Jeremy Finley - The Darkest Time of Night

“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—