by Mitch Goth
The Longest Night Ever Lived
An Adventure Comedy Novella
By:
Mitch Goth
The Longest Night Ever Lived
Copyright 2013 Mitch Goth
No portion of this book may be reproduced or reprinted in any medium, or by electronic, mechanical or any other means without the express written consent of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real world events, people, products or places are used in a fictitious manner. Other characters, events, or places are products of imagination and any resemblance to actual people, places or happenings is purely coincidental.
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to the Best Buy employee who sold me the computer I wrote this on. I owe you one, bro.
1
In our younger and more dim-witted years we all did our fair share of stupid things, some of those things brought us great and everlasting tales that we could pass down through our own generations, for better or worse, and some others simply brought us nights spent in jail. This is a story of (miraculously) the former.
Now I wish I could tell you I was a part of this story myself, but I’m afraid I am merely a narrator to this particular piece of prose, and for the reader’s enjoyment as well as a preservation of my personal dignity I will refrain from calling it prose from here on out. It’s a story.
The summer solstice, the longest day of the entire year has befallen the mid-sized town of Woodburn, Wisconsin (don’t Google it, it’s not there). Now, unless you’re a pagan, the summer solstice isn’t a particularly big event in the year. But, certified non-pagan and average-standing Woodburn young adult citizen Cady Steward threw a party every year anyway, perhaps feeling that the shortest night of the whole year should be burned away in the company of others, or maybe it’s just because her parents always go out of town to celebrate the solstice.
It wasn’t by any means uncommon for the only people to attend this solstice party to be her close group of friends, and this year wasn’t any exception. She never planned for anything different, because those were the only people she invited every year anyway. There was her boyfriend of several years, Nate Bray; the Aldrin twins, Mike and Cera; and the well-to-do Taylor Lankin.
As was often his forte, Mike drew the eyes and ears of the small gathering in Cady’s backyard to him. He’d been accompanied this year by a rather impressive cache of illegal fireworks and despite the sun just barely beginning its setting stage he was already setting off the smaller mortars and firecrackers.
Cera and Taylor looked on from a picnic table as Mike let another mortar away and two bright streams of light appeared in the sky and trailed down into the seemingly endless rows of corn that surrounded Cady’s rural home.
“What the hell are you doing?’ Cady strode out of the house, agitated by the sudden ruckus.
“Shooting off fireworks,” Mike replied with a smile, lighting another bundle of firecrackers.
“Why? It’s not the fourth of July for another few weeks.”
“Why do you think? To make this an occasion!”
As much as Cady hated to admit it, her jock-like friend, with his eighties Keanu Reeves haircut, broad shoulders and a letterman jacket stuffed with premium, Illinois bought firepower was right. This was somewhat of a special occasion. For this summer solstice, would very likely be their last. It was a mere fifteen days earlier that they’d all taken the walk across the stage at their high school graduation. Just a few months from then they’d all be off to different corners of the nation, going on to lead lives independent from each other.
“You do realize I have neighbors?” Cady asserted despite her inner belief, brushing a strand of black hair out of her face in a huff.
Mike searched around the area, “Where?” he wondered slyly. “I don’t think the corn stalks mind all that much.”
“They’re a few miles down the road, but I’m sure they can see if not hear those damn fireworks.”
“Lighten up a little bit, Cady, you’re starting to end up like your boyfriend. Speaking of that guy, where did he go off to?”
“He’s in the house helping me, unlike you.”
“Hey,” Mike defended, “they’re not helping either,” he gestured to his sister and Taylor on the nearby table.
Cera, despite the gender difference, was an uncanny match to her brother, her hair was shorter than his and slightly more kept, but there was no doubting their close relation. Her eyes matched her hair and her broadened facial structure showed off a look of dominance, like the face of a wolf that was leader of the pack, or at least wanted to be.
Taylor, from a distance, appeared to be the typical blonde teenager. She was careful to stay up close to the latest clothing and fashion trends and was by no means willing to be easily outshined by her peers in any aspect of her exterior. In addition to this she was the model student, she maintained straight A’s, or so she said, and had been the class president for most of their school tenure.
“Well,” Cady replied, giving the two of them a look, “they’re also not shooting off illegal explosives in my backyard.”
“They also have no intention of helping you,” he added.
She turned to them for assurance.
“Yeah, I’m pretty good just sitting over here,” Taylor agreed. “You should come out and enjoy all this with us, after all, it’s your party.”
“Yeah, it is my party,” Cady mimicked.
“And she’ll cry if she wants to,” Mike added.
At that, Cady trudged back into the house, black locks falling back in front of her face.
“What’s up with her?” he wondered.
“It’s you,” Cera pointed out, “it’s always you.”
“Be nice,” he tossed another firecracker.
“I find it amazing, Mike. You can throw a firecracker like a champ, but when it comes to a football you develop Parkinson’s.”
“What did I just say about being nice?”
“Wait, he can’t throw a football?” Taylor wondered. “I thought he was a star on the school team.”
“He is,” Cera explained, “he can run faster than anyone else, but he’s got a throwing arm like Jell-O.”
“I’m standing right here,” Mike said.
“Maybe this conversation will inspire you to improve on your God awful throwing skills,” his sister chuckled, as did Taylor.
“I hate you guys,” he went back to his firecrackers.
Back in the house, Cady sauntered into the kitchen and sat down with a small sigh next to Nate on one of the stools at her tall island countertop. Discontent showed clearly through her ivy-colored eyes.
“What’s all that noise?” Nate asked.
“Mike is lighting off fireworks,” she answered, running her fingers stressfully through her hair with one hand and biting the nails on the other.
“You need to worry less, you’ll turn into me.”
“That’s exactly what he said.”
“Well maybe he’s right, I’m not exactly a fan of worrying so much about little things.”
“Like whatever it is you did to your hair today?” Cady noticed his seemingly artistically put together sandy colored bed-head look.
“Or my clothes,” he pointed out his greatly matching ensemble of an undone dark dress shirt over an only slightly lighter t-shirt with jeans that somehow matched their blue hue up with the overall stylish darkness of the attire.
“Honestly, how long does all this crap take you?” she inquired, half fearing the answer.
“Longer than it takes Taylor to do whatever it is she does.”
“I don’t know if you’re joking.”
“In that case,” she reached over and shook her hand through his hair. He pulled away but it was far too late to save the modern art hair he’d created, “let’s go outside,” she grinned at him before getting up and heading back out toward the door. After several futile attempts to fix it, Nate gave up with a heavy shrug and followed Cady’s lead.
“Well isn’t this a sight for blind eyes,” Mike exclaimed upon seeing Nate come out into the swiftly vanishing day light.
“That expression doesn’t make any sense,” Cady said crossly as she strolled passed him to go join the others at the picnic table.
“It does if you think about it,” Mike retorted.
“Sweet Jesus,” Nate spoke almost breathlessly, staring at the pile of fireworks sitting on the ground in the middle of the yard.
“Yeah, my uncle owns a pretty nice bomb stand down in Illinois, he hooked us up,” Mike explained.
“Is all of this for tonight?”
“Well, it’s a mixture of tonight, the fourth of July, a wedding in August, Pearl Harbor day, and maybe the winter solstice if the stash holds up.”
“My neighbors are definitely going to call the cops,” Cady called to them.
“Let ‘em call. The cops will come and hang out with us,” Mike replied.
“You know,” Nate said, “I’m not saying that’s probably not going to happen, but that’s definitely not going to happen.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
“I think you’re confusing little faith with no faith again.”
Just then, a distant call coming from the direction of the street cut the conversation short.
“I told you this would happen,” Cady groaned, pointing a finger towards the front of the house.
Nate and Mike walked over to get a view around the house and, sure enough, two of Cady’s older neighbors were working their way across the lawn.
“At least it’s not the cops,” Mike shrugged.
“I’ll take care of this,” Cera hopped up from the table and approached the elderly couple.
“Cera, come on,” Cady objected, but Cera was already gone.
The whole group had seen enough situations like this one to know how they inevitably ended.
“Can I help you?” Cera wondered at the old couple who, in turn, glared back at her through thick spectacles.
“Well we live just a little ways down the road,” the man began, the words seeming to simply fall through his long jowls, “and we would very much appreciate not seeing and hearing those loud fireworks at this time of night.”
“Night?” Cera scoffed at them, pointing to the orange sky behind her, “what do you think that orange thing in the sky is? That’s not the bright glow of God himself as he comes down from the heavens to snatch the life out of you like he rightfully should have done ten years ago, that’s the sun, and when it’s in the sky it’s still technically daytime.”
“I don’t much enjoy being talked to like that, miss,” the man replied begrudgingly. “I certainly didn’t spend thirty years as a priest to be treated this way.”
“You were a priest?”
“Yes, ma’am, I was.”
“I can’t blame you for being religious, I’ve only heard stories about Jesus, you’re probably old enough to have met him.”
“My goodness!” the elderly woman chimed in, appalled.
“Oh, does Mary Magdalene have something to say?” Cera went on confronting the octogenarian couple. “I will break you, woman. I will crack you into two pieces and watch the dust pour out!”
“Good lord!” the man spoke in disgust as the two of them began walking the opposite direction.
“That’s right, walk on back home. You’re only five hundred thousand tiny arthritic steps away!”
Almost as fast as the neighbors had come, they were gone. Wearing a smile of victory, Cera returned to her friends.
“Jesus, Cera, that man’s a priest,” Taylor said, shocked.
“Yeah, they’re definitely calling the cops as soon as they get home,” Nate figured.
“Nice going, Cera, my family’s never going to get a Christmas card from them again,” Cady added. “They’re such nice people too. They always sent a batch of homemade cookies with the cards. And their dog always wore a Santa hat for the picture. I hope you’re happy, because that’s all over.”
“Do you see why I keep her around?” Mike wondered, mirroring his sister’s grin. “She can solve any interpersonal problem.”
“How was that solving the problem? She berated two well meaning old people,” Nate responded in a harsh puzzlement.
“It’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it,” Cera explained smugly.
“Literally nobody needs to do that job,” Cady shook her head.
“There is one job that does need doing,” Mike interjected, “firework launcher, c’mon Nate.”
“What do you need me for?”
“Well, I don’t have any bottles for the bottle rockets, so I just need you to hold onto them until they launch.”
“I need an aspirin,” Nate rubbed his forehead.
“Seconded,” Cady agreed.
With that, they both got up and headed back to the house to search for the headache pills.
“You guys are gonna miss out on some quality firepower,” Mike called to them, fidgeting with a pile of bottle rockets.
“Why do you need to be so mean spirited all the time?” Taylor wondered at Cera.
“Why do you need to ask so many questions?” Cera replied.
“I asked one question, how is one ‘so many’?”
“Now you’ve asked two questions.”
“Well why don’t you answer my first one?”
“That’s three.”
“Can you stop counting my questions, please?”
“Four.”
“Damn it!”
“Well, if it’ll make you feel good, I’ll answer your first one. I feel the need to be mean because I think it’s the surest way to get ahead in life,” Cera explained.
“Do you really believe that or are you just trying to seem tough?”
“Five.”
“I hate you,” Taylor sighed spitefully.
“I know.”
“Well, in my opinion, you could catch more bears with honey,” Taylor suggested.
“Why would you want to catch bears?”
“That’s one question for you,” Taylor said slyly. “How many does that make?”
“One for me, six for you.”
“Wasn’t I at five?”
“That’s seven for you.”
“Shit!”
Just then, a loud bang cut through their conversation. They both jolted forward and shot angry looks at Mike, but he seemed oddly surprised.
“Maybe a little warning next time, Mike,” Cera snipped at him.
“That wasn’t me,” he exclaimed, “that came from the front yard.”
“Did the old people come back?” Taylor asked.
Before anybody could answer, a slew of ear shattering bangs rang out in quick succession.
In a flash, Nate came sprinting out of the house with Cady right at his heels. They were yelling something, but no one could hear them over the racket.
Almost instinctively, Mike picked up a Roman candle from the pile and lit the long stick. He took a few steps around the far end of the house and aimed the firework towards the front yard. One ball of fire exploded from the rod and exploded in the front yard. But before he could get another accurate shot in, he ducked for cover and a few ears of corn on nearby stalks began exploding. They’d been struck by something, bullets.
Seeing the corn stalks burst apart Cera ran around the near side of the house in hopes of surpassing whoever was coming around the other side. She was only a few steps into her fleeing when Cady’s eye caught her. In an instant she was in hot pursuit, hoping to stop her friend from sprinting into the line of fire.
“Get to the corn!” Mike yelled as another fireball came from the candle. After that no more light came from the firework and he resorted to throwing the empty cardboard tube at a dark figure that was just making its way into the backyard.
Nate watched in confusion as Taylor sprinted in long strides and faded into the stalks. He looked around for Cady or Cera, they were nowhere in sight. Before he could continue his stationary search, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him away and into the cornfields. After a moment of processing he realized Mike had come back to save him from his deaf and confused stupor. But, upon another swift search through the corn, he couldn’t see anyone else. Taylor was in the field somewhere, but he had no idea where Cera or Cady had gone.
After what felt like nearly a half mile of sprinting through the stalks, the two of them stopped to catch their breath. Nate was the first to look up. He could barely see over the corn, and a mixture of the wind blowing through the tall plants and the ringing still in his ear, he couldn’t hear anything resembling a voice. He couldn’t even hear gunshots anymore.
Just as Mike rose up as well, a figure came rushing through the field and crashed hard into him. It was a heavily winded and shuttering Taylor.
“What the fuck just happened?” she wondered as her and Mike got up from the ground. “Did the old people come back?”
“Those weren’t the old people, they had guns, I saw ‘em,” Mike replied.
“Who the hell were they then?” she asked frantically.
“I have no clue, no earthly idea.”
“Guys,” Nate interrupted, “did either of you see Cady or Cera go into the corn?”
“No,” Mike shook his head.
“I saw them go towards the front of the house,” Taylor said.
“So they’re dead?” Nate replied.
“That’s a bit of a big conclusion to jump to,” Mike said.
“Is it, Mike? You heard all that shooting. What are we supposed to think?”
“Positive thoughts, at least.”
“This is not exactly a time for that!”
“Hold on,” Mike stopped the argument, feeling at his pocket, “my phone’s ringing,” he pulled it out a looked at it. “It’s Cera,” he said with a smile. Without wasting a moment he answered it and put it on speakerphone.
“Mike?” Cera’s voice came through.
“Cera!” Mike replied. “Jesus Christ, where are you guys? Nate thought you were dead.”
“Well, thanks Nate.”
“Where are you?” Taylor reiterated, getting the conversation swiftly back on track.
“We got caught, we’re in the back of some van.”
“Do you guys know where you’re going?” Taylor wondered.
“Yes the damn kidnappers gave us the exact coordinates of where we’re headed. No I don’t know where we’re going!”
“That’s my girl,” Mike said with pride.
“Is Cady there?” Nate asked.
“Nate?” Cady’s voice came over the phone.
“Cady! You’re okay!”
“Yeah, we’re both fine for the time being.”
“Who the hell did all this?”
“Was it the old people?” Taylor inquired. Nate shot her a glare.
“I don’t know who, they’re speaking a different language.”
“Do you know where from?” Nate tried to get as much information as he could.
“Hold on, I think we stopped.”
“Already?” Mike said, puzzled, “you must still be in town.”
“Sounds like we’re in a building or a garage or something.”
“Can you see anything? Are there any windows?” Nate questioned frantically.
Just then, the phone clicked and the signal went dead without another noise.
“Okay,” Mike nodded slowly, “they’re still alive, and they’re in town.”
“For now,” Taylor added nervously.
“So what the hell do we do? Call the cops?” Nate figured.
“No way,” Mike disagreed.
“What the hell do you mean ‘no way’? That’s your sister out there.”
“Haven’t you ever seen that cop show about the first forty-eight hours, man? Cops need two days to get an investigation rolling, I don’t think we have time for that.”
“Damn it, Mike, this isn’t television!”
“That’s how it is everywhere, trust me. If we’re going to find them, we need to do some of this shit ourselves. They’re somewhere close, but they might not be there for long.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Taylor wondered. “We hunt through town by ourselves looking for a group of psychopaths with automatic weapons who are holding our friends hostage?”
“That’s about the gist of it, yeah.”
“I just want to go on the record as saying not calling the cops is a terrible idea,” Nate said.
“Look, we’ll call the cops soon, we just need some time to at least give them something more to work on than what we’ve got. If we can get like a license plate number or a description of one of the guys or something, that’ll increase our chances, don’t you think?” Mike replied.
“Guys,” Taylor interjected, “I think our first plan should be a way out of this corn field.”
The three of them craned their heads over the stalks and scanned around. Only corn as far as the eye could see.
“Well,” Mike sighed, relaxing back to his normal height, “shit.”
2
