Kingdom Come

by Michelle Smith

  My cheeks heated. “I know him,” I said, looking down at the cement floor. “Kind of, anyway.”

  Ethan lifted a warm hand to wipe at my cheek. “You’re bleeding,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”

  I flinched a little at the contact, but felt strangely okay with him being the one touching me. “I’m fine. Promise.”

  “Can someone please tell us what’s going on?” Nate asked. With his rumpled clothes and blonde hair sticking up every which way, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. “And why are we the only ones in here? Aren’t there like, fifty other people in this hellhole?”

  He was right. My heart clenched and I looked to the ceiling, wondering just how many people were left up there. When I fell into the room minutes earlier, it sounded like the walls were about to collapse. What had happened since I’d been down here?

  “You’re the only ones I was able to gather in time,” Dr. Fowler said. “This storm was designed to take the world by surprise. Everyone else . . . well, there’s no telling what’s going on up there right now. I’d venture to say it is horrific. Something of nightmares.” He cast a glance in my direction.

  “Who is ‘the boy’?” Danny asked, taking a step toward the doctor. “A minute ago, you said ‘the boy actually did it.’” Dr. Fowler remained silent, so Danny looked back to me. “What about you? You got any answers?”

  “Why would I know anything?” I snapped.

  “Please.” He scoffed. “Just because you don’t talk doesn’t mean we don’t know what your deal is. Everyone around here knows you ‘see things,’” he said with air quotes. “Any truth to that? Or are you just as nuts as the rest of us?”

  I narrowed my eyes, wondering just how difficult it would be to smack the stupid out of him. That was possible, right? What was I supposed to say? Why yes, I’ve had terrifying dreams of my own death for a while now. Oh, and I saw this exact same scene play out in my dream last night, actually. No biggie. That would go over really well.

  “I don’t know anything,” I said. “I’m not psychic. I just . . .” I rolled my eyes, growing more frustrated by the second, before deciding to just blurt it out. “I have dreams, okay? Most of them are about the future, about things that eventually happen. But I don’t know when, or where. Not until they come true.”

  “Well, that makes a lot of sense,” Nate said.

  “And let me guess,” Danny said with a smirk. “You’ve been having dreams of big, bad storms, right?” Even though every muscle in my body urged me to jump up and give him a good right hook to the nose, I simply nodded. “Wow. You really are nuts.”

  “Shut it,” Ethan snapped, jumping to his feet and crossing the space between them. “She just fell down a flight of stairs. Can’t you see she’s shaken up?”

  “If she knows something we don’t, then I think we have a right to hear it,” Nate said. He stepped to Danny’s side. “Maybe she could be of some use instead of rocking back and forth like a mental case over there.”

  “And I think she has a right to keep to herself if she damn well pleases,” Ethan retorted. “She doesn’t owe you anything, you douche.”

  “I just want to know why the hell this guy” —Danny pointed to Dr. Fowler, who was pacing the room— “is all doom and gloom and herded us down here like a bunch of cattle. It’s a little storm. Big fucking deal.”

  “It’s not a little storm,” a small voice said. Haven stepped forward to join the guys. “Storms like this don’t happen this time of year. They just don’t. This is big.” Something crashed above us, silencing everyone. Even Danny, in all his tough guy glory, jumped.

  “She’s right,” Dr. Fowler said. He shook his head, appearing to be in a slight state of shock as he sat on top of a step stool. “And this is only the beginning, I’m afraid. Heaven help us.”

  Ethan and I shared a look of worry before he asked, “The beginning of what?”

  “The beginning of the end,” the doctor replied.

  “As in . . .” I prompted.

  Dr. Fowler looked to me then, and his next words were spoken with regret. “As in the apocalypse, my dear girl.”

  Danny and Nate burst into laughter, but my eyes widened. “The . . . apocalypse?” I whispered. Say what?

  “Oh man,” Nate said through his laughter. “This is rich. I gotta hear this.” He plopped onto the floor, sprawling his legs out in front of him as his head dropped back against the wall with a thump. He closed his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. “Let us have it, old man.”

  “The asshole on the floor has a point,” Ethan said. “You can’t just throw out something like that and not give us an explanation.”

  Thunder crackled once again, and the light flickered in and out as the doctor scanned the room. Danny settled on the floor beside Nate, and Haven stood against the wall with her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. I was holding up the wall just fine where I sat, content to not move an inch. Maybe if I didn’t move, I’d wake up from this nightmare. That was the only reasonable explanation for this . . . this insanity. It was just another dream. Another drift into the crazy fantasy world where my brain took me once in a while.

  “Doc?” Ethan asked. “What is this?”

  Dr. Fowler sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t even know that I can share. Confidentiality still ap—”

  “Wait, no,” I interrupted. “Screw confidentiality.” His eyes widened, and even Ethan gaped at me. “I’m just saying, if there’s even a hint of truth to this, then I think that’s a pretty good exception to your ethics.”

  The doctor stared at me for a beat longer before nodding once. “There was a boy I treated,” he began in a grave tone. “A few years back. He’s just a little older than you all; about twenty or twenty-one now, I believe.” He paused and looked at me pointedly. “He had dreams. Vivid dreams of destruction, and of death.”

  “And people thought he was crazy,” I reasoned. I knew that feeling all too well, but the doctor shook his head.

  “Quite the contrary,” he replied. “His parents knew his dreams went deeper than how others saw them. They knew the dreams were, in fact, visions.”

  “Visions. So he was psychic? He could predict the future?”

  “Visions don’t necessarily work that way, as I’m sure you’re aware, my dear.”

  “Wait—me?” My words came out in a squeak. “I have dreams. Crazy dreams, yes, but dreams. They’re not . . . they’re not visions.” Were they?

  “That’s not all, and I think you know that,” he said. “Bennett had perfected the art of portraying a sense of normalcy, if you will. Those on the outside saw him as an average teenage boy. However, once his parents placed him here as a last resort, I became well aware that he was a deeply troubled young man.”

  “He was crazy,” Nate said with a glance in my direction. I bit my lip to keep from barking out a comeback. He deserved it, but I wanted to hear more of this story, darn it.

  “Not crazy,” Dr. Fowler insisted. “Brilliant. Dangerously so, in fact. You see, his parents were concerned about a part of their family’s history that Bennett had taken an interest in from a very young age. This interest evolved into an obsession over the years.” He paused and took a deep breath. “It was a set of scrolls, which had been in their family for centuries.”

  “Like the Dead Sea Scrolls?” Haven asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “No, but I suppose you’re on the right track. These scrolls . . . according to the stories, they bring forth soldiers. Soldiers of the apocalypse.”

  “But I thought those were horsemen?” Haven cut in again, tilting her head to the side with a thoughtful expression. “The ones in the book of Revelation, right?”

  Danny snorted. “And here I thought you were some Devil worshipper or something, Vamp Girl.” Haven shot him a glare.

  “That’s the Biblical interpretation,” Dr. Fowler said. “But this is different. I have a limited understanding, but according to what I know, there’s only on
e person who can open these scrolls. This person then becomes the ruler of the world, so to speak.”

  “I would assume so, being that he’s controlling the apocalypse and all.” Danny thudded his head back against the wall. It was clear he thought this was a bunch of BS, and I couldn’t blame him. Scrolls, soldiers, the actual apocalypse? It sounded more than a little insane. Maybe Dr. Fowler should’ve been a patient instead of, you know, our doctor.

  “And this guy thought it was him?” Ethan asked. “He thought he was the one and only who could open these things? These scrolls?”

  The doctor nodded. “Yes.”

  Ethan waved toward the ceiling. “And you’re saying it’s him doing this now? You think he’s making it storm? That’s supposed to be the end of the world? Because it seems a little anticlimactic, if you ask me.”

  “I’ve done as much research on the subject as possible,” Dr. Fowler said. “There isn’t much that can be found, given the Andreas family has kept this under wrap for centuries. It’s a deeply buried family secret that most members have taken to their graves.”

  The light bulb flickered again, and the doctor took that as his cue to walk over to one of the storage shelves. He grabbed three small battery-powered lanterns and placed them by his step stool before sitting down again.

  “There are four scrolls,” he continued. “Each scroll is opened seven days apart—no sooner, no later. Even a minute’s difference in the timing will destroy the entire process. The final scroll can only be opened on New Year’s Day—symbolic of a new beginning, if you will. Given this, the first scroll must be opened—”

  “On December eleventh,” Ethan finished. Danny mumbled something under his breath, to which Ethan shrugged. “What? You can’t do math?”

  “So, what do we do now?” Nate asked. “Just sit around and wait for the world to crash down around us?

  For the first time, Dr. Fowler looked angry. Frustrated. Shaking his head, he answered, “No. No, I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

  “What?” Danny asked through a laugh. “You plannin’ on turning into some superhero and stopping it? Whatever the hell ‘it’ is?”

  “It can be stopped,” the doctor replied. “The first scroll has been opened. There are three that now remain. Any interruption in the process will be to its detriment. If I find Bennett, then he can be stopped. It will be no easy feat, though . . .”

  He stood and walked toward the wall, his back to us. “The storm won’t be over anytime soon,” he said, turning around. “I have some thinking to do. I suggest pulling up a comfortable patch of floor and settling in. I dare say, we’re in for one heck of a night.”

  “You’ve officially lost your damn mind,” Nate said. “That’s got to be the craziest bunch of bullsh—”

  “What, we’re just gonna sleep here?” Danny interrupted. “With no blankets or anything? And then what?”

  At that, thunder shook the entire room, silencing us. The light flickered, and seconds later, went out for good. With a click, the doctor flipped the switch on one of the lanterns he’d picked up.

  “We’re going to do all we can do, from this moment forward,” he said, his face illuminated by the soft light. “Survive.”

  Chapter 3

  Silence enveloped the room. Survive played on repeat in my head, and the absurdity of our situation started settling in. The six of us stared at one another for a few minutes before Nate broke the silence with a scoff and made a beeline in my direction.

  “This is ridiculous,” he said, nearly stepping on my foot once he reached the stairs. “I guarantee that things have calmed down by now.”

  “I highly recommend staying down here,” Dr. Fowler called out, but he made no move toward Nate. Instead, he only watched as Nate climbed the stairs. It must not have been too bad out there if he wasn’t dragging him back down, right? He wouldn’t possibly allow a patient to get hurt. That had to be against some kind of rule.

  I watched Nate approach the door, curious as to what would happen. Was the doctor as loony as the rest of us? Or was he right?

  The very second Nate turned the handle, the door burst open, taking him right along with it as he yelled. I shrieked and jumped to my feet, and Ethan pushed past me to charge up the steps. My heart raced as I followed him, but stopped short when he pulled Nate back toward the staircase. Between the two of them, they barely managed to pull the door shut. As Nate stumbled down the steps, panting for breath, Ethan secured the deadbolt on the door and turned back to us with wide, frantic eyes.

  “Holy shit,” Nate said with a wheeze. He leaned over to put both hands on his knees. “Son of a bitch.”

  Dr. Fowler cleared his throat. “I hate to say I told you so.” He shook his head and lowered himself to sit on the step stool once again. “Moves like that, at a time such as this, are a good way to get yourself killed. As I was saying—make yourselves comfortable.”

  Nate, who seemed to have regained a bit of his fire, stomped down the stairs and back to his place beside Danny, who clapped him on the back a couple of times. The two of them took seats on the floor, as did Haven. I followed suit, sitting down at the foot of the stairs with my back against the wall. A moment later, Ethan sat next to me, leaving only an inch or so of space between us. He looked the same as I remembered, but there was something different about his eyes. They looked older, in a way. They looked like they held stories, stories that were buried deep down and haunted him.

  “How long is this supposed to last?” Danny asked after a long silence. The contempt his voice once held was gone. Now, he sounded scared. Paranoid. “A day? A week?”

  “As long as it wants to last,” Dr. Fowler replied.

  I narrowed my eyes, having had enough of his sudden short answers. When I opened my mouth to tell him just that, he spoke again.

  “While each soldier is given at least twenty-four hours to do as he pleases, each phase lasts one week. So, in theory, this particular storm can continue as long as it wishes until the next scroll is broken. Then, a new form of destruction commences.”

  Soldiers of the apocalypse. Ancient scrolls in the hands of some guy barely older than me. And the world crashing down around us. The doctor should have a mental evaluation of his own.

  Danny scoffed. “How do we even know—”

  “Can we please tone down the hostility in here?” Haven drew her knees to her chest. She was huddled in a corner, looking like a frightened puppy. “Can’t we just do like he said and rest? I’m exhausted, Danny. You’re tired and crankier than usual, and it’s not even night yet. And I don’t know about you, but my brain needs time to process all of this without a bunch of yelling.”

  The room became silent again at her request, and while I craved more answers, she was right. It wouldn’t do much good to keep probing someone who obviously didn’t want to elaborate; though for what reason, I had no idea. I could only hope we’d either get out of this room soon, or that he’d tell us more of what he knew.

  “So.” Ethan’s low voice interrupted me from my thoughts, and I turned to look at him. His lips turned up into a tiny smile. “I’m guessing you remember me?”

  His question confused me, and then I remembered admitting to “kind of” knowing him just a few minutes earlier. I managed a smile and nodded. It would have been hard to forget him. He was the only kid in our class who came to school with fresh bruises every day, yet acted as if nothing was out of sorts.

  “And I guess that means you remember me?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s only been a few months since I last saw you. I think I’d be a little insulted if you forgot about me that quickly. I’m sure the feeling’s mutual.”

  I laughed lightly, which he returned with a smile so warm it darn near melted me on the spot. Just like that, it almost felt as if we were the only ones left in the room. However, a loud hacking cough from Nate reminded me that wasn’t the case. I shivered from the mental image of what just happened, of how he was almost another victim of whatever
was going on. Just like Dr. Tyler . . . I forced her blood-streaked face from my memory. I had no idea exactly what was taking place above our room. All I knew was that the wind still howled loud enough to be heard through the cement walls surrounding us.

  “Junior year feels like ages ago,” I said. “But you’re right—it’s only been a few months since then. You left in . . . what was it? April?”

  The breath-taking smile wavered. He cleared his throat while repositioning himself, crossing his legs out in front of him. “Yeah,” he said under his breath. “April.”

  Realizing he didn’t want to elaborate, I lowered my voice and asked, “What do you think?” I nodded toward Dr. Fowler. “About what he said, I mean. You think there’s any truth to it?”

  The tension lifted with the topic change. With a glance in the doctor’s direction, Ethan shrugged. “He really seems to believe it,” he said. “But I don’t know. I mean, this is all pretty far-fetched. Honestly, I think he may have read one too many fantasy books. Come on—he tells us the world’s ending, then just says ‘go to sleep’? Who does that?”

  I snorted. He had a point. But when I looked at the doctor, who appeared to be deep in thought, I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. “What about this guy he says he treated? The one supposedly doing all this? That’s a lot to make up. Pretty extravagant story, you know?”

  Ethan shrugged again. “I have no idea what to think. For now? I’m just planning on riding out this storm for the rest of the day, night, whatever. Guess we’ll see what happens in the morning.” He reached over to rub his thumb across the cut on my cheek. Even though his touch was feather soft, my skin still tingled once his hand dropped to his side.

  “You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  “I’m okay.” The words came out in some kind of weird gurgle, like I’d forgotten how to talk. He bit back a smile, but didn’t mention my newfound idiocy. Brownie point for him. “Besides, the cuts probably make me look tougher, right?”