Jeremy Finley - The Darkest Time of Night

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.