Jeremy Finley - The Darkest Time of Night

I came to a door with a black sign reading “Stairwell.” I entered, cringing at the echo of my footsteps.

On the second floor, I peered out, seeing another empty hallway. I had no idea what time it was, but the storm must have emptied the place. The rooms here had no plates, only numbered plastic containers holding files and papers.

The windows in these doors were mostly dark, but as I walked, I saw one man sitting at a desk, his head resting on top of his arm. I stopped, wondering if I should knock. When he failed to move at all, I kept walking. Another window in another door revealed a woman standing directly in front of a wall, staring. I could feel the desolation without having to enter.

I started counting: twenty, forty, eighty rooms. I grew sadder with each step, as there were only first names on the folders; names likely assigned to them, like animals at the pound. I thought of Joe who, even without a memory, knew the name they’d first given him rang hollow.

William believes his name is Alan. Does that name sound wrong to him too?

I looked through each window, finding most rooms to be pitch black. If there was anyone inside, they were asleep. I kept moving. Room after room down the hall, no sign of anyone else awake. I prayed to Mother Mary, for soon I would have to start venturing into the darkness of each room, blindly looking for my grandson.

A faint light came from room 212. The lamp was bright enough, however, to show the red in the sheen of a boy’s hair, sitting at the edge of the bed, wearing navy-blue pajamas, his knees pulled up tight.

I whispered a thanks to Mary, forcing my hands to stop shaking and reaching deep in my coat pocket, finding the one thing I couldn’t bear to throw at the security officer who tried to kill us a few hours ago.

William turned when I opened the door and flinched when he saw me emerge. “Don’t be afraid, William.” I smiled, forcing back tears of relief. “Miss Cliff told me you’d be here.”

William didn’t move, looking so much like his mother that I found it difficult to speak. As I took a step closer, he slid a bit farther away on the bed.

“Honey, you don’t have anything to be afraid of—”

“My name is Alan. Miss Cliff told me not to pay any attention to you. She said you were crazy.”

“That’s before she knew who I was. Now she knows, and she told me where you would be. That’s how I found you. I’d like to show you who I am. Is that OK?”

He eyed me warily. I briefly glanced around the room, finding it completely empty. Two small bags were packed by end of his bed.

I took out the thin plastic photograph holder from my now-lost wallet and removed a single picture. “This is me and my husband, Tom. We live in a place called Nashville, Tennessee.”

William looked at it briefly, and I put it away, bringing out another. “This is an old picture of my daughters. That’s my youngest, Stella, there’s Kate, and my oldest, Anne. Want to see my whole family?”

The boy shrugged, and I took out another picture. “Look at how many of us there are! Do you see all the boys?”

With that, William leaned in closer. “I only have grandsons. They are bigger now, including the baby. Do you want to see what the baby looks like, the one sitting in his Aunt Stella’s arms?”

I swallowed and took out a final photograph. “This was taken last summer on the Fourth of July. That’s Anne’s family—that’s her husband, Chris, and her sons Greg, Brian, and William.”

William stared for a moment and then slowly reached out. I gave him the photo, letting him look closely. “That’s you, my sweet boy. I know they call you Alan here. But your real name is William. William Grant Chance. You are seven and will turn eight this summer. And we’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“But I don’t know you,” he said, still looking at the picture.

“I know you don’t, and that’s OK,” I eased onto the bed. “Maybe you will remember us one day. Your mom, your dad, your brothers, your aunts, and especially your grandpa, they all want you to come home. I’d like to take you there.”

“I’m not supposed to leave my room. Plus, they told me I’m moving. They said I was leaving first thing in the morning. They said I’ll like it where I’m going. They said it’s warm.”

“Well, where I live is really warm. We have a new minor-league baseball stadium, and even have two different water parks because it gets so hot in the summer.”

“Two water parks?” William’s eyes lit up, but then narrowed. “Miss Cliff said not to go anywhere.”

“Maybe we can go see her right now, and while we’re walking to her, I’ll tell you more about your family.”

His eyes softened. “You really are my grandma?”

I couldn’t stop the tears from glistening in my eyes. “I am. And I have missed you every day.”

“Can I keep the picture?”

“Of course. You can have all of them if you want.”

“I just want this one. My shoes are by my suitcase and my coat is in the closet. Are we going outside?”

“I hope not. It’s so cold!” I forced a smile, trying to appear casual. I opened the closet door and found the jacket. I knelt on the floor and opened the suitcase, finding a heavy sweater on top.

“I want to wear my jeans,” he said, still staring at the photo.

I grabbed a collared shirt, jeans, a pair of socks, and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Do you have gloves?”

“On the hook by the door,” he said, throwing off his pajama top and putting on his shirt. “Will I get to say goodbye to Miss Cliff?”

“I hope so. I know she’d like to see you before you go.”

“Is Tennessee close to the mountains? I’ll miss my friends. Especially Todd, he’s funny. He wears red-high tops. I didn’t want to move, but they said it was for my own good.”

“I promise you, I will do everything I can for you to see any of your friends here again. But right now, I want to get you home.”

“What if they don’t want me, once they find out I don’t remember them?” he asked, slipping on his boots.

I wanted so badly to rush over and pull him into my arms. “Hon, we’ve all been waiting to see you for so long, it doesn’t matter what you do or don’t remember.”

“Then why am I here? How did I get here? All everybody says here is that we don’t have memories and they don’t know where we came from. But somebody has to know. Why did it take you so long to find me?”

I reached out and touched his arm. “I didn’t know where you were. Nobody did. And your parents would be here too, but I just figured it out first.”

“Figured out what?” he asked, his sweater now over his head.

“Let’s talk about all that when we get out of here. Can we go now?”

William clearly picked up on my nervousness. “I’m not supposed to leave my room, you know.”

“Well, Miss Cliff told me where you would be. She knew I had to get to you. Should we go see her?” I asked, hating the lie.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Let’s go quietly.” I put my hand on his back and carefully opened the door.

I led him out and we began to walk down the hall. With each door we passed, I fought the urge to grab him and run. He was coming willingly; I couldn’t do anything to spook him. I didn’t even dare hold his hand, although I wanted to desperately. I could see the sign for the staircase. We could be down to the first floor and out the door to the tunnel in a few minutes’ time. Roxy must have made the call by now, and Tom knows that William is here. I did put my hand on his back, hoping the gesture would move his little legs faster. All we had to do was make it down—

“Mrs. Roseworth.”