and physical and emotional turmoil. There was no denying that he was at the end of his rope. But as he stood, staring toward the house in which he was raised, his mind was scheming. Planning.

  The hunger he felt was no longer for food.

  Off in the distance, beyond 524 Franklin Court, a rumble of thunder rolled through the sky.

  Chapter FIFTY-TWO

  The Storm Approaches

  Rae slept beneath her puffy white comforter. Her dark, curly hair lay askew on the pillow as she breathed. Dreaming. She was beautiful. Naturally pretty. The most gorgeous thing Jon had ever seen as he stood above her in her bedroom, giving a thirty-yard stare into her closed eyes, making sure she was asleep.

  Flowers were everywhere. On her sheets. Paintings of them on the walls in pink frames. A little glass rose sat on her dresser by her selection of perfumes and fragrances labeled from Victoria Secret. Sweet scents and floral imagery surrounded the room. There were photos of her and her mother at the beach. She and Dominic standing in the front yard with painted faces. Rae a cat and Dominic a mouse. A picture of her and Molly at what looked like homecoming or prom, donning ruby and sapphire dresses and corsages on their wrists. They were laughing.

  She was a girly girl. An innocent girly girl it seemed. Jon would’ve liked to have known her better. He would have liked to have known a lot of girls better. He wondered where his old girlfriends were just then and if they were still alive.

  Rae didn’t stir in her bed despite being eyed long enough to bring her out of a slumber, just as Rusty did to Jon not all that long ago. Peaceful, deep dreams, Jon thought.

  His filthy and tired appearance contrasted Rae’s room. Although it was dark, he looked as if he was a parasite in her comfortable abode. His eyes were wide, psychotic. Jon looked out of his element, like a puppet being controlled by someone else.

  Jon hadn’t even tried to sleep. His mind wouldn’t let him. All he could think about was his plan. His last stand.

  He stepped away from the side of the bed and walked past piles of thrown clothes on the carpet. LIVE. LAUGH. LOVE. was decaled on the wall by the door in black cursive. Memories of Melissa’s dorm room fled by. Girls aren’t that much different from one another, are they?

  Back out in the darkened hallway, Jon crossed over toward the guestroom where Dominic’s crossbow and arrow satchel lay on the bed beside the hunting rifle. He stole it from Dominic’s room as he watched his eyes, checking to see if they were sound asleep before Jon went through with his plan.

  The only noise in the house was the rain against the roof and the occasional thunder that crept closer and louder with every boom.

  Gotta get this over with quick, Jon thought. If you’re gonna do it, you gotta do it now. He pulled out a Swiss Army knife from his Nike bag and placed it in his left pocket. Grandpa Barnes had given it to him many years back and its age showed through the scratched red paint and spots of dirt stains on the blades.

  Meow.

  Jon snatched up the rifle off the bed, spun and aimed the barrel of the Remington at nothing but air. Beneath him, a small, black and grey-furred cat stood on all fours, staring up at him. Jesus Christ! Jon wanted to shout. A cat, ugh.

  Meow. Softer now.

  “Get out, scram,” Jon whispered. “Go away. Shoo!”

  Meow was all the cat could reply as it showed its tiny, pointed teeth. Its whiskers waved. Yellow eyes that looked like snake eyes locked on Jon as if the cat had caught him in the act, which it did. Jon was preparing to do something behind the Cooper kids’ back and the cat saw it all.

  Using the barrel of the rifle, Jon attempted to shoo the cat out of the room. It only made the meows louder.

  “Go, go! Get out!”

  MEOW.

  Alright, fuck this. Jon didn’t want to touch the cat with his hands. It could trigger a reaction. Itchy eyes. Bumps on his wrists. There was no time for any of it. He also didn’t want his cover to be blown by a stupid cat. All this way. All this suffering, and a cat would be the one thing that stopped him from getting the real answer to his question?

  Where are my parents?

  I’ll tell you. . .

  I’ll show you. . .

  Untie me…

  He waited a moment, listening carefully for Dominic or Rae. Nothing. The cat hadn’t won yet.

  Jon kept his eyes on the feline as his body turned to place the bag of arrows over his shoulder. Don’t move. Don’t make a peep you little son of a bitch. He grabbed the crossbow in one hand, the Remington in the other. It was loaded. The cat was lucky it was
n’t at eye level when Jon turned around to its almost mission-sabotaging meow.

  Here we go, this is it. Jon headed out of the guest room, armed to the teeth. He passed the two bedrooms, placing his head against each of the doors. No noises were detected inside other than breathing and the faint sound of a low snore from Dominic’s room. The rain against the house was an excellent relaxant, but the thunder would soon drown it out and wake them from their sleep. If they got up, God knows what would happen if they saw what Jon was going to do.

  Jon moved with stealth down the steps. His Vans left imprints on the carpet. With the weight of the weapons, he was thankful he wasn’t trotting down wooden stairs with a loud banging. The jig might’ve been up then.

  Glancing in the kitchen, Jon saw the papers still on the dining table. The glass of water. Crackers. Nothing changed. No one else was down here. The clock above the couch in the living room ticked. Its hands showed it was almost 1:00 P.M. Dominic set the alarms for 7:30, which would give Jon plenty of time as long he did this the right way. He grabbed another paint mask from the pack, snapped it over his mouth, and turned toward the door on the side of the staircase. The basement.

  Behind him, the cat followed without meowing.

  Jon opened the door to the basement, careful not to make it squeak. He stared down into the black abyss and began his descent into the darkness. The cat remained on the top of the steps, watching the strange young man fade away. Its tail curled.

  Once Jon reached the bottom, he put the weapons on the floor. He fetched the orange flashlight that Dominic gave him from his right pocket where it bulged the denim. Clicking on the rubbery button, the light produced a weak beam. It would have to do.

  Jon grabbed the chair that once bound him and started back up the steps with the flashlight aimed upwards. He held the wooden seat to his chest.

  “Get lost!” Jon whispered to the cat. “Shoo!”

  The cat remained with its golden eyes judging Jon.

  On the top landing of the basement steps, Jon lowered the chair down and closed the door, propping the chair against it from the inside. The cat’s gaze broke as the white wood shut. The cheap shine from the flashlight was all that remained. Jon picked up the chair and firmly placed its back against the knob. He pulled the door to test its leverage. Much like the five-dollar light, it was good enough. It would buy him some time if Dominic and Rae woke-up while Jon did his deed.

  I’ll tell you if you untie me. . . I’ll show you…

  Her eyes.

  The orange light struggled to penetrate the blackness of the basement as Jon approached the storage room that contained Mrs. Cooper. His last resort. White light came from the bottom crack of the door where the carpet becomes cement, which meant the batteries in the LED light were doing their job, keeping her asleep and the parasite’s power at bay.

  He had hidden the crossbow and arrow bag behind the TV. His goal was to keep it tucked away from Dominic or Rae in case they intervened. They’d try to kill him if they found him. And if he hid the weapon in the room with the mother, who knows if she could find it and shoot it without hesitation.

  Now, he held the light and his father’s loaded Remington.

  Jon placed his palm on the knob of the storage door. There was no racing of the heart. No swirling thoughts. He was still, a feeling that Jon hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He was drained both physically and mentally, but somehow stood without buckling and breathed without gasping. Maybe he had nothing to lose. Perhaps it was because he had a plan. Either way, it wasn’t Jon as everyone knew him.

  He clicked out the lock with his nail, turned the knob, and walked inside.

  Chapter FIFTY-THREE

  The Storm Arrives

  Jon shut the door behind him, mindful of the tape over the lock on the handle. He realized Dominic could easily open the lock as he was the one who demonstrated the trick of getting in, but he would have to keep faith that his duct-taped chair would hold long enough at the landing’s door.

  Mrs. Cooper lay on the cement floor, curled and dead-looking just as Dominic had left her after their wrestling match. She was a poor creature, confined to bloody tape that wrapped around her middle-aged body. The smells remained. Shitty, stinky, and sour.

  Jon knelt beside her and put down the rifle by her feet. He grabbed the giant roll of duct tape from one of the metal shelves on the side of the room. He pulled on the roll of tape, tearing away a long strip, using his teeth to cut it. Then, he wrapped the fresh piece around Mrs. Cooper’s old ankle bind. Another piece. Rip. Another around the wrist restraints. He was careful not to pull the tape too fast. Any noise could wake up her children.

  All that was left was the chewed tape that covered her lips. Jon was gentle with peeling it off. He found either blood or red lipstick painted on the sticky side. No way to know as her lips were chapped and cracked, raw from the bites. Jon wasn’t sure how many times this tape was pulled off and stuck back on when Dominic and Rae were trying to reason with her. Now, it was Jon’s turn to reason. He placed a new piece of tape on Mrs. Cooper’s lips.

  Would he take her life if he didn’t get the answers he was looking for? He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but Jon didn’t ruminate. His mind was clear for now.

  Jon stood up and walked behind the LED lamp to the switch. The orange flashlight was in his hand. Soon, it would be the only light left. He felt the plastic lever on the back of the lamp and clicked it off. Darkness. Jon only had a few moments before the demon woman awoke. He shined the flashlight on her face as she began to stir.

  Jon moved down to the cement floor and placed his hand around the center of the Remington, pulling it closer to his side, preparing himself. Then, he placed his hand on her chest. She was wearing a thin golden necklace that must’ve popped out from beneath her sweatsuit.

  Mrs. Cooper’s eyes began to flutter. Jon moved in closer and made his hold on her body firmer as her chest became more alive. Awake. The breaths became shorter.

  “Uhhhh. . . hmmmmm…,” Mrs. Cooper moaned under the fresh sticky tape. “Hmmmmmm… hhheeeeee?”

  The beam from the orange flashlight made her head move side to side as if Jon was holding something stinky in her face. He removed the tape, trying not to pull too quick to piss her off right away. He kept his hand on the edge of the piece in case she spoke too loudly.

  “Hmmmhmmmmm…uhhhh…hello?” Mrs. Cooper said with her eyes still closed. The light annoyed her.

  “Mrs. Cooper, can you hear me?” Jon asked, careful not to speak too loudly himself.

  “Uhhhhh. . . hello? Who’s there? Dominic? Rae?”

  “Mrs. Cooper, it’s Jon Barnes.”

  “Who? Don Harms? Where’s Rae? Dominic?”

  “No, Jon Barnes. Jonathon Barnes from across the street. Do you remember?”

  “Why do you have your hands on my chest? Tryin’ to grab my tits?” Her volume rose. Jon was quick to place the tape back over her mouth. He held his hand down as the residue set back onto her lips.

  “No!” he said, not in a shout, but in a harsh whisper. “Mrs. Cooper, my name is Jonathan Barnes. If you calm down, I will let you speak, do you understand? If you make too much noise, I’m not gonna let you talk. Got it? I just want to ask you some questions.” Jon was starting to feel emotion again. Anger. It was a slow burn, but he could feel madness budding inside his stomach already.

  “Hmmm. . .hmmmmm. . .hmmmmm,” she said. Her eyes were opening now. They were as black as they were before. Maybe even blacker, somehow. She hadn’t frozen as she did before when she first laid eyes on Jon.

  “Do you hear me? Do you understand me? Can you be quiet for me? Shake your head yes if you understand,” Jon commanded.

  Mrs. Cooper’s head just squirmed in its uncomfortable motions. No clear yes or no answer.

  “Hmmmm. . .hmmmmm…uhhhhhh.”

  Jon pulled the tape back halfway and Mrs. Cooper tried to bite him. He covered the mouth and pushed down on her neck with quick reflex. He wan
ted to shout at her.

  “Mrs. Cooper, listen to me. I’m gonna let you go. Do you understand? I will cut you free from all this tape if you just listen.” He was rocking her head to and fro as he spoke down at her twisted face. “I’m Jonathan Barnes. You said you know where my parents are?”

  No coherent response came from the woman.

  “Do you want to be let free? Do you want to see your family again?” Jon asked.

  Funny. Jon was asking this poor woman if she wanted to see her family again, but it was Jon who wanted that. So much so, that he was attempting to level with a full-blown psycho. It made no sense to reason with her, but Jon was persistent. He wanted to see his family again and he’d do anything to get it.

  “Hmmmm! Hmmmmm!” Mrs. Cooper’s eyebrows were curled. She was already mad. The parasite was alive and well in her brain, controlling her anger to make her like a rabid dog. It was as if she became hostile faster than before, waking up early for a morning snack. Her body began to rock.

  Jon tried the tape again. Her bite returned. Teeth clacked teeth. He replied by slamming her head down hard into the cement ground, unaware at his own strength. He didn’t want to kill her, but the madness was growing inside of him as the bud of impatience grew into a stem.

  Mrs. Cooper seemed slightly dazed by the thud. Her eyes fluttered for a moment until her bearings returned with more rage. She began to rock more back and forth, back and forth. The parasite was not pleased.

  “Mrs. Cooper!” Jon said, louder now. He was getting close to losing his cool. “Mrs. Cooper, I want you to listen to me! Where are my parents?” He removed the tape. Why he thought he would get an answer instead of a vicious snarl and bite was anyone’s guess.

  He slammed the tape back down with a slap. Her head hit the ground again, this time not as hard. Another flutter. More anger. Jon moved up and placed his knee in the middle of her chest. She flailed. Leaning behind him, he picked up the rifle and presented it to Mrs. Cooper. The orange flashlight’s shine was only strong enough to show the barrel in front of her face.