The Darkest Time of Night

by Jeremy Finley

  “Some of them make bad storms.”

  He turned the page. More stick figures, but this time standing with crudely drawn cows cut in half among what I thought at first was weeds, but then realized were plants with yellowed seeds in the ground.

  “Some of them make our food so it’s bad for us to eat.”

  The next picture was especially disturbing to know my grandson had drawn. One stick figure stood on a hill while people below were shooting at each other. A red crayon had been used to draw the blood.

  “Some of them … just make other people so mad they fight and hurt each other. And then the rest … make people get sick. Just to see how well it all works. And when the tests are done, they’ll flip the switch, and they’ll all do it at the same time.”

  “But we’ve seen time and time again it doesn’t happen to everyone,” the man said, clearly thinking out loud in exasperation. “Why? Why only trigger some people and not all? What’s the tactic?”

  William waved his little hand across the picture. “Some get turned on now. Some get turned on at the end, when everyone is in place. They’re supposed to be all over the world; that was their plan. The ones that get triggered now … the monsters wanted to see what each one of them could do on their own, how far … uh … their…”

  “Range?”

  “Range would reach.” William snapped his fingers. “That’s the plan. The monsters pick us up, put the bump in our heads, drop us back off, and then go back to the stars for a while. But this time, when they returned to see where everyone was, they found out you messed up their tests. They’re so mad.”

  He then pulled out the last picture. Another stick figure, this time of a man shaking, his mouth shaped like an O and his eyes forced shut. Arrows rained down in a single line from the stars to the man’s head, all while he held his hands over his ears in obvious pain. Once again, a red crayon indicated blood, this time seeping between the man’s fingers.

  “I don’t want them to flip my switch. They showed me how it hurts your head, how your ears bleed. How the sound is so loud in your head, you can’t hear anything else. Have you seen it happen to the people here?”

  “We have, to some of them. We try to keep them away from everyone when it starts. We want to find a way to stop it, or maybe even prevent it.”

  “That will only make them madder if you do that.”

  The man rubbed his face. “You keep saying that. How do you know they’re so mad?”

  William finally looked up. “Because they’re coming back for us.”

  The room rocked again.

  I rushed to my feet, carrying the open computer to use as a light source. I have to get him. I have to get him out.

  I shone the computer light along the wall to the corner, and then over the door frame. I found the handle. I might have to get under it to see if there’s some way to loosen it—

  When I yanked down on the handle, the door immediately opened. When the power went out, all the automatic locks had been shut off as well.

  Good God, Lynn! Wanting to throw the computer in frustration with myself for not thinking of that earlier, I instead set it down and shoved the door open, stepping out to strange, multicolored lights beginning to flicker through sparse windows. I inhaled sharply, seeing the hallway jammed with people all wearing the same gray pajamas, wandering or standing still.

  I rushed through them, nearly colliding with a man who was pacing, a look of utter confusion on his face. I thought of the dozens of rooms I’d passed before finding William; people without memories, already unable to remember how to do anything, now completely confused as to what was happening.

  I edged along the wall. 216, 215, 214, 213, 212—

  I seized the handle and pushed open the door. “William?”

  “Yes?” a small voice came from the blackness.

  “Honey, it’s your nanna. I’m here in the door. Can you come to me?”

  I expected him to hesitate, but in a moment be was right in front of me.

  “My sweet boy.” I knelt down to hug him.

  “Why did they take me away from you? Josh said that we were going to play UNO until it was time for bed, but then everything started shaking and he ran out and the doors locked. I hate it when the doors lock at night. Why are all the lights out? Why is everything shaking?”

  “I don’t know, honey, but I really want to go. Let’s go find Miss Cliff.”

  “What if they find us again? Will they take me away from you? Hey, those other boys in that picture you gave me, do they like Transformers?”

  “They love Transformers. And they have dozens of them, and you can play with all of them as much as you want. But we have to go.”

  He let me take his hand and step out into the hall.

  “Why is everyone out of their rooms?” he asked. “I wonder if my friends are out too. They’re in a different building. My room used to be there until they moved me over here tonight.”

  I can’t go for them too, I thought in despair. All those children whose parents don’t know they’re still alive.

  The lights dimly came back on, and the doors down the hallway started to beep again. Down to the first floor, then the tunnel. I reached the staircase door and turned the handle.

  A panel underneath the “Staircase” sign flashed red. I yanked the handle again, and the red flash repeated. They lock them in, all of them on this floor. The staff can come in, but no one goes out without the code.

  “What’s wrong?” William asked.

  I looked at my hand, my writing now completely smudged.

  “Honey, is there another way out of this hallway? Another staircase?”

  William shrugged. “I think so. I remember seeing it once. Don’t know where, though.”

  I moved us down the hallway. Most of the patients didn’t appear to even notice us. I checked the sign next to every door, hoping one might to lead to a staircase, anything to lead us out.

  Five doors down from us, there was a long beep, and three men in white scrubs emerged from a room. I swept William into the crowd of patients.

  “Jesus, they’re all out!” said the first man. “Round them up and hurry, before the power goes out again. Tony, go right to room 220, make sure she’s still in there—”

  The building shook and the lights dimmed, but the power stayed on. I guided William slowly towards the wall, thankful for the slow-moving, clogged group around us. I watched as one of the workers stuck his clipboard in the door to keep it from closing and then hurried down to the other end of the hall, followed by the two others, who began to usher the patients into rooms.

  I lifted William into my arms. Please don’t turn around, please don’t see us.

  I reached the door, caught it with my foot and held the clipboard. I quietly slipped through the door and put the clipboard back in place. Through the slight gap, I heard one of the men call out from down the hall, “She’s not in the room!”

  I ignored my throbbing knee and hurried down the hallway. This wing was just as stark, but with no windows and no patients wandering about. I frantically scanned each of the nameplates.

  The building rocked, and William cried out as the lights went off. We’ll never know which door leads to a staircase now.

  He began to cry, and I held him close, my arm beginning to ache with his weight. “Don’t you worry, I’m with you,” I whispered in his ear. “Won’t you walk with me? Hold my hand?”

  Keep moving. Put as much distance between you and those men as you can.

  The hall was almost pitch black. I took William’s right hand and used my other hand to feel along the wall. I reached one door, opened it and could tell immediately from the smell of cleaning supplies it was a closet. I moved on, opening the next, and again could sense it wasn’t open enough for a stairwell. I slid my hand along the wall and came to a sharp turn. Oh God, another hallway, we’ll never find our way—

  I almost fell on the first step, and yanked William back.

  There
’s no door. There must be no patients on this wing.

  I lifted him again. “Nanna’s going to carry you, baby, down the stairs.”

  “I’m not a baby,” he grumbled.

  “No, you’re Nanna’s big boy, but I don’t want you to fall,” I said, feeling out with each footstep.

  After several stairs, the floor stopped dropping, and I followed the railing to another landing and another flight. I knew if we moved too fast, we would tumble into the dark.

  When the railing ended, I reached out with my foot and felt no more decline. I set William down and reached out for the wall, following it to an angle and then a slight crevice. Finally, I reached a cold door handle.

  “Don’t go out there,” whispered a voice from the dark.

  I whirled around, a protective hand holding William back.

  “Don’t do it,” said the voice again, originating from under the stairs. The light from the screen of a phone flashed briefly across the face of Deanna Ruck.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered back.

  “They’re out there. They’re in the hospital.” The panic in her voice was so thick that I squeezed William’s shoulder.

  “What do you mean?”

  I heard it then, the click of a safety going off on a handgun. In the light of the phone, I saw her pointing her gun directly at us.

  “Stay away from us,” I said.

  I hear her cock the pistol. “Don’t go out there!” she begged.

  I opened the door and rushed William through.

  “Why is she hiding under the stairs?” he asked.

  I began to hush him when I nearly tripped, reaching out to steady myself on the wall. In dim, pulsing lights coming from down the hall, I could make out a shape on the floor. A long semiautomatic weapon lay just beyond the motionless body of the soldier who had come into the room to summon Deanna.

  To the left of the body was another soldier, bent in an unnatural way, his face turned towards us, eyes open but not blinking. Crouched over that second soldier, something turned towards us.

  At first, I thought it held the tip of another rifle, for something long extended from its arm. Then it twitched—too long and too curved to be a barrel. Several other membranes then moved alongside it.

  William started to scream.

  It rose to its full size, about a foot shorter than me. If it had a color, I couldn’t recognize it, for it seemed to constantly change. For one moment, it was the camouflage of the soldier’s uniforms; for the briefest of seconds, it bore the face of the dead man sprawled before it.

  “The people in the sky change color,” my five-year-old self had said in the video.

  Then, that face was gone, morphing into almond eyes under a large, smooth forehead. It lacked a nose, had only a tiny lipless mouth above a pointed chin.

  It was a face I had seen drawn by people all over the world.

  Its head tilted sharply, its eyes without pupils, and for a moment, William’s terrified face reflected in its inky eyes. Then it turned to me, made a clicking sound, and it gave me the same stare.

  I began to feel it. A numbing in the back of my head. It was an almost calming feeling, all of the anxiety I had felt for days starting to drain away. William wasn’t screaming anymore, either. My shoulders relaxed, and my fingers let go of his hand—

  I immediately reached back down and snatched his fingers, shaking my head, trying to clear my suddenly cloudy thoughts.

  I felt the numbness again, this time stronger than before. The creature had moved closer to us now, making the clicking sound more intensely.

  A kind of comfort I hadn’t felt since childhood swept over me, and the hallway around me vanished in a wash of white light.

  From the light came Daddy.

  He held my left hand so firmly that I could feel the calluses on his skin. In my other hand, I carried a purple balloon that danced above us. I could taste the cotton candy, smell the diesel fuel from the rides, hear the laughter from the crowd

  “I knew you’d love the fair,” Daddy said.

  I tugged at him to leave the midway, pointing towards the livestock tent. He happily obliged, laughing as I wrinkled my nose at the scent of hay and manure. I shooed away the goat that chewed on the hem of my dress, and grinned at the baby pigs squealing and running in circles around their slumbering mother. We wandered over to the cows, and I reached over the divider to pet the coarse, white hair—

  In a flash of light, a cow was on its side, split open. Not the cow from the tent, but a different one, lying on a vast sea of grass. In its open mouth, I could see its tongue had been removed. Other incisions riddled its body.

  I wanted to scream, but realized I wasn’t there.

  I was the inside the alien’s memory.

  It stood over the mutilated animal, observing an angular box with strange writing hovering over the animal. With a motion of the creature’s hand, a searing red light from the box continued to slice into the cow’s abdomen, precisely removing the skin to expose the small intestine.

  When the incision was finished, a rapid series of flashing lights penetrated the wound. I desperately wanted to look away but my gaze was fixed, horribly tied to the alien’s examination of the animal’s organs—

  A searing shot of white light, and Daddy helped me into the car.

  “Don’t let go of my balloon,” I said.

  Daddy had eased it into the backseat, making sure it and the string were safely inside before he shut the door.

  I leaned back against the seat, looking at the carnival lights through the window. I was stuffed with funnel cake and French fries, and was beginning to feel drowsy. As my eyelids drooped, my eyes adjusted, and I could see my own face reflected in the window. On my rounded cheek, was a dab of ketchup from that delicious hotdog—

  From the blast of light, came a face so similar to mine that there was no doubt he was my grandson.

  The creature stood above William as he lay on the triangular table, a webbing of sorts covering his body. Lights pulsated behind the boy’s head.

  The creature leaned him over and clicked. Once more, I shared its memory.

  Each has a role, it thought as it studied William’s face. Summon the storm, bring the disease, damage the food, start the war. But not you. You are different. You are the center. You are the nerve system. You are our conduit. You will unite them all. You are the final stage—

  A softer white light, but still just as jarring, showed Daddy opening the door for me. “Did you fall asleep, sweet girl?”

  “Uh huh,” I muttered from the backseat.

  “Come on, let’s get your pajamas on,” he said, lifting me.

  I snuggled into the collar of his shirt, smelling pipe smoke, fried fair food, and aftershave. I held him tight, and he squeezed me in return. With Mama gone, he was my whole world.

  It had been such a fun night. I didn’t get a stuffed animal, but I did get—

  “My balloon!” I cried out.

  He turned and I lifted my head, seeing the balloon, starting to already lose some of its helium, drift into the trees.

  “Daddy, we have to get it,” I whined.

  He paused for a moment. “No, Lynn. It’s just a balloon.”

  “It’s not!” I reached for it. “Daddy, you won me that balloon.”

  “No, Lynnie,” Daddy pulled back so our faces were just an inch apart. “We never, ever go into the woods.”

  Never go in the woods.

  I jerked my head back, breaking the creature’s hold. The hallway in the hospital came into clear view, along with a clarity that nearly brought me to my knees.

  Summon the storm, bring the disease, damage the food, start the war.

  The creature stood just a foot away. On seeing my dazed expression, it began to click again.

  I knew what it wanted. From me, from all the returned.

  It began to click faster, its head tilting. It stepped forward to where there was only a few inches between us.

 
All it needed was a few memories more, to determine what they’d put in me. What they sent me back to do.

  What weapon I carried within me.

  “No!” I cried out. “Stay away!”

  I stumbled back, trying to steady myself. I awkwardly swept up William and blundered down the other side of the hallway, ignoring the screaming pain in my knee. The further I moved away, the sharper my thoughts became.

  We’re their weapons. Whatever they put in us, whatever we carry in us, they activate and watch the chaos unfold.

  William’s drawings flashed through my head like videos on the evening news. The unexplained rise in hurricanes, tornadoes, cancer, and even deadly allergies to food—science struggled to understand why.

  It was all by design. Our world is where they test these weapons.

  And whatever they planned to do in the end, it said William was the final stage.

  They cannot have him. Whatever happens, I have to get him out.

  The frantic, strobelike lights made me feel as if I could go crashing into a wall at any moment, but I kept running. The lights were growing brighter now, coming through wide glass windows of the room beyond.

  The hallway led into a lobby. Several men in heavy camouflage coats, their rifles pulled up to their shoulders, ran past the windows outside. The light fell on the drifting snow, making it look like it was raining confetti.

  William was still entranced. I carried him to the glass entrance doors and waited a moment for them to open.

  The power’s out, they won’t open.

  I set William down and tried to pry the doors open at the seam. “Come on,” I pleaded.

  Through the glass I saw a man, standing a yard or so away. He wore a heavy coat and a sock hat and stared up at where the light originated, transfixed by whatever he saw.

  “Joe!” I cried out, banging on the glass. “Joe!”

  I even saw his massive truck parked nearby, its plow covered with a layer of snow. “Joe!” I said, striking the glass repeatedly.

  He continued to stare, his eyes wide, the lights spilling over his face. He isn’t even blinking.

  The lights in the lobby came roaring back on. I hurried to stand before the doors.