The Darkening
Author: Christopher Motz
Date: 2016-10-18 00:00:00+00:00
Description: "The Darkening is a promising, spine-chilling debut! Motz is a writer to watch." Brian Keene - The Rising, Ghoul The skies above Elmview are growing dark. Sixteen-year-old Danny Harper and his friends look forward to summer vacation as another adventure, a chance to leave responsibility behind and enjoy their last few summers before High School graduation. The summer of 1986 offers up more than its share of surprises, some of which will change everything they've ever known. Their home is about to become a battleground between light and darkness as Danny and his friends are swept up in a war th
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing

Contents

Copyright

Other Works

Acknowlegments

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

A Few Words About 'The Darkening'(2nd Edition)

About The Author

Second Edition

The Darkening © 2016/2018 by Christopher Motz

All Rights Reserved

ISBN-10: 1539180999
ISBN-13: 978-1539180999

Paperback design, layout, and cover art: RDB Interactive, LLC

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

OTHER WORKS

THE FARM - A NOVELLA (2016)

PINE LAKES (2017)

BROKEN - A NOVELLA (2017)
THE PIGEON (with Andrew Lennon) (2018)

ALSO APPEARING IN:

COLLECTED EASTER HORROR SHORTS (2017)

COLLECTED HALLOWEEN HORROR SHORTS (2017)

100 WORD HORRORS: AN ANTHOLOGY OF HORROR DRABBLES (2018)

Acknowledgments

Brian Keene for offering advice, edits, and critiques (2016 Edition), Iain Rob Wright for the tools I needed to make this a reality, my many pre-readers for helping with some of the difficult bits, Robert Bardall of RDB Interactive for the amazing layout, design, and cover, and most importantly to my wife LeeAnn for never giving up on me and allowing me the time to chase my dream. I couldn’t have done it without you.

This book is dedicated with love to my mother.

1951-2013

Chapter 1

The boy cowered in darkness, shivering from exhaustion.

He knelt on the rocky floor of the old mine tunnel, listening as his town was torn asunder. The cold, musty shaft had become his refuge, the setting for his final stand, and possibly his tomb. The beast searched for him, cutting a path of destruction through the only home he’d ever known.

He'd gotten separated from his friends in his mad dash to safety; they were out there somewhere, fighting their own battle for survival.

Maybe they’re already dead, he thought.

More bloody corpses to add to the monster’s rising body count.

He could've saved them, the power was in his hands if only he knew how to harness it. The old man had predicted this, had warned him of the price of failure.

The consequences were infinite.

Dust and pebbles rained from the ceiling, collecting in his hair and coating his sweaty skin. The earth shuddered. In the black depths beneath his feet, he heard the roar of what could only be portions of the tunnel collapsing. His choices had become limited, but all led to a solitary outcome: death. If he remained here, he risked being buried beneath tons of rubble and debris, but if he went outside, back into the chaos of the creature’s wrath, the end would be the same.

The only real question was how quickly he wanted to die.

The creature shrieked, the sound of a billion tormented voices crying out in unison. The source of its anger was limitless. The boy wiped hot tears from his cheeks, smearing dirt across his face. There was a third option…

Reaching into his waistband, he touched the hard steel of the pistol he’d tucked away for safekeeping. He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful it hadn’t been shaken loose during his frantic run through the smoke-choked darkness above.

This is your last resort, the old man had said. If all else fails, you know what has to be done.

The creature howled.

The earth trembled.

He raised the gun to his temple and closed his eyes, wincing at the barrel’s icy touch. His finger twitched. After all he’d been through, he wondered if he had the courage to pull the trigger.

The time for questions had run out.

He held his breath and waited for the end.

***

Danny Harper bolted up behind his desk and shook his head. The rocky tunnel had given way to the all-too-familiar white walls of his 9th Period classroom. A red, circular clock hung over the chalkboard, ticking ever closer to three o’clock. The lingering effects of the daydream mercifully faded as he fought to regain his composure.

Danny sat in a small plastic chair in Room 105 of Elmview High School, the same place he’d spent the last three months learning how to read spreadsheets and calculate payroll expenses. His Accounting course came easily. Simple but boring, plain but practical. He wasn’t one for Algebra and its mysterious parentheses, and he didn’t give a shit what X equaled. Some things were secret, and he believed in respecting X’s privacy.

Mr. Donovan sat behind his desk paging through an issue of Field & Stream. A tidy stack of report cards was piled neatly next to a tacky bowling trophy depicting golden pins. Amazing how a single piece of paper could turn the excitement of summer vacation into a prison sentence. Danny was a solid student - A’s and B’s across the board since 1st Grade. He fidgeted in his seat out of boredom while some of the other kids squirmed out of sheer worry. Frankie Bowman, sitting two rows over, wiggled nervously and scratched at a large pimple on his forehead. The outcome of his Chemistry final would determine if he was moving on with his friends or being held back for another year.

No one wanted to fail their Sophomore year. After surviving nine months of being Freshman scum, and finally climbing the ladder of the teenage social experiment, being a Sophomore was one step closer to passing through the doors of Elmview High one last time. An ‘F’ stood for Fucked! Failing the 10th Grade meant being doomed to invisibility two years in a row. Nineteen eighty-seven was right around the corner and there was no time to move backward.

Katey Pearce sat in front of Danny, chewing watermelon gum and scribbling on her Trapper Keeper. She’d become fodder for some very vivid 9th Period daydreams over the past few months. When she leaned back, her dirty-blond hair hung over the back of the chair. A few times he wondered what it’d be like to reach out and touch it, caress it, let it slip through his fingers like golden sand, but he resisted. Being labeled a weirdo was just as awful as failing, so rather than act on his fantasies, he admired her from a distance and kept his hands to himself, content just to smell the faint scent of her shampoo.

In the back of the room, Tony Barren and Mark Pincavage were in quiet conversation. Danny didn’t consider himself a close friend of theirs, but he was on good terms with them, even sharing a smoke behind the school now and then. Mark caught Danny’s gaze and held up his index finger, pointing at Danny, then at himself, and lastly at the large row of windows on the left side of the classroom. Wait for me, he mouthed. Danny nodded.

“So what’re you doing this summer?” a female voice whispered. He turned to his left to see Stephanie Donaldson watching him while twirling a finger through her hair. They’d shared a few classes together in the 8th Grade, and ever since, she had a crush on him that wouldn’t quit.

“Not much, Steph. Hanging out with friends and stuff.”

“That sounds fun. I only live ten minutes away, you know? Maybe we can hang out this summer. My sister has her driver’s license and I’m sure she’d bring me into town.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he lied. Stephanie was a nice girl, but there wasn’t any romantic connection. Her hair was the color of rust, her skin so pale she might as well have been a vampire. She had thick braces, complete with little Day-Glo-colored rubber bands, that made her mouth look like a child’s finger-painting. “Sure, we’ll probably see each other at some point. I’m going to have a lot going on this summer.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Smiling weakly, she turned and looked out the window, visibly deflated by Danny’s less-than-enthusiastic response. Sure he felt bad, but he couldn’t fake an attraction. If Danny had an annoying little sister, Stephanie would be it.

“Okay ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Donovan said with his trademark lisp, “four minutes until the end of the period and the official beginning of summer vacation. Principal Reyes has a few words for you, after which I’ll be handing out your report cards.” Scattered groans greeted the announcement. “Some of you will be pleasantly surprised. Some of you. Remember, what you put into your education is what you’ll get out of it.”

Right on cue, the public address system crackled to life as the Principal’s gravelly voice boomed throughout the building.

“I’ll make this short,” he began.

“Short like his dick,” Tony Barren whispered, followed by a spattering of laughter.

“I’ve had the great pleasure of being the Principal at Elmview High for seventeen years, and each year brings exciting challenges and new faces. It has truly been an honor seeing every one of you get one step closer to becoming the man or woman you will someday be.

“Congratulations to our graduating Seniors, Class of 1986. It’s now your turn to become teachers, doctors, lawyers, heads of industry, leaders of your community. Time to leave the toys of your childhood behind and embrace your future.

“I look forward to seeing everyone again in the Fall as we move closer to the edge of the century. Have a safe and happy summer vacation. You are dismissed.”

The loudspeaker went silent as the building erupted in celebratory cheers - hundreds of students saying farewell to the confines of their stuffy classroom lives.

The final bell sounded.

Danny scooped up his empty backpack from the floor and stood, trying to contain his excitement. In his mind, he was passing through the front doors and into the bright June sunlight.

The weightlessness of his book bag made him smile, free of textbooks, free of homework and science projects, free of everything. He’d cleaned out his locker the previous day, and books had been collected that morning, leaving no evidence of the past nine months of his scholastic life. Responsibility was going on strike.

The students formed a crooked line in front of Mr. Donovan’s desk as he passed out the white envelopes, their body language indicative of their pleasure or discomfort.

Danny couldn’t help glancing out the window every few seconds, taking in the deep blue of the cloudless sky, the fragrance of the lilac and honeysuckle growing in the courtyard, sweet freedom just moments away.

Stephanie grinned at him as she grabbed her report card. He beamed back, unable to control his excitement. The young redhead misread his cue - her smile widened and her cheeks turned the bright red of a nasty sunburn. She kicked the trashcan, stumbled, and nearly fell to the floor before hastily exiting.

Danny shuffled forward and reached out, awaiting his golden ticket, free admission to the world outside. Mr. Donovan grabbed his hand and shook it firmly before placing the envelope between Danny’s outstretched fingers.

“Congratulations, Daniel. You’ve been a great student this semester. I doubt your report card will be much of a surprise. You’re signed up for my second-year Accounting course?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Try not to sound so excited.”

“With all due respect, depreciation and compound interest are the last things I’ll be thinking about for the next ninety days.”

Mr. Donovan laughed. “Fair enough.”

Danny tucked the envelope into his pants and walked into the hallway where chaos had ensued. Students bumped into each other, people sat on the floor stuffing junk into their backpacks from overstuffed lockers, teenagers shouted back and forth and squeaked their sneakers on the linoleum.

“Well, shit,” a loud voice yelled in his ear. “If it isn’t Mr. Future Accountant up close and personal. You going to run home and crunch some numbers?” The voice belonged to Brent McAllister, all-around class-clown and Danny’s best friend since before the Bicentennial.

“No, I’m going to run home and bang your mom,” Danny replied.

“She might already be busy with another client.”

“Another client? Now who sounds like the accountant?”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a real asshole?”

“Nope, but thanks for bringing it to my attention.”

They had a relationship akin to brotherhood. Since the age of six, they’d been inseparable, meeting in a small town and forging friendships that only kids from a small town understood.

The older kids used this closeness as a way to make jokes, bullies like Alex Kline who used to tell everyone they were butt-buddies and peter-puffers. Alex died in a house fire in 1982, and whether or not people believed in karma, no one else attempted to pick up the slack. His taunts and nastiness died with him. There were so many better ways to make fun of awkward, teenage boys than wasting your energy on gay jokes.

By the time they’d reached Junior High, Brent had gained a ton of weight due to a thyroid issue and Danny had a nasty run-in with acne. Undressing in the locker room was torture for both of them, Brent often being hit with the wet end of a towel or Danny being stared at with his face and shoulders covered in red splotches. Teenagers are not nice people. Sometimes they were downright evil.

As time marched on, their skin thickened and the snide remarks no longer had the desired effect. The other kids lost interest and moved on to easier prey. They would never feature on a magazine cover, but they had each other - they’d gotten to a point where status was unimportant.

“Well,” Brent said, “I think it’s time we embrace our freedom. The clock’s ticking, time is wasting, and we’re not getting any younger. Summer awaits, my friend!”

“Summer awaits,” Danny repeated. They broke into wild laughter and ran down the hallway toward the promise of adventure and the unknown.

Once outside, the shouting grew louder as kids ran in every direction, off to begin their own adventures, off to their first parties, to drink their first beer or smoke their first joint or get their first hand-job.

Mark Pincavage, not a small boy by any means, jogged over to meet them, his flesh bouncing in time with his footsteps. “Hey Dan, hold up.” Danny had forgotten about him.

“Hey Mark, what’s cooking?” he asked.

“Mark always knows what’s cooking by the looks of him,” Brent joked.

“You should talk, fat-ass!”

“Takes one to know one.”

They laughed and gave each other a whole-hearted high-five.

“My uncle is throwing a party at his place tonight,” Mark said. “I invited some girls over and there’s going to be food and booze. As long as we stay, we can drink until we bust.”

“Some uncle,” Brent said. “The coolest thing my uncle ever did was teach me how to change the oil in his Chevelle.”

“You guys in or what?”

“I have to swing it with my parents, but I think we can make it happen,” Danny said.

“Cool beans! I’ll see you around eight. You know where he lives?”

Danny nodded. Mark’s uncle had money and a big old house on Mason Street with a massive backyard and in-ground swimming pool with attached hot tub. High-style digs for a bunch of boys barely able to grow fuzz on their faces.

After parting with Mark, the boys walked away from the High School and down the hill to Broad Street. They were covered in sweat by the time they reached the abandoned train station three blocks away. Here they split up, going their separate ways for showers and after-school snacks, agreeing to meet at Brent’s place at six.

Welcome summer vacation, my old friend.

***

The old man - Ben to his friends - stood on the corner of Market Street and gazed up at the derelict schoolhouse. There were no students celebrating their freedom in those dusty, forgotten halls… just shadows. He held a cigarette in one hand and a can of soda in the other. He didn’t move a muscle.

His bloodshot, faded-blue eyes darted from one window to another, watching and waiting to see if it would show up to greet him. As if beckoned, a set of shiny orbs appeared in a second-floor window. Their eyes locked as eons of unspoken hatred passed between them.

Soon, old man. The boy will be mine, the shadow projected.

Not if I can help it, the man returned.

The silver globes dimmed and vanished as if they’d never been there. The man turned and walked away, finishing his cigarette and tossing it in the gutter.

“Things are about to get very interesting around here,” he muttered.

He walked slowly across town, taking in the sights and sounds of a community humming with activity. He knew what was coming, knew that every laughing child and proud parent had become a target for an unseen enemy.

An enemy that thrived on chaos, whose only goal was vengeance.

It wasn’t yet time for the old man to make himself known…

…but the pieces were all in play.

***

Two hours later, Danny knocked on Brent’s aluminum screen door and waited. The temperature hovered at eighty-five degrees. A warm, humid breeze lifted his short brown hair from his forehead; the moisture in the air clung to his skin like flypaper.

Danny had given his parents a story about staying over at Brent’s house for the first night of summer vacation. The first-night sleepover was a tradition, so they didn’t deny him his ritual.

With the extra time, Danny put more effort into his wardrobe. He wasn’t exactly popular with the ladies, but ever since his skin had cleared up, they’d begun taking notice. Aware there’d be girls in attendance that night, he figured it couldn’t hurt to look his best. He settled on baggy jean-shorts and a thin, black t-shirt. Before leaving the house, he splashed his shirt with his father’s cologne for good measure.

The heavy inner door opened and Brent’s mother, Margaret, peered out, clad in a skimpy but flattering sundress. Cool air breezed past her, giving Danny a brief respite from the heat. Brent’s air-conditioner ran without fail from May to early September, turning his house into something like a meat locker.

“Daniel, how are you? Brent’s just about ready, I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“Thanks, Margaret.”

“Would you like to come in? Have a glass of iced-tea?”

“No thanks, I’ll just wait here. We’re gonna be leaving in a few minutes, anyway.”

“You boys have fun,” she said, winking knowingly before stepping back inside and closing the door.

Busted, he thought. Margaret knew more about their secret festivities than she was letting on.

Danny turned and sat on the concrete steps, watching as a sparrow landed on the roof of Bachman’s Car Wash, carrying a twist-tie in its tiny beak; a chipmunk scurried across the street and ducked into a small hole beneath a rock; an Acme trailer crawled into town followed by a line of cars driven by hot, angry commuters. It was a typical day in Elmview if not for the added bonus of being homework-free for the next three months.

Danny zoned out, watching buzzards circle over the mountain when the screen door opened loudly. Brent exited the house wearing a pair of blue gym shorts and a white Queen t-shirt with some creepy robot on it. Brent was a huge Queen fan regardless of how much his classmates and friends made fun of him for his taste - or lack thereof - in music. It wasn’t quite Danny’s thing, but over time he grew to enjoy most of it… except for that awful disco record. Only Brent could possibly find merit in that garbage. Danny called it ‘The Forty-Five Minutes of Hell’ album.

“Are you dressed like that because you want to be a virgin for the rest of your life? If so, you’re doing a hell of a job.”

“What? Are you kidding? The ladies love Freddie Mercury.”

“Maybe for fashion tips.”

“Besides,” Brent interrupted, “I can always take off my shirt, but you’re stuck with that face!”

“You take off your shirt? There’s something no one wants to see.”

They bent over with laughter just as the crossing gates descended, blocking the street. The ringing of the warning bell always made Danny feel like he was at the carnival, like he’d just won something and had to collect his prize. A diesel engine roared past, towing a dozen empty coal cars. Oily smoke and hot wind washed over the boys as the train passed, rhythmically banging and clanging on its way to some unknown destination.

“You ready to make our appearance?” Brent asked.

“Yeah, I guess so. What is your mom doing home? I thought you said your parents were going out. She totally knows we’re up to something.”

“They’re going out tonight and won’t be home until tomorrow afternoon sometime. I told them we were going to the arcade.”

Danny sighed and shook his head. “You should have told me the plan. Do you think I put on cologne just to play Gradius? I’m safe with my parents… they’re so used to me being over here they don’t even question it anymore.”

“That’s because as soon as you leave the house, they sneak up to your room and wrestle naked on your bed.”

“That’s disgusting,” Danny said. He punched Brent playfully in the arm and jumped to the sidewalk. They began the trek across town, talking about random nonsense that teenage boys often revel in: music, girls, sex, sports, television, movies, and assorted current events. They stopped at Marge’s Corner Store to grab two cartons of Jungle Juice before heading over to Mason Street, where the party sounded like it was already in full-swing.

As they approached the gate, Brent slowed his pace so that Danny was first in line. It’d always been one of Brent’s phobias to enter an unfamiliar place or mixed crowd without a buffer. For being such an extrovert, this strange behavior was something Danny never fully understood.

“Ladies first,” Brent joked.

Danny obliged by opening the wooden gate and entering the large backyard. On the left was an in-ground swimming pool, surrounded by girls in clingy bikinis showing off their flawless bodies to anyone who wanted to see. Brent looked at the exposed flesh and smiled from ear to ear.

Kids thrashed in the water as The Rolling Stones ‘Let’s Spend The Night Together’ blared from a stereo on the patio. The metallic clang of horseshoes mingled with the loud shouting of guys playing a game of flag football. The smell of grilled meat hung in the air. It was a hive of activity.

In front of them stood a small pavilion with two picnic tables covered in a variety of different finger foods: trays full of lunch meat and cheese, crackers and chips, salsa and dip and a wide assortment of fruits and vegetables. A large cloth banner hung from the rafters, its hand-written message stating ‘Congratulations Sophomores - Class of 1988!’

Danny noticed several familiar faces watching the jocks play football; shirtless, sweating and grunting like animals during rutting season. Brent grinned at Danny and patted his soft midsection. “Why show it off when I can maintain the mystery?” He glanced at the guys in the yard, rippling with muscle and tanned skin, and sighed enviously.

Mark’s uncle stood in front of a large stainless steel grill, holding a pair of tongs in one hand and a can of Milwaukee’s Best in the other. He’d removed his shirt to expose a beer belly that extended ten inches in front of him - wiry, black hair covered almost every inch of his body.

“Hey boys,” he shouted, motioning to them with his tongs. “Come grab a burger and a dog.” He side-stepped and spilled half his beer before recovering. He smiled at them and swallowed a mouthful of beer before poking at a burnt hot dog. “Best fucking dogs around boys! Made with real dog meat!” Laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever said, he spilled more of his beer down his chest.

“We’ll be back soon,” Danny said. “We’re going to get some drinks first.”

“Damn right you’re going to get drinks first. I knew I liked you boys, you have priorities. The good stuff is in the blue cooler. The girly drinks are in the red one. You’re not going to get any girly drinks are you?”

“No sir,” Brent said in his best adult voice. “We’re gonna get some manly adult drinks and get manly adult drunk.”

Mark’s uncle looked at him blankly for a few seconds before erupting into laughter. His face turned red and his sizable gut bounced up and down, closer and closer to the hot grill. Giving an animated thumbs-up, he turned and went back to tending the burgers.

“Apparently someone was boozing for breakfast this morning,” Brent whispered.

Danny nodded in agreement and walked to the blue cooler, pulling out two ice-cold cans of beer and handing one to Brent. Everyone had a drink in their hand, so he and Brent would follow their lead. It was one of the first laws of Peer Pressure 101: do what everyone else is doing.

They cracked open their beers in broad daylight like two adults. It was liberating. Danny couldn’t wait to be twenty-one to experience the bar scene in all its glory. In the meantime, Mark’s uncle dropped his beer and sang along tunelessly to an old Tom Jones track.

“Hey guys, how are you doing?”

Danny turned quickly, nearly spilling his own beer in the process. Samantha Bayonne stood three feet away holding a colorful mixed drink in a small glass wet with condensation. She wore a multi-colored, two-piece bikini, her long brown hair bound in a ponytail, skin glistening with sunscreen.

“Uh, I’m okay,” Danny answered. He glanced at her breasts and her tanned skin and forced himself to look up and make eye contact. He saw her around school before, but with her being a Freshman, he never really talked to her. The second rule of Peer Pressure 101: don’t associate with underclassmen. “How are you?”

“Good,” she said. “I’ll be better after a few more of these.” She held out the glass and laughed as ice cubes tinkled musically. Her smile was open and unguarded, showing off a set of perfectly white teeth. Danny was instantly attracted to her.

“Hi, I’m Brent.” He offered his hand and smiled. She took it in her own and gave it a light shake. Her skin was soft and warm. “I thought since my buddy here is obviously terrible at small talk, I’d just jump in and say a few words.”

“Thank you for saving the day,” she said.

“I’m not bad at small talk,” Danny added.

Samantha giggled and sipped her drink. “Of course not, I think you’re doing just fine.” Danny spied the small dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. Freckles ran across the bridge of her nose and across her shoulders. Her blue eyes met Danny’s hazel ones without wavering.

“Well, it was nice talking to you. I’ll be at the pool hanging out with my friends.” She reached up to brush several errant strands of hair from her forehead. “Come over and say hi later, okay? I’ll be here all night.”

“Yeah, sure,” Danny said. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you guys later.”

As she walked away, they noticed the way her hips swayed, the way her legs moved, the way her ass filled every inch of her bikini bottom.

“Let’s get it on,” Mark’s uncle sang at the top of his lungs. “Let’s GET IT ON.” Danny couldn’t imagine a more appropriate song at that moment. The FM radio gods smiled down on him. The grill master kept pace with Marvin Gaye - although completely out of key - throughout the rest of the song before breaking into Bob Seeger.

Danny and Brent walked off to drink their beer in the shade as more and more people entered the yard. The sky turned a beautiful shade of purple and the stars slowly winked into existence, taking their familiar places in the summer sky. People lit Tiki torches, the pool lights came on, the grill cooled. Mark’s uncle fell asleep in the hammock shortly before ten o’clock.

Couples made out in the grass and around the pool, their inhibitions lowered by alcohol and tempered by unrelenting sex drives. Danny looked for Samantha and nearly missed her sitting twenty feet away, talking with a few of her friends. She’d let her hair down and wore a light tank-top over her bikini. She caught him watching, smiled, and quickly waved before going back to her conversation. Danny felt the blood rushing to his face, thankful for the darkness disguising his embarrassment.

The night went on, and the booze crept up on Danny like a tiger hiding in the bushes. His body tingled, his head whirled. He tried standing but found it to be an impossible task. He stumbled into Brent and nearly knocked them both to the ground.

“I should talk to Samantha,” Danny slurred, polishing off another drink. “First, I need another beer.”

“I think we’ve both had enough,” Brent said. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He put the can to his lips but missed the mark, wearing more of his drink than he ingested. Laughing, he fell into his chair and mumbled incoherently.

“The night’s still young,” Danny said. He looked around the yard, hoping to spot Samantha, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. People were nothing more than blurry smudges moving in the shadows. He sat on the lawn chair and drifted away into a warm, fuzzy twilight.

I really should go talk…

Danny was snoring before he could finish the thought.

***

The slate-gray sky hung low and motionless.

Danny reached out and touched the rough stones and sand beneath him. He didn’t remember passing out on the ground, but there was a lot he didn’t remember about the previous night. He and Brent would have to compare notes.

Sitting up with a groan, he licked his dry lips and ran a hand through his hair. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

“What the hell did we do to ourselves?” he asked. “My head is killing me.” His voice sounded strange… distant and quiet. He cleared his throat, feeling his gorge rise. Twenty feet away he spied Brent sprawled in the dirt. He laughed half-heartedly. “We must’ve tied on a good one. This is why they say drinking is bad for you.”

Brent didn’t answer.

Danny stood, the hard-packed ground crunching beneath his feet. He spat several times to get the nasty flavor of stale beer and cigarettes out of his mouth. “I’m never doing this again,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m officially on the wagon.”

Still no response from Brent. He’s completely out of it, Danny thought.

“Come on, get your lazy ass up, we have to get home. What the hell time is it?” He looked at the sky but couldn’t see the sun through the thick cloud cover. It could’ve been noon or seven at night.

Danny walked to meet Brent and saw why he wasn’t answering; it wasn’t him, just a jumbled pile of clothing. Brent’s shirt, shorts, and shoes sat in the dirt, covered in dust and reddish-brown splotches that looked like dried blood.

He stood over the discarded clothes and pushed them around with his foot.

What the hell’s going on here?

Danny looked at his surroundings, paying attention for the first time. Gone was the pool and the horseshoe pits; gone was the green grass and the house; gone were the teenagers who should’ve been sleeping off the effects of their first booze party. He was alone.

In every direction, dry, cracked hardpan stretched to the horizon. To the east, four hundred yards away, stood a line of tall, broken pine trees signaling the boundary of a great, dead forest. As he watched, one of the blackened trees tilted and fell to the ground in a yellow cloud of dust that hung in the air like poisoned fog.

“Brent, where the hell are you?” His trembling voice sounded alien. Sweat broke out on his forehead as a second tree crashed down. One by one, a dozen trees noisily rocked back and forth as if caught in a storm; branches broke free and fell to the ground; rotted trunks snapped, toppling like a line of dominoes.

Something huge and unseen approached from the depths of the broken forest.

“What do you want?” Danny asked.

The answer came to him on a heavy, hot gust of wind that blew dust into his burning eyes.

You’ll find out soon enough.

“What? What will I find out? Who are you?” Danny whispered the last with tears in his eyes. “What’s happening?” he shouted.

“Wake up you noisy bastard.”

Danny sat up and nearly fell off his chair. People stood here and there, watching him with half-lidded eyes as he stood and brushed the front of his shirt. The air was cool and smelled of wet grass; the sky was just turning pink in the east. Brent looked at him with a smirk on his face, half startled and half amused.

“What?”

“I said get up. You woke half the people here, dummy. Everyone’s looking at us. Must have been one hell of a dream.”

“I don’t know. If it was, I don’t remember,” he lied.

“You were shouting in your sleep.”

The other teenagers, growing bored with the show, returned to their spots on the ground. Some went back to sleep while others gathered their belongings. One jock wretched loudly into a rose bush. Mark’s uncle snored quietly in his hammock, oblivious to the renewed activity.

“Holy shit. We got hammered last night,” Brent said.

“Yeah, I guess we did.” The desolate landscape and the nightmare forest slowly faded, but the fear remained. Danny’s skin felt clammy, and the hair was standing up on the nape of his neck. Twice in two days, he thought. Please, not again.

The grill was cold; shriveled chunks of hamburgers and hot dogs lie discarded on the warming rack. Plastic cups, cigarette butts, random articles of clothing, and at least three separate puddles of congealed vomit littered the grass. Danny looked away, fighting his own urge to puke.

The one thing he didn’t see was Samantha, and for that he was grateful. He didn’t want her thinking he was a nutcase. He put his head in his hands and groaned. “Let’s get back to your place or I’m gonna sleep here all day.” He took a few shaky steps before ironing out the kinks in his legs.

“I’m with you,” Brent said.

They opened the heavy gate and began the walk to Brent’s. It was the first full day of summer vacation and Danny was experiencing the worst hangover of his life. By the time they reached Brent’s, Danny had forgotten most of his dream. They shared Brent’s bed, sleeping well into the afternoon.

It was after four when the boys showered and got dressed. They ate a few bowls of Rice Krispies, feeling less like dog shit and more like themselves. They played Nintendo for the rest of the afternoon before Danny went home for dinner. He went to bed early, still fighting through the last shreds of his hangover. He slept through the night and woke refreshed at six o’clock, ready to start early and put his terrifying nightmare behind him.

Chapter 2

Danny stood on Brent’s porch, buzzing with energy, wondering what adults looked forward to when there was no more summer vacation. Did they have fun at all, or did life end at thirty? He wouldn’t know until the year 2000, a time that felt a thousand years away, when everyone would have a flying car and a robot to vacuum the floor. His mind wandered as Brent stepped out and closed the door. He wore his glasses, which always made him feel like a dork.

Brent clapped his hands together and smiled. “So what are we doing? Let the games begin.”

“What about the tunnel? Haven’t been there in a while.”

“Boring. We’re not twelve anymore.”

True, they may have outgrown the old train tunnel, but there’d always been an attraction to possible danger. When they were younger, they’d often spent the entire day there, awaiting the exhilarating moment when a train would make an appearance. Two summers earlier, a loaded diesel engine came around the bend, entering the tunnel before they had time to react. They ran as fast as their legs would allow, laughing and full of nervous energy as they jumped the tracks. They scattered like rats in the single beam of the engine’s headlight and hugged the cold, slimy walls as it roared past with inches to spare.

For the last several years it’d become a regular hangout, a place to get away from the other kids. It was their doorway to a forbidden world, a hidden place blasted out of the earth like the entrance to a secret hideout. If their parents had known where their children were playing, the boys would’ve been punished for their stupidity. Luckily no one kept a secret like a friend with a secret of their own.

Near the tunnel, in the thick tangle of forest next to the tracks, was the local swimming hole known as The Falls. It’d been mostly abandoned since the Elmview Pool had opened three years earlier. All the snotty brats who once used The Falls had migrated to the pool, comparing swimsuits and bragging about their death-defying stunts from the high dive. It suited Danny and Brent just fine, they didn’t associate with many of those kids and preferred the added privacy they’d gained.

Unfortunately, The Falls had lost its luster ever since the previous summer when Charlotte Benning chased them out of the woods, brandishing a large tree branch, threatening to beat them senseless. Her twin sons, Albert and Josh, hung out at The Falls often, usually smoking their father’s cigarettes and watching the young kids swim. As if it wasn’t creepy enough, rumor had it that they were caught jerking off down by the riverbank. True or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was how quickly it spread around the neighborhood and how it heaped a huge pile of shit on their reputation.

Charlotte had gotten wind of the vicious rumor and headed down to The Falls herself, confronting unsuspecting kids as they came for a swim. Rather than save her boys from future ridicule, her actions perpetuated the story, and The Falls became know as Faggot’s Forest. If the Benning twins wanted it, they could have it. Danny wasn’t about to be caught dead there. He’d always wondered what it would be like to have a brother and what cool things they’d do together, but masturbating in the woods wasn’t one of them.

The Tunnel and The Falls were off the table.

“Well,” Danny said, “if you have a better idea let’s hear it.”

“Fine. You ready for this? The old shoe factory.” Brent crossed his arms over his chest, satisfied that he’d come up with the greatest plan ever.

“The old Rimmel plant? What the hell are we gonna do there? Sweep the floors? Wash the windows?”

“Maybe we’ll find something cool. I heard Bobby Sikonis went in there and found an old office safe with a hundred bucks in it.”

“You don’t believe that, do you? Do you really think they would’ve closed the place without taking the safe? Not to mention Bobby is scared of his own shadow. He couldn’t look at the place without pissing his pants.”

“You’re probably right, but we haven’t explored it yet. Who knows what we might find.”

“Spiders. Spiders and bats and old dried rat shit.” Danny played devil’s advocate but was instantly intrigued.

The Rimmel Shoe Factory was a sprawling, brick monstrosity that closed its doors over twenty years ago. It’d begun life in 1895 when Elmview was still considered an up-and-comer in the industrial boom. Like many towns in the coal region, the death of the mines meant the death of everything. People lost their homes, businesses were shuttered, and many of the locals found themselves out of a job with few options. The old factory was another forgotten remnant of bygone days, a sad reminder of Elmview’s glory years. It stood vacant and crumbling and overgrown.

“Fine. Let’s do it,” Danny said. “We’ll get Eric and Charlie.”

“I talked to Charlie, he won’t be around for a few days. His mom took him to his grandmother’s place in Virginia.”

“Virginia? He must be bored to death.”

Brent shrugged and walked down the front steps. Danny shaded his eyes with his hand, blocking out the sun. The cerulean sky was devoid of clouds and the air above the asphalt shimmered with radiating heat. At eleven that morning the mercury hovered at eighty-seven degrees.

Oblivious to the heat, Danny smiled, reveling in his freedom. There was so much to do between now and the beginning of school, so much to explore and experience. Graduation was two years away. Two short years and all the prize amounts would double - the dreaded Whammy waiting around every corner. Danny filed that shit away. There was still a little life in The Wanderer’s Society.

Danny and Brent created The Society a few years earlier. Their friend Eric joined soon after, and finally Charlie in the summer of 1984. The rules of the club were simple: no parents, no girls, and members must explore to the best of their ability and without fear. They explored the out-of-the-way places, the forgotten corners of Elmview hidden from those not looking. Abandoned buildings, mine tunnels, unknown ruins of brick and glass, overgrown entrances into places unseen. It not only gave them something to do, but it gave them something to be part of, a private club that was theirs. It’d served its purpose, and although they never mentioned the Wanderer’s Society these days, the goals they set forth remained. Sadly, Danny knew this could be one of the last summers they would be together. Summer jobs, college, and adulthood stood outside the door, and Danny wasn’t ready to greet what awaited them on the other side.

“What are you waiting for, spaz?” Brent asked.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“Can you think and walk at the same time? I’m gonna melt on the sidewalk.”

They rounded the corner to Nicholas Street, making small talk, dreading knocking on their friend’s door. When Eric Rogers was seven years old, his father had died, leaving him with his mother, Joan, and his older sister, Jacky. They treated him like shit, an outcast in his own home. Eric didn’t talk about it, but the boys saw enough to know he had it rough.

Jacky was the rebel, the one who got away with everything. She had a reputation as a pothead, booze-hound, and an easy fuck. She got stoned with her mother daily while Eric hid in his room trying to block out the sounds of their drunken partying. In the wake of his father’s death, his family buried themselves in booze and bad behavior. He never invited his friends inside and they were thankful for not having to tell him no. The stench that wafted from the open door was enough of a deterrent - a thick miasma of stale cigarette smoke, weed, dirty cat litter, and the sweetish-sour hint of liquor.

As they reached Eric’s house, they played Rock-Paper-Scissors to determine who’d knock on the door. It’d been an ongoing tradition for the last three years.

They stood on the crumbling sidewalk, looking at the scattered junk on the front porch. The engine from his father’s Camaro took up most of the space, sitting in a brown patch of leaking oil. Two plastic lawn chairs sat upended next to the greasy V-8 amid a mountain of Guers iced-tea cartons and a dusty forest of cigarette butts. The support posts were covered in flaking white paint and scribbles of crayon, the faded aluminum siding crusted in years of dirt and grime.

“Ready?” Danny asked. “One. Two. Three!”

“Son of a bitch!”

“Rock beats scissors. You lose.”

“You always pick rock.”

“Yeah, and you always pick scissors. I figured you would have learned by now.”

“Every damn time.” Brent elbowed Danny out of his way and rapped on Eric’s metal screen door; someone coughed harshly on the other side. Jacky answered, gazing out with bloodshot eyes, surrounded by the stink of marijuana and body odor. She wore a dirty Dokken t-shirt and black sweatpants with a large hole in the crotch.

“What the fuck do you want?” Jacky slurred, sticking her fingers through the hole in her pants and scratching absently. Brent tried not to look, but glanced anyway, spying a pair of dirty, blue underwear. He looked back at Danny with a grimace. Danny shrugged and stifled a laugh.

“Is Eric allowed out?” Brent said.

“Why? Is it show-and-tell at The Fag Farm?” Inside, Joan cackled.

“We’re just gonna hang out, that’s all.”

“Whatever, fuckface.” She slammed the door and retreated into whatever hell lay beyond. “Eric, your douchebag friends are here again.”

Danny and Brent exchanged a look and sat on the curb, waiting for their friend for almost twenty minutes. They listened as Jacky shouted at her brother, followed by Joan’s trademark raspy crackle. It was nothing new. Joan was likely in the early stages of a Jim Beam stupor.

Several times, Jacky appeared at the front window, once to stick out her tongue, another time to flip them the bird, and a final time to press her tiny, naked breasts to the nicotine-stained window, making tracks in the filth with her nipples.

It wasn’t the adventure they’d hoped for.

Finally, the door banged open and Eric hurried out. “What’s up, guys?”

“Same shit,” Danny said.

“What in the actual fuck is wrong with your sister, dude?” Brent asked. “Was she dropped on her head? Repeatedly?”

“That’s what you get on a steady diet of pot and vodka. I stay out of her way as much as possible.”

Danny noticed that Eric had showered that morning. For most people, it was a given, but here soap and water were a privilege, not a rule. His hair was shampooed, and he smelled of Irish Spring.

When they first met Eric at school, people called him the ‘dirty duckling.’ He sometimes wore the same clothes for days at a time, wrinkled and reeking of cat urine, his hair greasy and unkempt. He was a smart and funny kid; Danny noticed it right away, and it wasn’t fair he had to pay for his circumstances. Especially not from over-privileged assholes who showed up to school in their daddy’s BMW. Danny and Brent let him shower at their houses, gave him deodorant and toothpaste, let him enjoy being a kid for a change. Now he was one of them, and always would be, no matter how fucked up his life was at home.

Danny said, “Our friend here wants to check out the old shoe factory. You in?”

“Sure, at least it’s something we haven’t done yet. I’ve been so bored, I thought about killing myself.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Brent said.

“Nope, I was literally seconds away.”

They rested on the steel railing along the bridge and smoked cigarettes from a pack Eric had stolen from his mother. Donnelly Stream trickled sluggishly below, rocks jutting from the water. A handful of younger neighborhood kids played along the bank, throwing mud at one another while laughing and swatting at swarms of gnats. Human detritus bobbed along the river’s edge.

The boys didn’t speak while they palmed their cigarettes, hiding them from passing cars. The trees lining the river were alive with the sounds of birds and insects. The steeple of the Grace Methodist Church towered over them, casting a shadow that gave them a sanctuary from the glaring sun.

They finished their cigarettes, flicked them into the water, and walked to Dutch Hill where the factory awaited them. They stopped for a few seconds at the top of the hill, breathing heavily and bathed in sweat.

“Brent,” Eric said, “no offense or anything, but I thought with all the exercise you get, you would’ve stopped being a fat ass by now.”

Brent flipped him off and Danny barked a quick laugh. “Good one.”

“So what are we doing, smartass?” Brent asked. “We going or not?”

“Sure, we just gotta watch out for old man Moyer.”

Danny groaned and threw his hands up. “I forgot about that old prick.”

The Moyer house overlooked the factory. The elderly man had worked there as a security guard in the 40’s and was obsessed with watching over the property. Eric gestured for the boys to follow him. “I know a way around back, maybe he won’t see us.”

“Lead the way,” Brent replied.

It didn’t take long to walk around the block and reach the dirt access road. They stopped and stared. Even in broad daylight, the factory was intimidating. Row after row of cracked and broken windows lined the side of the building, the remaining glass milky with age. Five large garage doors and three employee entrances remained closed, chained with rusting padlocks. A large, round chimney rose fifty feet in the air, leaning to one side and threatening to fall over in the next stiff wind. A variety of spray-painted graffiti covered every inch of the brick surface of the wall: The Dutch Hill Gang, RaduKnowsU, drawings of skulls and crossbones, dozens of bands like The Rolling Stones, Styx, Poison and others, and several involving people’s mothers or sisters who offered blow-jobs for pocket change.

The boys each placed their arms on the top bar of the chain-link fence and rested their chins on them as if admiring a work of art for the first time. A turkey buzzard shrieked nearby, breaking them from the spell they were under. Somewhere a lawnmower growled to life; a Beagle bayed a few blocks away; hot wind soughed through the trees; a worse-for-wear Trans-Am cruised along on the street above them, blaring REO Speedwagon.

Clouds passed across the sun, casting a shadow on the building, shrouding it in semi-darkness. Danny jumped as if he’d been pinched. A figure watched them from a second-story window. It raised one abnormally long arm and waved before disappearing like mist. Danny backed away from the fence, suddenly cold, goosebumps breaking out on his exposed flesh.

“What’s the matter with you?” Brent asked.

“Uh, nothing,” Danny said. “I thought I saw something.” He pointed at the window and avoided eye contact. “I’m sure it was nothing, just a reflection.” It was not nothing. Danny was sure of it. It certainly wasn’t a fucking reflection.

“We didn’t go near the place and already you’re pissing in your pants,” Eric said.

“I’m not pissing in anything, I thought I saw something. It’s no big deal.”

A loud voice broke the silence. “Hey, you down there!” Old man Moyer stood on the hill above them, shaking his finger at them. “You boys! What are you doing? Get away from there before I call the cops.” The boys ran toward the tree line, afraid to see if the miserable bastard had his shotgun.

“Fuck you asshole,” Eric yelled over his shoulder. “You suck dirty balls.” He stumbled and nearly fell on his face before recovering. They disappeared into the woods, laughing and shouting and gasping for breath. They knelt in the thick brush, watching the path to make sure they hadn’t been followed. When the coast was clear, they collapsed in a pile of dead leaves and tried to catch their breath, listening as cicadas chittered in the trees overhead.

“I guess we should pay attention next time,” Brent wheezed.

“I told you, he’s like a hawk,” Eric said.

They remained in the shade for some time before getting up and finding the path leading deeper into the woods. They fought their way over washed-out gullies and through wide expanses of fern and Spoonwood before coming out along the edge of the Smoke Creek, named after the misty, gray tint from polluted mine run-off. It smelled of chemicals and the noxious stink of sulfur.

Further up the creek stood a small wooden shed popularly known as the ‘Crack Shack.’ This local hotspot for teenage boys had been there for as long as anyone remembered, hiding a large quantity of porn stacked in cardboard boxes. Hustler, Puritan, Cheri, Playboy - a fine selection for any discerning young man in need of variety.

Danny no longer went there. He didn’t want to think about that place ever again. He hadn’t been there since he was twelve, and for once he wished that he’d listened to his mother and hadn’t gone into the woods alone.

***

It was a dismal Saturday afternoon in March.

Brent had gone out shopping with his grandmother, Billy Grenadine was in Philadelphia visiting his aunt, James Laudner had the flu, and Albie Beck had been grounded for putting laxatives in his sister’s hot chocolate. It was one of those shitty days where it seemed like the world had left Danny behind.

He wandered aimlessly for an hour before he wound up at the ‘Crack Shack.’ As people tired of their personal collections, they’d dump their unwanted smut, allowing for a different experience each time. It’d started drizzling, and the air had grown damp. He jogged toward the shack and entered, thankful to be out of the rain.

The small, wooden building was lined with soggy cardboard boxes full of well-worn magazines with everything from S&M to anal to lesbian encounters. Three wooden chairs sat in the center of the room. The walls were plastered with nude centerfolds and heavy metal posters. The air smelled of wet wood, mildew, and a musky stink Danny couldn’t identify.

He’d just taken a seat and began rummaging through one of the boxes when the door creaked open and a man entered.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Danny said, standing. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“Don’t worry about it kid, no biggie. Sit and stay a while.” He walked in and closed the door behind him. “Getting cold out there.”

Danny nodded in agreement.

The man walked to the back of the room, opened a cabinet, and pulled out a few candles. “Let’s shed some light on the situation.” He lit them, removed a pack of smokes from his pocket, and offered the pack to Danny.

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“What are you doing here alone? Wanted to rub off a quick one before dinner?” he laughed, inhaling deeply on his cigarette and filling the room with smoke. “That’s it, isn’t it? Don’t wanna get caught jerking off, huh? Don’t worry, I know the feeling.”

Danny nodded again.

“Shit, you and I are friends now. We share a bond, am I right?” The man removed his jacket and baseball cap and put them on the chair. His hair was greasy and speckled with dandruff. His stained tank-top had several holes, revealing the pasty flesh beneath.

“I really have to get going.” Danny’s hands shook. He began sweating even though it was cold enough inside to see his breath.

“It can wait,” the man said. “We’re friends now, remember?”

Danny stood up so quickly, the chair fell backward and slammed to the floor. He reached out for the door when the man grabbed him by the hood of his jacket and pulled him back. The collar dug painfully into Danny’s neck.

“What’s the rush? Just do what you’re told and you’ll be fine.” He circled around in front of Danny, putting himself between him and the door. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twelve.”

“That’s a good age, don’t you agree? I’m gonna be twenty in a few weeks. Fucking twenty! Can you believe that? When I was your age I jerked off all the time. Couldn’t get enough.” He laughed while slowly reaching down and unzipping his fly.

Danny froze. His mind raced but his body was in neutral. He thought of ways to talk the man out of whatever he was planning, thought of ways to hurt him. In the end, he did nothing. Danny was no match for the bigger man.

“Well? You know how to do it… so just do it.” He pulled his flaccid penis through the front of his pants.

A lone tear ran down Danny’s cheek. “Please don’t,” he whispered.

“It’ll be over in a minute, kid. Just remember, if you try anything stupid, you’ll be dead before you can get out of that chair.”

The man grabbed Danny’s hand and placed it on his hardening penis. After that, the world went away. Danny hid behind a wall he quickly constructed in his own mind, refusing to see, feel, or hear anything happening to him. If only he’d gone to the arcade instead; if only he’d stayed away from this place. It wasn’t like he needed to look at another soggy page of another discarded nudie magazine. If it hadn’t been rainy and dreary, would he have still sought out shelter there? If he wasn’t alone, would this man still have had the temerity to do what he was doing? As if he couldn’t feel worse, Danny began blaming himself for not having the common sense to know what sordid acts took place inside these walls.

“Almost there,” the man moaned.

When Danny thought he couldn’t sit still for a second longer without losing his mind, the act was over. The man breathed heavily and leaned against the door, still exposed, and still watching Danny intently.

“Not bad,” he said. “You might still need a little practice.”

“Fuck… you,” Danny cried.

“Woah, buddy, relax. I ain’t no fag. I got girls lined up around the block waiting for what you just got for free. How about a little fucking gratitude?”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he saw little white stars exploding behind his eyelids.

The need to vomit made him weak in the knees.

When he opened his eyes, the man was behind him, zipping his pants and wiping his hand on his shirt.

“Now get the fuck out of here,” he said. “If you tell anyone, you’re dead, and when I’m done with you, I’ll come for your mom and dad. Got it?”

Danny didn’t stay long enough to reply. He ran from the shed with hot tears coursing down his cheeks. Exhausted, he dropped to the soggy ground along the creek and vomited. He dipped his hands into the frigid water and scrubbed them so hard they turned red. He washed the slime from his hand and puked a second time.

Danny ran at full speed through the forest, falling several times and tearing his jeans. Low-hanging limbs scratched at his cheeks and ears. He twisted his ankle on an exposed root and fell again, but continued running. At that moment he was far beyond pain, and running was the only thing he knew. RUN. It flashed in his brain like a giant neon sign. He turned to make sure the man hadn’t decided to come back for seconds. The forest floor was obscured by fog; the ‘Shack’ was mercifully hidden from view.

Danny never mentioned the awful experience to his parents, and he certainly never told any of his friends. As far as he was concerned, it would stay that way. He never walked in those woods alone again. Danny was just grateful that all he’d lost was his innocence and not his life.

***

Danny shook the memory from his mind. It was a cloudless, warm afternoon. There was no sense reliving the past. It was done.

Instead, he roamed the familiar paths with his best friends, enjoying their company and listening to their good-natured ribbing. They discussed heading back to the factory but weren’t keen on the idea, not with old man Moyer patrolling the grounds. They weighed their options, a change of setting, other ways to occupy themselves, but they mostly wandered with no destination. Summer was still in its infancy, there was no hurry.

Several hours later they found themselves at their favorite lookout, a shady rock outcropping along the rim of the coal bank that overlooked Elmview.

Danny sat and looked at them each in turn. “I’m really glad we’re best friends.”

“Okay, can you dial down the mushy shit?” Brent asked.

“Yep, we’ve lost him,” Eric added.

They laughed at the joke, but the message was clear. They’d grown to become part of one another. Danny’s childhood friends had all moved away, Brent’s brothers were both old enough to live on their own, and Eric’s family was ruined beyond repair.

Fate brought them together, and you don’t just ignore something that powerful.

Brent looked at his digital watch and whistled. “It’s after seven already. Where the hell did the time go?”

“I have to check in for dinner or my ass is grass,” Danny said.

Eric looked over the town and sighed loudly.

Brent picked up on Eric’s despair. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live with a family that didn’t love him or take care of him. Eric had become the lost puppy who just wanted someone to scratch him behind the ears now and again. “You wanna have dinner at my place?”

Eric beamed. “I’m going to have to check my schedule.”

“Well make it snappy, the train leaves in five.”

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Danny asked.

“Plan? We don’t need a plan,” Brent replied. “School’s out for summer.”

As the sun dipped lower in the west, they sang the words to the well-known Alice Cooper song to commemorate their freedom. The lives they’d led before meeting and the trials they faced as individuals weren’t nearly as important as their time spent together now.

Now was what mattered most.

Chapter 3

That night Eric returned to an empty house.

Joan was at the bar again - something he was used to and something he often preferred over watching her stumble around the house on a vodka bender. Jacky was locked in her bedroom, fucking her flavor of the day and cranking Led Zeppelin.

Eric quietly closed his bedroom door, covered his head with a pillow, and tried to block out the sounds of Jacky’s drunken debauchery. Much later his mother wandered in and joined the party, singing along to the cassette deck and crying out for her bottle of liquor.

Everything had gone to hell since his father died. Eric could only imagine the level of embarrassment his dad would’ve suffered if he was alive to witness what had happened to his family. His wife had become a full-blown alcoholic, his only daughter a pot smoking whore, and his only son left to fend for himself, learning an early lesson that life just isn’t fair and bad things happen to good people. The house Dennis had paid off by working sixteen-hour shifts was a stinking hovel.

Reeking of lost hope.

Eric cried into his pillow, hoping not to be heard for fear of retaliation from his intoxicated family. What kind of life was this? Without Danny and Brent, he knew he would have ended his struggle by now. Pills. Slashed wrists. Whatever got the job done the fastest. With him out of the picture, Jacky and Joan would have an extra room to get drunk and high and spread their legs for strange men at all hours of the night.

It didn’t matter as long as he wasn’t here to see it. The pain it caused him wasn’t worth it.

Eric tossed and turned for hours, weeping quietly and wondering if there was an easy way out. Before he got an answer, merciful sleep claimed him.

***

Danny’s sleep was troubled.

He was no stranger to sleepless nights. That day in the ‘Shack’ followed him around for months; he couldn’t shake it and he couldn’t let anyone know what had happened. It stayed with him and festered, always bobbing to the surface just as he closed his eyes. The months that followed were plagued by nightmares. The fear of seeing the man on a street corner kept him indoors most of the time. He was a prisoner of his trauma.

The real issues began a few days after the incident. His dreams grew teeth. He’d wake up panting, slick with sweat, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, waiting for someone or some thing to leap out of the shadows. He tried sleeping with a night light, but when that failed to help, he slept with the lights on. When his parents turned in for the night, he’d brew a strong pot of coffee and listen to his music collection, staying awake until dawn and sleeping most of the day. Nothing seemed to work. He may have become afraid of the dark, but his nightmares had no such fear. Sleep deprivation set in, and with it came hallucinations.

Danny stood on the doorstep of a nervous breakdown.

Exhaustion owned him.

Then came the shadows. He saw them everywhere… watching him, whispering unintelligibly in the wee hours of the morning. Danny prepared for the worst, sure his fear would kill him if he couldn’t grab a hold of it and bury it.

His parents didn’t understand. They noticed Danny’s change in personality: his irritability, his sudden bouts of anger or sadness. They buried their heads in the sand and waited for the storm to blow over - just normal growing pains of a boy quickly becoming a teenager. They had no idea what he was going through and didn’t ask for fear of confrontation. Danny wanted nothing more than to unburden himself, tell them what’d happened, hug his mother and cry on her shoulder, but he couldn’t. The man said he’d kill them, and he believed every word. This was something he had to deal with on his own.

Finally, the nightmares skipped a visit.

A week passed. Danny didn’t just sleep, he hibernated. Color flooded back into his life. The shadows disappeared. Late-night coffee runs were discontinued. He felt like himself for the first time in months.

Tonight, everything changed.

The nightmare swept him away.

He was back at the factory with Brent and Eric, separated from them by the rusted chain-link fence, outside looking in. He reached out and grabbed the cool metal, intending to climb over and join his friends, but the higher he climbed, the higher the fence grew. He ascended more quickly, the top bar just two feet above his head, but the fence kept pace, sprouting out of the ground like a giant weed.

Danny carefully dropped to the ground and inched back. Brent and Eric remained on the other side, unmoving, blank. The wind picked up, sending leaves skating across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. Danny called out to them, jumping up and down and waving his arms frantically, but still they stood motionless, unable or unwilling to communicate. As soon as Danny gave up his efforts to get their attention, they both turned and faced the crumbling building.

The sky above darkened, turning the ugly blackish-purple of a fresh bruise. The clouds circled overhead as the first raindrops pattered down around him. The world dimmed.

Something was coming.

The hair on his neck and arms stood on end as an unseen force reached out and drew energy from the coming storm. Danny felt its rage, felt the vastness of time and space laid out before it like a roadmap. He tried to run, but his legs were frozen. One of the large metal garage doors opened with a rusty scream. Muted blue light poured from the recesses of the factory, bathing Danny and his friends in its glow. Transfixed, they stared as a form slowly came forth. Its proportions were all wrong, disguising its appearance by wearing a man-suit. Its arms and legs were grotesquely long, its torso misshapen, its head like a twisted caricature. The muddy blue light pierced its body like sunlight through a curtain.

The man-shape extended its arms in a welcoming gesture as a mother to her children. Danny knew entering that embrace would be worse than death.

“I have so much to show you,” it said. Its voice was a raspy, garbled horror, ebbing and flowing on the wind, punctuated by intermittent rumbles of thunder. The seven simple words bubbled from its throat as if spoken through a mouthful of blood.

Danny stepped back.

Brent and Eric shared a vacant glance and shuffled forward, toward the light and the thing within. The faceless creature exuded an aura of satisfaction. Its arms opened wider, beckoning them closer. The light intensified and pulsed steadily as if reacting to the monster’s heartbeat.

Danny squinted as his friends drew closer.

“I am the last, the strongest,” it said. “Come child, join me.”

Danny shook his head like a wet dog. “No! The light is wrong.”

“The light is home.”

Brent and Eric inched closer as the creature reached out and enveloped them with its spindly arms. Their faces contorted in silent agony, their bodies shrinking, becoming less real.

Danny screamed as the beast opened its eyes, large silver globes broken by gray swirls of undulating mist. He continued to scream as the wraith mockingly screamed back. He closed his eyes so tightly his head began to ache. He sensed its approach. The air grew thick, and the rain fell in sheets. The awful blue light pierced his eyelids and dug around in his brain.

When Danny stopped screaming, the world went silent. The rain fell, the wind raged, the thunder rumbled, shaking the ground beneath his feet, but it made no sound, like a muted television. From that silence came the creature’s voice.

“Not yet Daniel Harper, but soon. Rest assured, we’ll see each other again.”

When Danny opened his eyes to confront the entity, he faced nothing more than the four familiar walls of his bedroom. His Aerosmith poster was in its proper place. A framed postcard from a fifth-grade field trip hung nearby. The thing, the factory, his doomed friends, all gone. Just a dream - a very vivid dream, but nothing more.

He sat up in bed and saw it was already getting light outside. The small red numbers on his digital alarm clock showed that it was just after five in the morning. Normally he’d roll over and attempt a few more hours, but at this point, sleep was no longer an option. Danny stepped out of bed, his sheets and clothing both damp with perspiration. A cool breeze blew through the open window, drying the sweat on his brow. Reality reasserted itself as the nightmare faded.

***

It was after seven when he hopped out of the shower, toweled off, and returned to his bedroom. The early morning sun had faded, giving way to thick gray clouds that rolled in from the east. Lightning flickered spasmodically on the horizon, followed by distant thunder.

Danny peeked out his window, expecting to see the same old nothing he’d grown accustomed to. Instead, there were two police cars parked along the curb and a silent ambulance sitting in the driveway of the house next door. Two-way radios squawked from the cruisers’ open windows. A black van pulled up as he watched, coming to rest behind the ambulance, the word ‘Coroner’ emblazoned across the side in large white letters.

Danny didn’t need to see more to know what this meant. Gary Jones was dead.

When Danny was younger, he’d often go over to old man Jones’s house to help with yardwork: cutting the grass, trimming the hedges, removing leaves from the gutters from the old maple tree out back. Danny’s mother told him it was his civic duty to help the elderly. Danny didn’t know exactly what that meant, but his time over at Mr. Jones’s house was always enjoyable for them both.

Danny loved the old man’s stories about growing up in Elmview, in the days when the roads were still dirt and trolleys were considered the quickest way from town to town. His wife had died in 1959 and he never remarried or had any children to pass along his knowledge. Danny became that surrogate son, and it benefited them both in ways they could never express.

Danny stepped away from the window, saddened by the loss of his old friend. He knew that soon they’d wheel Gary’s body from the house, covered in a sheet or body bag, hidden from view so as not to upset the nosy neighbors watching the show over their morning coffee and cinnamon buns.

Danny understood death. Even at a young age, death was always very real to him, real in the sense that it was final and absolutely guaranteed. No refunds, no do-overs, no taking it back. Death eventually comes for us all, and when it does, all anyone can hope for is a pair of clean underwear and a fitting eulogy. Danny’s mother often said that her son was an old soul, wise beyond his years. Perhaps she was right.

He went downstairs and ate breakfast without tasting it. He made a bowl of cereal, grabbed a half-stale chocolate donut, and washed it down with a glass of Kool-Aid. He was cleaning up as his mother walked into the kitchen, still wearing the hideous pink angora bathrobe his father had gotten her the previous Christmas. She never took the ugly thing off.

“Sleep well last night?”

He lied. “Yeah, mom. Mr. Jones is dead.”

“Yeah, he is,” she nodded. “He went in his sleep. We should all be so lucky.”

Danny didn’t necessarily agree. He supposed that as long as you didn’t cross into the next world kicking and screaming, that was about as lucky as anyone gets. But what if that next world wasn’t there waiting for you when you arrived? What if death was just the end? Did it really matter how you died if the second you checked out was just the beginning of nothing? Danny shook his head and tried to clear the thoughts from his mind. He was already in a foul mood without waxing philosophical.

His mother looked at him quickly, fidgeting with a rubber band she’d grabbed off the counter. “I know you two were pretty close. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine mom.”

“That’s my boy,” she said. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

Rather than dwell on the morning’s events, Danny headed to Brent’s a little early.

“Brent is out with his dad,” Margaret said. “I doubt they’ll be back before dinner.”

For fuck’s sake.

He stood on the porch and watched cars pass by. This wasn’t how he wanted to spend his morning. He walked around the corner with his head hung low. The day was going to hell fast, and he hoped Eric could somehow salvage it for him. He wasn’t looking forward to knocking on Eric’s door, but without Brent, he had no choice. As he mounted the stairs, he wondered who would answer the door. Jacky was a lost cause, but his mother had her better days. The problem was never knowing which version of Joan you’d get - the sober ghost or the drunken demon.

Danny knocked and waited. Jacky greeted him wearing the same clothes she had on the day before. Her hair was greasy and knotted and a large purple hickey stood out on her neck from the previous night’s festivities.

“Eric isn’t here, so you can just go home and fuck yourself,” Jacky shouted as she prepared to slam the door in his face. What a winner. “Hey, wait a second. You smoke pot, kid? I’d do just about anything for a few hits right now.”

He backed off the porch and noticed that Eric’s bike was missing from its customary place on the sidewalk. Danny ignored Jacky’s last comment, pretending not to hear. She was such a cliche, it would’ve been comical under different circumstances.

“Come on, for real. I’ll give you the best blow-job you’ve ever had.” Danny looked up at her, turned, and walked away from the house. His stomach lurched at the thought of her touch. What did guys see in her? Were people so desperate they’d put their dicks in a pile of trash for ten minutes of fun? “Whatever,” she shouted. “Your loss, homo.”

Danny wished life was better for his friend. He looked at his own home life, at the petty arguments he had with his parents, and he felt bad for ever thinking his life was crap. Eric’s life was crap, that was a solid fact. Relief washed over him as the door slammed from behind.

Brent is definitely knocking next time.

He didn’t realize until that moment how important his friends were. He was lost without them. He stopped at Becker’s General Store downtown and grabbed a handful of black licorice whips, his favorite comfort food. A night spent on the toilet would be well worth it. It’d grown hot again and by the time he’d gotten to Burger King, he ducked inside to rest in the air-conditioning. Once the sweat dried on his skin he went back outside, immediately regretting his decision as hot, humid air washed over him.

“Dan the Man,” a voice shouted. “Over here.”

Charlie Maier stood on his front steps, decked out in a faded Foghat shirt. He wore a pair of dark sunglasses. A silver chain with a small crucifix hung from his neck.

“Charlie!”

Danny looked both ways and hurried across the busy street. He enjoyed hanging out with Charlie and often regretted the way he sometimes treated him. Charlie could be argumentative and abrasive; he often argued a point long after losing the battle. He was a good kid, just not always the easiest to get along with.

“How’s it hanging?” Charlie said.

“A little to the left, why? Are you writing my fucking memoir?”

“Did you know that Daddy Longleggers are the most poisonous spiders in the world, but their fangs are too small to bite you? Mikey Smoler told me that and I told him he was full of shit. Maybe he’s right? Do you think that’s true?”

Danny shrugged. What the hell did he know about spiders other than the fact that he hated them?

“I thought you were in Virginia?”

“We got back last night. My mom doesn’t like staying away from home for long. She’s weird like that.”

“Now I know where you get it,” Danny joked.

“So you wanna do something? I need to get out for a while. I wanted to go to that party the other night but my mom made me help clean the garage. The garage! Are you kidding me? First day of summer vacation and I was knee-deep in cobwebs. Did you go?”

“Yep. The place was full of beer and chicks. How could I pass it up?”

“Oh shit, don’t rub it in or I’m gonna cry. Did Brent and Eric go?”

“Brent did. I don’t know where the hell Eric was. You know how he gets sometimes, just wanders off on his own. He’s missing in action today too.”

“So did you get laid?” He elbowed Danny lightly in the arm and chuckled as if they shared a private joke.

“Unfortunately not. I probably could have but I got wasted and passed out. It looked like a war zone in the morning.” Danny knew he had zero chance of getting laid that night… or any night for that matter. There was no way he’d let his friends know he was still a virgin. Let them think what they want.

Charlie buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Oh, I’m so pissed I wasn’t there. Who’s the lucky girl?”

“No one in particular. I like to keep my options open. There was one girl I talked to for a while who seemed nice…”

“Go ahead,” Charlie prodded.

“No, it’s no big deal. She’s a grade below us, anyway.”

Charlie smirked. “Oh, come on, just tell me.”

“Sam Bayonne. We talked for a little, that’s it.”

“Are you kidding? Dude, she’s hot. You’re a lucky dog.”

“Lucky? She wanted to talk to me and instead, I got loaded and passed out. She probably thinks I’m an asshole now.”

“If I had a nickel for every time I pissed some girl off I’d be living in the Playboy Mansion.”

“Yeah, and still not getting laid.”

They laughed. Danny needed that.

They walked off together, chatting about random nonsense and catching up on late school gossip. Danny told him about their adventure to the Rimmel factory and about Jacky’s proposition earlier that day.

“I’d let her suck my dick,” Charlie said. “There’s no such thing as a bad blow-job.”

“I’m sure she’s great, she’s had enough practice for the entire girl’s basketball team.” Charlie found this extremely amusing. “It’s the crotch-rot I’d be worried about.” Charlie feigned puking in a garbage can as they passed Turkey Hill, drawing a few nasty looks from customers. He didn’t care. He rarely gave a shit what others thought of him, which got them into trouble more than once. Today, Danny laughed along as his spirits rose.

At four o’clock they went back to Charlie’s and played video games in his bedroom while paging through the yearbook. Danny paused at Sam’s photo, regretting not taking the effort to hang out with her when he had the chance.

“Oh look, Danny’s in love,” Charlie said. “Why don’t you take the yearbook home for later?”

“Shut up dickhead,” Danny said, laughing as he tossed the book at him.

“Seriously though,” Charlie said. “It’s a chance you might wanna take. How many chances do any of us really get?”

Danny left at six, walking home as it began drizzling. Charlie was a lot of things, but sometimes he was right on the money. How many chances do we get? Mr. Jones had his chance, and he took it. Sure, his wife had died young, leaving him to spend the rest of his years alone, but did he regret it? When you love someone or something so much, it’s irreplaceable. At least Mr. Jones had that once, and although fleeting, it carried him through the rest of his life. Danny hoped she waited for her husband on the other side, if there was another side. If not, isn’t this all just a waste of time?

He went to bed thinking about Sam. What if she was the one he’d forever regret not knowing?

“That’s silly,” he said to his empty room, but he didn’t believe it.

Not a word.

***

Eric wanted to be alone.

He didn’t often go anywhere without his friends in tow, but now and then he needed to be by himself. He’d hopped on his bike just as the sun was coming up and rode to a remote picnic grove outside of town. It was mostly forgotten by the locals. The old bandstand had collapsed and a small concession stand remained shuttered and covered in graffiti. The grass had become wild, growing up and around the scattered benches.

Eric considered it his place. Not even his friends knew about it and he wanted to keep it that way. He needed something just for himself. When life at home got too much to bear, he’d come here to think, to reflect, to have some peace and quiet. More than once, he spent the night there. It was feeling like one of those nights.

He had no way to reach his mother or his sister. They were both lost in their own addiction, and every attempt he’d made in the past was met with anger and physical confrontation. Joan blamed him for her drinking. She needed someone to blame. Looking in the mirror and taking responsibility was too much for her.

Jacky was even more vicious, either high on something that made her extremely angry or incapable of rational thought. One angry encounter led to Eric being stripped naked and paraded around in front of her drunken friends while they joked about the size of his penis. For them, this was the highest form of amusement. He’d been so embarrassed he spent the next week in his room. Jacky was sadistic and Eric was more often than not her target.

After his father had died, the entire family began slowly circling the drain. Eric knew there was no turning back. It was too late for them. He silently prayed that it wasn’t too late for him.

That night he stayed outside, watching the stars, wishing he was a million miles away. He didn’t ride back into town until the following morning.

***

Danny met with Brent at nine the following morning and Eric pulled up soon after. They went and picked up Charlie at his house, making it the first day of vacation they’d all be together. It lifted everyone’s spirits to have the group back together again.

Brent mentioned a return trip to the Rimmel factory but was quickly shot down because of their previous run-in with old man Moyer. Danny sighed in relief, having much more pressing reasons to keep away.

By ten they stood behind the abandoned Market Street School, eying the partially open window that granted them access to the dusty rear hall. It was no longer something new or exciting - they’d been here a dozen times - but had become something of a private hangout, giving them a place to smoke cigarettes and curse like sailors without prying eyes.

“There’s something very liberating about walking into a school and pissing on the floor,” Brent said. “Some serious payback for the last ten years.”

“I actually agree with him on this one,” Charlie said.

Danny and Eric nodded their approval.

The open window was only accessible by climbing the ancient iron fire escape. Some steps were bent and others were completely missing. For fear of the old stairs falling down, they only went up one at a time, the next in line waiting patiently until the man in front of him disappeared inside.

The school, built at the turn of the century to ease overcrowding, was creepy even in broad daylight. The floor was littered with years of dust and broken plaster. It smelled of old wood. Musty. The embodiment of emptiness. Dust motes hung suspended in the air, trapped in bright yellow shafts of light that peeked through the plywood covering the windows.

Charlie said, “Let’s go up the attic. Are all of those old books still up there?”

“They should be,” Danny said.

“I’m taking one as a souvenir.”

“Oh wow, that’s so lame,” Brent yelled. “All the cool stuff to take and you want an old book. You’re really the life of the party, you know that?”

Charlie shrugged and flipped him off, getting a chuckle from Eric.

They ascended the stairs single file, the dry wood cracking and groaning beneath them. The second-floor classrooms were much brighter without the plywood covers. It was a good place to sit and relax before hitting the stifling attic for Charlie’s souvenir.

“Guys,” Eric said.

They continued walking ahead, not hearing him over the dry crunch of their shoes.

“Guys, stop,” he warned.

“What’s your problem, you gotta piss already?” Charlie asked.

Eric raised his arm and pointed ahead. They laughed, turning around, waiting to see if there was a punch line. No one noticed how badly his finger was shaking. What they saw made their laughter catch in their throats.

At the end of the hall, directly in front of a sunlit window, stood a tall, contorted shadow in the shape of a man. A pair of long arms hung to the floor, its head and neck bent to the side at an impossible angle. It stood there, plain as day, gently rocking back forth.

“Am I the only one seeing that?” Eric whispered.

Brent stared directly at it. “What the fuck?”

Danny stepped back, his shoe loudly scraping against the grit on the floor. “It’s probably just one of our shadows, right?”

Brent waved his arm in the air but the shadow remained steady. In turn, each of others repeated this gesture to the same effect. The shadow didn’t move an inch. Danny heard Brent’s heavy breathing and turned to see if he was okay. Brent stared ahead in shock, his skin pale, mouth agape.

“Holy fucking shit,” Eric screamed. “What the hell is that?”

The air tightened as the shadow on the wall waved back.

In a tangle of arms and legs, they turned and ran from the direction they’d come, slipping and sliding in the dust and debris. Their footfalls boomed like thunder, echoes bouncing into deserted rooms and coming back to meet them. With all the noise they couldn’t tell if they were being followed, but no one wanted to risk looking over their shoulder.

Eric was still in the lead. He spun around the corner and into another empty hall, nearly losing his footing on a pile of papers. “The basement! Go down the basement!”

“Are you crazy, it’s pitch black down there,” Charlie panted.

“Yeah and there’s also a door down there. Do you want to be the last one to crawl through the fucking window?”

At the foot of the stairs, they stopped, running into each other and almost crashing to the floor. The only sound was that of their labored breathing. Danny held his index finger to his lips and looked up at the ceiling. The silence was overwhelming.

Brent inched closer to his friends, shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe we’re just a bunch of scaredy-cats. It must’ve been a trick of the light or something.”

“Yeah. Or maybe it wasn’t,” Danny said.

Plaster crunched on the floor above as they held their breath, waiting for the sound to be repeated. Something sounding like a tortured cat screamed from the upper floor as doors slammed throughout the building. The air pressure changed as if the oxygen was quickly being sucked from the room. Glass shattered behind them as a bookshelf toppled nearby. A stale breeze blew down the hall, carrying dust and yellowed scraps of paper. The scream was repeated, much closer this time.

They ran.

Danny barely knew where he was going. The layout of the building suddenly seemed different, the halls much longer, doors leading off into darkened rooms he’d never seen before. His feet only skimmed the steps as he descended into the basement, his friends’ shouts of fear following him into the darkness. He stumbled across the concrete floor and ran into the wall, bumping his head and crying out in terror. He slid his hands along the wall until he found the rusted door handle that would get them outside.

He worked at the handle as the others ran down behind him, huffing and puffing from the exertion of their flight. One of them uttered a brief squawk before tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs. Their dull grunts were soon followed by pained screams.

“Oh, shit, who fell?” Danny asked.

“I think it’s Charlie,” Eric said. “I know he was behind me.”

Charlie’s voice rose in pitch and he screamed again. “It’s me, you fucks! My leg! My fucking leg is busted!”

Brent moved toward the sound of Charlie’s voice. “Calm down, we’re getting out of here.”

“IT’S BROKEN! IT FUCKING HURTS!”

“Well screaming isn’t going to fix it, dumbass.”

“Danny, please open the door,” Eric said

“I’m trying. The handle is stuck.”

Eric and Brent found Charlie sprawled on the cellar floor and tried to get him to his feet. “PUT ME DOWN, GODDAMMIT!”

“Stop being such a baby,” Brent said. “You have two legs.”

“But no balls,” Eric added.

Charlie laughed through his tears. Once he was upright, his leg didn’t hurt nearly as much, but he knew it was broken. His cries turned to sobs as they moved closer to Danny.

The pressure on the handle released, and the door opened a crack, allowing the sun to penetrate the blackness. Danny turned to check on his friends when something breathed in his ear.

The voice that followed was thick with phlegm, wet and slobbery.

“Why don’t you just leave him with me?”

Without waiting to see if his friends heard the voice, Danny pushed the door open as hard as he could, running into the welcoming sunlight. He didn’t stop until he was nearly one hundred yards away. The others followed more slowly as Charlie hopped on one leg between them. He was covered in dust. A dozen scrapes, several bleeding, covered his entire body from his tumble down the stairs. His ankle bent at an ugly angle and had begun to swell.

Eric panted harshly, looking at the building as if it would reach out and pull him back. “What the hell just happened in there?”

No one answered. The only sounds were those of heavy breathing and Charlie’s quiet sobs. Danny felt violated by the closeness of the thing that’d whispered in his ear, its voice carried on a hot, stinking wind, rotten and corrupted. If he was crazy, so were his friends. Even if they didn’t hear the voice, they surely couldn’t pretend that nothing happened in there.

“We need to get Charlie back to my place,” Danny said. “I’m the closest one. We can call his mom, tell her he fell off his bike or something. That ankle looks seriously messed up.”

Charlie looked up at him with squinting eyes and answered through clenched teeth. “Well, thanks a lot, Dr. Harper. Is that your professional opinion?”

“I say we cut it off,” Brent added. “Why waste time going to the hospital?”

They laughed without humor.

Charlie turned to Brent, trembling from the pain. “I say we cut off your tongue so for once in your life you keep your fucking mouth SHUT!”

“Not likely, buddy. I’d be the loudest mime in all the world.”

Once they arrived at Danny’s, they spun a story about Charlie’s fictional bike accident. His mother didn’t bother questioning them; she called up Charlie’s mom and repeated the lie. It might come back on him at some point, but for now, he was just happy to have his mother taking control of the situation.

Once Charlie had been taken to the hospital, they sat in Danny’s yard reflecting on what had just happened. Eric was the first to break the silence.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, but we’ll have to at some point.” He stood and exited through the rear gate. Brent followed, leaving Danny alone with his thoughts and the monster’s voice still reverberating in his head.

Chapter 4

Eric sat on his cluttered living room floor watching a rerun of Knight Rider. He’d just gotten off the phone with Charlie who’d confirmed what they’d already known - his ankle was broken, but not as seriously as they’d thought. With any luck, he’d be out of his cast just in time to enjoy what remained of his summer vacation.

Jacky had gone out somewhere, allowing Eric a little time to come out of his bedroom. Unfortunately, Joan was still there. She shambled in from the kitchen wearing a dirty housecoat and carrying a glass of clear liquid that Eric would bet wasn’t water. She plopped down on the couch, careful not to spill her drink, and grabbed the remote from the coffee table. There was no point bitching about it. He acquiesced and scooted out of her way.

“You don’t need to watch that shit right now.” Her speech was already slurred and her eyes foggy from the alcohol. “The news is on. Try to learn something for once.”

She changed the channel to the six o’clock news as the anchorman cut to a developing story. Eric didn’t remember the guy’s name and he didn’t particularly like him. His hair was always a little too perfect, his teeth a little too white, his fingernails manicured as if he was auditioning to be a hand model. Another department store mannequin in an expensive suit.

The screen went dark as the station cut from the newsroom to a live feed on the street.

The camera focused on an attractive young reporter, her blond hair hanging down over the shoulders of a white blouse. “Thanks, Gene. We’re live at the site of a fully involved structure fire here in Elmview. Local fire and rescue crews are on the scene, but the flames are proving difficult for the responders.”

There’s always a fire somewhere, Eric thought. It’s one of man’s first discoveries, it isn’t news. What’s the big fucking deal?

Eric was about to stand and leave the room when the camera panned slowly to the fire. Eric’s eyes widened as he saw the Market Street School being devoured by thirty-foot flames. “Holy Christ.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Joan shouted. “You don’t talk like that in this house.” She made a special effort to lean over and smack him in the back of the head, but he hardly noticed. His eyes were glued to the television.

The reporter continued as the camera zoomed even closer to the blaze. “I’ve spoken with Fire Chief Brian White and he has assured me that everything is being done to keep the fire from spreading to the surrounding houses, but it appears those efforts may be in vain.” The screen now showed a three-story house next to the school, the roof and upper floor burning fiercely. “All we can hope is that everyone has gotten out safely.”

Without warning, the school’s roof collapsed with a thunderous crack; a massive fireball rocketed into the darkening sky. Bystanders scattered like ants as a firefighter sprinted toward the camera, pushing people out of his way, shouting for everyone to keep a safe distance. The once calm and collected reporter shouted harshly at her crew to keep filming. Seconds later, most of the front wall broke free and toppled into the street, sending sparks, burning wood, and searing heat into the crowd of onlookers. Thick black smoke rolled toward the camera like a tidal wave.

The reporter reappeared on screen, now with her hair disheveled and her face smudged with soot and ash. “Part of the structure has collapsed. It doesn’t appear that anyone has been hurt, Gene, but the heat is unbelievable.” The screen split to show Gene back in the newsroom. The anchor looked at the camera with large glazed eyes, like he’d blown a load in his pants. Ratings were going to be through the roof.

“Nicole, you are the first on the scene to bring us this amazing video. Please stay safe out there.” Fake motherfucker.

“I’ll be sure to do that, Gene. This is Nicole Emery, live at the site of a fully involved structure fire at the Market Street Elementary School in the Dutch Hill section of Elmview. We’ll be bringing you further reports and updates as this story unfolds. Now back to Gene in the newsroom.” The anchorman filled the screen once again, showing even more evidence that Gene would need a Kleenex during the commercial break.

“Thanks, Nicole for that riveting live footage. As she said, we will bring you continuing updates throughout the night and give you a full report right here on Channel 8 at Ten.

“In other news, do you know who’s touching your food? When we come back, we’ll bring you a special investigative report that may have you considering where you take your family to dine. We’ll be back in just a moment.” Gene’s plastic face was replaced by ShopRite’s dancing Can-Can girls.

Joan drained her glass and stood on wobbly legs. “It’s about time somebody burned that place down.” She disappeared into the kitchen to refill her drink, groaning as she stepped over a pile of dirty clothes.

Eric stood and walked to the front door. He smelled smoke in the air and was pretty sure if he went down to the corner he’d be able to see the fire up on the hill.

The school had stood overlooking the downtown since 1898. It was evidence of a much simpler time when small schoolhouses stood in every section of town, children walking from their homes to their own familiar classroom. Like most of those buildings, the Market Street School closed in 1980 when the rambling, prison-like monstrosity was built in the west end. Consolidation killed the learning experience of yesteryear and the old schoolhouses were left to rot like dinosaurs from a past age. Now the fire had erased the landmark in a matter of minutes, leaving nothing more than a pile of rubble and debris.

Eric was saddened by the loss of one of his childhood hangouts, but also felt a sense of relief after what had happened just a few hours earlier. It was no coincidence. Something had stalked them through those crumbling halls, and now he was sure that the same something had erased the evidence of its passing.

Before Joan returned, Eric quietly crept outside and walked to the end of the block where he could get a good view of the school. Flames shot into the air, painting the surrounding sky a sinister orange hue. Red and blue lights pulsed and danced in the trees. He couldn’t look away. A gray fog hung over the entire section of Dutch Hill, swirling and twisting in the heat of the blaze. The smoke clouds thickened, tightened, surged together, creating an image.

That of a malevolent face peering out over Elmview, smiling through a mouthful of oily black teeth.

Eric heard laughter on the wind.

***

Brent had a small color television in his bedroom with a built-in VCR. He sat on the floor cross-legged waiting to record the news at ten o’clock. When it came on, the fire was the number one story. Brent pushed the record button on the remote control and sat back.

“The blaze at the abandoned Market Street School in Elmview is finally under control, but not before spreading to a nearby home and taking the lives of an elderly couple. With a full report on this tragic fire is Jarrod Martino, live on the scene.”

The reporter spoke off-camera as the shot panned over the fire-blackened debris. A half-dozen firefighters decked out in bright yellow were holding large fire hoses on the glowing rubble. Most of the building had collapsed into the foundation, creating a large pile of smoldering wood and brick. Spectators stood in a line around the edge of the caution tape.

Brent stared at the screen, whistling through his teeth as the camera zoomed in on what remained of the adjacent house. It was little more than an unrecognizable black heap of smoking debris.

“As you can see here, the neighboring home, owned by Ed and Janet Warren, has been completely destroyed by the raging flames. The elderly couple was said to have been home at the time, but the full extent of the tragedy will not be known until recovery efforts get underway.”

Brent didn’t want to see anymore. He stopped the VCR and changed the channel. People died, people that were a part of this town. Snuffed out by something they had no control over. What was going on around here? What had happened to them earlier?

He wished it was morning. He needed desperately to talk to his friends and find a way to wrap his head around what’d happened. He turned off the television and the light and hopped into bed, listening to a Bon Jovi record before falling asleep.

Margaret McCallister checked on her son shortly after midnight, removing the headphones from his ears and placing them on the nightstand. As she turned to leave, she stopped and gasped as her eyes caught the shape of a man standing in the corner by Brent’s bed. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, but saw nothing more than the shadow of a tree branch from the back yard. She exhaled shakily and laughed at herself for being foolish.

“You’re too old for ghosts, Margaret,” she said.

She left the room, closing the door behind her.

***

Danny, Brent, and Eric watched silently as firefighters sifted through the smoking ruins. Eric covered his face as acrid smoke burned his eyes. It poured from the crater, rising above the rooftops and dimming the bright morning sun. It reeked of charred wood and something even more unpleasant and corrupt underneath. Around the perimeter of the foundation were piles of blackened bricks and shattered glass that glinted in the sun. Danny pointed out the charred remains of what appeared to be a pigeon.

Brent looked away and turned to his friends, his face one of concern. “Do you think anyone saw us?”

“If someone saw us we’d already have cops at our houses. Besides, we didn’t do anything wrong.” Danny wasn’t ready for Brent’s apparent paranoia.

“We were the last ones in there. What if it was our fault?”

“It wasn’t our fault,” Eric said. “Don’t you think maybe something else is to blame here? Are we even going to talk about it or just pretend it didn’t happen?”

“There’s nothing to pretend,” Brent said. “We were scared off by some stupid shadows and noises and we probably looked like idiots.”

“You don’t actually believe that do you?” Danny asked.

Brent nodded and crossed his arms. There was nothing else to be said on the matter. They didn’t stay much longer. It was depressing. Scary. They walked with their heads down, talking only occasionally. Once they arrived at Brent’s house they parted ways. The mood was somber. The loss of their hangout, the death of those poor people, the supernatural creature that had chased them out one last time. It felt like a dream. A nightmare. Was it possible the old legends and ghost stories about that place were true? How else could what happened be explained?

When Danny got home, his mother was just setting the table for dinner. His nose wrinkled at the pungent stink of sauerkraut. She looked at him and smiled.

“Don’t worry, I made you burgers and fries instead.”

“Thank god. Anything that smells that bad shouldn’t be fit for human consumption.” Danny sat at the table with his head in his hands.

“You don’t seem yourself today. Everything okay?”

“I don’t know. First Mr. Jones and now the Market Street School. It’s been a crappy few days I guess.”

“I know, Daniel, but that old place has been empty for years, a breeding ground for rats and vandals and God knows what. It’s sad that old couple died, but good riddance to that eyesore.”

“I went in there a few times with Brent and Eric and Charlie. We used to make up ghost stories. It was just a cool place to hang out.”

“Jesus, Daniel! You could have been hurt.”

Danny shrugged. He never understood why his mother was so disconnected from everything cool. She wasn’t old enough to act so crotchety. Didn’t she ever have a place where she liked hanging out with her friends? Didn’t she ever sneak a smoke behind her parent’s back? As if reading his thoughts, she spoke to him while spooning sauerkraut into a large white bowl.

“When I was your age, my father would have taken the belt to me if he thought I was hanging out in some abandoned building. We used to go to the diner when we were your age, drink ice cream floats, go out to the movies. I guess boys are different. The more dangerous something is, the more they like it. That’ll never change.” She patted his arm lightly and went back to finishing dinner.

Danny smiled at her and grabbed a soda from the refrigerator. He plopped down on the chair in the living room with a sigh. His father sat on the couch, shoes off, reading the newspaper. His wallet sat on the coffee table next to a bottle of Yuengling Lager he’d placed on the stupid apple-shaped coasters his mother had picked up at Jamesway.

He lowered the paper and looked over at his son without speaking. David Harper was a man of few words, and more often than not, a man of none. Danny and his father didn’t have the kind of relationship he saw on television. They didn’t go fishing and hunting together, they didn’t sit around the dinner table and play board games. It just wasn’t the way things worked in the Harper residence.

The most fun Danny had ever had with his father was when he was younger, and his dad taught him the fine points of Texas Hold ‘Em. They would play for quarters that his father kept in his change jar. Win or lose, Danny often ended up with the quarters, which he happily spent at the arcade the following day.

“What’d you do today, kid?” David asked.

“Nothing much. Hung out with Brent and Eric. Checked out the fire on Market Street.”

His father closed the paper and put it on the floor beside him. He smiled at his son and grabbed his beer from the coffee table.

“Bad?”

“There’s nothing left. Just a big, black hole in the ground.”

“I went to school there. Nice place back in the day - shade trees, benches, swings, manicured hedges. They closed the place and sold it all for scrap when that kid got hurt playing there after dark. Some stupid brat can’t read the posted signs, busts his head wide open, his parents sue the school district, and everyone pays the price.”

Danny smiled at his father, imagining a time when Elmview wasn’t such a wreck. Sometimes he felt he’d never get to enjoy the things his parents did. Time moved on and left Elmview in the dust, and all that remained were the crumbling facades of once popular hangouts. What would it be like in ten years? Thirty? Would it still be here at all?

“That shyster from New York bought the place and just let it rot. He piled up back taxes for years, when if he’d really given a shit, he could have revitalized it… made apartments or something. Someone should take him out behind the woodshed and beat his ass.”

Father and son shared a smile. David picked up his paper and continued reading without another word. It was the most his father had spoken to him in ages. Danny didn’t mind. His father was a good man even if no one was giving him a Father of the Year trophy anytime soon. It was how things had always been… David wasn’t ready for children when Danny was born. He just hoped his father didn’t blame him for taking away that part of his life.

An hour later, after dinner had been eaten and the table cleared, David retired to the bedroom and his mother sat down to watch television. Danny went to his own room to listen to music and read about the creepy 1958 Plymouth Fury that drove around killing people.

His sleep was undisturbed.

***

What Danny didn’t know, was that as he slept, black shadows crept up his bedroom wall, coalescing into a solid figure in the shape of a man. Long, twisted fingers reached out for Danny but didn’t touch him. You’ll be mine, it thought. All of this will be mine. Its silver eyes pinched shut in frustration.

The entity had spent millennia in darkness while these vermin bred like rats and lived in the light.

I can tear it all down, it thought.

The form lost its shape and slipped through the open window like mist. It looked down from a great height, seeing Elmview as few had seen it before. Bright streetlights erased the worst of the shadows, porch lights were lit to make those living inside feel safe, headlights on vehicles cut swaths of yellow color through the darkness, night lights glowed in children’s bedrooms to vanquish the imagined boogeymen hiding in closets and beneath beds.

They’re all so afraid of what they can’t see.

Its laughter echoed over Elmview like distant thunder. The few who’d heard it turned on an extra light… not sure why, but knowing it had to be done.

By dawn, they’d forgotten why they’d done it in the first place.

***

David Harper awoke a little after three and gazed into the blackness of the bedroom. Apart from his wife’s quiet snoring, the house was silent. It was unusual for him to wake up during the night, he’d always been a sound sleeper.

He’d been dreaming about something that was already beginning to fade, but some of the clearer images would likely stay with him for days after. He brushed a hand across his face and wiped thin sweat from his brow. It’d been years since he’d remembered one of his dreams. He’d read somewhere that everyone dreamed, but it became less frequent with age and often went forgotten. This one was powerful enough to wake him and set him on edge.

Elmview was in ruins.

Rusted cars lined the empty streets, burned-out buildings hunched over tangled lawns, streets were broken and crumbling, trees singed and leafless. He saw his son standing on the cracked road, motionless, pointing up Broad Street at something unseen. A dark cloud materialized in the middle of the street and shrieked with violent fury. It called Danny’s name.

David shivered, stepped out of bed, and put on his slippers. The air-conditioner hummed quietly. His wife liked it chilly, and he knew after twenty year of marriage, there was no point arguing. In the midst of December snow, she still slept with a fan blowing directly on her side of the bed. Then she complained about sinus problems.

The joys of marriage.

He walked into the hall and down the stairs to the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee and jamming a few slices of bread in the toaster. No point trying to go back to sleep, he had to be up at five, anyway.

Walking through the dim living room, he paused, peering into the shadows, sure he’d seen something flitting through the air. He flicked on the overhead light and walked ahead slowly, convinced something was watching him.

“Just your nerves,” he said. The dream had really shaken him.

Creeping to the second floor, David opened Danny’s bedroom door and looked in on his son. He slept peacefully. Satisfied, David went back downstairs, poured a cup of coffee, and ate several pieces of dry toast. His wife came down at four-thirty and grabbed a mug, grimacing as she sipped the bitter brew.

“This is awful. How long have you been down here?”

“Not long,” he said. “Maybe an hour or so. I can make a new pot.”

“Yes, please, this tastes like furniture polish.” David made a fresh pot and a few more pieces of toast. “Why are you up so early?”

“I don’t know, couldn’t sleep. Had a hell of a dream.”

“Sounds ominous.”

David laughed and put his mug in the sink. “Not at all, just a dream.”

“Some say that dreams are often based on reality.”

“Well if that’s the case you’d better start packing.”

Chapter 5

Eric sat in the living room watching television while his mother snored loudly on the couch. She’d been drinking heavily all night, talking to herself, shouting obscenities at her dead husband. She’d sleep most of the day away, getting up just in time to hit the liquor store and start all over again.

An hour later, clean and showered, Eric quietly latched the door behind him and walked to Brent’s house, kicking an aluminum can up the sidewalk. When Eric rounded the corner he saw Brent on his porch, tying his sneakers and humming to himself discordantly. Brent stopped when he saw his friend and stood to greet him.

“I heard you coming a block away,” he said.

“I like to make an entrance.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“Wanna do something today?”

“Yeah. I’m just waiting for Danny, see what he has to say. It’s so boring around here.”

Not lately, Eric thought.

“You want a soda or something?”

Eric nodded and sat on the steps while Brent ran inside to get refreshments. The McCallisters had a soft spot for the poor boy. Such a terrible thing that happened to that family, Brent’s mother would say. Little did she know the death of the family patriarch was only the beginning of their problems.

Once Brent returned, they sat side-by-side on the front porch, sipping their cold beverages. Charlie Maier rounded the corner, balancing precariously on his crutches. He hopped around like an injured bird, dragging his cast along the ground.

A white Econoline van roared around the corner, engine racing and tires squealing as it slid across the asphalt. The driver leaned on the horn as the vehicle crossed the railroad tracks, seeing Charlie in just enough time to correct his course. Startled, Charlie jumped back, dropping one of his crutches and nearly falling into the dirt. He bent awkwardly, retrieved his crutch and continued toward Brent’s house.

Brent stood and shook his head. “Are you trying to break your other leg?”

“That guy was driving like an asshole, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Apart from looking ridiculous, it seems you can get around okay,” Eric said.

“It’s not so bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I won’t be running in any marathons anytime soon. I won’t be running at all.”

Brent looked away, knowing what Charlie was hinting at. “It was just our imagination. You know that right?”

“Something was wrong in there. It felt wrong.”

Brent shrugged and turned around. “You want a soda?”

“Hell yes, I want a soda.”

As Brent went to fetch another drink, Charlie sat next to Eric and wiped his sweaty forehead on his shirt.

“So what’s going on?” Charlie asked.

“Right now we’re waiting for Danny.”

Brent returned with another soft drink and a handful of pretzel sticks.

“What’re you dicks talking about?” Brent asked.

“Banging your mom,” Eric said.

“Get in line, buddy.”

“You guys are messed up,” Charlie said.

“Messed up like Brent’s face,” Eric said.

“No, messed up like your sister’s flabby boobs.”

“You should see her ass.”

“Oh my god, that’s so gross,” Brent shouted.

Charlie shook his head and laughed with them, drinking his soda while they spit pretzel crumbs all over themselves. They didn’t notice Danny approach the house.

“What the hell’s so funny?” he asked.

They laughed harder. Eric spilled a little of his soda on his shoe.

“Jacky’s ass and tits apparently,” Charlie said. He ate his pretzel stick, finished his soda, burped, and shook his head. Danny patted him on the arm and smiled.

I have some weird friends, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

***

It was one of those days when nothing kept their attention for long. There was something about having no structure that was both exciting and boring. There was only so much to do before it became redundant.

They stopped at the Corner Pocket and played a few games of pool, laughing at Charlie as he tried to maintain his balance without his crutches. They walked by the basketball court and watched kids play a pick-up game, realizing they could never join with an injured member of their group. They wound up at Jack’s Video, looking at movies they had no intention of renting.

A little after four o’clock they decided to return to Brent’s house, maybe relax on the front porch, bullshit, anything that required as little energy as possible. It was almost ninety degrees.

They stepped outside, leaving the air-conditioned comfort of the video store behind. Eric covered his eyes with his forearm to block out the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. He bumped into Danny who’d stopped at the curb, waiting for the light to turn.

Charlie didn’t stop. He raced passed them in a world of his own. Brent chuckled. Charlie looked ridiculous as he hobbled across the intersection.

“What the hell are you doing?” Danny said. He laughed, sure that Charlie was doing it to prove he could still maneuver on his busted leg.

Brent cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “You look like an old man! Stop it before someone sees you!”

Charlie never turned, never laughed, only looked straight ahead. When he dropped his crutches and continued on foot, the laughter stopped and Danny became concerned.

“Okay, you proved your point, get out of the road.”

Charlie stopped and turned around. His face was slack, his eyes wide and unseeing, his lips trembling. His friends saw the white van and heard its engine racing before they had time to react. In a few seconds, it was on him.

It tore through the intersection at forty miles an hour, hitting Charlie dead on and pinning him to the grill like a fly on the windshield. They screamed their warning too late, called his name, and ran into the street, abandoning their own safety. Brent tripped over Charlie’s shoe sitting in the middle of the road. It’d been knocked clear off his foot.

The van swerved toward the curb and the line of parked cars without ever slowing down. It rear-ended an old Valiant in a violent collision that crushed Charlie in between. Blood sprayed from his mouth like a geyser and poured down his shirt in a torrent. His eyes bulged, staring into the bright summer sky as his hands clenched and unclenched, reaching out for help.

The Econoline’s engine roared again as the vehicle lurched backward. The upper part of Charlie’s crushed body was sprawled across the car’s crumpled rear end. Blood dribbled from the front of his shorts, ran down his legs, and pooled in the gutter. A second later, his lower body fell to the ground; everything from his waist down had been severed by the violence of the impact. His upper body remained in place. Large red ropes of intestine uncoiled from his torso and formed a scattered pile beneath him.

He’d been cut in two.

Charlie raised his head with an effort, staring at the quickly gathering crowd. His eyes wouldn’t focus. He tried asking for help but he couldn’t make his mouth work. It was getting so dark. His mother was going to be pissed if he wasn’t home in time for dinner.

Charlie shook with a sudden tremor and his upper body slid off the trunk of the car. He fell face first onto the oily street, breaking his nose and knocking out his front teeth. He spit them out like hard candy. Looking up, he saw that his knee was scraped and his shorts were torn. The signatures on his cast were covered in splashes of crimson.

He reached out one trembling hand to grab his leg, confused by the strange angle at which it lie on the hot asphalt. His body stilled as one final wheezing breath whistled between his lips. Charlie would never make it home for dinner again.

The driver-side door of the van burst open, and a man jumped into the street. His eyes rolled in his head as he looked at Charlie’s mangled body. The crowd backed away, giving the man a wide berth as he blubbered incoherently.

“I never saw him,” he screamed. “I swear I never fucking saw him!” He looked at Charlie’s bloody corpse and dropped to his knees, vomiting down the front of his shirt. Tears ran unchecked over his stubbly cheeks. “What happened? Oh my God, what happened?” He vomited again, stood, and stumbled back into the crushed, steaming grill of his van.

The onlookers mumbled quietly to one another, looking at the man with contempt and disgust. Sirens blared in the distance. A light breeze blew down the street, ruffling Charlie’s hair and blowing his t-shirt aside, exposing the jagged, wet tear where the boy had once been joined. The crowd erupted in shouts and cries of revulsion.

Danny was crying too hard to notice.

The driver wandered into the crowd, begging them to explain what’d happened. His injured nose began bleeding profusely, running down over his lips and chin. Every time he shouted, the blood mixed with spittle, spattering those who’d gathered. He grabbed a woman by her shirt, leaving smeared, bloody prints on the white fabric.

“Get away from me you monster,” she screamed before running off into the crowd.

“Please, someone tell me what happened!”

“You killed that poor boy,” someone shouted.

“You’ll go to prison for this,” said another.

The angry mob shouted all at once, pushing the man back into the street. He turned to run, bumping into Danny. They gazed into the face of Charlie's killer, too shaken to utter a word.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Beware the darkness; the darkness holds sway.”

He slapped his hands over his face and wailed, again falling to his knees as if he was no longer capable of staying on his feet. A cloud passed over the sun; the shadows lengthened and crept closer. His screams became tortured shrieks, bouncing off the storefronts, joining together like a chorus of the damned. He scratched at his face, digging deep, bloody furrows in his flesh. He tore out large patches of greasy, black hair and clenched them in his shaking fists.

“GOD FORGIVE ME!” he screamed. “Look what I’ve done for YOU! All for YOU!”

The driver jammed the tips of his fingers into the corners of his eyes and applied pressure until they slipped into the warm holes of his eye sockets. With a quick flick of his wrists, he popped his eyes from his head where they dangled like gory Yo-Yos from thin pink fibers. He grabbed each eyeball in his shaking hands and squeezed them like grapes; Danny heard them pop softly as they turned to lumps of jelly in the man’s fists. He tore away the final remains of his eyes, snapping the retinal veins and optic nerves, and tossing them into the street.

“If I can’t see you, you can’t hurt me,” he moaned. “Go away, go away!” He turned his head toward Danny and his friends, whimpering. His dark, hollow sockets leaked blood and clear fluid; snot dangled from his nostrils in thick, wet ropes. “It’s coming. Everything will be lost.” Orbs of molten silver sparked to life in the red recesses of his empty eye sockets before quickly disappearing.

With a final warbling cry, the man fell into the street. Completely blind, he reached out, dragging his hand through the cooling puddle of blood leaking from Charlie’s midsection. His hand crept up the boy’s chest and stopped, where he grabbed hold of the gold crucifix hanging around Charlie’s neck. He wrapped his hand around the chain and pulled.

“Forgive me,” he said, growing still.

“He’s dead!” someone shouted.

The mob rejoiced, their need for swift justice had been sated.

The ambulance arrived just as a heavy, cold rain fell from the thickening clouds above, washing Charlie’s blood into the gutter. The police arrived, the crowd dispersed, and Charlie was taken away.

Danny found it difficult remembering the precise chain of events, but he’d never forget the glints of silver that had greeted him from the dying man’s skull. He wondered if he was the only one who’d noticed.

***

“Is there anything in the paper about the funeral?” Danny asked his mother. Two days had passed since the accident and he hadn’t left the house, only talked to his friends on the phone, never saying much but being comforted by their voices.

“What’s that, Danny?”

“Charlie’s funeral? Is it in the paper?”

“Charlie? Do I know him?”

Danny sat in the chair, his breath escaping in a loud blast. “My friend Charlie Maier, remember? He was just killed by a madman on Broad Street. Ring any bells?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know him, but I don’t know all your friends, do I? Relax.”

“Relax? Are you out of your fucking mind?” he screamed. His mother stepped back at the ferocity of his words.

“Watch your mouth,” she yelled. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’re not going to take it out on me, young man.”

“Mom, seriously? How could you forget? We were at the police station for hours. Charlie Maier. You made him dinner a dozen times.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Daniel. Don’t make up awful stories like that, it isn’t funny.” She turned and went back to the dishes.

“Mom, look at me!”

She tossed the dishrag into the sink and turned. “What, Danny?”

“One of my best friends was killed two days ago and you don’t even remember?” He grabbed the paper from the table and frantically turned the pages. Surely it was in there somewhere. He went through it several times but found nothing.

Not a story. Not an obituary. Not a blurb. Nothing.

He tore the paper into pieces and threw them to the floor, jumping up and down on the remains.

“Okay, that’s enough! I’m done with your tantrum and your disrespect. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you lately. Go to your room and wait for your father to come home.”

“I’m not staying here with you. You’re crazy!” Danny stood, knocking the kitchen chair to the linoleum with a bang. He stormed past his mother and went outside, slamming the kitchen door with enough force to crack the glass. He was at the end of the yard by the time his mother had begun shouting behind him.

“Don’t you walk away from me! Get back here now!”

Danny opened the rear gate and disappeared.

He wanted to punch something, anything, everything. What the hell was happening? How had his mother forgotten about Charlie?

He’d never cursed at his mother before: not when he was battling insomnia, not when she scrapped his comic book collection, not when he woke her up screaming in the middle of the night. Never. Those things had all happened, they all carried weight, but this was somehow different and it scared the hell out of him. She was too young to be suffering from dementia, right? What else could explain her behavior? The longer he walked, the more his anger turned to confusion. It just wasn’t possible.

Danny passed rows of houses, their normalcy suddenly shocking in the aftermath of recent events. A woman tended the small flower garden in front of her house, a man watered his lawn, a little girl played with her Golden Retriever puppy, giggling happily.

“Hi,” she said, waving one dirty hand as he passed.

“Hi,” he replied.

“Where ya going?

“To hang out with my friends I guess.”

“It must be so neat to be old and do whatever you want.”

“Sometimes,” Danny said. “You’ll find out someday.”

“I don’t know,” she laughed. “I don’t think I’ll ever grow up.”

“Of course you will. You’ll go to high school and meet all sorts of new friends and learn to drive.”

“Nah, I’ll be dead by then.”

“What?” Danny stopped on the sidewalk as she tossed a stick to the panting puppy. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true,” she laughed. “I’ll be dead and gone just like Charlie.” She smacked her hands together for emphasis and Danny flinched.

“What did you say?”

“Dead, dead, dead,” she sang. “We’re all dead.”

The girl’s mother appeared in the doorway, glaring at Danny apprehensively. “Come on Janie, time to come in.”

“Okay,” she said. She waved again and ran to the door as the puppy followed, wagging its tail playfully. “Nice to meet you, Danny.”

I never told her my name, he thought.

He watched the door close behind her, lingering behind a few seconds before continuing on. He was more confused now than before. How did that little girl know him? How did she know about Charlie? A kid on a skateboard sped past and shouted, “Watch where you’re going asshole!” Danny moved aside and watched as he disappeared around the corner.

“Hey, you wanna drink?” a voice called.

Danny stopped. A man in cut-off shorts swayed drunkenly in his driveway. Two other men sat with beers in their hands inside the garage. They were all clearly intoxicated.

“No thank you, I’m good,” Danny said.

“There’s nothing good about you, boy,” one of the men slurred. “You better drink up now while you still have a chance.”

“While I have a chance? What are you talking about?”

“Ah, he’s still wet behind the ears. He has no idea what’s coming.”

“Got that right,” the man said, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the can onto the concrete.

The others laughed as the man ducked inside and the garage door rattled closed.

Danny walked faster, shaking. Is everyone losing their mind?

As he jogged to Brent’s house, we wondered if maybe he was losing his.

***

“My father was the same way,” Brent said. “Like he didn’t remember anything.”

Brent, Danny, and Eric sat around the McCallister’s dining room table comparing notes. The story was the same.

“It’s like it never happened,” Eric said. “Like Charlie never happened.”

“What are you talking about?” Brent asked.

“It’s like he never existed. Like there was a world with Charlie, but we woke up in a world without him.”

“You sound like a nut-job,” Brent said. “That’s what happens when someone dies. One minute they’re here and then they’re not. It’s not a mystery.”

“Why don’t our parents remember what happened?” Danny asked. “Just because someone dies doesn’t mean they never existed.”

Brent didn’t have an answer.

“How did that little girl remember?” Eric asked.

“And how did she know my name?”

“She lives a block away from you,” Brent said. “Everyone knows everyone around here.”

Eric shrugged.

The death of a child is a hard pill to swallow, the ultimate failure of a society that prides itself on its vigilance. Something like this should have made headlines. Not only would their parents remember, but Charlie would have become a household name. Benefits would’ve been staged, raffles, fundraisers, awareness groups. It’d all happened in Elmview before.

A four-year-old boy had been looking through the window screen of a fifth-floor apartment when it gave way, spilling him into the street below and killing him instantly. Within days the parks were holding benefit concerts, the churches had bake sales, t-shirts were sold, grief counseling was held at the local YMCA.

The only benefit Charlie received was not being here to see what was going on.

“We’re going to his house,” Danny said.

“What’s that going to prove?” Brent asked.

“His own mother isn’t going to forget him. We need to talk to her. We need answers.”

Eric stood and was halfway across the room before Danny got to his feet. Brent grudgingly followed.

There was no talk on the way to Charlie’s. Not a word was spoken. There was a tension between Brent and the others that had never existed before, and they thought further discussion would become further argument. Besides, there was really nothing more to say until they figured this all out.

When they arrived at Charlie’s, his mother was standing on the front porch, smoking a cigarette and watering her potted Verbena plants. She glanced dismissively until they paused on the sidewalk and peered up at her. Probably selling something, she thought.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re just here to say we’re really sorry about what happened to Charlie. He was a good friend of ours,” Eric said.

“Charlie?” She set the watering can aside and stubbed her cigarette into the ashtray. Danny had never seen her smoke before.

“Yeah, your son Charlie,” Brent said.

“My son? That’s a new one. I’m sorry guys, but you have the wrong house.” She turned to go back in when Danny spoke up.

“No, we don’t have the wrong house! This is the right house and Charlie is your son and our friend. His bedroom is on the second floor, right next to the bathroom. His father works at the A&P in Ashton. He has a small scar on his right arm where you burned him with a hot pan when he was a baby.”

“Okay, stop right there. I don’t know who the hell you kids are and I don’t know what your game is, but if you don’t knock this shit off and get off my sidewalk, I’m going to call the police.”

“Go ahead and call them,” Eric said. “Please Mrs. Maier, we’re not trying to cause any problems.”

“Then you’re high on drugs. And my name is not Maier, it’s Vallory. I’ve had enough of this nonsense, so get going before I lose my temper.”

Danny rushed forward to say something else when Brent grabbed his arm and physically pulled him back. Still holding him, Brent started across the street, away from Charlie’s and away from trouble. Eric followed close behind with his head hung low.

“What the fuck is going on?” Danny shouted.

“Let’s just get out of here and we’ll figure it out,” Eric reassured him.

Tanya Vallory lit another cigarette as she watched the boys cross the street. She realized her hand was shaking. As a much younger woman, she’d decided if she had ever had a son, she would name him Charles, after her father. This was several years before she’d found out she was unable to have children. The coincidence was startling. She flicked her cigarette into the street and went back into the house to prepare for her date. She wasn’t about to let a group of creepy kids ruin her good time.

Danny went home without another word. There was something very strange at play, something he needed to figure out for himself. If Brent wanted to pretend there was nothing wrong, then so be it, but Danny wasn’t about to let it go. For now, he had to make things right with his mother. He couldn’t risk being grounded while the world went insane.

***

“I don’t know what’s going on with him, but he’s losing it,” Brent declared.

“He’s not losing it,” Eric said. “Don’t you see what’s going on? People don’t just disappear.”

“He didn’t disappear; he died. End of story!”

“How do you explain our parents? How do explain his own mother not remembering him?”

“My parents don’t always remember what we had for dinner last night. It isn’t proof of anything.”

“That’s your explanation?”

“She’s grieving,” Brent said. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. People do crazy shit after someone dies. My uncle started talking to his cat after my cousin died, thinking he’d been reincarnated. People get fucked up about death.”

“It’s more than that,” Eric said. “Something isn’t right.”

They walked up Broad Street, pausing at the stretch of road where Charlie had been run down, where a crazy man pulled his own eyes from his head. If that’s normal, Eric didn’t want to know what crazy looked like.

“I’m going to miss him,” Brent said.

“Miss WHO?” Eric shouted. “The Famous Vanishing Cripple? The Mystery Boy of Elmview?”

Brent stopped on the sidewalk, looking hurt. “You don’t have to yell at me. Look, maybe something weird is going on and maybe it isn’t, but you’re both jumping at shadows. There has to be an explanation. Can we at least think about this logically before we all wind up in the loony-bin?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. This is insane.”

“Let’s just go home, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“You want me to come over?” Eric asked. Dealing with Jacky and his mother was the last thing he needed right now.

“No, I don’t think so,” Brent said. “I’m going to crash early tonight.”

Eric realized Brent was hurt by the outburst. If letting him go home and be alone was what he needed, Eric wasn’t going to argue. He just wished that Brent could see what was right in front of his face, but obviously he’d take a little more convincing. They walked together but felt alone. When they reached Eric’s house, he looked at the door and sighed, wondering what awaited him on the other side.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eric said.

“Yeah.” Brent walked away without another word.

Eric hoped he didn’t do irreparable damage to their friendship. He didn’t mean to explode. He was scared and confused and if his friends turned their backs on him, he’d lose himself. They’d done so much for him, they gave him a life outside of his hell.

He sighed as he crossed the living room, relieved to have the house to himself. He made a cheese sandwich and locked his bedroom door behind him.

***

Brent closed the door and shook his head, still stinging from Eric’s rebuke. He didn’t understand what was happening either, but now wasn’t the time for them to turn on each other. They’d never argued before, not in all the years they’d known each other. Charlie wouldn’t have wanted to see them behave this way no matter how bad things seemed.

He ate dinner with his parents, feeling awful for telling Eric no. What if he didn’t eat that night? What if all he had to go home to was another fight, another empty belly, another night of tossing and turning between dirty sheets?

I’m a terrible friend, he thought.

After dinner, he helped his mother with the dishes and watched The Cosby Show. He thought about calling Eric’s house but didn’t want to deal with Joan or Jacky picking up the phone. That was a mistake he would only make once. Last time had turned into an impromptu roast, with them both reminding him how fat and disgusting he was. He hung up feeling soiled, like he’d rolled around in a yard full of dog shit.

He went upstairs at ten o’clock, changing into his pajamas, and taking a leak. As the toilet flushed, Brent heard a soft mewling from behind.

“Suzie, go lay down,” he said. Suzie was a ten-year-old Maine Coon with a habit of sleeping in the bathtub and watching them use the toilet. Twenty-two pounds of fluffy, voyeuristic charm. Brent brushed his teeth and spit when the sound repeated.

“Go away, Suzie,” he said again. When he turned he saw he had the room to himself. “What the hell?” He opened the bathroom door, expecting her to be looking up at him, but she was nowhere in sight. The mewling came a third time and Brent turned around, looking into the bathroom sink. He put his hand over his mouth to stifle a scream.

Something writhed in the white porcelain basin, covered in spit and gobs of toothpaste. Stunted, stubby arms reached out for an unwanted embrace. It looked like a baby, but a thin gelatinous membrane covered its wrinkled flesh. Its head was misshapen, coming to a dull point; thick blue veins pulsed beneath its opaque skin like quivering earthworms. The same wet, mewling whine issued from the sink, causing Brent to cover his mouth and gag. The creature had no lips; its mouth was nothing more than a slimy, toothless hole. Thin flesh covered the space where its eyes should’ve been, and its ears were nothing more than globs of red melted flesh. It pawed at its face with fingerless hands, its stumpy legs pistoning frantically.

Brent stepped closer, still holding a hand over his mouth. The thing smelled like wet garbage. As it wriggled around, it left a thin coating of pink slime behind. He reached out with a shaking hand and poked at its distended abdomen. Its flesh was sticky and gelid. Brent fell to the floor and vomited into the toilet as the thing giggled through a mouth clotted with thick, yellow saliva.

He crawled to the sink and reached for the aberration, intent on disposing it in the fouled toilet water. He prepared himself for the feel of its squirming flesh beneath his fingertips, but the imp had vanished. Brent tittered nervously and rubbed the sides of the sink, expecting his hands to come away covered in thick, pink sludge.

Nothing.

“I have to stop listening to them,” he said. “They’re making me see things.”

He went to sleep, convinced he’d imagined the entire thing. It would be his little secret. No sense giving Danny and Eric another reason to keep up with their crazy delusions.

If they were going insane, they’d have to do it without him.

***

Danny didn’t need to look at his clock to know it was still well before dawn. His room was dark; crickets chittered loudly in the yard. He’d awoken with chills and a full bladder. He hopped out of bed and crept into the hall, the bare wood cool beneath his feet. In the living room, the grandfather clock ticked loudly; the refrigerator hummed; his mother snored lightly behind the closed bedroom door. Otherwise, the house was completely silent.

He urinated without closing the door or turning on the overhead light. He wanted to make it quick so he could climb back into bed and salvage a few more hours of sleep. He flushed the toilet and turned to leave, stopping in his tracks.

The doorway was blocked by a shifting wall of black smoke.

Don’t be afraid, Daniel.

But he was… terrified, in fact. He stared into the abyss, frozen, afraid to breathe. He’d seen it at the factory, seen it in the school, seen it in his dreams, but never in his own home. Never this close. The frame around the bathroom door grew a fine coating of frost. If that thing was hiding behind the wall of smoke, he couldn’t see it through the churning cloud of ash.

But he felt it… watching. Smiling.

Come closer. I won’t harm you.

“I’m… I’m dreaming, Danny stuttered.

This isn’t a dream; this is very real. I need to show you things, Daniel, things no one else has ever seen. Other times. Other worlds.

“You’re a monster,” he whispered. “You killed Charlie.” Tears welled in his eyes as he saw his friend’s lifeless body in the gutter, surrounded by intestines like bloody, coiled snakes.

I didn’t kill anyone. You saw what happened with your own two eyes. An unfortunate accident.

“It was not an accident! You murdered him!”

You poor boy, you have so much to learn. I can teach you things that will set you free from all this suffering, all this death.

“You’re the Devil, aren’t you?” He cried openly, his knees shaking uncontrollably.

The thing laughed. It was the roar of a cornered animal, the shriek of a jet engine, thunder carried on the wind.

Your Devil wasn’t even a bad dream when I first walked this land. He is but a puppy cowering in my shadow, and when the time comes for my true awakening, the Devil will beg me for mercy. Enough of this talk. Come closer. Let me show you.

Danny inched nearer, drawn into the churning blackness, being hypnotized by the promise of having his pain and anguish taken away forever. No more confusion, no more death, just soothing calm.

Ah, that’s right, Daniel. Step right up and see what wonders lie beyond.

In the twisting blackness, two pinpricks of silver light parted the gloom, growing larger and brighter as Danny inched closer.

That’s it, Daniel, the thing hissed in near ecstasy. Just a little closer and all your questions will be answered. You can see Charlie again, Daniel. Charlie and Mr. Jones and everyone you’ve always wanted to meet.

“No, no, NO!” Danny screamed. “Leave me alone!” He lunged forward as thin tendrils of smoke reached for him. The silver orbs glowed like dying stars. The air was charged with electricity, making every hair on Danny’s body stand on end.

The thing screamed. The house shook. Danny dodged a groping black arm and reached out for the wall. “GET OUT!” He flicked the light switch and the pale white fluorescent cylinder buzzed to life. The shadow screeched itself out of existence, disappearing as if it had never been there. Its cries diminished as the wall of black blew itself to tatters.

It was gone, leaving nothing behind but the smell of ozone. Danny’s head pounded. He’d squeezed out what little urine remained in his bladder, darkening the front of his underwear. He ran back to his bedroom and jumped into bed, hiding under the covers, not bothering to change his soggy clothes.

He’d never been so scared or felt so helpless in his life. All the terrible dreams he’d ever had, the nightmares, had suddenly become one, finding their way through the wall of sleep and into reality.

Danny didn’t move a muscle until the sun peeked above the horizon and the birds broke into their customary morning song. When he was finally capable of rational thought, he dressed and left the house without breakfast or a shower. He wasn’t able to step into the bathroom without shivering, and his appetite was nonexistent.

The time had come to tell his friends everything.

Chapter 6

“I’ve never talked about this before,” Danny said, “but after everything that’s happened, I don’t think I have a choice.”

Brent and Eric exchanged glances. Nothing good could come of such an inauspicious preface. They sat at a picnic table in the small grove above the ball field. The thick canopy of tall pines sheltered them from the sun. Children shouted in the distance, but for now, the boys had the grove to themselves.

Danny didn’t waste any time.

“When I was younger, I had very vivid dreams. Not nightmares, just the normal stuff we all dreamed about at that age. Like the one where you stand up for show-and-tell and realize that you’re not wearing any clothes.”

Brent giggled. “It would be a nightmare seeing you naked, I know that.”

Danny laughed half-heartedly and continued. “When I was twelve, something happened to me down at the porn shack by the river. I never told anyone, not even my parents.”

Eric sighed heavily. Already, he didn’t like where this was going.

“I wasn’t even going there to look at the stupid magazines, I just wanted to get out of the rain. No one was around that day and I was just wandering, looking for something to do. You know how it is… you just walk around looking for anything to pass the time. I’ve always hated that, like I was wasting a perfectly good day by not having anyone to share it with. It was raining and cold and I didn’t want to get stuck in the house. What was the worst that could happen? Maybe I’d catch a cold. It didn’t bother me.

“I wasn’t there more than two or three minutes when some guy barged in. I’d never seen him before. He smelled funny… like he was hiding the fact that he didn’t shower beneath a bottle of cheap aftershave. I knew right away something was off… you know what I mean?”

His friends nodded.

“All I wanted was to get out of there as fast as possible, but he wouldn’t let me leave.” Danny shook his head and stared at the ground between his feet. “If you don’t see where this is going, forget I even mentioned it, because I’m not going into detail and I’m never talking about it again. Ever.”

“That sick fuck,” Brent sighed.

“He threatened to kill my parents, and I believed him. I was only twelve; I didn’t know any better.”

The boys wanted to comfort their friend, but they saw in his eyes he wasn’t looking for comfort, only closure, a necessary purge to get it out of the way and move on. They respected his choice and waited silently for him to continue.

“It was after that when the bad dreams started. I woke up one morning, covered in sweat, thinking I’d chopped my parents into pieces with an ax. I could smell the blood… could feel it drying on my skin. I’d never felt so relieved to find my mother in the kitchen doing a crossword puzzle. I thought I was going crazy, but it was a just a dream. I had to keep telling myself it wasn’t real, that I’d never do something like that. The next few nights, nothing happened, but when the nightmares returned, they were even worse.

“This time I’d traded my ax for a shotgun, walking around the junior high and randomly killing people: friends, enemies, teachers. I gunned them down without a second thought until bodies piled on the floor like firewood… and I enjoyed it. The smell of gunpowder, the screams. When I woke up, I was laughing. Laughing!

“It went on like that for days at a time, all Freddy Kreuger and Arnold Schwarzenneger, blood and guts and death. Severed heads, bloody limbs, car accidents where people were scattered across the road like bloody dolls, children burning alive. I’d wake up screaming or crying as my parents would turn on the light, eyes still closed, trying to calm me down.

“I couldn’t tell them what was going on. If I told them the truth, they’d have put me in the loony bin. So I lied. I hid what was happening and told them what they wanted to hear. I hid it from you guys, too. I never wanted you to find out. I thought you’d look at me differently, not want to be my friends anymore.”

Brent rested his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “You know we’re not going anywhere. We’ll always have your back.”

“Yeah, it’s going to take more than that to get rid of us,” Eric added. “I mean shit, it’s almost normal compared to my family.”

Danny loved them for what they were doing. Part of their dynamic was knowing what to say, when to say it, and how to lighten the mood during tense situations. It was part of what made them so good together… what kept their bond so strong. Danny hoped everyone had friends like Brent and Eric, and if not, they were really missing out.

Danny continued.

“It went on all summer until I was so worn down I could barely function. I was right at my breaking point when the dreams stopped. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. “I slept sixteen hours a day for a straight week. I’d never realized how good it felt to get a full night’s sleep. I disappeared for days that summer, made excuses to be alone, hid what had happened and tried to get back to living a normal life again. I needed to recover.”

Eric sat up, smiling. “That’s a good thing. Put that shit behind you.”

“I thought so too, but it didn’t last long. When the dreams came back, it was like nothing had changed. My parents were in my room every night. Some nights I pissed my bed, too afraid to get up and use the bathroom. Other nights I didn’t sleep at all. I stayed up, drinking coffee, hoping it would keep me awake, like Heather in A Nightmare On Elm Street. Except this nightmare wasn’t a movie, it was real life.

“Once school started, my grades suffered because I couldn’t stay awake. I was too tired to study or pay attention to what was going on around me. It got so bad that my mind would sometimes shut down. I’d just pass out. Once, I fell down the stairs during a blackout and busted my arm.”

“I remember that,” Brent said. “You came to school with that brace on your wrist and told everyone you sprained it playing flag football. In the time I’ve known you, not once did I see you play flag football. It was a little weird, but I just assumed you did something stupid and didn’t want me to know about it.”

“Can you blame me? I was like the fat kid hiding his late-night cookie binges.”

“Oh, well I can definitely relate to that,” Brent chuckled.

A group of rowdy kids rode their bikes through the grove, shouting and cursing at one another. Danny watched and waited until they were well out of earshot to continue.

“At that point, my parents were losing their patience. They knew I was lying to them and they had the best intentions, but every discussion involved therapy, and there was no way I’d agree to that. Somehow that made it even worse, knowing my parents really thought I was crazy. I think my mom was seriously worried, but my dad seemed more aggravated than anything. Not only was I losing sleep, but so were they. My dad had to get up early for work, not ‘deal with a new baby in the house,’ which was how he put it.

“Finally they sent me to a doctor in Allentown who specialized in sleep disorders, but I did my best to be uncooperative. I didn’t want to be there. They hooked me up to all kinds of gadgets, gave me pills, suggested changes in diet, but still I came home and had the same problem. On top of that, my parents had started fighting all the time, mostly about money. Dad’s insurance didn’t cover anything, and the bills were starting to pile up. I heard my father mention divorce once and I blamed myself for ruining their marriage. Who would I live with? Would they ever look at me and not blame me for tearing the family apart?

“When the nightmares stopped again, my mother was elated, thinking this so-called doctor had cured me of whatever was going on. My parents started talking again, and I started sleeping again. I’d survived round two.”

“There’s more?” Brent asked.

“Round three was worse by far. I didn’t need to be asleep to see shit anymore… I saw it while I was awake.”

Brent shook his head. He felt terrible for believing he knew Danny so well, but yet missed all the signs of what he’d been going through. There’d been red flags waving everywhere, and he ignored every single one.

“That’s when I got my first look at The Gray.”

Eric’s voice cracked. “Your first look at what?”

“I called it The Gray.”

“You’re going to have to explain it better than that,” Brent said.

“I know, I’m trying to figure out how.”

Eric played with the hem of his shorts, afraid to push Danny if he wasn’t ready.

“I was at the grocery store with my mom, arguing over buying me a bag of Skittles when everything changed. Everyone had disappeared. The store was abandoned, like it had been empty for years. The shelves were bare and covered with a thick layer of gray dust, like the pictures on TV when that volcano erupted out west. It didn’t last long, maybe a few seconds before reality snapped into place. Mom was yelling at me to pay attention to where I was walking.”

“That’s nuts!” Eric exclaimed. Brent nodded his agreement.

“It happened again at the park by Eric’s house. You guys weren’t around, so I stopped at the Miner’s Festival to listen to the band and grab some grub. Everything was fine, and then someone flipped a switch. I was back in The Gray. Fog had rolled in making it hard to see anything beyond the fence. All the rides were rusted piles of garbage. The concession stand had collapsed, the grass and trees were dead and bare, the basketball courts were torn apart. All the streetlights were off and the houses were dark and boarded up. There was no sound until something screamed somewhere in the fog. Not human… really close to what we heard the other day on Market Street.

“Then I was back, just like before. The band was playing a Beatles tune, the merry-go-round was full of screaming kids, it was getting dark and the first stars had come out. I’d dropped my French fries on my shirt and some little girl was pointing and laughing at me. When I got home, my father took one look at the dried ketchup on my clothes and told me to wash up and go to bed, which was fine with me. I’d had enough craziness for one day.

“Except as soon as I closed my eyes, I was dreaming again. This time I was in the school cafeteria. I was alone. The only lights were those creepy red emergency lights that come on when the power goes out. I heard footsteps coming down the hall and Mr. Roberts walked in holding a notebook. He smiled at me; his teeth were broken down to the gum-line, and he smelled like maybe he’d shit himself. His eyes glowed bright silver, like ball bearings. When I looked down at the notebook, there was only one sentence written there in red crayon. ‘We’ll be seeing you soon.’”

“What the hell does that mean?” Brent shouted. “It’s like a movie without an ending.”

“Not exactly.”

Eric groaned.

“I saw The Gray the other night, after the party. It’s been a couple years, but I’ve never forgotten what it looked like.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Brent said.

“I shit you not.”

The previous group of kids returned and parked at one of the picnic tables, dropping their bikes and settling in. Storytime was over. Danny stood and walked away without another word. Brent and Eric followed closely behind, walking the well-known path through the woods and up over the silt bank.

Once they’d reached the top, Eric sat and dumped loose coal dirt from his shoes; his socks had turned black. No one said a word since they’d left the grove below. From up here they watched kids tossing a baseball on the Little League Field; an older couple knelt by a fresh grave in the Lutheran cemetery as a car passed, blasting rock music. It was hard to imagine things being so wrong when on the surface everything appeared so normal.

The Rimmel Shoe Factory sat below the ball field like a cancer, slowly rotting, blackened and ugly. The single smokestack pointed into the sky like a crooked, skeletal finger. Eric took one look and shuddered.

“Last time we were there I saw something,” Danny said. “I can’t be sure what it was, but it was watching.”

“We’ll be seeing you soon,” Eric whispered.

“Okay, hold on a minute,” Brent said. “You think all this is connected? Your dreams, your gray-place, whatever the hell you think happened in the school?”

“I’m not saying anything, but if this is happening, it has to be more than a coincidence. When you say it, it sounds like some cheesy movie.”

“Wait,” Eric said. “We went to the factory and the next day your neighbor died. Then we went to the school, and it burned down. Holy shit!”

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” Brent shouted. “Your neighbor was like two-hundred years old and the school was just begging to be burned down for years.”

“Then explain what happened inside. Explain Charlie. Can you do that?”

“Charlie’s dead, that’s what happened.”

“And no one remembers him, huh? I guess that’s normal too.”

“Adults deal with shit differently. They forget, they move on.”

“How can you not believe something’s really wrong?”

Brent stood and slapped his hands on his knees. “This is crazy, all this shit about monsters and other dimensions. It’s not real, guys. That’s what’s wrong… that either of you believe what you’re saying.”

Danny stood, coming face to face with his best friend. “You can call it whatever you want, but it was in my house last night. In my fucking bathroom. I wasn’t dreaming and I’m not crazy. I finally realize that.”

Before Brent could reply, Danny swayed unsteadily, closed his eyes, and fell to the ground. They gathered around him, fanning him and calling his name, but nothing worked.

Danny’s eyelids twitched, and he began muttering nonsensically. They listened closely but couldn’t make out anything he said.

He wasn’t speaking any language they recognized.

***

It was dark and cool in Danny’s living room. His mother had placed a wet washrag across his forehead. His parents sat on the couch beside him, offering him water as his eyes fluttered open.

What’s all this?

“Jesus Christ, Danny, are you okay?” his father asked.

“I’m fine dad. What happened?”

“Brent said you passed out and they couldn’t wake you up. He ran here to get me.”

“Brent ran here? I wish I could have seen that.”

“No, you don’t,” Eric said from the chair. “It wasn’t pretty.”

Danny laughed, feeling better as the minutes passed.

“You must’ve been dehydrated,” his father said. “Your mother wanted to take you to the hospital, but I knew you’d be fine. This happens to boys all the time, running around in the heat, never stopping for a drink. It’s just how boys are, right?”

“Sure dad, like I said, I’m fine. Really.”

“Your color is coming back.” David Harper hugged his son. Danny was taken by surprise by the sudden show of affection. He hugged David in return, smelling his cologne and the scent of dryer sheets on his clothes.

“You’re in for the night,” David said. “You need to rest, drink a lot of water, relax. You’re lucky you didn’t smack your head on a rock or this could’ve been much worse. If your friends weren’t with you, you could have died on the mountain and we’d never know where the hell you were.”

“Come on dad, I said I’m okay.”

“Listen to your father,” his mom said. “You scared us half to death. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now Brent and Eric are going home and you’re going to lie down.”

Danny didn’t have the energy to argue.

Eric and Brent said their goodbyes. The Harpers ate dinner that night in front of the television, protectively crowded around Danny as if he’d suddenly grown fragile. It was the closest Danny felt to them in years, it was just a shame it took a scare to bring them together.

Danny wanted nothing more than a good night’s rest so he could approach all this craziness with a clear head. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. The sky darkened and the distant rumble of thunder soon became a steady wall of sound, the light drizzle turning into a heavy downpour.

Danny slept dreamlessly throughout the night as Elmview paid for its ignorance.

***

Two blocks away in the deserted Rimmel factory, wind blew fiercely down empty halls, crackling with electricity and smelling of humid sewers. In the office, large chunks of plaster broke free from the walls and crumbled to the floor in billowing clouds; doors slammed with enough force to splinter them into jagged pieces; sparks showered down from long-dead light fixtures; thick, black ichor bubbled up between cracks in the floorboards.

Outside, the storm had reached a fever pitch, whipping the trees into a frenzy and plucking shingles from the roof like grapes on a vine. A chorus of angry voices - hundreds, thousands - rose above the din; souls trapped in their own inescapable darkness, crying out to be saved. One voice raged above the others, bellowing until the windows shattered from the force.

The metal garage door twisted and crumpled, tearing off its tracks and landing in the parking lot thirty feet away. A dark mist poured into the storm as the screaming voices quieted. The locked gates were torn apart, ripped from their hinges, as the cloud passed effortlessly across the boundary.

The monster was loose.

***

Judith Monahan placed her Bible on the nightstand and glanced at the small alarm clock as the minute hand clicked past midnight.

Too late for an old lady, she thought.

She removed her thick bifocals, turned off the light, and snuggled beneath the covers as rain beat on the windows. Wind whistled loudly around the eves of the house as lightning flickered through her eyelids.

No sooner had she closed her eyes when she was startled by a loud crash from above. The ceiling broke apart as bricks punched through the plaster, falling around her in an endless cascade. A portion of the chimney followed, narrowly missing the bed and turning the dresser into a splintered heap of wood. Some of the bricks smoked from the lightning strike that had sent it crashing through the roof and into the bedroom. Sparks rained down and quickly ignited the carpet.

Judith struggled out of bed and stumbled across the floor, tripping on debris and falling on her side, breaking her hip with a loud pop. She reached up to grab her Bible from the nightstand and pulled her hand away with a hiss. Her Bible had been set ablaze. She offered her prayers to the empty room until the smoke grew too thick to speak. The fire spread quickly, carrying her away on a wave of searing pain. Her screams went unheard as she roasted alive on the bedroom floor.

The fire alarm never rang.

The house burned furiously throughout the night until only a smoking, charred pile remained.

***

The power had been out for over an hour when Sonny woke from a deep sleep. Somewhere behind the house, a dog barked incessantly. He shrugged it off in favor of a cold beer from the fridge. The problem was, the beer was no longer cold, and Sonny hated nothing more than drinking it warm.

He grabbed a flashlight from under the kitchen sink and walked barefoot into the yard. The yapping dog was much clearer now. It grated on his nerves. He cursed the mutt and continued down the path to his generator shed. He would have a cold beer goddammit, and a little wind and rain wouldn’t change his mind.

When he reached the halfway point, he stopped, blinked, and took a single step back. His mother stood at the foot of the path, her nightgown pasted to her body, her dripping hair hanging in her face. She swayed back and forth in the wind.

“Mom?”

She charged up the walkway with her hands held out toward him.

“Why’d you do it, Sonny? Why did you kill your poor old ma?”

“Mom? No, you’re dead. You’re dead! I watched you die.”

“You had to have one more beer. Always one more beer. Didn’t I say you were too drunk to drive? Didn’t I warn you? Why listen to me? Sonny always knows best! But you didn’t, did you? Not this time! You killed me, Sonny. Wrecked the car and let me bleed out on the seat next to you.”

“No mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s too late for sorry, stupid boy. I’ve come back to take you with me.”

“No! I won’t go. You can’t make me!”

He felt his mother’s cold, slimy hands wrap around his throat and squeeze. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t pry her fingers from around his windpipe. Sonny dug his nails into his skin, scraping and digging, tearing off thin ribbons of flesh. He collapsed to the ground, eyes bulging, lips turning purple. He looked up just as his dead mother walked through the trees and disappeared.

“You’re going to like it here, Sonny.”

Thunder followed him into oblivion.

***

Bobby Allison sat up in bed and looked around his darkened bedroom. His digital clock had gone dark, as well as the Snoopy night light next to the closet. He cautiously stepped to the floor, wrapped himself in a sheet, and crept into the living room where his mother was lighting candles. She gasped, startled as the boy crossed the room.

“You look like a ghost, Bobby. What are you doing up?”

“Mom, where’s Scoot-Scoot?”

“Bobby, he’s your dog, you were supposed to let him in before you went to bed. Now he’s gonna be soaked, the poor thing. If he tracks mud all over the kitchen floor, you’re in trouble, mister.”

“He wasn’t outside, mommy, I checked before I went to sleep.”

“Well, you’d better check again. Get him and bring him inside and we’ll have a glass of chocolate milk before you get your little butt back to bed.”

Satisfied, Bobby removed the sheet, put on his rain boots, and went into the yard. It was pouring. Mommy was right, Scooter would be a soggy, muddy mess.

“Come on Scoot-Scoot, it’s cold out here.” Generally, the scrappy Yorkie would come running at the sound of his voice, jumping up on his legs, nipping at his fingers. This time, nothing. “Come on, you stupid dog.” Still nothing. “I bet he’s under the bed again. I’m coming to find you, Scooter!”

Bobby went inside, toweled off, and received his promised chocolate milk. He wasn’t about to go looking for that silly mutt in the dark. He’d come out when he was good and ready.

Three blocks away on Flood Row, Scooter’s head dipped beneath the surface of the muddy water. When it rained, the empty foundations filled with water, turning them into swimming pools. Scooter had made the mistake of sneaking out of the backyard to chase a bunny… that little dog loved chasing bunnies. This one had gotten the better of him, forcing him too close to the edge where he lost his footing and tumbled over the wall into the cold water below.

There was no way out. His little legs paddled frantically, but he couldn’t keep his head above water. His nose dipped beneath the surface more frequently as his energy waned. It wasn’t like the pool at all… Scooter loved the water, but Bobby had always been there to pull him out, wrap him in a towel, scratch his neck and give him those bacon treats he loved so much.

Where was Bobby now? Why wasn’t he there to save him?

Scooter heard Bobby’s voice, and he called out to him the best he could, but it wasn’t enough.

His legs slowed as he dipped beneath the surface, his tail wagging one last time as he imagined Bobby wrapping him in a warm towel and covering his face with kisses.

Good boy, that’s my good little Scoot-Scoot.

That’s my good little boy…

***

The next morning, Paul Armbruster, one of Elmview’s oldest residents, sat in his favorite porch chair holding that day’s copy of the Elmview Eagle. It was thicker than usual, packed with photos and accounts of the previous night’s storm.

“Christ, you’d think we were storming the beaches at Normandy. Haven’t these people ever seen a little rain before?”

Bart Sigfried sat to his right, absently picking at a hangnail while waiting for his friend to read the newspaper. God knows he couldn’t do it himself these days. Bernie May sat to his left, staring at the flypaper dangling from the porch ceiling.

Paul pulled the paper close to his face and began reading in a deep, scratchy voice. “Last night, Elmview was visited by one of the worst storms in its history, leaving several dead, and over one million dollars in property damage.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Bart scoffed. “The storm in ‘55 made this look like a spring shower.”

“How would you know?” Bernie asked. “You can’t remember what happened last week.”

“The hell I can’t. My mind is a well-oiled machine and don’t you forget it.”

“Well-oiled my ass…”

“You sound like a couple of grannies,” Paul barked. They exchanged a glance and Bernie stuck out his tongue as if he was still five and living in Maryland with his little sister. Bart looked away and waved his wrinkled hand dismissively. “The storm took the life of Miss Judith Monahan - long-time teacher with the Elmview School District - when her home was struck by lightning and burned to the ground sometime after midnight.”

“Oh, Judy,” Bart cooed. “She was a looker back in the day.”

“Scott ‘Sonny’ Waters was found dead in his yard of what appears to be a heart attack. It’s unclear if this incident is related to the storm, but the investigation into both unfortunate incidents is ongoing.”

Bernie chuckled and threw his hands in the air. “What’s there to investigate? Sonny Waters has been an alcoholic since he was in diapers. I’m surprised he lived this long.”

“Smoked too,” Bart added.

“That pretty wife of his ain’t gonna be on the market long.”

“Rumor has it she’s been laying with the mailman for years now. I doubt she’s going to be wearing black to the funeral.”

“Funeral? More like a celebration.”

“Okay,” Paul interrupted, “if all you have to offer are jokes and wisecracks, I’m going back inside. I have better things to do than listen to you squawk.” He stood, farted loudly, and shuffled inside, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell’s his problem?” Bart asked.

Bernie lifted his leg and answered with a resounding fart of his own. The two cackled as the clouds above scattered and the streets dried out beneath the glare of the afternoon sun.

***

Danny awoke much later than usual.

His bedroom was bathed in late morning sunlight. He hopped out of bed, feeling more rested then he had in days. He crept down to the kitchen to find his mother standing over the stove. The smell of bacon and eggs permeated the first floor.

“I heard you moving around up there,” his mother said. “I thought you’d like a late breakfast.”

“Thanks, mom, I’m starving.”

“You’re looking much better.”

“I feel better. Got a good night’s sleep.” Thank God!

“I’m surprised you slept through the storm last night,” she said. “I thought the roof was going to come off the house.”

“Really?” He crammed a piece of jelly-covered toast into his mouth. “I didn’t hear anything.” He barely listened to what his mother was saying, too busy sampling a little of everything on the table. He slathered a second piece of toast with strawberry jelly as his mother handed him a plate of steaming scrambled eggs. By the time he’d finished, his eggs were replaced with greasy breakfast sausages. Danny ate until his stomach felt tight and then ate a little more.

It wasn’t often he was treated to this kind of buffet, so he enjoyed it as much as possible. Now that the air had seemed to clear between him and his mother, he thought about bringing up Charlie again but decided against it. A few sausages didn’t erase what had happened over the past few days.

Nothing had changed.

Danny helped his mom with the dishes, showered, dressed, and left the house by noon. He immediately noticed the damage left in the wake of last night’s storm. The alley behind the house was covered with leaves and broken tree limbs. Garbage cans had been scattered across the road, spilling their soggy contents into the gutter.

Danny walked to Brent’s house without paying attention to where he was going; there was simply too much to take in. He thought about the thing from his bathroom and wondered if this was somehow connected. If so, the monster was growing stronger, and what could he do against such an undeniably evil presence?

What could anyone do?

Chapter 7

A massive oak tree had fallen across Arch Street, blocking most of the road and crushing a Honda Civic. The car’s owner stood nearby, inspecting the damage with hands on his hips, cursing the storm and wondering if his insurance premium would go up. Trees had fallen all along that stretch of road, making vehicle travel impossible. White picket fences had been reduced to kindling; lawns and gutters were blanketed by aluminum siding and cast-off shingles.

“How the hell did we sleep through this?” Eric asked.

“My mom always says I could sleep through a nuclear explosion. I guess she was right,” Brent said.

Several sections of town had been cordoned off with copious amounts of caution tape due to flooding, and the storefronts along Broad Street had taken a beating. Shop owners mopped brown muck from their floors or nailed plywood over broken display windows. The boys had never seen such devastation outside of televised news footage.

The sun was shining, and the streets were drying as people milled about, shouting back and forth cheerily, lending a hand to their neighbors, making light of a bad situation. Children played in debris-filled yards, climbing over fallen branches and excitedly pointing out every new discovery.

Danny wasn’t excited. The implications of this freak storm were too hard to deny.

There was something wrong… very wrong.

Something wrong with the light.

The sun glowed overhead, but still, there was too much shadow. Colors seemed faded, washed out. It was bright, but dim at the same time. Danny thought maybe it was just his imagination, that everything up to this point had taken a toll on him. He kept it to himself, seeing that neither Brent or Eric had noticed.

As he looked around, he noticed some people had begun feeling the effects, even if they weren’t aware of it. It was written in their postures, in the way their brows furrowed or the corners of their mouths twitched. They may not have seen that something was wrong, but their body language didn’t lie. As the afternoon went on, the effects gradually diminished. The day brightened, and the shadows made a hasty retreat.

Unfortunately in Elmview, even in the light of day, the shadows were never very far behind.

***

The parking lot of Maggie’s Ice Cream Parlor was packed with post-storm patrons. After a day of cleaning out flooded cellars and covering broken windows, people had worked up an appetite for something sweet and refreshingly cold. Long lines of people curled around the side of the squat building, some waiting twenty minutes or more just to catch a glimpse of the serving window. Even so, more and more people joined the ranks of the ice-cream army.

An overweight man in shorts and sandals removed his shirt and hung it over his shoulder as a pretty teenage girl looked on in disgust, holding a fidgety toddler to her bikini-clad breast. A group of pre-teen boys straddled their bicycles and passed a cigarette between them as a police officer in full uniform turned his head the other way. It’s just too damn hot, he thought. The young and old alike shared a single passion as the sun beat down overhead, and they weren’t about to turn away without having something to show for it.

Maggie’s stood at the northwest corner of Elmview’s busiest intersection. Across the street to the east was the town’s last movie house, the 1,200 seat Victoria Theater. Ever since the old playhouse had been refurbished to include modern air-conditioning and plush seating, attendance had tripled. Some lingered in the lobby between movies just to keep out of the baking heat.

On the two opposite corners to the south were Adam’s Wholesale Candies and Macelli’s Market, two businesses with a time-honored tradition of delivering the best to Elmview’s residents for over fifty years. The owners of these establishments had made a mutually beneficial agreement to only sell specific brands so neither of them monopolized the intersection. Their competition was one of mutual respect.

The intersection was always crowded during the summer months, not only with pedestrians but also with a constant flow of traffic from two major intersecting streets. On a good day it was a slight inconvenience, but today it’d become a battlefield for the impatient.

Adding to the usual traffic was an influx of vehicles attempting to navigate around the town’s several detours. To top it off, a crew was stationed almost directly in the middle of the intersection ripping up a patch of asphalt to fix a broken water main. Traffic had come to a standstill, the heat from idling engines making it nearly unbearable.

Drivers honked their horns impatiently. Several exited their vehicles, waving their arms at the cars in front of them and shouting at the red light as if they could change it through intimidation. An argument had broken out between two members of the road crew, escalating into a full-blown fistfight as the crowd at Maggie’s watched on in amusement and picked sides.

Elmview held its breath.

***

Five miles from town, Ray and his wife Jamie were in a heated argument of their own.

Perched above the street in the cab of Ray’s Peterbilt, Jamie waved her arms frantically, trying to get the stubborn bastard’s attention. Ray had heard all of her petty bullshit a thousand times before, and at the end of the day, nothing had changed. Ray was a creature of habit; their relationship had worked that way for years, his way, and it wasn’t going to change until he was good and ready.

“Jamie, for Christ’s sake! Can we have this discussion some other time? I can’t concentrate on the road when you’re buzzing around in my ear.”

Jamie sat in silence, trying to get herself under control. Her face had turned an unhealthy shade of red and sweat beaded on her forehead. She turned away from him and looked out the window at the ground speeding by below. She brushed several strands of blond hair from her forehead and sighed.

“You’re driving too fast.”

“Would you like to drive? I’d be perfectly happy sitting on my ass and doing nothing, but then again, that’s something you’re used to.” Ray’s mouth was getting dry, and the lukewarm bottle of water sitting in the cup holder just wasn’t going to cut it. He could use a cold beer. Maybe something a little stronger.

“All you ever think about is your next delivery,” she shouted. “You don’t think about me or your son when you’re on the road for weeks at a time. You’re married to your job, and it’s eventually going to kill you.” She wiped a lone tear from her cheek. “Just like it’s killing us.”

That beer was sounding even more enticing. It wouldn’t be the first time he stashed a six pack on a haul, and it wouldn’t be the last. A Budweiser is just about the most faithful driving companion a man could have, he thought. His pal Bud would never tell him to slow down, and would sometimes whisper in his ear to take a chance… go just a little faster, let the wind whip through your hair. Hell-bent for leather, just like the Judas Priest song.

All eighteen wheels sang the song of the road, a familiar tune Ray knew quite well and had grown to love. It wasn’t the shrill squeak of Jamie on one of her tirades, or the annoying whine of his spoiled brat every time he wanted a new toy. The song of the road was soothing and Ray knew every word by heart.

The fighting between them had become more frequent in the last few months, but instead of letting him relax and cool down, Jamie insisted on coming with him… a last-ditch effort to save their irreparably broken marriage. While scolding him for not caring about their son, she would often leave Tyler at his grandmother’s house while she worked her shitty job at the diner for pennies a day. Ray didn’t see a difference. Someone had to put food on the table, right? Someone had to pay for the kid’s braces and the stupid action figures he was always crying about. Surely Jamie couldn’t manage it on tips alone.

She simply wasn’t the same person he’d married. The Jamie he knew was seventeen years old, sitting on her mother’s porch swing, barefoot and with flowers in her hair. She had the best set of tits he’d ever seen and an ass so tight you could bounce a quarter off it. She liked to have a few beers and get kinky, go to concerts, party with friends. Ever since that little shit was born, things had changed. She’d grown up. Now, she was never in the mood for sex and never left the house unless it was to go work or the occasional Bingo games at the local church. She’d gained weight and stomped around the house in a pair of sweatpants like some trailer-park hillbilly.

Ray wasn’t exactly a prize, but his body was still solid from years of high school football. He used this to his advantage when out on the road, stopping at the special places along the way where he knew a hot meal and a quick fuck were only a phone call away. Strange blow-jobs by strange women had become the norm, and to hell with the occasional trip to the clinic to clear up the evidence of his indiscretions.

Jamie had made up her mind some time ago that she was going to leave him. She couldn’t sit around wondering where he was, what he was doing, or who he was doing it with. She was still young and pretty and there was more to life than living with a man who no longer noticed she was alive.

This trip was going to be her last.

She’d vowed to leave him and take her son where Ray would never find them. Somewhere across the state, across the country. Every town had a diner. She’d be able to find work in no time. Ray wouldn’t give a shit about her taking Tyler; he never showed the kid any attention beyond the obligatory ruffling of his hair when someone was looking. His affection for his own son was just a show. If he didn’t have an audience to witness his exceptional fathering ability, Tyler just blended in with the rest of the furniture.

She’d made up her mind and blurted out her intentions before thinking of the repercussions.

“I’m leaving you, Ray.” She stared out the window, avoiding eye contact. The cab remained silent except for the faint whistling of her breath through a clogged nostril. She turned and looked at her husband.

Ray’s response came in the form of a fist. It connected squarely with her cheek and glanced off her nose, the force enough to slam her head into the passenger window, cracking the glass. Several drops of blood fell from her injured nose and dribbled down the front of her shirt. Her ears rang from the blow.

Ray shook his hand and screamed at her angrily. “Look what you made me do! I keep a roof over your head, food on the table, and clothes on the kid’s back, and you don’t fucking appreciate any of it.”

Jamie gazed at him with a fury she’d never felt before. It overwhelmed her. Ray had no problem running his mouth, but this was the first time he’d hit her. The first and last. Blood leaked over her chin, dripped down her shirt, and into her lap. She clenched her fist so tightly that her fingernails dug into her flesh, leaving bloody crescents in her palm.

“I could kill you right now,” she said, trembling. “I could tear your fucking heart out.”

“Knock off your shit, Jamie. Don’t act like you didn’t deserve it. We’ll talk about this later.” He turned his eyes back to the road like nothing had happened.

“No, we’ll talk about this right now.” She wiped her hand across her face and held it out for Ray to see. “Is this what you’ve become? You hit the mother of your child?”

Ray’s head was starting to hurt, the kind of pain that only alcohol could cure. He reached next to the seat and grabbed a silver flask, expertly unscrewing the cap and taking a long pull. He sighed in ecstasy, ignoring his wife’s look of shock.

“You’re just like your father, an abusive drunk. Stop this truck and let me out. We’re done.” She wiped her nose again and winced.

“We’re done when I say we’re done. Clean yourself up, you look like you just stumbled out of a woman’s shelter.” He took another long pull from the flask and watched her as she cleaned her face with a wad of tissues.

Jamie saw the red and blue flashing lights in the rearview mirror and laughed.

“What the fuck’s so funny?” he asked, oblivious to the police cruiser behind them.

“You’re going to jail, Ray. That’s what’s so fucking funny.”

Ray glanced in his mirror and finally saw the lights flashing behind the trailer. Rage consumed him. He swung his right arm at her with a closed fist, hoping to shut her up once and for all, but Jamie saw it coming and quickly ducked out of the way. His hand connected with the rear window of the cab, forming a large spider web of cracks. He gasped in surprise and jerked the wheel, swinging the rig into oncoming traffic.

The police cruiser dropped back as Jamie laughed even harder. It was all she could do to keep from screaming. “Oh Ray, your very own action movie. I bet that’s making your dead, old prick tingle.”

Ray was quicker this time. He felt something crunch beneath his hand as he punched her in the eye, knocking her head into the window a second time. Before she could recover, he grabbed a handful of hair and tugged her closer.

“Are you happy you came along for the ride? You just had to open your fucking mouth, didn’t you? Maybe this time I’ll put your head right through the window.” In his fury, he no longer cared about the road ahead. The truck slowly drifted toward the guardrail.

“Does that make you feel like a man, Ray? Go ahead and do it. It’s the end of the road for you no matter what.”

Ray sat motionless, still holding her hair, eyes fixed. The truck slid back into the correct lane, picking up speed. Jamie smiled the smile of the damned.

She looked out the window just in time to see a group of three boys waving their arms frantically at the passing truck. Jamie thought one of them might’ve been her son, Tyler. She smiled bitterly and knew that she was never going to make it home.

“Go ahead and kill me you son of a bitch. We’ll both be better off.” But Ray had checked out. His mouth hung open, a runner of drool swinging from his bottom lip. His eyes glowed with an unnatural silver light.

Jamie opened the glove compartment and pulled out Ray’s .357. He always kept it loaded. Without thinking she aimed it between those glowing orbs and pulled the trigger. Ray’s face exploded in a red mist, his jaw coming unhinged, tongue lolling from the side of his face. He collapsed in his seat just as she turned the gun on herself. “Forgive me.”

Jamie pulled the trigger as the truck rolled on.

Ahead, the driver of a Ford pickup looked into his rearview mirror just as the rig bore down on him.

The sound of the impact was deafening.

The momentum pushed the line of traffic forward… a wall of steel with vicious intent.

Those at the intersection could only watch as death approached.

***

Eric turned as soon as he heard the police siren, watching helplessly as the tractor-trailer thundered past. The boys watched the speeding truck, knowing there was nothing anyone could do to stop what was coming. They frantically waved their arms above their head, signaling the danger while realizing their efforts were all in vain.

“My God,” Danny shouted. “Why aren’t they stopping?”

Time slowed. The police car squealed to a stop in the middle of the road, tires smoking, lights bouncing off the buildings on either side. Eric looked up at the passenger window as a woman stared down at them. Her eyes were glazed as if she’d just awoken from a nightmare. The trailer barreled past, followed by a wave of hot air, dust, and oily diesel smoke.

Eric closed his eyes against the wind-blown grit and involuntarily covered his head with his arms.

He heard Brent shouting.

He felt the collision in his bones.

Before he could open his eyes, the world filled with the sounds of tearing steel and breaking glass.

***

The crowd in Maggie’s parking lot became a screaming mob as the tractor-trailer swept smaller vehicles out of its path. People were knocked to the ground and trampled in bloody puddles of melting ice-cream.

The trailer slewed sideways, clearing the street like a large steel finger. It broke away from the cab, flipped onto its side, and broke open like a fresh blister, vomiting its contents into the street.

The driver of a Volkswagen Beetle pulled out of traffic and attempted to guide the car over the curb and into Maggie’s parking lot, when it was rear-ended by a brown Toyota, sending both vehicles into the crowd and mashing them flat like human bowling pins.

The heap of twisted metal surged forward as a Volvo’s ruptured gas tank exploded with a concussive roar. Burning shrapnel flew into the crowd as the flames incinerated the ones unlucky enough to be standing too close.

The traffic at the light jockeyed for position, bumper-to-bumper, as terrified drivers tried creating enough space to flee what was coming. In the chaos, the cars created an even worse bottleneck, plugging the street in a way that made escape impossible. A woman at the front of the line jumped from her Lincoln and was immediately torn apart beneath tons of burning metal. Her car was hit violently and sent skidding across the intersection where it hit a fire hydrant and became airborne. It jumped the front steps of the Victoria Theater and crashed through the box office, coming to rest in the lobby where patrons stared in shocked wonder. A large portion of the ceiling collapsed on them as they searched for the exit.

Inside the theater, the movie screen went blank as a battered Ford LTD smashed through the wall, sending broken bricks and splintered wood into the seats. A dusty shaft of light beamed in, followed by the stink of burning rubber and gasoline. People inched cautiously around the wreck, escaping into the madness outside.

In the lobby, gasoline pooled beneath the rear of the Lincoln, soaking into the carpet and spreading out in a growing arc. A fluorescent bulb from a dislodged light fixture fell to the floor and shattered; a single spark ignited the carpet in a flash, turning the lobby into a crematorium.

Outside, the wall of steel had come to a merciful halt. Terrified bystanders scattered like cockroaches while others braved the burning wreckage in hopes of saving those still trapped in their vehicles. Without warning, the Victoria’s lobby exploded, showering the intersection with broken glass and flaming boxes of Whoppers and Goobers.

Emergency vehicles couldn’t reach the scene; the street was clogged with debris and mangled bodies. The theater burned furiously, killing sixty-eight people who hadn’t made it out in time.

When it was over, the death toll had climbed to over one hundred people.

***

“Oh… my God!” Brent exclaimed.

Eric ran toward the intersection without looking back. Black, noxious smoke rose from the inferno and hung over the scene like storm clouds. Brent and Danny followed slowly, feeling trapped in a waking nightmare, their bodies on autopilot.

Clouds of flies had descended on the contents of the ruptured trailer: battered cans of peaches and green beans, boxes of cereal that had burst open and clogged the gutters with rainbow-colored marshmallows, jars of pickles and bottled water that leaked their contents into the street, sticky blobs of maple syrup covered in a white dusting of baking flour.

The smell was nauseating… a cloying mixture of backyard picnics and the choking stench of burning plastic…

…and a darker, meatier smell of cooked pork.

“That’s awful,” Brent gagged. “What is that?”

“People,” Eric replied. “Burning people.”

Brent bent over and puked between his feet as Danny and Eric continued on.

The stench worsened as they neared the intersection. Danny glanced at a green Nissan engulfed in flames, an arm and head hanging from the passenger window, flesh dripping onto the street like burning grease. It was his turn to vomit. Brent put his arm around Danny’s shoulders, offering comfort as much as seeking it.

Pained screams and dying moans bled together into a constant drone, like the sound of a million fat honeybees. Danny had covered his ears without even realizing it.

Gino Macelli opened the front door of his shop and ran into the street, spotting a young woman trapped in her burning vehicle. As he fought to remove her seatbelt, his apron burst into flames, soon spreading to the rest of his clothing. Shrieking, he burst through the door of his business and beat at himself with blistering hands. He collapsed in the aisle, writhing on the floor as his lungs burned like rice paper and his body grew still.

A little girl, no more than eight, stood along the curb, screaming at the top of her lungs. She turned to look at the boys as they approached. One blue eye looked at them pleadingly, while the other rolled in the socket, milky-white and useless. On the right side of her head hung a blond pigtail with a bright pink hair tie, while on the left, the hair jutted from her skull like a smoldering cigar, the hair tie nothing more than a blackened scrap. Half of her yellow skirt was burned away, showing a pair of flower-print panties and a deeply burned leg that would remain forever scarred.

“What do we do?” Brent asked. “We have to do something.”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Eric replied.

Danny nodded and cried silently. He felt useless. What help could he offer? He’d just be in the way.

Two pre-teen siblings walked by hand-in-hand, calling out to their missing parents. The little sister bled profusely from a jagged cut on her forehead while her unharmed brother scanned the wreckage for signs of mom and dad.

A Maggie’s employee carried an elderly woman away from the wreck of her car, his blue and white apron covered in her blood. The woman’s right arm dangled from a few scraps of singed flesh.

A teenager with a green Mohawk crawled from the window of his wrecked GTO, his face covered in blood, his mouth and chin dotted with tiny white slivers that had once been his teeth.

A crying baby sat in a car seat in the back of a Chevy Suburban as his father slumped over the steering wheel, motionless but still breathing. Danny saw his chance to do something.

He ran into the street, dodging around people and jagged pieces of metal. He nearly tripped over a severed hand, a silver wedding band still on its finger. A yapping Chow-Chow, blood matted in its fur, ran past and bared its teeth before disappearing into the wreckage.

When Danny reached the Suburban, he immediately opened the door and gently shook the unconscious driver. The man moaned deep in his throat as his eyes fluttered open, but he remained still.

The baby screamed bloody murder and flailed his stubby legs. Danny reached in, unbuckled the harness, and pulled the wet child from his car seat.

Eric appeared at his side. “Get him out of here.”

Danny carried the screaming boy to the sidewalk and tried calming him with soft assurances.

Eric rounded the truck and shook the driver. “Come on man, you have to get up.” Eric knew all too well what it was like to live without a father and he wasn’t about to let it happen to someone else, even if it meant carrying the guy on his shoulders. “Come on buddy, the kid’s okay but you have to get your ass moving.”

“What… happened?” he groaned.

“Don’t worry about that, just move it.”

“Where’s Shaun? Where’s my boy?” He jumped from the truck, nearly falling into the street before finding his balance.

Eric grabbed the man by the arm and helped support him as they left his crumbled wreck behind. As soon as he heard his son’s frightened cries, he bounded into the wreckage, weaving back and forth dangerously. Baby Shaun howled and reached out his chubby hands as his father rounded a crumpled minivan and stumbled forward.

Reunited, the man snatched the baby from Danny’s arms and covered Shaun in kisses. The boy pawed at his father’s face and mouth, smiling and laughing, excited that his adventure had come to an end. The man wept openly, squeezing the kid so tightly that Danny feared he’d crush him.

The man beamed as tears flowed down his cheeks. “You saved him,” he said. “Thank God you boys were here.”

“You’ll have a story for him when he grows up,” Danny said.

“I guess I will. This is Shaun and I’m Kevin.” He looked at Eric and his smile widened. “God must have sent me a couple angels today…”

“We’re just glad you’re both okay,” Eric said.

The happy ending lasted a brief second before another explosion covered the intersection in a wall of fire. A group of people that had been trying to save a trapped motorist scattered and ran blindly into each other as their clothing caught fire and the heat split their flesh. The man they’d been trying to free was trapped behind the wheel, pinned into his seat as the car’s interior became a furnace. He pounded on the inside of the window with hands that had grown black from the heat.

Danny could no longer bear it. Sound faded to a dull buzz; his vision blurred. He felt his feet leave the ground as he fell back into an endless, black chasm.

Somehow, the darkness was better.

Chapter 8

The sky was the color of old newspaper.

Danny sat up slowly. His head was pounding and the acrid smell of smoke clung to his clothing like perfume. He stood and brushed a fine layer of dust from his shirt with hands that had grown numb.

Where the hell am I?

The intersection was quiet and colorless, the raging fires long gone, the rusted hulks of burned-out cars and trucks were cold, forgotten, left behind. Dead bushes and shrubs grew up through the cracked asphalt. Skeletons wrapped in tattered clothing lie scattered on the ground like abandoned crash test dummies. A crow sat perched on the roof of a nearby car, watching Danny with black, beady eyes. A mangy dog-like creature dragged itself from beneath a pickup truck with front legs that appeared stunted and broken. It sniffed at the bleached remains of a skinless foot as its flesh crawled with hundreds of tiny, red insects.

“Scram!” Danny shouted. The dog-thing and the crow disappeared in different directions. Nothing else moved.

Danny had seen the accident only moments before, but yet the scene was something from the past. A long forgotten steel graveyard. How much time had passed? Decades? Centuries?

Clouds hung over the town like a dirty sheet, motionless with no wind to carry them. Broken trees pointed at the sky, leafless and gray.

The remains of Maggie’s had collapsed, the fallen awning rusted and covered in grime. The Victoria Theater had crumbled into the street; stunted saplings had grown up through the blackened debris where they’d lived and died their short, tortured lives. The intersection disappeared into a deep, black hole. The streets and sidewalks were cracked and broken, covered in layers of dirt and dust. Storefronts and houses were abandoned, shuttered, rotting, slowly being reclaimed by time and the elements.

A block to the east, the Elmview Apartments - a thirteen-story building - had fallen across the road, blocking the street in a jumbled pile of shattered brick and twisted steel.

“Welcome home, Daniel,” a voice rasped.

Danny spun on his heels and nearly fell, watching as a man seemed to appear out of thin air. He’d left no tracks in the dust behind him. The man appeared to be in his sixties, hair graying at the temples, clean-shaven, wearing a flannel shirt and blue jeans. If Danny didn’t know any better, it could have been just any old guy on the street.

If not for the telltale silver gleam in his eyes.

“There’s no reason to be frightened. I’m not here to hurt you,” the man said. “I just thought it was time for us to have a little chat.”

Danny sensed motion, a dizzying spin. When his eyes focused, he was no longer at the intersection.

He sat on a splintered bench in Arlington Memorial Park. He’d know it anywhere. He’d spent unknown amounts of time here with Brent and Eric over the years, but now it was as dead as everything else in this strange place. The man stood nearby, picking at his fingernails.

“What’s going on? Where am I? Who are you?”

“I’m here to help you, Danny. Show you things that very few people have ever seen. You’re a very special boy, and for that, you’ll receive very special treatment.”

“Are you some kind of sicko? Some pervert?”

The man laughed and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Certainly not. I have no need for such strange human desires. Not every man wants to take you in the woods and show you his prick.” Danny winced at the memory of his time in the ‘Shack.’

How does he know about that? he thought. The man snickered at Danny’s discomfort and stepped forward.

Danny sprung from the bench and stood behind it, forming a barrier between them. “Get the fuck away from me!”

“Your second question, where are you, isn’t very easy to answer, but if you’re interested in a history lesson, I’ll gladly oblige. You like history, right Daniel? You used to love talking about the past with the old man that lived next door. Such a shame what happened to him. Scared to death… isn’t that what you kids say these days?”

Danny remained silent, trembling with anger and fear.

“The idea isn’t a new one, Daniel. Alternate realities. It dates back to Hindu mythology. Many of your writers have discussed it at length. Seems the artsy types are a bit more open to the truth behind their fiction.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asked.

“I thought you wanted a history lesson? I’ll just give you the cliff notes if you’re getting impatient.”

“What I want is to get out of here.”

“In due time.” The man stepped closer again, bridging the distance between them. “You’re still in Elmview, Daniel; the town you grew up in, the place you have all your fondest memories. It’s just a slightly different Elmview. This one is five slips from the one you know, and although slips can be very similar, they can also be quite different.”

“Slips? What are you talking about? You’re crazy.” He was tensed and prepared to run but his legs felt like concrete.

“The world you know is only one of many, one in a string of worlds that stretch out across space and time. A version of everything that has ever lived has a twin in each of these realities. Are you following me so far?”

“Fuck you.”

“Indeed. In this reality, you had red hair. It wasn’t very fitting. Your friend Eric died when he was twelve years old in a car accident, and you never met Brent at all. You didn’t have many friends to speak of, which made you a pretty miserable child. Here, in this reality, you were killed in the accident you just witnessed, and your death signaled the end of everything. That’s a much longer story for another time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is just another stupid dream… you aren’t real.”

“Sorry Daniel, this is very real. You and I are real. Everything I’m saying is real. Time and space are like taffy that can be twisted and molded and broken. As worlds die, others are being born, continuing a cycle that predates time itself. I am part of that cycle and so are you.”

“I don’t want to be part of anything. I just want to go home.”

“Soon, my little friend. I can’t keep you here very long, but while we have this time together why don’t you just let me do all the talking?” The man waved his hand and Danny’s mouth vanished. A smooth layer of flesh grew over his lips. Danny’s eyes grew wide, and he tried to scream, but he made no sound. “Don’t worry, it’s only temporary.”

Danny cried silently. Snot ran from his nose and down over the new flesh. It itched terribly.

“From now on if I ask you something, you may nod your head yes or no. Do you understand?”

Urine stream down Danny’s leg, saturating his right sock.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the man said, giggling. He walked closer and sat on the bench in front of him, motioning Danny to do the same. Danny obeyed, controlled by the man like a marionette.

“I’m what one would refer to as a garbage man. I’ve been taking out the trash for eons. When a world is scheduled for termination, it falls into my hands to carry out that process. You need to understand this is a very important job, but also a very large one, one that I can’t do by myself. In this case, it’s your help I’ll be requiring. Good so far?”

Danny shook his head violently back and forth.

“You will. I’ll make everything clear.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as heavy rain began falling, soaking Danny’s clothing. The water beaded and ran from the man’s skin and hair as if on a duck’s feathers. The rain burned Danny’s eyes. He wrinkled his nose at the noxious odor as water dripped from his face. It was the same colorless gray of the sky and felt chalky to the touch. The ground was quickly covered in what looked like wet clay.

“So sorry for the inconvenience,” the man said. “I don’t have control of the weather. Ell oh ell as they say on social media. You don’t know what I mean, that horrible fad didn’t come until after your time. That and cell phones. What stupid shit you humans devise to keep yourselves entertained.

“Anyway, I’m going off on a tangent. What I was saying is that I’m going to need your help. You see, there are children that are born special, ones such as yourself, who were never meant to survive their birth. Abortions, stillborns, you understand? For some reason, a glitch grows in the system that allows you to be born, anyway. You were meant to be strangled by your umbilical cord, but yet here you are, stamping your carbon footprint on the world. You, Daniel, have cheated the universe and now you’re being called upon to help me correct this flaw and start over.

“It isn’t pretty, but it is necessary. I can do most of the work myself, but it’s your energy, that spark of life inside of you that should have never ignited, that completes the circuit. I’ve done this an infinite number of times and will continue to do so, but it always hinges on finding the right business partner. Are you reading me clearly?”

Danny didn’t respond. Dirty water dripped from his hair as he shivered from the cold.

“I guess that pretty much answers your third question too. Who am I? Everything I described and more. I’ve had many names - Shiv The Destroyer, Perses, Eris, Satan, Erebus, Pluto, Morpheus - and all of these are incorrect. Those silly Greeks and Romans have names for everything. My name is unpronounceable to mortal ears, so I’ll leave it up to you to give me one. How’s that? Anything you like?” He waved his hands again and Danny’s mouth reappeared. He panted and coughed and touched his lips to make sure they were real.

“Asshole!” he shouted. “That’s your name! Shitbreath, Douchebag, Fuckface, Cocksucker! Do you like that you fucking lunatic?”

The man chuckled and folded his hands, satisfied. “At least now you’re showing some spirit, but unfortunately we have to wrap this up. I have a clean sweep coming in a few minutes and I don’t want to miss it. A beautiful planet if you’re into that sort of thing. I am not. It’s taken me millennia to erase that hideous string of realities, but finally, the end is in sight.” The man stood and brushed water from his shoulders.

“One last thing. It’s up to you to do the right thing. You need to offer your help, I can’t force you, but you should know that noncompliance has its consequences, some of which you’ve already seen. Your friend Charlie for instance. Wasn’t that a hoot? Erased as if he’d never existed. I didn’t lie to you when I said that I didn’t kill him, but his death does have its benefits, one of which is to teach you a lesson. With the snap of my fingers, I can take things away, Daniel.”

The man with the silver eyes walked across the abandoned park and turned to face Danny one last time. “If you choose to neglect your duties, I will take the greatest pleasure in systematically destroying everything you’ve ever loved. The fires, the accident, Charlie - those things are only the beginning. Perhaps next time it will be your mother or father. Now go. Think. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Darkness.

***

Danny awoke with the overpowering stench of smoke and gasoline burning his sinuses.

His clothes were dry; warm sun beat down on his face. Blaring sirens joined the already-present sound of fires crackling in the street and the piercing whine of the closest fire alarm. For an instant, Danny wished he could slip back into The Gray… at least there it was quiet.

“He’s back,” Kevin said, relieved. “Are you okay, son?”

“I think so. What happened?”

“You passed out again,” Eric said. “We didn’t know what to do.”

“Can you get up?” Kevin asked.

Danny felt Kevin’s strong hands beneath his armpits, pulling him to his feet. At first, his legs wouldn’t hold him, but his strength quickly returned.

“I think you’ll be okay,” Kevin said. “With all this,” he said, spreading his arms for emphasis, “it’s no wonder you overloaded.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” Danny said. It was most definitely not it. It was so much more than that, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to wrap his head around it. For now, it took most of his energy just to stay on his feet.

“Listen, I can’t thank you boys enough for what you’ve done today. You saved our lives and I will never forget that. Something tells me Shaun and I are in for a very long day. I think we’re all in for a very long day.” He grabbed his son from Brent - who’d been holding him ever since Danny collapsed - and walked away without another word. Shaun looked over his father’s shoulder, cooed softly, and offered a small baby-wave. Eric waved back and smiled in return. If anything good could come out of something so awful, it was this.

“Guys,” Danny said, “we need to talk.”

“You’re damn right we need to talk,” Brent said. “If you keep passing out like that, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“It’s more serious than that,” Danny replied.

“Are you okay?” Eric asked.

“I’m the opposite of okay. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They left Broad Street behind them: the fires, the smoke, the twisted metal, the death.

This wasn’t the Elmview they’d come to know and love… it had become something else, something dark, something standing on the edge of a great precipice awaiting the slightest breeze to tumble it into the unknown depths below.

Into the open arms of the creature who called that blackness home.

***

Their perch atop Independence Grove gave them an unhindered bird’s-eye view of the downtown. The boys watched raptly as police and fire officials fought against the growing crowd. The fires had been extinguished. Body bags lined the sidewalks, illuminated by camera flashes and video recorders from a half-dozen competing news stations. It was something out of a movie, not something that happened in their own town, especially after the events of the previous night’s storm.

Something was building, and it was growing stronger by the day.

“I’m not having this conversation,” Brent shouted. “It’s bullshit and you know it. This is real life, not the fucking Outer Limits.”

“Believe what you want,” Danny replied. “I know what I saw and I know what I heard. That thing is causing this, trying to rip the town apart, and I think it’s because of me.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this, it’s way beyond your control. Are you positive it wasn’t another one of your dreams?” Eric asked.

“It never felt so real…”

“I can’t believe you two are actually discussing this!” Brent blurted. “You’re not some cosmic golden boy with the power to destroy the world. Do you know how it makes you sound when you talk like that?”

“Christ, Brent, maybe take it down a notch, huh?” Eric said.

“No, I won’t, and you’re just as crazy as him for buying into this shit. What happened to Charlie was terrible and crazy and fucked up, but there’s an explanation for all this, and it doesn’t involve monsters from outer-space.”

“Then give me your explanation, genius,” Danny shouted. “Tell me anything that will make sense and I’ll believe you. Anything is better than this.”

“At first I believed you, I really did, but you’re taking it too far. I mean come on, people die, buildings burn, storms knock down trees. Nothing has happened that can’t be explained.”

“What about the dreams, Brent?” Danny pleaded. “I’m not crazy. I woke up in The Gray, and that man wasn’t just a man. There was something hiding beneath his skin, something inside him… something evil. How could you even think I’d make this shit up?”

Brent stood from the picnic table and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have to go home. I’ve had just about as much excitement as I can handle for one day.” He turned and walked away.

“He thinks I’m nuts,” Danny said.

“He’ll come around. I mean, come on… would you believe it? I know there’s something going on, too much to call it a coincidence, but…”

“But what? Do you believe me?”

Eric sighed and closed his eyes, thinking how to carefully phrase his words so Danny wouldn’t get more upset. “I believe that you believe.”

“Eric! That’s a cop-out and you know it!”

“Okay, listen to me. There’s a kid I know who has terrible dreams about a planet-smashing demon from outer-space. At first, they were only dreams, but now this creature has come from another dimension to tell the boy he holds a magic key to unlock the destruction of the world. Of all worlds. Oh, and only he sees this thing. Rod Serling couldn’t have come up with a crazier story!”

Danny laughed and shook his head. Hearing it from someone else made it sound absolutely ridiculous. “Okay, so maybe you have a point.”

“Listen, you know I have your back. I’m trying here, but do you know how hard it is to swallow something like this?”

“Of course I do, but if I can’t tell you and Brent, who else can I tell? Brent already thinks I lost it. I’ve never seen him like this before.” Danny hung his head and swallowed hard. “I don’t want to lose you guys… not now.”

“You’re not losing me, Danny. Where the hell would I be without you? You’ve made my life bearable, even if you are a little crazy.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Danny laughed. “I’ll take what I can get.”

***

Eric jumped from his bed and choked back a scream. His shorts and t-shirt were damp from sweat.

It’s all true, he thought. Every single word is true.

The dream was so vivid, so real, there could no longer be any room for doubt. He could still smell the stale air of the other-world wasteland, could hear the inhuman voice of the man in flannel, could see the abandoned buildings, the time-bleached bones of long-dead bodies, the blackened craters where bombs had ravaged the landscape.

Danny was telling the truth.

Sleep was no longer an option. It was a little after three in the morning when Eric dressed and slipped past his snoring mother. Elmview was quiet this time of morning, eerily so, but as he reached Independence Grove, he was glad to be alone. So much had happened… so much to think about and figure out for himself.

The intersection below was still teeming with people. Smoke drifted lazily into the night sky as police officers detoured traffic around the accident site. The dead had been removed, and the living grieved. A chill wind soughed through the trees, making Eric shiver.

“You there,” a voice called. “Boy.”

Eric turned, startled by the sudden intrusion.

“Yes, you. Shouldn’t a boy your age be in bed at this hour?”

Eric frowned and turned away. “Shouldn’t an old man your age be in bed?”

He laughed and walked closer. “Old men don’t sleep much. The second my head hits the pillow I’m up to take a piss. The older the boat, the more it leaks.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

“What are you doing up so late? All the action in town got you jumpy?”

Eric shrugged. “Something like that.”

“It’s understandable with all that’s been going on lately. Almost makes you wonder what this world is coming to.”

“The end. It’s coming to the end.”

“I wouldn’t be quite that dramatic. I think we have a bit more left in us, don’t you?”

Eric turned slightly and watched the man inch closer. He wasn’t afraid. His presence had a calming effect.

The man looked over the hill and blew a whistling breath through his pursed lips. “What a clusterfuck,” he said. He smirked at Eric and apologized for his language.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

The man ran a hand through his thinning hair and sighed. “Do you mind if I sit?” Eric shook his head and motioned him over. “You have a name?”

“Eric Rogers.”

The man extended his hand and Eric shook it gently. “Call me Ben, all my friends do. Rogers, you say? I think I knew your daddy. Dennis was it?”

Eric nodded.

“Good man, your father. Shame he went so early. Only the good die young.”

Eric nodded again. He was quickly coming to like Ben. His voice was soft and kind, and he didn’t talk down to him as so many other adults had a habit of doing. Ben unbuttoned his shirt and shook it out. “This late and it’s still hot as hell. No wonder you couldn’t sleep.”

“I wish it was that simple,” Eric said. “I had a pretty nasty dream.”

“Anything exciting?”

“Not exactly what I’d call it.”

Ben waved his hand dismissively. It was all just small talk, anyway. Ben knew exactly what troubled the boy and his friends. This wasn’t his first trip around the block.

“You live here long?” Eric asked.

“Too many years to count. Once you reach my age, the years seem like centuries.”

“You ever seen anything like this before?” Eric motioned toward the town below.

“Not for some time, but Elmview has always had its share of tragedy. In ‘36 the old powder mill blew sky-high and killed about fifty people. The old foundation is out by the train tunnel, maybe you’ve seen it in your travels?”

Eric nodded. “We always wondered what that was.” The area in question was a nightmare to reach, full of sticker bushes and thorns. Rusty hulks of forgotten machinery lie completely overgrown with mountain laurel.

“Then there was the flood in ‘55. Sycamore Street was erased from the map when the river came over the banks. You know it as Flood Row. Ain’t nothing but empty cellars now… the houses were all washed away. I had a good friend that lived there, but they never found him. Not his body, not his shoe, nothing. Like he’d never existed at all.”

Eric shuddered, picturing a pale, wrinkled corpse slowly rotting away along the riverbank, hidden from view forever. He looked up at the sky and figured it had to be approaching four o’clock. The sun would soon creep over the horizon and dispel the lingering shadows, which suited Eric just fine. The dark seemed a little darker as of late.

“Going back hundreds of years, this place has been a beacon for catastrophe. We were founded on the back of an Indian massacre for Christ’s sake. Our streets, our houses, our churches… all built on the blood-soaked ground they once called home. We took it by force, raping their woman, killing their men, enslaving their children. Something like that has to leave a stain.”

“Do you believe that? Do you think we’re cursed?”

“Cursed? No. I think evil begets evil. One evil deed is piggy-backed by another and another, and before you know it, the whole damn thing reaches into the sky and blocks out the sun.”

“That’s fucking creepy.”

“Only if you believe it,” Ben laughed. “I’m just an old man with a lot of stories and even more opinions.”

“You should meet my friends, I think they’d like your stories.”

“If they’re friends of yours I’m sure I’d like them.”

“They’re my best friends, we do everything together. So far our summer vacation hasn’t exactly been what we’d been hoping for.”

“It’s early yet. I’m sure things will get better.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Keep them close. Good friends are hard to find. You’d give them the shirt off your back, and they’d do the same for you. You never know what might come next, but when it does, you face it together. We’re always stronger when someone is watching out for us. Don’t forget that. Always stand with them. Who knows? Maybe friendship will save us all.”

“It didn’t save my friend Charlie,” Eric said. The wound was still fresh. Tears stung his eyes, and he quickly brushed them away.

“I’m sorry about Charlie. I saw it on the evening news. Such a pointless loss of life.”

Eric turned so quickly that his neck screamed in protest. “You remember Charlie?”

“I’m an old man, Eric. I see many things, things that others don’t always see, things they forget.” Eric eyed him suspiciously. How did he remember Charlie when no else did? “I know what you’re thinking, but now is not the time for that discussion. Let’s agree that we’ll discuss it soon.”

Eric nodded his head slowly, stunned by the revelation that someone else remembered what everyone had forgotten. This meeting wasn’t by chance, he was sure of that.

“Go home Eric, get some rest. Talk to your friends. I think we all have a few things in common, don’t you?”

“You know?”

“Much more than I’d like to, my young friend.”

Ben stood, bones crackling. He placed his wrinkled hand on Eric’s shoulder and looked into his eyes knowingly. Soon you’ll know everything. The words appeared in Eric’s head like brief flashes of light. His own ability to speak had deserted him. Ben turned and walked into the night.

Eric remained motionless for another ten minutes, staring off into the dark long after Ben had disappeared. When he finally returned to his house, the sky was beginning to brighten. His mother was still on the couch, exhaling reeking waves of sour alcohol. He got a drink from the kitchen and sat in the dark, listening to the sound of crickets in the backyard while the rest of Elmview slept.

For once he didn’t feel so alone.

***

A few blocks away, Ben sat on his front porch relishing a cigarette. Things were falling into place as they had many times before. Same story with a different cast of characters. There was an Eric in every town - a Bobby, a Christopher, a Mark, an Andrew, a Jimmy.

Ben exhaled a plume of white smoke and watched it rise lazily into the air. He smiled bitterly. His call to action had been set in motion.

The Skryel had returned.

It always returned. Sometimes it took decades, sometimes only years, but it always came back, looking to dig its filthy claws into the fabric of existence and tear it to shreds. A vacant school, an abandoned factory, a forgotten house on the edge of town… always another dark, forsaken shithole where the beast could creep back into our world unnoticed, luring the innocent into its clutches.

This Earth had been on the chopping block since humans took their first tentative steps out of their caves. Thousands of other Earths had been destroyed, millions, but this one was the key, the main cog in the wheel. Remove this one, and the entire machine would shake itself to oblivion.

The Skryel would not let it go.

The creature was jealous of the human race, jealous of its emotions, enraged that it’d been unceremoniously removed from its throne. The realities of Earth had once been its home, it and all the others like it. Then humans came along and upset the balance, gaining in knowledge, inventing ways to lift the shroud of darkness surrounding them. The Skryel and its followers were banished to the dark void of the multiverse, and for eons they fought to take back what they thought was rightfully theirs.

Ben’s preparations had begun. He knew the monster was once again near, felt it entering our world through doorways in places that time had forgotten, heard its heart beating as it sank its roots deep into the Earth, becoming one with the soil and the endless caverns running beneath the living world. Now that Ben had made contact with the boys, it was his duty to prepare them for what was to come. They’d become the next unwitting tools of the Skryel’s war and they needed to be ready when the time came to fight.

Just like Eric’s father before him.

Dennis Rogers had been a good man, a smart man, and a quick learner. Ben was by his side when the Skryel used him to try and gain control. Dennis nearly fell at creature’s feet, believing in its empty promises, but before all was lost he regained his senses and saw only one way out. He squeezed the trigger of the .44 Magnum, apologized to God, and blew his brains all over the wet ground.

The doorway closed.

Now it was using Eric’s best friend to re-open that door.

Ben rubbed his temples with his thumbs. Thousands of years had passed and still, he was no closer to fully defeating his foe. All he could do was offer his knowledge to those who had to fight and hope they were strong enough to stand against the beast. If this Earth fell, all the others would wink out of existence - an infinitesimal number of lives erased in the blink of an eye.

Ben’s mind raced. There was no amount of preparation that made the upcoming battle any easier.

He went inside, grabbed a soda from the fridge, and drank deeply. Soda had become his comfort. His addiction. Although he wasn’t bound by the rules of man, he still enjoyed their creations. He downed the can and set it aside.

For three days he sat motionless, reliving past battles, developing new strategies. In the end, it would all come down to the boys. All he could do was offer his help and watch from the sidelines, hoping he’d done enough to save them.

Chapter 9

The Skryel drifted down Broad Street unseen, a smoky cloud hovering a few feet off the ground, invisible under the cover of night. Flowers withered at its passing, leaves fell from trees, brown and dead.

It knew Elmview well; it’d returned here hundreds of times over the centuries. The wall between worlds had grown extremely thin in this rural part of Pennsylvania, allowing the birth of so many special individuals.

So many doors to open… so many ways to bring chaos and destruction to everything it touched.

Most realities had fallen without a fight, but the disgusting human race refused to bow down and worship their rightful god. The Skryel knew Danny was a very powerful adversary, and Eric an extension of that power. Using them was a risk it had to take.

I will not be scared off by a child.

Yet it was scared, terrified in fact.

The boy and his friends were gaining strength without even realizing it, attaining powers they never knew they had. They’d become part of the struggle, like it or not. Eric was the wild card. Although not a doorway, the knowledge of his foe had been written in his DNA, passed down from father to son.

A stray cat crossed the street, pausing to nibble on trash it found in the gutter. It spied the Skryel, arched its back, and hissed. Animals were different. They could see the monster in its true form.

The Skryel offered a hiss in return as the cat’s eyes rained bloody tears. Its heart exploded in its chest, killing the animal before it had a chance to fall over.

If only humans were so easy.

The Indian massacre had taught the creature a lesson. Humans were a power-hungry bunch, always looking for advantages to better themselves. With a little coaxing, they slaughtered the natives like sheep and claimed their land and possessions as if they were their own. Some men worshiped the Skryel as a god, praying to it for guidance, which the monster offered willingly. Once the deed was done, they’d turned their back on their god and found a way to send it back into the abyss.

Their loyalty had been a mirage.

The Skryel floated silently up and down empty streets, killing rats and nested birds, taking its anger out on easy targets that couldn’t fight back. A beagle ran from its little wooden house and jumped up on the chain-link fence, barking viciously. The Skryel tried to kill the animal but failed. Its connection to humans was far too strong.

“I’ll come back for you, pest,” it rumbled.

The creature seethed with anger. The bulb of a nearby streetlight exploded in a shower of sparks. Behind closed doors of darkened houses, babies awoke in the night, screaming, feeling the Skryel’s presence beneath their bedroom windows.

“I’ll come back for you all.”

The monster wanted desperately to invade one of the boy’s dreams, drag them into one of the dead places, feed on their fear, but the energy required to do so was counterproductive. Scare tactics only worked for so long - a perfect way to create paranoia - but it’d always been a good place to start. What it really needed was a body count, like the display at the intersection. The deaths of innocent bystanders was the icing on the cake. The beast could intercept their essence and store it in the void, erasing them from memory, causing a paradox that often worked to its advantage.

The night passed quickly. There was never enough time. Every morning, the sun crept over the horizon and the filthy human race went about their day with a smile on their face, unaware that their extinction could only be just around the corner.

The Skryel stopped and sniffed the air. It detected a familiar scent, an energy it instantly recognized. A hearty laugh boomed out of the darkness. The smoky cloud drew tighter until the creature had a form, that of an old man, just like his nemesis who sat a few feet away smoking a cigarette and chuckling to himself.

“The ever-obedient watchdog remains at his post,” the Skryel mocked.

“Watching for intruders,” Ben replied, saluting his enemy with a can of soda.

“It’s been some time, Guardian. I’d hoped you’d be dead and buried by now.”

“You know better than that. Every time you show your face, I’ll be right there waiting. I figured you’d eventually take the hint, but you’re obviously not very bright. How many times do I have to send you back to the void to get the point across?” Ben flicked his cigarette, hitting the Skryel in the shoulder and covering him in hot ash. He chuckled and sipped his soda.

“You’ll pay for that,” the Skryel grumbled.

“So full of hate,” Ben said. “When will you realize your idle threats mean nothing to me?”

“Have you grown so senile that you’ve forgotten I’ve killed off your entire race? The runts of the litter are all gone now.”

“As are yours… eradicated like the vermin you are. I’ve found your doorway, just as I always have, and I’m making sure it stays closed. These people will stand against you. I’ve grown accustomed to this race and their ways, seen what beauty they’re capable of and what sacrifices they’ll make to protect their own. As long as I’m here, you’ll never have what you want.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself. I’m growing more powerful every day. I’ll have these rats eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“I seem to recall this same speech before Atlantis fell. Another failure in a never-ending string of failures.” Ben grabbed another can of soda from a cooler. “You can destroy as much as you want, try to control them through fear, but in the end, you’re just going to unite them. They’ll rise against you as they have in the past.”

“You talk like them, you look like them, you try to blend in with them, but you are not one of them. This masquerade is pitiful… it shows your true weakness.”

Ben gave the man a thumb’s up and smiled.

The Skryel’s human form shifted and broke apart, returning to the smoky mass it’d been previously. The Guardian had a point, but the Skryel would never show its fear. Danny was one of the most powerful doorways it’d ever encountered, the only other being nearly two thousand years ago. In a faraway land, the Skryel’s influence led to the alienation of a very formidable man, one that had been nailed to a cross and left to die. Even in his death throes, the man would not betray his people. Instead, these stupid humans came to worship him, write books about him, sing songs in his honor, build shrines in his memory. Its attempt to gain control had failed miserably, and the man’s following grew only stronger after his death. The Skryel despised him for it.

“This banter has grown tiresome.”

“Which is just a cowardly way of saying the sun will soon rise,” Ben laughed. “So strong and powerful, yet hiding from the light like the vampire you are. Forgive me if I find that rather amusing.”

“This is only the beginning, Guardian.”

“I’m sure of it, Shadowking, and I’ll be right here waiting.”

The Skryel vanished.

Ben nervously lit another cigarette and leaned back in his chair. The Skryel knew how important the boy was - the most powerful doorway since Christ - and Danny’s choices would dictate the outcome. One wrong move could signal the end of everything.

It was Ben’s job to make sure it didn’t come to that.

***

Danny walked alone.

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t make sense of what the man had told him in The Gray. Other worlds, other realities, other versions of himself and his friends.

I wasn’t supposed to be born, he thought. What does that make me? A freak? A monster?

“Not at all,” a voice said. “You’re more important than you could possibly imagine.”

“What did you say?” Danny asked. He didn’t recognize the man standing nearby. “Who are you?”

“My name is Ben, and I’m here to help you.”

“Help me… with what?”

“The Skryel.”

“The what?”

“The devil that visits you in your dreams. The one who killed your friend. I can help you. I’ve had some practice.”

“How do you know about that? What if you’re trying to trick me? How do I know you didn’t trade one face for another?

“Do I scare you? Have I given the impression that I’m trying to control you?” Danny shook his head. There was something very strange about the man, but his energy wasn’t at all like the creature in The Gray. “The Skryel can’t hide behind its human face… it radiates evil, gives itself away. Certainly, a boy with your talents can feel the difference.”

My talents? What have I got myself into?

“None of this is your fault, Danny. You’ve been chosen, that’s all.”

“Are you reading my thoughts? How are you doing that? And how do you my name?”

“None of that is important right now. We’re short on time. I’ll answer all your questions, but not here, not now. We need to speak privately, just you and your friends. Do you understand me?”

“No, not one word. You show up out of the blue and expect me to just do whatever you ask?”

“All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to explain what’s happening. I know what you’re going through… I’ve seen it before. You’re a target, Danny. I can show you how to protect yourself.”

“This is crazy! Why won’t you…”

“Enough,” Ben interrupted. “Talk to Eric, he knows where to find me.”

“Eric? How the hell do you know Eric?”

Ben smiled. The boy was full of questions; his inquisitive nature would make him easier to teach. Danny was confused, as he should be, but Ben needed to make him realize that he was trapped in a tug of war between the darkness and the light, and with any war, there would be casualties.

“Please just do as I ask. We’ll have this discussion soon, I promise. Until then, keep your friends close. The Skryel will use them as weapons against you, try to weaken your defenses and make it easier to gain control.”

“Is this actually happening?”

“I’m afraid so, son. I understand you’re scared and confused, but you can’t ignore this. Do you understand?”

Danny nodded.

“Until then, stay in the light. The beast is strongest in the shadows.”

“What the hell do I do at night?”

“Anything you can, Danny. Anything you can.”

Danny blinked and Ben was gone.

My god, did that just happen?

Yes, a voice answered. Ben’s voice. Inside his head.

Danny walked away with more questions than answers, but he no longer felt alone. Ben knew what was happening when no else did. How did he know Eric? About his dreams? About the monster that invaded his home? The only way to find out was to do what the man asked. Maybe it would convince Brent that Danny wasn’t losing his mind.

And maybe Danny would start to believe it as well.

***

Danny was lost in his own thoughts, watching the ground between his feet, when he collided with someone and fell to the ground in a tangled heap. It was Sam Bayonne. Danny had regretted not meeting up with her at the party, but this wasn’t exactly the solution he’d imagined.

Sam shouted in surprise and jammed her finger in his face. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, jerk?”

“You ran into me,” he said, blushing. He stood quickly and brushed dirt from the back of his shorts.

Sam squinted up at him, blocking the sun with her arm. “Well? Are you gonna help me up?”

Danny grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her to her feet as she rubbed her backside with a groan.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think so, no thanks to you.”

Sam’s brightly painted toenails poked through the front of her sandals. She wore a pair of tight shorts that left very little to the imagination.

Danny smiled and looked away.

“What’s so funny?”

“Uh, nothing I guess. I’m just surprised to see you.”

“I bet you are. I waited around at the party all night to see if you’d come talk to me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I meant to but the night just got away from me.”

“And so did the girl.”

“Did she? Looks like she’s standing right here.”

“For now, maybe,” she smirked. “Why don’t we go do something, see if you can make it up to me.”

“Really? Like a date?”

“No, jerk, like we go to the park or something. What would make you think I’d want to date you, anyway?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I guess I just thought…”

“Well stop thinking,” she interrupted. “It’s summer vacation. We don’t have to think for another two months.” She walked past him, grabbed his hand, and pulled Danny along behind her. He was staring at her ass when she turned around. “Are you enjoying the view?”

“Yes. I mean no. Shit, I don’t know how to answer that.” She looked into his eyes, unflinching, smiling at the color that bloomed in his cheeks. “I mean, it’s certainly not a bad view.”

“How about you keep your eyes forward before you run into someone else?”

Still holding his hand, Sam continued on. For a while, Danny stayed behind her, unsure of what he was supposed to do. It wasn’t every day a pretty girl grabbed his hand and led him around like a puppy on a leash. He suddenly felt embarrassed. After a few minutes, he crept forward and walked beside her. He never dropped her hand; it felt so natural, he didn’t even think of taking it away.

They walked that way for an hour, making small talk, enjoying each other’s company. Nothing else mattered for a brief period of time. Danny’s worries faded into the background.

“I have to go home,” Sam said. “If I don’t get my chores done before my mom comes home, there will be hell to pay.” When she dropped his hand, Danny felt like something was missing. He looked at her like she had just stolen his favorite toy. Her face lit up, temporarily banishing everything else from Danny’s mind. “Don’t worry, maybe we can do this again tomorrow?”

“Really?”

Sam giggled and walked in the opposite direction, turning around once to offer a quick wave. “You can count on it.”

He watched her walk away until she turned the corner, barely capable of understanding where the last hour had gone. He still felt the warm touch of her hand wrapped in his own.

It wasn’t until he reached Brent’s house when reality flooded back. Any other time, meeting with Sam the way he did would have been worth a lengthy discussion with his friends, but now, it was tainted by the shadow hanging over them.

It wasn’t fair.

He knocked on Brent’s door and waited.

***

“So that’s it?” Brent asked. “You meet some old guy on the corner and we’re all supposed to hang out with him?”

“It’s not like that,” Danny said. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said?”

“I was listening, but this is crazy. There’s a word for it when someone starts following you around and hiding in the bushes; it’s called stalking. First Eric and now you. How do you know he’s not some kind of pervert? Do I have to start peeking out the window to make sure he’s not there? Do you want some candy little boy?”

“He’s not a pervert, Brent. He knows what’s going on. How else would he know the details? Coincidence?” Thunder rumbled overhead, rattling the glass in Brent’s bedroom windows.

“Maybe he’s been spying on us, or maybe Eric already told him everything.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Eric interrupted as he entered the room and sat on the bed. The boys jumped, startled.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Brent said.

“Sorry, your mom let me in. I heard what you were talking about. I guess you met Ben?”

Danny nodded.

“There’s something… special about him. I can feel it.”

“Are you guys kidding me? The goose who lays the golden bullshit? I don’t even know you two anymore.”

“We’re your best friends,” Eric said. “We’ll always be your best friends, but you’re being too close-minded about this.”

“I don’t know what you want from me. I haven’t talked to any special man, I haven’t seen any gray-place. Everything that’s happened can be explained and you both know it.”

“Can’t you just listen for once? The guy knows something. He can help us!”

Brent rolled his eyes and started fidgeting with his record collection.

“Seriously,” Eric said. “There’s no reason not to listen to what he has to say. If we realize he’s full of shit, what’s the harm? We waste an hour of our day.”

Brent’s face lacked all emotion. “Listen. I’m not trying to ruin your little fantasy. I’ll go with you, but don’t be shocked if I don’t believe a word he says.”

The boys nodded. It was the closest they’d come to getting Brent to agree with the plan. There was no sense pushing any further.

Thunder shook the house as wind-driven rain lashed the windows and beat on the aluminum siding. Lightning winked through the curtains. The lights went out as electricity crackled from the power lines outside, leaving them in the flickering darkness. Danny felt something coming.

“Do you hear that?” Eric asked.

They listened closely as something rustled in the hallway, moving quietly beneath the din. Danny flinched and pulled away as a loud knock made the door shudder in its frame.

“Mom, is that you?” Brent asked nervously.

The bedroom door burst open with enough force to tear it from the hinges. The windows imploded, spraying the boys in broken glass. A black mass filled the doorway, pulsing in time with the thunder.

The darkness roared.

It hissed and rattled like a steam train hurtling out of control. They hunched over, heads low, huddled together as the mass tried entering the room through the splintered doorway. Rain poured through the broken windows, saturating the carpet. Loose paper was torn from the drawers of Brent’s desk, flying around the room like a flock of angry sparrows. Posters were ripped from the walls and thrown to the floor where they were quickly turned to wet mush.

The house groaned liked a sinking ship as pieces of the ceiling tile fell from above. Danny screamed and covered his head with his arms, fearing the roof would cave in on top of them.

The Skryel shrieked.

Light fixtures exploded in a shower of yellow sparks. The wall around the door bulged and split open as the monster tried forcing itself over the threshold. The creature inched forward. Thin tendrils of smoke reached out for them, seeking their warmth, feeding on their fear.

“You’re not welcome here,” a voice boomed.

They looked around the room fearfully, seeking out the source of the voice, but they were alone. The black cloud bellowed with rage as plaster broke from the wall and fell to the carpet.

“Move aside, Guardian,” a voice replied. “This is a fight you can’t win.” Still, the creature was trapped in the doorway, unable to cross into the room. Thunder shook the floor beneath them.

“Leave these boys alone, Shadowking. You have no business here,” the disembodied voice shouted.

The monster wailed as it was dragged away from the door; large chunks of the wall were torn open as it reached out with twisted, black arms made of smoke. It was pulled down the hall, faster and faster, until it burst through the window on the opposite side and disappeared into the storm. The rain slowed to a drizzle and stopped altogether; the wind became a soft breeze; the clouds above Elmview broke apart as the sun peeked through in brilliant shafts of yellow light. It was over as quickly as it had begun.

The boys’ clothing was pasted to their skin, and each was covered in small cuts and scrapes from the glass and crumbled plaster. The room was in shambles. Danny stood and walked to the doorway as his sneakers squished in the soggy carpet.

“It’s getting stronger,” Danny said, panting. Eric nodded. Brent looked around the room, shaking his head and frowning at the damage.

Brent’s mother pounded up the stairs, shouting for her son in a panic. “Brent, where are you?”

“In here, mom.”

“Oh my god, look at this mess. Are you boys okay?”

“We’re fine, Mrs. McCallister,” Eric replied.

“Can you believe it?” Margaret put her hands on her hips and inspected the damage. “These storms just keep getting worse.”

If only you knew, Margaret, Danny thought. If only you knew.

“Oh, Brent,” she said. “Your records are all ruined.”

He stood and grabbed one from the shelf as the cardboard sleeve broke apart in his hand.

“All my stuff is trashed.”

“Don’t worry, we can always get you new records. The important thing is that you’re all okay.”

More had been taken from Brent than his record collection.

He could no longer hide behind logic to explain what he’d seen and heard.

While his possessions could be replaced, his innocence could not.

***

For the remainder of the afternoon, they spent their time helping Brent clean his room and catalog the items that could be saved. Unfortunately, it appeared most of his memorabilia had been lost. His album collection went into a large contractor bag, the cardboard sleeves bloated and flimsy from the rain. Brent stared into the bag sadly as his prized possessions disintegrated before his eyes.

They were knee-deep in piles of soggy trash when Sam entered the room, frowning. “Holy shit! What a mess.”

Danny smiled and tossed a tattered poster in the bag.

“I thought you had chores,” he said.

“I convinced my mom to let me out. All the neighbors were talking about what happened.”

“We can definitely use the help.” She followed his gaze around the ruined bedroom. “You know Eric and Brent?”

Sam nodded. “I’ve seen you around school,” she said to Eric. “And we met at the party, Brent.”

He looked up slowly, taking a second to pull her name from his confused mind. “Sam? What are you doing here?”

“I thought maybe I could give you a hand.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so.” He watched Danny and Sam share a quick look and immediately knew there was something going on that he hadn’t known about.

Are they together? he thought. When the hell did this happen, and why hadn’t Danny said anything about it?

“You don’t mind, do you?” Sam asked.

“No, of course not.”

“I’m all for it,” Eric laughed. “Anything to make this go a little faster.” He also noticed the body language between Sam and Danny. He smiled and winked.

“Whatever,” Brent added.

Sam jumped in right away, working shoulder to shoulder with the others. Brent eyed her suspiciously, making sure she wasn’t just throwing everything away.

What does she know about valuable record albums? he thought.

He watched her closely, at first because he didn’t necessarily trust her, but eventually because he had a hard time looking away. Those almond-shaped eyes, ample breasts tucked tightly into a black sports bra, shorts that crept down when she bent over, offering a tantalizing view of her ass. Fine, blond hairs trailed down her spine, disappearing into places unseen.

The mood in the room lightened as Eric, Sam, and Danny joked and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. The work was getting done in a fraction of the time, and they were growing anxious for some sun and fresh air.

Brent brooded over his loss. There was no lifting his spirits, no laughter, no pretty girl to hug him and tell him everything would be okay. He watched Danny and Sam playfully flirting as Eric laughed like an asshole the entire time. Sam tousled their hair, pushed them around, giggled like a five-year-old. It was irritating.

What about me? he thought. I’m the one who had all his shit ruined.

Brent simmered in his anger. He didn’t find anything funny… not one bit. Why did Danny get all the attention? Why did he get the pretty girl? What’s so fucking special about Danny Harper?

He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye: her hands, her legs, her lips. He wondered what they’d taste like, wondered what treasures were hidden beneath her tight denim shorts. She smelled like a girl… of flowers and sweet things that made his stomach ache for a chance to get closer. Her hair… her voice…

“Hey, space cadet,” Danny shouted. “You want to join us back here on Earth?”

“Huh?”

“You were staring at the wall.”

“Was I? I guess I’m just tired.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Sam joked.

Eric laughed and squeezed water from his shirt. “You just got spanked by a girl.”

“Hey, maybe I’m into that.”

“There he is,” Danny exclaimed. He clapped Brent on the shoulder and smiled, glad to see his friend was slowly coming around. He hated seeing him so distraught.

“It’s nice to see you joking around,” Sam added.

“Let’s get out of here and do something. This can wait for now,” Brent said.

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” Eric said. They each grabbed a garbage bag and took it out to the curb.

There was no sign of the storm; the sky was a perfect cloudless blue.

“You want to go to the arcade?” Brent asked. “I have a bunch of quarters for the air hockey table.” Brent’s suggestion wasn’t meant to remove Sam from the equation, but he figured she’d balk at the idea and go find something else to do. When she was the first to speak, his hopes evaporated.

“Yes!” she yelled. “I love air hockey!”

Son of a bitch, Brent thought.

“On second thought, that’s a dumb idea,” Brent said.

“It’s a great idea,” Sam replied. “You’re not getting out of it that easily.”

Danny reached for her hand and she took it.

“Get a room,” Eric joked.

“If you want to stay home and relax that’s okay,” Sam said. “You’ve been through a lot today. I have quarters if we need them.”

“No!” Brent barked. “I’ll come.” There was no way he’d allow himself to be told what to do… not by a girl. These were his friends, not hers. Who the hell did she think she was, barging in and making decisions for them? He played along, but his laughter never touched his eyes. If Danny and Eric wanted to follow her around like ducklings that was their choice.

Danny was his best friend, and he wasn’t about to share him with some girl he didn’t even know. This was just the beginning. Soon Danny would be hanging out with her all the time, forgetting about his friends and all the things they’d done together. Brent couldn’t understand why Eric didn’t see what was happening. Didn’t he realize that things were going to change?

“Are you okay?” Danny asked. “You’re spacing out again."

“Yep, I’m fine."

Danny knew he was lying, but under the circumstances, what could he say to him? It wasn’t just about a garbage bag full of ruined record albums; it was much more than that.

“I’m really sorry, man. I know how much you loved that collection.”

“It’s okay,” Brent said. “I can always start over. Let’s play some air hockey. It’ll take my mind off things.”

Brent offered his quarters as the others hooted and hollered like kids on the merry-go-round. He stood to the side, watching, paying very little attention to their childish antics.

“Come on, Brent, let’s see what you got,” Sam said. She felt sorry for him. She couldn’t imagine losing everything the way he had. “We’re using your money, you might as well show us how it’s done.” She grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the table.

As time passed, Brent played with his friends and momentarily forgot his anger and jealousy. There was no talk of boogeymen or dead friends or freak storms. It felt almost normal.

Brent’s win against Eric elicited cheering and good-natured laughter. Sam wrapped her arms around him and gave him a congratulatory hug, making him blush. The others laughed even louder.

“Do I make you nervous?” Sam asked, her hands on Brent’s sides as if they were about to share a slow dance.

Brent pushed her away gently. “No, I just don’t like it when girls get all clingy. That’s why I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Of course that’s why,” Eric chuckled.

The boys laughed and poked fun at one another as Sam looked on. She couldn’t shake the strange feeling she had about Brent. At the party, he was jovial and pleasant, and although she’d only spoken to him very briefly, she could feel a change in him, one she didn’t much like. Sam was never one to care much about what others thought about her, but this was different.

She was falling for Danny.

She’d seen and heard enough in high school to know how easy it was to cause friction between the person you’re dating and their friends. It went without saying. She didn’t want to be in the middle, and she certainly didn’t want to drive a wedge between them. She hoped Brent’s change in mood had nothing to do with her. It would make things so much more difficult.

Danny caught her eye and smiled.

At that moment, she knew if it came to that, she wouldn’t be able to walk away.

There was no reason to worry yet.

Maybe she was making a big deal over nothing…

***

The Skryel was annoyed but confident.

The Guardian had saved the boys, but to what end? This was only part of the game, one the Skryel enjoyed. It wasn’t strong enough to cross through the veil just yet, but what was the harm in having a little fun first?

All the seeds had been sprinkled. Danny had become distracted by a pretty girl, Brent had finally seen what could happen in the dark, and Eric followed them blindly, looking for any reason to keep the only friends he’d ever had. They were all weak, and their bonds would slowly fray as the Skryel dug its claws into their friendship and tore them apart.

That sentimental old man had grown too close to humans to be effective.

Even the Skryel couldn’t have foreseen the girl becoming involved. A perfect pawn to separate them. A chess piece to be played at the most opportune moment. Already, Brent was showing his jealousy and resentment. It would only grow over time, making him an important part of the puzzle.

Human nature was one thing the monster could always count on.

In Brent, it had a disposable soldier. Easy to influence. Easy to control.

It floated in the icy void, satisfied. The attack had sapped its energy. It needed to rest, needed to feed on the soul energy of those who’d died on the battlefield. Elmview had once again become an endless source of possibility.

The black veil surrounding the Skryel disappeared, revealing the shining light of the multiverse. Every galaxy, every star, every planet… strings of parallel realities tied together like pearls, billions of light years beyond the dimmest points of light in the night sky. Stars had been born and died and the light from their brief existence hadn’t even reached the outer rim of creation. From such a distance it looked like a child’s toys scattered in the darkness.

The Skryel shimmered. A million light-years away, a cluster of universes blinked and went dark, like a string of Christmas lights had been unplugged. Another job well done. If only the Earth-string was so easy.

The beast was pleased. It grew stronger by the second as it listened to the death-cries of a nearly infinite number of life forms.

The exquisite sound of an entire race’s death rattle…

…and the glorious silence that followed.

Chapter 10

A week passed.

They lived their lives like everything they had witnessed was nothing more than a bad dream. Wounds healed. No one brought up going to see Ben, and he didn’t contact them. They were beginning to believe that whatever craziness had visited Elmview had run its course. The days were sunny, the mood was light, and they picked up where they’d left off, looking forward to the remainder of the summer stretching out before them.

Brent had warmed up to the idea of Sam being around. When he thought about it now, it was hard to imagine what the fuss had been about in the first place. So Danny had a girlfriend… big deal. It wasn’t the end of the world. One day it would be Brent’s turn and all the strange feelings he’d hidden from them wouldn’t matter.

The brief glimpse they’d shared of another world and the creature that reigned there faded into yesterday.

They didn’t discuss it, and they purposely kept it from Sam.

They rode their bikes along the weedy path that paralleled the highway. Just a few miles from town stood the new Elmview Mall, built only a few years earlier. There was no better way to spend the afternoon in air-conditioned comfort. The sprawling structure housed a cinema, two record stores, several bookstores, a modern arcade, and a handful of clothing shops. Every year, Santa and the Easter Bunny set up shop outside Sears beneath one of the large, neon-lined skylights. Malls were the wave of the future, and the one constant in their lives they knew would never go away.

Just like VHS tapes and music cassettes.

They rounded the bend and stopped, looking down at the complex in wonder. The parking lot was mobbed with people and packed tight with various makes and models of cars and trucks, motorcycles, and what appeared to be some sort of dune buggy. Traffic in and out had come to a standstill.

“Are they giving something away?” Eric asked.

“Something is definitely going on,” Sam replied.

“Maybe that spicy cheese vendor is giving away free samples again,” Brent said hopefully. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Danny said.

“Well, yeah, which is why I want to fill my face with free spicy cheese samples.”

The main entrance was jammed with people. Every few feet stood another child screaming for a new toy or video game as frustrated parents assuaged them with candy and soft reassurances. Groups of teens gathered in packs, cupping cigarettes in their hands, trying to look as cool as possible while coughing out great clouds of white smoke. Someone held up a large white banner with ‘Pink Unicorn Candles’ stenciled in spray-paint. Music blasted from a boombox held on the shoulder of a man who looked like he’d just stepped off his surfboard moments before.

“Maybe we should come back another time,” Danny said. There was a buzzing behind his eyes, a tickle in his head he couldn’t shake.

“Hell no,” Sam said. “I’m not riding all the way back out here in this heat.”

They walked their bikes down the hill and into the parking lot, fighting their way through mobs of loitering visitors. Their attempt to cut through the crowd was futile. They parked their bikes in the bike barn, chained them, and waited for the crowd to disperse.

Brent thought back to the previous August when his father had taken him to an Aerosmith concert in Saratoga Springs, New York. The lights dimmed, the band took the stage, and the crowd went wild. His body vibrated from the thump of the bass drum as the arena erupted in organized chaos. Fists pumping in the air… fans singing along to every word… the energy was amazing.

This energy was different.

Danny watched as people bobbed back and forth, swayed side to side, danced impatiently from one foot to another. There were outbursts of laughter, angry shouts, clouds of cigarette smoke, and the oily aroma of sweating bodies packed tightly together beneath the baking sun.

As if from some silent cue, the crowd quieted at once. Eric and Danny looked at one another, puzzled. They stood on their toes to see what was happening over the jostling crowd. Sam noticed a makeshift stage had been erected near the entrance, constructed of several pieces of plywood laid between two shopping carts.

“What in the world is going on?” she mumbled.

A man climbed atop the platform, dressed in a dirty, black trench coat covered in dust and animal hair. A gray hood covered his head and his hands were wrapped in filthy, loose strings of gauze. His salt-and-pepper beard hung to his stomach, knotted and tangled, glistening from the grease of past meals. His weathered cheeks were pitted and cracked; deep grooves radiated from his penetrating, bloodshot eyes.

He raised his right arm above his head - bandages hanging limply from his wrist - as he prepared his speech for the faithful grocery shoppers, video renters, and fifty-percent-off sales junkies. The crowd watched raptly. Sam stepped closer to Danny as Brent and Eric exchanged a nervous glance.

The man opened his mouth to speak, displaying broken, jagged teeth the color of mud.

“Everything you know is about to change: your friends, your family, your way of life… it’s all about to disappear. I’m not here to scare you, I’m here to enlighten you, show you the path to the Lord of Light.”

“Get out of the way you crazy bastard,” a man shouted. “No one wants another religious tirade.” A groan washed over the assembly.

“Dark days are coming, my friends,” he continued. “Any man with darkness in his heart will suffer the fires of eternal torment.”

“Give it a rest,” someone shouted.

“Save it for Sunday,” another called.

People muttered, irritated by being kept from their shopping experience. One by one, and then in larger numbers, shoppers walked past him and entered the blessedly cool air of the mall. The man was undeterred. He raised his hand in the air, trying to keep everyone’s attention. His voice doubled in volume.

“Pray for your souls to be saved lest they be forever lost in the nameless void. Don’t invite the Beast into your homes! Don’t allow it to sit at your dinner table. Sing your praises to the heavens and beg for forgiveness before it’s too late.”

“Give it a fucking rest,” a woman yelled.

“No, he’s right,” a man responded. “Listen to him.”

Danny turned to his friends. “Where the hell is security? This is going to get ugly.”

“Let them riot,” Brent said. “It’ll give us something to do.”

Behind them, a group of 80’s hippies stood atop a parked car, twenty years late for their counterculture movement. A girl in a long dress and sandals passed a massive bomber joint to her long-haired boyfriend, bedecked in a tie-dyed Jerry Garcia shirt and hemp necklace. Both were very obviously stoned.

The madman continued. “Evil is coming to this land. Agents of the darkness are everywhere, catalysts of our upcoming destruction. The balance has shifted from light to darkness. Get on your knees and beg for salvation.”

Some did as instructed, falling to the ground, hands clasped tightly in prayer. They were knocked down and trampled as the restless crowd shifted. Mall security had finally made their appearance, exiting the front of the building and screaming at the man to vacate his pulpit. Instead, he yelled louder as his flock scattered.

“Hear me,” he bellowed. “You will be lost, alone and shivering, locked away from His light and His love. Repent! Prove your everlasting love to Him. Vow to walk beside Him in the trial that is coming.”

“Get down or we’re taking you down,” one of the mall cops shouted.

“It’s men like these that bring evil to your doorstep. So afraid to hear the truth they’ll be swayed by the Dark One to silence the word of God.”

Security sprayed the man with mace as he screamed and clawed frantically at his eyes. He lost his footing and tumbled from his platform, landing on the concrete between them.

The crowd had begun moving again now that the spell had been broken. Many ran for the entrance while others turned around and sought safety in their vehicles. The hippies behind Danny jumped up and down on the roof of the car, loudly singing ‘Give Peace A Chance.’ The roof buckled beneath their feet as the passenger window shattered.

Several of the tall, metal light posts swayed back and forth under the strain of the passing crowd. A group of teenagers pushed one another around in shopping carts, running down anyone unfortunate enough to get in their way.

“Holy shit,” Eric said. “This is way better than going to the movies.”

“Can we just get inside before we get killed by one of these crazy assholes?” Brent asked.

They pushed forward through the thinning crowd. Sam forged ahead, mildly amused by the festivities until stepping in a fresh puddle of blood. She uttered a string of profanities as she continued on.

“Your mothers and sisters are all whores,” the mad preacher shouted. Security was trying to restrain the man as he flailed wildly on the ground. “Sluts! Dumpster cunts!”

Danny slowed and stared down as he passed. The man’s eyes were nearly swollen shut, raw and irritated. Tears streamed down his cheeks, forming lines in the grime on his face. He waved his hands in the air, striking out at security, his fingernails yellow and hooked like talons.

“You know what I’m saying is true, don’t you boy?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Brent said.

“The veil has been weakened and soon it will be broken.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asked.

Brent grabbed Danny’s shoulder and pushed him forward.

“You’ll all find out soon enough,” the man said. “The Darkening is already upon us and you are all damned. The doors of his house will open and Hell will be unleashed.” He laughed hysterically, shaking his head violently back and force, scraping his scalp on the concrete. A thin line of blood ran from his nose and stained his mustache.

Security pulled the man to his feet and waited until it was safe to bring him inside. Without warning he turned and began spitting at them; large gobs of sticky, bloody, phlegm covered their faces and clothing. One of his eyes turned a deep, dark red, filling with blood as something ruptured inside him. He was dragged down a hallway and out of sight, cackling and hurling insults. The entire crazy display had taken less than five minutes, but the damage had been done.

Danny and Sam walked through the automatic doors and sat on a bench in front of the Super Cinema, wiping sweat from their faces. Brent and Eric stood nearby, watching shoppers go about their day like nothing had happened.

Outside, the police and paramedics had arrived, tending to various cuts and scrapes and a few broken bones. The hippie and his girlfriend, still passing a joint between them, got into the back of a police cruiser for a much-needed nap.

“Well, now what?” Brent asked. “I don’t think anything will top that.”

“We’ve been through worse,” Eric said.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. “Did I miss something?”

Lucky for you, you missed a lot, Danny thought. Instead, he said, “Nothing important. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the day and forget about it.”

Sam rubbed the bottom of her shoe on the floor, leaving red streaks on the tile. “Easy for you to say. I have blood on my shoe. Human blood.” Sam’s tough exterior had finally been tested.

“It’s over now. Just some crazy homeless guy on a God trip,” Danny said.

Eric looked at him knowingly and raised his eyebrows.

In front of the Foot Locker, a woman screamed. People stopped to watch as she brushed frantically at her hair. “Get them off me,” she shouted. “I hate ants! I fucking hate them!”

“Ants?” Brent said.

“The place is infested,” a man loudly replied, slapping at his arms and legs.

The lights dimmed and went out as the colorful signs and storefronts went dark. The large decorative fountain at the mall’s intersection overflowed and poured rust-colored water onto the floor in a spreading arc. Several people slipped and fell to the floor as the water thickened to a foul-smelling, crimson syrup.

Parents grabbed their children and made for the exits only to find the automatic doors frozen in place. Alarms brayed as customers ran from stores carrying free merchandise in their shaking hands. The boys watched with wide eyes as they felt the air change.

The air crackled with electricity as their surroundings blurred, like seeing something through a heat-haze. People panicked, tripping over each other and pulling their family and friends behind them. The metal gate outside Radio Shack crashed to the floor, pinning a screaming woman beneath as she spit blood from her injured mouth.

The large J.C. Penney sign fell to the floor in a shower of sparks. The faint muzak playing on the overhead speakers died with a shriek, replaced by blaring white noise. A skylight shattered, raining glass down on horrified shoppers.

“Stay together,” Danny ordered.

“It’s back isn’t it?” Eric said.

“I don’t know, just don’t get separated.”

“What the hell’s happening?” Sam cried as she burst into tears. “What’s back?” She reached out and grabbed Danny’s hand for comfort, her palm sweaty and shaking.

“Stay behind me,” he barked.

A man ran from Waldenbooks, screaming and waving his arms as books flew from the store and dive-bombed his head like hungry seagulls. He grabbed a woman and used her as a human shield as she tore at his flesh with her fingernails. He fell to the floor under the attack of bargain-bin paperbacks and was finally silenced by a heavy, leather-bound Bible.

Inside the Pink Unicorn, scented candles melted on the shelves. A river of multi-colored wax slowly ran from the front of the store like a liquid rainbow. The air shimmered and the hair on the back of Danny’s neck stood on end.

“Get outside,” Danny said. “It’s not safe in here.”

“How do we know it’s any safer out there?” Brent asked.

“Just go.”

Danny squeezed Sam’s hand and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. As they passed the security office, the door burst open and the crazy preacher tumbled to the floor, clad only in a pair of piss-soaked underwear. Blood dribbled from his eyes and ears as thick yellow pus oozed from an open wound in his neck.

“Run!” he laughed. “It’ll always find you. Past, present, or future… it’ll be waiting.” He fell face-first and slid across the waxed linoleum. His neck bulged as gelatinous muck poured from the wound and formed a clotted puddle on the floor. The stream of stinking fluid grew steadier as his neck swelled; his skin pulled taut and shiny before tearing open like an overcooked sausage. A mountain of white, waxy worms tumbled from the gash and inched away in every direction.

The man raised his head to speak, but his mouth was suddenly filled with more of the tiny worms. He choked and gagged as they sprayed between his lips like vomit.

Samantha screamed and covered her face as Danny pried the door open; they tumbled through the opening and fell to the hard concrete in a tangled heap. The screams inside grew muffled and distant. The air was heavy and sour. Sam cried and buried her face in Danny’s chest while Eric tightly squeezed his eyes closed, afraid of what horrors might be lurking nearby.

The cacophonous rumble of the mall’s transformation slowly faded, like a radio playing through a closed door.

The light dimmed.

The sound of their heavy breathing followed them into the darkness.

***

Danny only knew the passing of time by counting his heartbeats. When he opened his eyes, Sam was watching him. Her face was smeared with dirt, her eyes red and puffy. Her hair had come out of the ponytail and lay across her shoulders. She said nothing.

“My knee,” Brent hissed. “It’s bleeding.”

“Be glad you still have your leg,” Eric replied angrily.

Danny rubbed his fingertips across Sam’s cheek, feeling the heat baking off her skin. “Are you okay?”

She took a minute to answer, replying in a thin, weak voice he barely recognized. “I’m not even in the same universe as okay. What the fuck is going on?”

“Not now,” Danny said.

Eric scanned the parking lot. He looked like he’d been slapped. “Danny, do you see this?”

The world was soundless. A foul-smelling breeze created eddies of yellow dust across the broken asphalt. Rusted-out vehicles sat on rotting tires, cars and trucks that no one could identify. Long-dead bodies slumped behind steering wheels, their bones bleached and clothing faded and tattered. A John Saul novel sat on the passenger seat of a dented pickup truck, unopened, unread, unwritten in the world that Danny and his friends had left behind.

The sky was the ugly yellow of a faded bruise. The far side of the parking lot was lined with the ragged remains of white medical tents. A faded sign painted on one identified this as Quarantine Zone AG7-0037. Each contained rows of metal-frame beds covered in dirty, white linen; most were stained with piss, shit, and dried blood.

“I don’t like this,” Eric said. “Maybe we should go back inside. Maybe there are others.”

“There’s no one here,” Danny responded. “I already know that.”

“It can’t hurt to check.”

Danny nodded and stood, pulling Sam to her feet.

“This isn’t real,” Brent said. “It’s a dream. It has to be. You guys got in my head with all your bullshit and now I’m seeing things too. I’ll wake up and this will be over.”

A fat vulture landed on the hood of a car and pecked at the glass, trying to reach the corpse inside.

“No, Brent, it won’t be over,” Danny said. “I wish you’d listened. I wish you weren’t so fucking stubborn.”

Brent shook his head and pouted, refusing to hear anything Danny had to say.

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Sam asked.

“If we make it out of here, we’ll tell you everything,” Danny said. “I promise.”

He turned and led Sam through the entrance and back into the mall.

“Sure,” Brent said cheerily. “Let’s all go back inside the mall of death. Why not? What else is there to do?”

He followed close behind, shaking his head, wondering when they’d all lost their minds.

***

The Skryel admired its handiwork.

It’d dragged them into an alternate Earth resting twelve slips from the one they called home. It had been wiped out by a plague designed by the United States government, a strain of the flu that had been adapted for military use at the beginning of the Third World War. President Christina Milan supported the experimentation and eventual use of the genetically engineered virus when it became evident the United States would not survive the upcoming battle on American soil through conventional means.

She wasn’t a powerful doorway, but she was a very influential individual, one the Skryel manipulated like a puppet in its very own Punch & Judy show. World War Three had ended in 2007 with global extinction. In some realities the war had never taken place, while in others, it ended in full-blown nuclear warfare. In all of them, the monster was the true ringmaster.

Not every apocalypse went so smoothly.

One notable failure took place shortly after five in the morning on April 18th, 1906. The Skryel had attempted to manifest in San Francisco, California, but the veil between worlds had grown much thicker and tougher to penetrate. The attempt resulted in a massive earthquake that devastated the city and sealed that part of the veil forever.

Hitler had been another. The man had been a very powerful doorway, one the Skryel visited many times throughout 1938 and 1939. In most of Earth’s realities, he’d committed suicide as his legacy crumbled. In others, he’d gone into hiding after the war, rejoining society years later under an assumed name, painting covers for well-known magazines and record albums, always fearing he’d be caught and punished for his atrocities. This Hitler also blew his brains out in a soiled bathroom in 1977. No matter where or when, the stupid man ended his own life as his tortured mind crumbled beneath the Skryel’s influence.

Doorways had an unfortunate tendency to become unstable.

The creature wasn’t worried about a few failures, not when the veil was so paper-thin in this part of Pennsylvania, not when there were so many places to hide unseen, and not when the boy was so close to bringing it all crashing down.

It watched from its place in the void before slipping through the veil like a mouse through an open barn door.

It was all too easy; success was so close, the monster could reach out and grab it.

The sweet taste of victory centuries in the making.

***

Their feet left tracks in the thick layer of dust that had collected on the floor. The only light entered through several cracked, grimy skylights. The overhead fluorescents hadn’t worked in decades. On both sides, from the entrance to the first junction, were additional rows of dirty beds. Next to many stood IV poles, the bags empty and deflated. Beneath the smells of age and decay was a fainter odor of disinfectant and a medicinal stink like cough syrup. Rats skittered across the hall, frightened by their first glimpse of human beings. They ran back to their homes in the dark recesses of empty stores, screeching warnings to their brethren.

Eric stopped, bent over, and picked up a yellowed newspaper from the debris on the floor. His eyes widened. His lips moved silently as he read the headline. “It can’t be,” he whispered.

Cautiously, as if it would bite him, Danny took the paper from his hand and read aloud. “Virus Unstoppable. One Billion Dead. New York City Burning. World Trade Center In Ruins.”

Silence.

He wiped away the coating of dust and continued. “The global pandemic that had begun in Chicago eighteen months ago has now raged out of control. The Centers For Disease Control have identified the super-virus as a strain of influenza that has thus far not responded to any of the known vaccines. News and media outlets have dubbed it ‘Missy’s Plague,’ named after seven-year-old Missy Rowland, now considered to be Patient Zero. The illness is said to begin with flu-like symptoms before quickly degenerating into an extremely aggressive form of pneumonia. Most of those infected perish within seventy-two hours of contracting the disease. Currently, in the United States, over three hundred thousand new cases are being reported daily.”

“What is this, some kind of gag?” Brent asked. “Some joke gift from Spencer’s?”

“It’s not a fucking joke,” Danny shouted. “Open your eyes!”

“I can’t stop my hands from shaking,” Eric said to no one in particular.

Sam dropped Danny’s hand and sat on a steel bench nearby. She was terrified but seemingly in control. It was either shed some light on the situation or close the blinds and go insane in the dark. She was too strong to give up. She listened and looked around the decaying hall, formulating a million questions she needed to have answered.

Brent quickly went over and sat beside her. If this was only a dream, then surely there’d be no consequences. He felt her heat, the skin on their bare legs touching. He put an arm around her and kissed her tenderly on the cheek, speaking to her in hushed tones. “It’s all going to be okay,” he said. She looked at him without responding, recoiling from the wild glare in his eyes.

Danny and Eric drew closer together, looking at the front page as Danny continued reading aloud.

“In major cities all around the globe, blackouts have been reported, as well as large-scale looting and an increase in general street crime. Parts of Manhattan have been devastated by fire that has raged unchecked for weeks. In Pennsylvania, the Limerick Generating Station, a nuclear facility, has been reporting problems with their cooling systems, although no major alerts have been issued.

“Many of the reliable news networks, both television and radio, have stopped broadcasting, and the information leaking through affiliate stations is often hours old by the time it’s received. The internet has been dark for over a week, cell phone service is nonexistent, and 911 has been shut down indefinitely.”

“What the fuck is an internet?” Eric asked.

Danny shrugged and dropped the paper to the floor. “Or a cell phone?”

“Stop,” Sam yelled. She slid out from under Brent’s arm and shuddered. “I don’t want to hear any more. I have to pee.” She walked past them and entered the front of Galaxy Tunez, pausing at a rack of dusty compact discs. “Watch my back, Danny.” She felt her way up the aisle and found a spot behind a cardboard display where she could go to the bathroom discreetly.

“You got a real lady there, Danny,” Brent said sarcastically.

Danny ignored him and stood guard at the front of the store. He grabbed a CD from the rack and turned it over in his hands, wondering why there weren’t more cassettes and vinyl lining the walls. He’d seen CDs before, but never so many in one place. A faded sticker on the jewel case stated: ‘Revolver - A classic album from Pete Best’s Beatles.’

Who the hell is Pete Best?

He tossed it aside as Sam appeared out of the darkness, still buttoning her shorts. She stopped to look at a sign above the door: ‘MP3 players 20% off when you reserve your copy of the new 50 Cent album, ‘Curtis.’ In stores September 11th.’ “What the hell is an MP3?” she asked. No one answered.

Eric stared at the newspaper on the floor between his feet, fighting a wave of dizziness. The date on top was July 7, 2007.

They walked slowly toward the center of the mall, their footfalls echoing off the high ceiling. A loud, gravely voice boomed out of the darkness.

“Hello boys and girls,” it said. “Welcome to your destiny.”

They turned and stopped in their tracks. The Skryel’s human disguise stood in the food court, arms open wide. It smiled, displaying a mouthful of yellow, needle-sharp teeth. Fat, grotesque wasp-like insects circled the creature lazily, barely able to fly, each the size of a well-fed guinea pig.

“Thank you so very much for joining the party.”

Its wasp-guard formed a protective barrier between them. Silver light glowed behind the creature’s eyes as its teeth and fingernails grew longer and sharper. The human form bulged and wrinkled, no longer able to contain the monster inside.

“Get us out of here,” Eric pleaded.

“There’s no need to run,” it hissed. “I’m not going to harm you. This is the part of our story where we all agree to help one another.”

“We’re not helping you with anything,” Danny shouted. He stepped in front of Sam and spread his arms defensively. “Ben will help us. He knows all about you.”

“Is that right? The stupid old man with the stupid human name. I don’t know what he’s told you, but he isn’t your friend. Your lives are of no consequence to him.”

“At least he isn’t trying to kill us,” Eric blurted.

“Eric,” the Skryel sighed. “You’re just like your father. So very talented, but so nauseatingly simpleminded.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t do it,” Danny said. “It’s trying to get under your skin.”

Just ignore it, Danny thought. It’s using your fear against you.

“Holy shit,” Brent said. “I heard you talk but your lips never moved. I have to write this all down when I wake up.”

One of the bloated wasps lumbered forward and hovered in front of them, its leathery wings barely strong enough to keep it off the ground. It curled its body toward them, displaying a large stinger that dripped a thick, clear liquid onto the floor. It shot from the wasp’s abdomen like a poison dart and lodged in the soft flesh of Brent’s thigh. He gasped and staggered back a step, grabbing the stinger between his thumb and forefinger and yanking it out painfully. He rubbed the bloody hole in his leg and whined. The wasp’s weapon was the size of a small kitchen knife.

“What the hell was that for?” Brent cried.

“Just a little gesture to prove that sometimes dreams do come true,” the Skryel said. “Let’s take stock for a moment, huh? Danny can speak to you telepathically, which I find impressive but somewhat boring. Eric mourns for his waste-of-space father without having any idea who he really was. Sam squeezes her tiny titties in a bra that’s a size too small to give the impression she’s carrying more than a sad A-cup, and Brent can dream so vividly that he’ll still feel the sting when he wakes up. Does that about cover it? Are we getting somewhere? Isn’t this fun?”

“Stop talking about my father,” Eric shouted. “He has nothing to do with this. He’s dead, goddamn you.”

“Well, you’re right about that. Dead and buried in the ground like a forgotten penny. He died a coward too, just like you will, crying and begging for your pathetic life.” It smiled with its half-human mouth, baring its teeth. Thick saliva dripped from its chin as the corners of its mouth widened and tore open all the way back to its ears.

Brent rubbed absently at the sting in his thigh.

“I can feel the fear and confusion baking off you like a fever, like a disease. Do you want to know about your father, Eric? Do you want to know what the last months of his life were really like? What he put your mother through? How she turned into the blubbering drunk she is now? I have all the answers, all you have to do is ask.”

“I won’t,” he moaned.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why he was buried so quickly? Why there was no viewing or funeral? Why you weren’t allowed to see him one last time?”

“No!” Eric screamed. “It’s over and done with.”

“It must have been so hard without your father,” it continued. “You were still a young boy, still growing, still learning. It couldn’t have been easy seeing all the other boys with their daddies, playing catch, flying kites, going fishing. He’s not around to see you graduate, see you get married and have children of your own. He’s dead, Eric, dead and rotting in the ground in a cheap suit and a hole in his skull.”

“Shut your mouth,” Eric bawled. He clenched his fists, shaking with rage. The monster knew every dark corner of his soul.

“What do you think happened to your old man, anyway? Did your mother hide the truth and make up stories? Of course, she did. It was one of the last things she ever did for you before the lies finally consumed her.” Danny went to Eric and held his friend in his arms as the boy crumbled to the floor.

“Why won’t you stop, you fucking monster?” Danny asked.

“Eric has always wanted to know the truth, and I’m giving it to him. Right, Eric? You always knew something was wrong, didn’t you? Your father crept into the house at two in the morning, tiptoed past your bedroom, and pulled out a Keds shoebox that he’d buried beneath a pile of old sheets in the linen closet. That’s where kept the .44 Magnum hidden, the one he’d gotten from the old man, your friend Ben. I know every detail. I had front row seats, out in that rainy field past the colliery. When he put that gun to his temple and pulled the trigger, his head opened like a busted zipper. He died thinking of you, of his family, one he would never see again. If I wasn’t so angry at the time, I may have actually found it rather poignant.”

Eric couldn’t listen to another word. He tossed Danny aside and lunged forward, grabbing one of the wasps between his hands. Its bulging body was warm to the touch. Its wings beat faster as it tried to escape Eric’s grip. It turned its stinger toward him, but before it could attack, Eric grabbed it and yanked it free, tossing it on the floor. He grabbed one furry leg on each side of its body and pulled like a giant wishbone. One leg came off in his hand, followed by hot, steaming liquid that looked like corn chowder.

The wasp mewled loudly. The Skryel howled with rage.

Eric threw the dead wasp at the creature as they ran past, using the advantage to find an escape. It dodged the corpse and hissed at them as they ran by.

They bolted around the corner of the ruined concourse and looked for signs of daylight - a door, a window, a hole in the wall - but found nothing. The Skryel roared behind them, smashing everything in its way.

They ran into a wrecked clothing store and huddled behind a rack of sweatshirts, breathing heavily. Eric shuddered as thick, sticky wasp blood dripped from his fingertips. Sam looked and gagged, covering her mouth in an attempt to remain quiet.

“Do you think you can hide from me?” the Skryel bellowed. “I can see through walls, through the dark, into your tiny little minds where you hide all of your dirty fucking secrets.” The beast laughed. “Last night, Danny jerked off while thinking about his little girlfriend. So did Brent! I bet that will give you both something to talk about later.

“I also know that when Eric was nine, he and Bobby Stiles killed a stray cat they found behind the grocery store and dumped it in the river. How about you Samantha? You used to piss on Mrs. Hazlet’s newspaper because she yelled at you for picking the zinnias in her garden. You’re such great friends but you know absolutely nothing about each other.”

They looked at each other in the gloom, too scared to be embarrassed. The monster could see into their heads, down to the darkest nooks and crannies, and dig up the things they’d tried so desperately to hide. Sam felt dirty, like she’d been spotted naked through the bathroom window by some greasy pervert.

The Skryel passed the front of the store, floating two feet off the ground. One half-human arm wrapped around a soda machine and flung it down the hall.

It doesn’t know where we are, Danny thought. It isn’t nearly as strong as it wants us to believe.

The Skryel roared. It could hear the boy’s thoughts, but they were jumbled and broken. Danny was somehow blocking the monster whether he realized it or not. It continued on, disappearing around a corner, trailing the remaining wasps behind.

Danny looked at them and motioned with his eyes. That way, he thought. They nodded and waited for his cue. He stood slowly, grabbed Sam’s hand, and ran.

The Skryel’s cry reverberated down the empty halls. It burst through the glass window of a lingerie store, a dusty, red bra clinging to its shoulder.

The floor trembled and debris rained from above as sections of the ceiling split open and collapsed. Brent tripped over a fallen garbage can and stumbled to the floor in a cloud of dust. Eric turned, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to his feet as the Skryel rounded the corner. Danny and Sam stood in the open door, calling to their friends impatiently.

They burst into the parking lot as the Skryel raged behind them, realizing it would be a second too late. They ran across the lot and ducked inside one of the hospital tents, listening closely to determine if they were being followed. They could no longer hear the monster.

A rat scurried to meet them, whiskers twitching. “You got anything to eat?” it asked. Sam squealed and stomped down as hard as she could; blood sprayed from beneath her shoe as the rat’s bones crunched under her weight.

After a few minutes, they risked going outside.

The sun was so bright, they were forced to cover their eyes. A horn blared as an older couple came to a sudden stop only three feet away. Danny turned and looked into the dim interior of the bike barn. Their bikes had remained exactly where they’d chained them.

They were home.

Covered in dust and grime, they grabbed their bikes and sped away from the mall, garnering strange looks from curious shoppers.

They didn’t hear the news about the mall tragedy until later that evening. A large section of the roof had collapsed, killing thirty-three people. Only the Skryel knew about the missing twelve, the ones it had erased, their essence sucked into the abyss where the creature could feed on them like rechargeable batteries.

The Skryel had come close, very close, and now it was nearing its full potential.

Especially now that Brent was under its control.

Chapter 11

“It’s about time,” Ben said, beaming. “I was getting worried you wouldn’t show up.”

“We didn’t really have a choice,” Danny replied.

Danny, Brent, Eric, and Sam stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the old man as he downed a can of soda.

“Eric, Danny, it’s nice to see you again.” Ben motioned to Brent and Sam. “You two have names?”

“I’m Samantha.”

“Brent.”

“I’m Ben, and if you’re here, it means you finally see what’s going on.”

“Not really,” Brent said. “They made me come.”

“Fair enough. I’ll try not to waste too much of your time.” He watched as Brent scratched at the wound on his leg. He’d seen this before… it wasn’t a good start.

“We were attacked yesterday,” Danny said. “All of us. At the mall. It dragged us into The Gray.”

“If it took you all at once, it’s getting stronger. Get your asses up here, we have a lot to discuss.”

They walked up the front steps two-by-two and sat down - Danny and Sam on the porch glider, Eric in a plastic chair, and Brent on the top step, as far away from Ben as he could get without standing on the sidewalk.

“Would anyone like a soda?” They all nodded. “Five sodas coming right up.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Brent said, “This guy’s ninety years old. How exactly do you think he’s supposed to help us?”

“Be quiet,” Sam said. “Don’t be a jerk.” She still felt the spot on her cheek where he’d kissed her. It wouldn’t have bothered her if not for the crazed look in his eyes when he’d done it.

“Actually, there’s no way to quantify my true age,” Ben said as he opened the screen door. He carried five sodas bundled in his arms. “Brent, be careful of yours. I think that was the one I dropped.”

Sam snorted a short burst of laughter and covered her mouth. She turned to Ben who gave her a quick smile and a wink.

“I love this stuff,” he said enthusiastically. “It all started with root beer in…” his brow furrowed, “…1876 I think. I was hooked from the start. Dr. Pepper came a little later, then Coke after that. Wonderful stuff!”

“You sound like a TV commercial,” Danny said.

Ben opened his can with a loud crack and downed half of it at once.

“Wait, 1876?” Eric asked. “How is that possible?”

“After everything you’ve seen in the last few weeks, do you really need to ask? You can’t count my age on your fingers and toes. Just believe me when I say I’m very old, I mean it.”

Sam and Danny sipped at their drinks, watching Ben as they would a magician, waiting to see what other tricks he had up his sleeve.

“I’ll do my best to give you the penny-tour, but if you have questions, don’t be afraid to ask. This involves all of you now. The Darkening is upon us and the second you let your guard down, the Skryel will come for you.”

“The Darkening,” Sam said. “The man at the mall yesterday, he said the same thing.”

“It’s quite possible. The creature’s influence is already spreading.”

“Well, what does it mean?” Eric asked

“I’ll get to that.”

They nervously looked at each other and back to Ben. Brent stared into the street, his drink untouched, not paying any attention to what this crazy old fool had to say. He dug into his leg wishing the damn itching would subside.

“So, let’s start from the beginning,” Ben said, chugging the second half of his soda and dropping it in the recycling bin. “Let me just grab another drink.”

***

“Before the creation of our universe, entities floated in the void, conscious and capable of thought. There was no good or evil, no pain or sorrow, no feelings of any kind that you’d understand. Born in a vacuum, they knew nothing other than silence and darkness. When the universe came to life, everything changed.

“In this new light, there formed billions of new planets, stars, solar systems. The entities began spreading throughout the universe. They were children experiencing everything for the first time. Curiosity controlled them.”

“How do you create something out of nothing?” Brent scoffed. “If it was just empty space, where’d they come from? Who made them?”

“I don’t have time to get into a metaphysical discussion with you right now. Just listen, will you?”

Brent shrugged. “Whatever.”

“The creature in your dreams, Danny, the one taunting you, was one of the first to come out of the void. The Skryel. In the darkness is where it’s strongest.” Ben stood quickly and grabbed the handle of the front door. “I need another drink.”

“It’s a wonder you aren’t diabetic,” Danny said.

“I don’t suffer from any of your typical human maladies, it doesn’t work that way. I don’t get sick, I don’t succumb to disease. It comes in handy.” Ben disappeared inside.

“I can’t believe how crazy this sounds,” Sam said.

“I know it does, but you saw what happened yesterday. If I was you, I probably would have run for the hills and never looked back.”

“What? You mean that’s still an option?” She smiled and leaned into him as Brent turned and looked the other way.

Why are they so lame? They just met and all of a sudden they’re planning the fucking wedding.

“Don’t you think this is the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard?” Brent asked. “I mean give me a break.”

“You saw it with your own eyes,” Eric said. “I don’t understand how you’re still denying it.”

“I don’t know what I saw yesterday. It could have been the heat.”

“We all saw it, Brent,” Sam said. “How do you explain your leg?”

“I got stung by a wasp. Is that supposed to mean something too?”

“Look at your leg,” Eric shouted. “You can’t stop touching it.”

“Stop yelling at me, dickhead!”

“Dickhead? Why are you being like this? We’re all scared, but we have to stick together.”

“I’m not scared,” he said. “I’m just fed up with this bullshit. It’s stupid, it isn’t real, and this guy is a lunatic for leading you around by the nose and making up stories about… I don’t even know… a fucking… Skryel!”

“Yes, a fucking Skryel,” Ben said, opening the door and sitting down. “That isn’t its true name, but it’s the only one humans can understand. In the language of one of the first races, it translates to King of the Abyss, or Shadowking.” Ben lit a cigarette and sat back, blowing out a plume of white smoke.

“Sounds like bedtime stories to scare little kids, and I’m not a little kid.”

“Then stop fucking acting like one,” Eric scolded.

“Knock it off,” Ben shouted, his naturally calm demeanor giving way to a hidden strength they hadn’t yet seen. “Either you sit and listen or you can do this on your own. Take it seriously or get off my porch.”

Eric looked down at his feet. “Sorry.”

Brent fumed. Who does this guy think he is?

“Brent? Is this going to be a problem?” Ben asked.

The boy said nothing but didn’t stand to leave. It was as much as Ben could’ve asked for.

Ben picked up where he’d left off.

“The Skryel had seen the birth of everything. My kind, the Guardians, came later, but unlike the Skryel and its kind who’d been born in the dark, we were born in the light. The natural balance of the universe was formed.”

“Its kind?” Danny asked. “You mean there’s more than one of them?”

“At one time, yes. Countless numbers, just as there were of my kind. Now it is the last, and so am I.”

“This is all really exciting,” Brent said, “but what does it have to do with us?”

“Brent, seriously… this isn’t like you at all,” Danny said.

“Maybe this is the real me. Maybe I’m tired of always being the tag-along. Maybe all I wanted to do this summer was relax and hang out with my friends without having to play along with some stupid game. Did you ever think about that?”

“It’s not a game, son,” Ben warned. “If you think it is, you’d be better off leaving us to our business.”

“Fine,” Brent said. “I don’t need to sit and listen to this shit. I don’t take orders from you.” He stood and walked down the steps, stopping and turning around on the sidewalk to look back at his friends. “You guys aren’t coming?”

Danny shook his head sadly and looked at Eric. They understood the importance of what was going on and that Ben was the only one that could help them.

“Does Sam already have your balls in her pocket, Danny? Ever since she came into the picture, you’ve changed.”

“I’ve changed? Listen to yourself. I’m not even sure it’s you talking anymore.”

“Whatever dude, I’m out of here.” Brent took off in the direction of home, limping slightly on his injured leg.

What a bunch of idiots, he thought. First come the stories of unicorns and mountains made of chocolate, then out comes the camera and off go the clothes. He disappeared around the corner, leaving Eric and Danny to stare at each other in confusion.

“Is he always like this?” Sam asked.

“The Skryel is using him,” Ben explained. “It’s turned him against you. You’re much stronger together, so it’s doing everything it can to tear you apart. He’s not going to come around without a miracle… he’s poisoned.”

“He’s my best friend,” Danny said. “There has to be a way to get through to him.”

“As much as it hurts me to say it, he may already be lost.”

“No! That’s bullshit and I won’t accept it!”

Ben smiled. The boy had a fire in him, that was for certain, but he was young, and that worked against him. His love for his friends might be the only thing that would keep them alive.

“We’ll do whatever we can,” Ben said, “but you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that Brent will turn his back on you.”

“How can this be happening? He was my first real friend.” Sam squeezed Danny’s hand tightly.

“The Skryel has never played fair, Danny. There’s nothing you could’ve done to change the outcome.”

“Well, I’m not giving up! I just can’t.”

“I don’t expect you to. It’s how you’re going to win this war.”

***

At noon the following day, Danny knocked on Brent’s door and waited. He wasn’t expecting him to answer. When he opened the door, it looked like he’d just crawled out of bed. His hair was a tangled mess, and he had large brown pouches under his eyes. He swayed unsteadily.

“What do you want, Danny?” he asked. His voice was thick, his speech slurred.

“We’re going to Ben’s. You don’t look so good.”

“I didn’t sleep very well,” was all he said. He talked through the screen door, refusing to come outside.

Danny noticed how he was favoring his bad leg. He wore long pajama bottoms to hide it from view.

“Do you want to come with us?"

“Not a chance. I’m done with all this shit. He’s filling our heads with this nonsense and I wonder why I can’t sleep at night?”

“Maybe you couldn’t sleep because of your leg…”

“There’s nothing wrong with my leg,” he grumbled. “It feels better already.”

“Brent, you’re my best friend. You have to talk to me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. Things change. We’re getting older. It’s not the same anymore.” He rubbed his thigh, wincing. “Besides, you still have your girlfriend.”

Brent closed the door in Danny’s face.

He walked off the porch and around the corner to pick up Eric on the way. Before he got to his house, he heard Joan screaming. Danny shook his head and pulled himself together.

The whole world is going crazy.

Eric’s front door banged open as he ran onto the sidewalk panting. Joan appeared on the front porch, a bottle of brandy in one hand and a wooden rolling pin in the other.

“You little prick,” she screamed. “I’m still your mother and you will respect me.”

“Respect you?” Eric asked. “I don’t even like you. You’re a waste, and I hate what you’ve become. Dad is probably rolling in his grave.”

“Don’t you dare bring your father into this. Get back here right now!”

“I’m done letting you and Jacky treat me like shit. I’ve tried so hard to get used to the way things are now, but I can’t do it anymore. I’m not the one who’s broken… you are.”

“Get over here now!” Joan threw the rolling pin, missing Eric by several feet. It bounced off the sidewalk and into the street. She lost her balance and fell backward onto the concrete porch slab, splashing her brandy down the front of her dirty nightgown. She started crying.

Eric wanted to go to her, hug her, tell her that everything would be okay, but he knew that wasn’t true. There was no way to fix what they’d become. Instead, he backed away with tears in his eyes.

“I love you, mom.” Eric turned and saw Danny standing there. He blushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Danny replied.

They walked away as Joan stumbled to her feet, holding onto the door frame for support. Crying harder, she went into the house and flopped onto the couch. Eric wasn’t the only one looking for answers. Joan had no idea how things had spiraled so far out of control. What had happened to them? How had she become the bloated, hateful monster she saw in the mirror every morning?

She set the brandy bottle aside and prayed to the God she’d forsaken. She prayed for her son and for herself, prayed that the shadows she’d seen creeping up the walls were only a figment of her imagination.

She prayed until the alcohol swept her away.

***

Sam had the house to herself. Her mother and stepfather were still at work, allowing her the freedom to wear what she wanted or play her music as loudly as necessary.

Arthur Bennett had married her mother when Sam was too young to protest. Her real father had picked up and taken off when she was only three. Sam couldn’t even remember his face, and her mother had made sure to remove any old photos she had lying around the house. Her mother was forced to raise her on her own until Arthur entered the picture.

They’d gotten married a week after Sam’s eighth birthday. He played the game at first, getting close to Sam to win brownie points, but it didn’t last long. He treated her mother fine - took her out to dinner, opened the car door, bought her flowers - but with Sam, all he saw was a nuisance. He’d never wanted children in the first place.

Sam wasn’t stupid. She understood the dynamic between a child and a step-parent was often a volatile one.

Clothing on the floor? Blame Sam.

Dishes not done? Blame Sam.

Litter box not cleaned? Blame Sam.

It was a way of life she’d gotten used to.

Arthur had only put his hands on her once. She was twelve. She’d come home late for dinner, her clothes filthy from playing in the grass and dirt. He began shouting about rules, about respect, about the way things were going to be. When Sam turned and walked away, Arthur lost it.

He grabbed her by the back of her shirt collar and pulled. Sam tripped and fell to the floor, her shirt torn and her neck red from the fresh friction burn. Her mother ran into the room to investigate the commotion when she saw the aftermath of their scuffle. She helped Sam off the floor, and with a brief hug, told her to wash up and get ready for dinner. Sam heard her mother slap him from two rooms away.

“If you ever put your hands on her again, you’d better have a divorce attorney on speed dial.”

After that, he gave Sam a wide berth. He still yelled at her every chance he got, but his threats were of the idle variety and Sam knew it. At times like these, when the house was empty, she made the most of it. She walked around in her underwear eating a huge bowl of Lucky Charms. MTV played loudly in the other room.

She was still rattled by what had happened at the mall. She’d finally found a boy she really liked, only to find he was tied up in some crazy, unimaginable plot from a science fiction movie. She couldn’t determine if it was all some crazy dream. It hadn’t been so long ago when she’d put the monsters of her childhood behind her, the ones that crouched beneath the bed and hid in darkened closets. Monsters are real after all, but now they hid in plain sight.

Goosebumps broke out on Sam’s neck as a frigid wind tore through the living room. Her breath steamed from her mouth as the temperature plummeted. Sam turned and caught a fast-moving shadow in her periphery as the bowl of cereal was ripped from her grasp and thrown into the wall; the bowl shattered on impact, spraying milk, glass, and marshmallows over the couch and carpet. Sparks erupted from the back of the TV as the picture went dark in the middle of a ZZ Top video. Laughter crackled from the television’s speaker, buried beneath a shrieking mechanical hiss.

She ran upstairs as quickly as she could, feeling the warmth of the second floor slowly work its way into her bones. She pulled on a pair of shorts, grabbed her sneakers, and ran outside. She wasn’t waiting around to see if the Skryel had other plans for her. She sat on the front porch trembling, hoping Danny was on his way. Her nerves settled as she listened to musical birdsong in the trees. This insanity couldn’t continue. Maybe Danny and Eric were okay being chased around by that fucking thing, but she certainly was not.

When she saw them round the corner and approach the house, she bounded off the porch to greet them, throwing open the front gate and jumping into Danny’s arms.

“Oh, my God, I could kiss you right now,” she said.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Eric joked.

Sam kissed Danny on the lips, pressing his cheeks together between her palms. It was sweet and innocent, but it meant the world to Danny. He stood back, breathless as she kissed Eric on the cheek and smiled.

“I needed that,” Eric said, blushing. “We need to come here more often.”

Sam explained what had happened to her as they crossed town on their way to Ben’s. Danny was scared for her, but was also glad it hadn’t been worse. He wasn’t sure how much Sam could take, being thrust into this crazy situation unwillingly and seemingly overnight.

They walked hand-in-hand, and for a moment felt like everything would be okay. The only thing missing was Brent. It didn’t feel right without him, but Sam knew Danny wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Not if he had a choice.

***

Brent’s leg throbbed with infection.

He sat in his bathroom, naked from the waist down, poking at the swollen flesh. Yellow pus trickled from the wound, the skin around it turning an alarming shade of purple. The more he prodded, the worse it became. It felt like something was moving just below the surface of his skin.

Brent grabbed a pair of tweezers from the medicine cabinet and spread the seeping hole in his thigh. He couldn’t see anything, but he sure as hell felt it. He gritted his teeth and dug deeper as clots of blood pattered to the floor. Grimacing, he opened the wound wider and stopped with a gasp.

“Oh… oh no,” he stuttered.

Two black antennae poked from the wound and Brent froze, watching as a wasp birthed itself from the bloody hole.

Shocked, he fell back against the toilet bowl and held his breath as the wasp took flight, landing on his toothbrush and watching him from across the room. After a few lazy circles, it glided onto his knee, searching for the warm, wet meat of its new home.

Before it could burrow back inside, Brent crushed it between his palm and thigh, moaning as pain shot down to his toes. A chunk of reddish-green slime squirted from the wound and covered the inside of his hand.

Brent vomited into the bathroom sink and collapsed to the floor. He spent the next hour sprawled on the linoleum as wasps exited his leg and swarmed around the room. They crawled in his hair, squeezed into his ears and nostrils, exploring every inch of their living, breathing nest. He faded in and out of consciousness as his body hummed with the sound of its new inhabitants.

The pain diminished, turning to a pleasant warmth.

They needed him…

…and Brent needed them.

***

They’d just reached Ben’s house when thunder rolled across the sky. The clouds opened and rain pelted the ground in sheets.

“You got here just in time,” Ben said. “Seems like you’re missing someone.”

Eric shook his head and sighed heavily.

The wind kicked up, bringing with it the melodic sound of wind chimes. The fire whistle blasted once as if startled as lightning struck nearby.

“The power just went out,” Ben said. “How’s that for an omen?” He frowned and handed them each a cold Dr. Pepper. “How’s Brent’s leg?”

“You saw that?” Eric asked.

“It was kind of hard not to. He was stung by a wasp I imagine?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “How’d you know?”

“The Skryel has claimed many different species from other worlds to become its personal guard. The wasps are only one of them. There are also some very nasty wolves, giant vultures, and a rare species of firecat. Trust me, you don’t ever want to run into them, or it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

Danny shuddered, imagining these horrors in his mind. “What about the wasps? Is Brent going to be okay?”

“They’re slow but mean, and the venom they carry in their stingers is nasty stuff. We’re going to have to move fast if we have any chance of saving him.”

“So he’s going to die.” Danny’s voice cracked with emotion. How is this happening so fast?

“He doesn’t have to,” Ben said. “If we can stop The Darkening and send the Skryel away, there’s still a chance. The poison will dissipate and Brent has a chance to recover. The longer he’s infected, the worse it gets.”

“Explain The Darkening,” Danny said. “You’ve said it more than once, and I still don’t understand what it is.”

“To put it plainly, it’s the end of all things. As the Skryel pulls more energy from the planet, the world will darken. The sun will dim and the land will grow colorless. Plants will start dying, strange events will begin happening more frequently. There’s a chance other entities will cross through the veil as it weakens. Eventually, it will become full night, the monster will reach its potential, and the sun will rise no more.”

“The Darkening,” Danny whispered.

“Are you ready to hear the rest?” Ben asked.

They nodded.

“Billions of years passed as the universe expanded. Planets were born and began multiplying, residing directly next to one another, but hidden from view of the others. The same energies involved creating one, created many, mostly in a mirror image of the one right next door. These alternate realities are known as slips. The more energy, the more potential for additional realities. It’s really that simple. Theoretical science has over-complicated everything.

“As life evolved in the universe, so did technology. Some races were millions of years ahead of humans. Space travel had become a reality long before humans had discovered electricity. Time travel followed. The universe had become crowded. Realities were overlapping, creating cataclysmic results and giving birth to races of deformed monsters and aberrations. The Skryels took it upon themselves to become a universal clean-up crew.”

“You mean they destroyed it?” Eric asked. He sipped his Dr. Pepper and moved uneasily in his chair. He was getting the creeps.

“Not exactly. The Skryels were not evil. They’d spent millennia in the void with nothing to do. Everything in the multiverse has a purpose, and until then the Skryels did not. It’s not like there’s some cosmic temp agency handing out jobs, they did it because it needed to be done.”

“There wasn’t a better way?” Sam asked. “The only solution was to kill and destroy?”

“Sometimes things have to die for others to live. That’s just how it works. You look up at the night sky and think it’s infinite, but the truth is, there’s only so much room, and once it’s full the universe ceases to expand. It becomes stagnant, starts to rot… and then everything, everywhere dies.

“The universe needs constant renewal; removing dying planets and empty realities was a necessary evil. The Skryels were doing what was required for the survival of the cosmos. As the eons passed, they began growing jealous of what the other races had. They watched the dead spaces of the universe suddenly come to life with light and sound. They’d known nothing but darkness for so long, that seeing these lesser races master the ability to harness energy in ways they never could only hastened their rise to anger.

“Earth was the final straw. The Skryels resided in the Earth realities for centuries, but once the planets were populated, the creatures were forced underground. As humans evolved, they were forced out, no longer having a place to hide. They hated us for it, and to this day the war to reclaim Earth continues.”

“That’s what this is all about?” Danny shouted. “A pissing contest?”

Ben didn’t reply. He stared blankly into the gray sky, squinting against the pain that had suddenly settled behind his eyes. Danny reached out to him as lightning filled the sky, forcing him to cover his eyes. The afterimages had been burned into their retinas.

Sam was the first to regain her vision, and the sound of her voice explained everything.

“He’s gone,” she said. “Ben’s gone.”

Chapter 12

It wasn’t the first time the Skryel had yanked Ben into another dimension. This part of the game had been going on for a thousand years… it had become something of a tradition meant to distract and intimidate Ben as the endgame approached. It had never worked before, but the monster had never been one to learn from its mistakes.

Ben looked to the gray sky and shivered. Two identical towers of steel and glass had poked holes in the low clouds. On Danny’s Earth, these buildings were immediately recognizable, but the horror of September 11th, 2001 was still fifteen years in the future. Time as we know it wasn’t the same for Ben. He waged war in multiple pasts and multiple futures in a million different realities. The events of 9/11 were purely the Skryel’s handiwork… a tragedy set in motion to guarantee chaos and a death toll. An attempt at creating a world war to rival all others.

Once again, however, the human race had prevailed.

“Where are you, Shadowking? Why bring me here? This is a testament to your evil, and to your failure.” The skyscrapers groaned as his voice echoed down the empty Manhattan streets. A stale wind blew up Liberty Street, trailing a wall of thick gray dust and the smells of rot and abandonment.

On John Street, a building collapsed as the Skryel stepped through the veil. It floated above the broken street, dragging dirt and trash in its wake. It rushed forward, smiling at Ben with what remained of its rotten lips. The face it used as a disguise hung off its bulging head like a macabre Halloween mask.

“Guardian,” it hissed. “So nice to meet up like this again. It’s kind of nostalgic, don’t you think?”

“What do you want? You know you can’t harm me, and you’ll never have the boy.”

“On the contrary, I have everything I need. It’s all quickly falling into place.”

“He has to join you willingly, and I can assure you that will never happen. You’ve created a very powerful enemy, one who’s much too smart to do your bidding.”

“Smart, yes, but the boy is in love. When these mindless rats are in love, they don’t think clearly. They start making mistakes, chasing that first kiss, that first fuck, brains flooded with thoughts of marriage and procreation. The concept is disgusting.”

“You’ve never understood human nature, and it’s why you always fail. Love is what will save them. They’ll fight to protect it, fight to protect their freedom and their families. All you’ve done is brought them closer together.” Ben looked up at the World Trade Center and pointed. “Wasn’t this enough of a failure? You turned the dead into heroes and this great city came together like nothing else seen in human history. That is what love can do, Shadowking. They prevailed simply by honoring their dead and refusing to crumble beneath the threat of annihilation.”

“Shut your mouth, impostor! You’ve taken their image and share their home, but you’re not one them. You’re no better than I. The number of bodies in your wake is as great as mine. You’ve killed your own, just as I have. Everything is done for a reason. We are the same, Guardian.”

“We’re nothing alike. You kill to destroy, to hurt, to show your power. You enjoy the stink of rotting corpses. What I have done has been out of mercy for the greater good. Don’t convince yourself that you and I kill for the same reasons.”

“Two sides of the same coin, old man. The point remains the same. I will have the boy, and when I do, Earth will fall at my feet. The scum has had it too good for far too long, and when the streets are paved in blood and bones, I’ll be waiting for you, Guardian. Your suffering will be legendary.”

The Skryel disappeared, leaving Ben standing alone in a broken world. With a thunderous roar, the Twin Towers crumbled before him as thousands of voices screamed in unison, trapped in that moment of fear when their world fell out from under them.

Ben vanished. It was one event he didn’t need to relive. It had sent a shockwave throughout the multiverse, leaving a permanent scar in all worlds.

As the Guardian drifted in the black, timeless void between realities, he vowed to help banish the Skryel for good… even if it meant making the ultimate sacrifice.

***

Sam pointed and stuttered, knocking her can of soda off the edge of the porch railing. “You… you disappeared!”

“I apologize,” Ben said. “Was I gone long?”

“Only a few seconds,” Eric said, “but you scared the hell out of us.”

“It’s a very old and useless play from the creature’s handbook. Don’t worry about it.”

“You were in The Gray,” Danny stated.

“I was, and not a particularly pleasant one. Time is much shorter than I thought, and I need to prepare you for what happens next.”

“And what is that exactly?” Danny asked.

“War.”

A hush fell over them as they stared fearfully at one another. Sam rested her head on Danny’s shoulder. Eric nervously plucked the hem of his shorts.

“Once the Skryels were done with their extermination,” Ben said, “they left it to us to clean up what remained. We finished the job as the Skryels moved on to their next extinction. Some races who were unfortunate enough to survive the apocalypse had ended up living in a miserable, forgotten world, eking out an existence filled with pain and suffering until their reality was extinguished.

“The Guardians were merciful. We were seen as gods of salvation by those who’d been left behind. They begged us for quick deaths and an end to their suffering. The Skryels saw us as a threat, jealous that we had been elevated to such a place of power. They began exterminating the Guardians, and the war between us raged for centuries until there were only a few remaining. The Skryel killed off the last of its race so it could claim the throne unchallenged, and I fled here to protect the last great civilization in the universe.”

“You mean there’s nothing else out there? We’re alone?” Eric asked. He’d never felt so small or so lost in his entire life.

“No,” Ben said. “There are other races, other civilizations, but humans are the only one of their kind. You’re truly a very unique race, one that must be protected at any cost.”

“But why us?” Danny asked. “Why now?”

“The Skryel needs a tremendous amount of energy to manifest. It was easier when there were so many of them, but by itself, it’s weak without help. It kills as many people as it can and intercepts their essence. The human soul is the most powerful energy in all creation… it uses it as an inexhaustible fuel source, a battery. When the soul is taken, all knowledge of that person ceases to be. Your souls constantly reach out to one another, and when one has been removed, their very existence is erased. This is what happened to Charlie. The beast will feed until the soul withers and dies… collateral damage in its war against humans.”

Danny covered his face and cried. The idea of his friend being used as a power source and thrown away was too much to bear.

“You’re a doorway, Danny. Your soul burns brighter and offers the monster a fuel source that’s a million times stronger than others. There are doorways everywhere, people just like you, but most live their entire lives without knowing it. Unfortunately, this time it has chosen you. The veil in Elmview is barely holding on by a thread; the Skryel doesn’t need nearly as much energy to pass over. In the end, there are only two ways to close a door - death or victory.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Danny shouted. He stood and balled his fists, looking like he was about to strike the old man. “I have to die for this thing to go away?”

“Either that or banish it.”

“How the fuck do I do that? It’s impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible, but if death is the only answer, it’s a decision only you can make. The door closes, and the Skryel has to return to the void to start again.”

Sam pulled Danny to the glider and cried with him. She felt helpless. She wanted nothing more than to kiss away his hot tears and make it all go away; the only solution didn’t seem like a solution at all. Eric looked away, feeling the moment was too private to watch. Instead, he turned to Ben and asked the question that had been burning in his mind since the incident at the mall.

“My father was a doorway, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, Eric, he was. He was a brave man, and he sacrificed himself so the rest of human creation would live on. Whatever that monster tells you, ignore it. Your father saved us all.”

“Thank you,” Eric whispered. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

“I think you already did,” Ben replied.

Ben reclined and listened to the rain as Danny’s sobs faded. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes.

Eric reached for one. “If there’s a chance we could die anyway, what’s the harm?”

Danny wiped his eyes and laughed. “He has a point.”

Ben handed them each a cigarette and lit them. Sam choked out a great cloud of white smoke as Danny patted her on the back. For the next five minutes, they smoked in silence except for Sam’s random bursts of coughing. She swore if they survived, she’d never touch a cigarette again.

“So what happens now?” Danny asked, crushing his smoke into the ashtray.

“We wait,” Ben answered. “When it begins, you’ll know what to do.”

Sacrifice myself? Danny thought. There has to be another way.

“There is,” Ben said, pulling Danny’s thoughts out of the air. “If you look deep down inside yourself, you’ll find a power you never dreamed of… the tools are within you, you only need to figure out how to use them.”

“Show me,” Danny pleaded. “Teach me how.”

“That’s something even the Guardians have never been able to understand. Doorways are complex individuals with the ability to create and destroy, but the knowledge of how has always eluded us. Only you can harness that power.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You already know the answer to that, Danny.”

He nodded and inhaled deeply.

“When it begins, I will find you, and I will help as much as I can. Until then, there’s nothing more I can do.”

***

They walked silently toward Eric’s house, Sam and Danny holding hands, Eric trailing behind.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said. “I can’t go in there right now.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know what to think. I guess so. Besides, I think you two would like to be alone.” He winked at Sam and walked away.

“Do you really think he’ll be okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I do. He’s one of the strongest people I know. He has to be. When you live every day like it’s a constant fight for survival, I think you grow a pretty thick skin.”

They walked past Brent’s house, looked up, and waited to see if he’d run outside with a smile on his face, cracking jokes and complaining about the heat. Danny was hopeful, but he knew better.

All those long nights spent together, getting into trouble or running away from it, laughing so hard that tears spilled down their cheeks; listening to their favorite music together, locked in Brent’s bedroom until the wee hours of the morning, huddled over the stereo and sharing a pair of headphones.

Danny thought it would last forever.

Brent watched them pass from his bedroom window. He peeked through the heavy sheet, breathing heavily and sweating profusely from fever. His leg had gotten much worse. The pain had receded, replaced by a numb tingle that had begun in his thigh and quickly spread to the rest of his body. The sting had turned black, oozing a steady stream of infected blood.

He walked around in his underwear, no longer bothering with clothing or basic hygiene. His parents sat at the dining room table, staring at nothing, barely noticing as clouds of wasps chewed at their flesh.

His bedroom was barren. The damaged furniture had been removed but never replaced. The walls were water-stained, and the carpet had been torn out, leaving only cold, bare wood. Heavy sheets hung over the windows, blocking most of the light from outside. This suited Brent just fine; the light was beginning to hurt his eyes.

He sat on the floor staring at the ceiling as hundreds of wasps gathered with a soothing hum. Clear liquid dripped from their developing stingers, numbing Brent’s skin as he writhed on the bedroom floor. He closed his eyes and waited for them to return to their festering nest.

Brent removed his piss-stained underwear and masturbated furiously as the wasps burrowed back into the rotten meat of his thigh. The only pleasure from the act was feeling the wasps come home.

***

“I’ll be right back,” Sam said. She walked into the small bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Danny sat on the couch and let the air-conditioner dry the sweat on his forehead. His mind raced. Muddled thoughts and images collided, ricocheted, became an endless drone of useless information. He was so lost in his thoughts he never heard Sam re-enter the room. A shadow passed over him, causing him to quickly sit up with a jerk.

Sam stood over him, completely naked.

“You… what are you doing?” Danny stammered.

Sam smiled but said nothing. Her bare flesh was covered in goosebumps, her legs crossed at the ankles. Danny watched her carefully, taking in every detail. She slowly uncrossed her ankles and bit her lip playfully. Danny’s eyes drifted down, first to the smooth skin of her stomach, then lower to the patch of thin, dark hair in her groin.

“Well?” she asked shyly.

“You’re… um… well, you’re naked!”

She ran her fingertips over her bare thighs. “You’re a fast learner,” she joked.

“I’ve always been a good student.”

Sam laughed hard as her hands fell away and her inhibitions melted. He watched as the muscles in her abdomen tightened, watched as her small, firm breasts heaved with laughter. He answered with a brief laugh of his own, suddenly feeling stupid.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No, of course not. I guess I’m a little embarrassed that Eric seemed to know what was going to happen before I did.”

“And you said you’re a good student.”

Danny shrugged.

Sam sat on the edge of the couch, her bare leg touching his arm. Danny looked into her eyes and couldn’t remember a time he’d felt this way. He’d dreamed of moments like this but never thought it would happen. She slowly leaned down, closing her eyes, her lips parting. Danny followed her lead and inhaled the sweet, delicate scent of her perfume. Through his shirt, he felt the rigid points of Sam’s nipples on his chest. He tasted her breath.

Sam kissed him, lightly at first, and growing more passionate. She trembled as Danny wrapped his arms around her and traced the contour of her spine with his fingertips. Their breath quickened. She pulled away, giggled, and rubbed his chest through his t-shirt. Her hand drifted lower, stopping briefly at the waistband of his shorts. She looked at Danny questioningly, silently asking permission to go further. Wordlessly, permission was granted. Her fingers crept beneath the elastic, caressing him tenderly. Danny sucked in a breath and held it.

“We need to get you out of these clothes,” Sam said, clumsily pulling his shirt over his head.

“I haven’t done this before,” he blurted. “I might not know exactly what I’m doing.”

She stood and looked down at him, noticing the telltale bulge in the front of his shorts. “I haven’t either, but I doubt it’s that complicated.”

She grabbed his hand and urged him to stand and follow. She led him to the second floor and closed her bedroom door behind them.

For a while, they were the last two humans on Earth.

Nothing else mattered.

***

Eric walked aimlessly, paying little attention to traffic, people, or the persistent thunder shaking the ground beneath his feet. He was trapped in his own head, rage building to a melting point, hatred leaking from every pore.

The Skryel had to die.

He stopped to rest at the Martin Street bridge as the rain quickened, pasting his clothes to his skin. He leaned over the railing and watched ducks paddling back and forth effortlessly. The river was low despite all the recent storms. A group of younger boys rode their bikes past him, laughing and shouting and splashing through puddles. Eric was that way once, they all were. The days of carefree, reckless abandon had come to a swift and bitter end.

Eric returned his gaze to the river below. He rubbed rain from his eyes and shook his head, unsure if what he was seeing was real. The family of ducks floated downriver toward him, now dead and bloated and covered in a black cloud of hungry flies. The water had become a thick, red sludge that stained the rock along the riverbank. The smell metallic and gassy. He held a hand over his nose and gagged.

“What’s going on?” a voice asked from behind. Eric turned to see one of the kids standing nearby. His shirt was torn, his knees skinned and bleeding.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Eric warned. “Why don’t you go home and stay inside, okay?”

“The birds,” he whispered. “The birds killed Jason.”

“The birds? What are you talking about?”

“They flew out of the trees, hundreds of them. They were huge. They were all bloody and missing feathers… and one of them didn’t have a beak. It was just gone. They came after us and we couldn’t do anything because they were so fast. Jason wrecked his bike, and they came out of the sky and started pecking at him! Well, not the one without a beak… his pecking days are over.”

“Hold on, calm down,” Eric said. The younger boy stopped talking but his lips continued moving, mumbling under his breath. His eyes were vacant. “Where is your friend now?”

“Oh, he’s dead!” the boy exclaimed. “They pulled out his eyes, and they ate them. Got his tongue too. I never saw someone without eyes before. It’s like he was wearing a mask, a special mask like the ones you can buy down at the Magic Shop for Halloween.” The boy giggled, teetering on the edge of sanity.

Eric put his hand on the kid’s shoulder to calm him, but he was far beyond comfort. The boy gazed into the rainy sky, grinning. He raised his hands to the heavens and stood on his toes as if doing so would get him closer.

“Now it’s my turn,” he laughed. “Time to make my special mask. Happy, happy Halloween, oh oh oh-oh,” he sang. “Let’s go birdies, make me a mask too.”

“Come on kid, be quiet, you’re gonna wake the dead.”

“Too late for that, the dead are already here.” He jumped up and down frantically, calling into the sky for the birds to return. His Red Sox hat slid from his head and landed in a dirty puddle.

Eric heard the birds before he saw them, an ugly, broken cackle that sounded like maniacal laughter. They glided in from the west, flying over the roofs over nearby houses. The boy hadn’t done them justice. They were broken and twisted, bald and bloody, most missing eyes or feet. One was missing its entire head, flying in formation with its decaying brothers and sisters.

These are the vultures Ben was talking about, he thought.

“Run,” Eric shouted. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Shame on you, you said a bad word. I say it sometimes when my mom’s not around. It’s my little secret, just like my special mask. She’s gonna be so surprised.”

“I’m not messing around, we have to move.” The vultures were nearly on them. The rotting carrion stink washed over them in a nauseating wave. Eric reached for the boy, but he was already running in the opposite direction. Eric dove behind a parked car and slid beneath it as the boy ran toward them.

When he reached them, his laughter turned to screams of blinding agony. One of the vultures grabbed him by the shoulders and soared into the sky, playfully passing him around him to the others. Sharp, crooked talons pierced his flesh as blood rained from the sky.

“I just wanted a mask,” the boy yelled. “Stop hurting me!”

His cries ended abruptly as the vultures tore him apart. Chunks of flesh and bloody clothing fell to the wet street below. They chattered happily as they circled overhead. Eric crawled from beneath the car just as the boy’s body fell from the sky and landed on the roof of one of the houses. It slid over the wet shingles, tumbling over the edge and falling to the sidewalk with a wet smack.

Eric sat up and watched them circle above the street. On his left, a brown cat hissed as it choked on its own blood. It dragged itself across the ground by its front paws, its body torn in half. It cried out in pain, disappearing behind the car, leaving a crimson trail of intestines behind it.

A shirtless man in dirty khakis jogged down the middle of the road, screaming at a mangy, malnourished German Sheppard. “No, Scout, you greedy whore, you get away from there! That’s mine, goddammit!” The dog scampered away as the man bent over the boy’s ruined body, scooping up handfuls of warm brain matter and cramming them into his mouth.

Eric puked so violently, he felt like he’d done damage to this throat. He wiped his mouth and stood shakily. People ran in every direction, some screaming, many laughing. They pointed at the vultures in wonder like tourists at a local attraction. There was no sense of danger. A group had gathered around the shirtless man as he scarfed his hot meal from the sidewalk.

Eric turned and ran through the ACME parking lot, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t a target. A flood of people exited the supermarket, coughing harshly and covering their noses.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I was you,” a woman laughed. “The power’s out and the food’s gone bad. I have half a mind to write a very strongly worded letter to the manager about all this.”

Eric cupped his hands and placed his head against the large glass window. Inside, groups of shoppers dove for the exits, dropping their bags of rotten food along the way. The meat coolers were a writhing sea of maggots; produce had turned to slimy heaps of mold-covered sludge. A man ran down the dairy aisle, slipping in a lake of congealed milk and falling to the cracked linoleum.

The first explosion took Eric by surprise.

He watched, confused as the entire skyline appeared to move.

The Elmview Apartment Building twisted on its foundation.

The bottom five floors buckled and collapsed as the entire structure tilted precariously. Debris rained into the street, crushing cars and pedestrians beneath tons of falling brick. In the upper floors, thirteen stories above the ground, Eric saw terrified faces appear in some of the windows, peering out into a world gone mad as their home fell away from under them.

The building reached a forty-five-degree angle before gravity brought it crashing down. It hit the street and broke open like a wet cardboard box, spilling its contents into the road… including the mangled corpses of those who’d lived there. The bridge over Broad Street collapsed beneath the ruins, dumping debris into the river. Bloody water sprayed into the air and rained down as a sticky, foul-smelling mist.

Eric noticed the people surrounding him were paying very little attention to what had just happened. They were hypnotized by the Skryel’s influence, hidden behind the curtain of darkness that slowly ate away at the fabric of reality. As the sky cleared, Eric seized the opportunity to make a quick escape. He ran as far as he could before a leg cramp stopped him.

The evidence of the latest attack was everywhere. The intersections were jammed with wrecked vehicles, bloody drivers arguing about fault and insurance information. Storefront windows had been smashed all along Broad Street, covering the sidewalks in broken glass. There were puddles of blood everywhere, but no sign of bodies.

He walked the railroad tracks toward home, limping on his cramped leg. The fire hydrant at Elm Street had ruptured, spraying dirty water thirty feet in the air. Car alarms brayed in every section of town, creating a wall of noise that pierced Eric’s brain.

He turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

The street was empty.

The entire row of houses - including his own - was gone. There was no debris, no fire, no empty foundations… nothing. The block was a single unbroken patch of brown grass and stone, as if the houses had never existed. Stunned, Eric watched a pretty teenage girl run across the plot of ground where his living room had once stood.

“Can you believe it?” she asked. “An earthquake in Elmview!”

Eric’s stomach knotted painfully.

They’re gone, he thought. All the times I wished they would disappear… but not like this.

For the first time, Eric was truly alone.

***

Danny and Sam were getting dressed when the world went to hell.

The house vibrated on its foundation as pictures fell from the walls and cracks appeared in the plaster. Outside, a large portion of the street collapsed into the sewers below. The beauty of their shared passion mercilessly faded.

“We have to go,” Sam said. “Is this it? Is it happening?”

One of the houses across the street collapsed in a cloud of dust; a giant oak tree snapped and tumbled into the road, dragging spitting power lines across the sidewalk; a vulture the size of a compact car swooped down with a screech and snatched a bulldog out of someone’s front yard; smoke poured from the broken windows of the neighboring house as fire exploded from the front door. Several blocks away, Elmview’s skyline changed forever as the Elmview Apartments crumbled to the ground.

“Oh, no,” Sam whined. “All those people…”

“You have to put it out of your head. This is what the Skryel wants… it wants to break us.”

A half-dozen columns of thick, black smoke drifted into the sky.

How many died? he wondered. How many souls will the Skryel take before it’s satisfied?

“As many as it can,” Sam said, replying to his thoughts as if he’d spoken them aloud. “It’ll take everything and everyone until there’s nothing left to destroy.”

Danny turned to her and gazed into her teary eyes. “I love you,” he said. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what that means, but it feels right.”

“I love you, Daniel Harper. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. It isn’t fair.”

Danny grabbed her and kissed her passionately. He suddenly felt there wasn’t enough time in the world to say and do the things he wanted. He felt his future unraveling.

It wasn’t fair, she was right about that.

“Hey lovebirds? The world is ending, or didn’t you notice?” Eric rounded the corner, soaking wet, panting, and coated in a reddish-pink film.

“How could we not?” Danny asked. “If this is the end, I’m not letting that bastard rob me of the time I have left.”

“We need a plan,” Eric cried. “Downtown is a war zone. Can’t you sense it? Even the air feels wrong.” He walked onto the porch, shuddered, and wiped the rain from his face.

“Ben said I’ll know what to do when the time comes,” Danny explained.

“Can you figure it the fuck out, because it’s already here! It took my family,” Eric cried. “There’s nothing left.”

“What?” Sam asked, stepping closer.

“My house is gone. My mom and my sister are gone. How do I bring them back?”

“Gone?” Danny asked.

“Yes, gone,” Eric shouted. “I want them back, Danny. I hated them so much but I want them back.”

Sam wrapped her arms around him tightly. “I’m so sorry. We’ll figure this out, I swear we will.”

“I can’t lose everyone,” Eric whined. “I just can’t.”

The floodgates opened. Eric wailed as he buried his face in Sam’s neck and let the pain consume him. Danny embraced them, rubbing his hand over Eric’s sodden hair. He suddenly felt like he was capable of anything, drawing power from their friendship and love.

“Now,” Eric said, raising his head and wiping his cheeks, “we need to kill this thing.” His gaze was ice-cold, his resolve unbending. “Even if that means killing it myself.”

***

Brent was still locked in his bedroom when the Skryel returned to Elmview.

He writhed on the floor in ecstasy as the wasps swarmed over every inch of his skin. Their quiet buzz was soothing, comforting, erotic. They whispered their secrets to him as he rubbed his hands over his warm flesh and arched his back in the throes of passion.

At once, the wasps took flight and formed a solid wall above him. A cloudy image formed like unfocused pictures on a drive-in movie screen. As the image cleared, Brent realized what he was seeing.

A view from above.

He saw everything through the Skryel’s eyes, watching as Elmview was swallowed by the approaching storm.

The Darkening was so close he could taste it.

The Skryel’s rage flowed through him, strengthened him, gave him purpose. For once, he wouldn’t be the third wheel, the outcast, the fat kid with a target on his back. This time he was the bully… and it felt wonderful.

Through the dark, Brent heard his master’s voice.

The Skryel spoke and Brent listened.

Chapter 13

Sam napped on the sofa when she was awakened by the sound of scratching at the back door.

Danny and Eric had urged her to come with them to Ben’s house. They weren’t comfortable leaving her alone, but she’d persuaded them to go on without her. She hadn’t slept in days. She’d promised to meet up with them as soon as she awoke.

She walked down the short hallway to the back door and pushed the blinds aside, peering into the yard. Her mother’s garden was dying. She’d always tended to her flowers with great pride, but no amount of loving care would bring them back now. Like everything else in this new world, beauty was failing.

I hope she’s okay, Sam thought. After hearing what had happened to Eric’s family, she was even more on edge.

Sam opened the door and stepped outside, relishing the simple act of walking barefoot through the grass. A light breeze lifted her hair. It was remarkably quiet, almost peaceful. Leaves fluttered soothingly in the elm tree at the foot of the property.

The yard was empty. Whatever had made the noise was gone, or she’d imagined the entire thing. Who would blame her for being a little jumpy? She sighed and turned when Brent jumped out from behind the toolshed, placing himself between her and the back door. She covered her nose and coughed as the stench of spoiled meat drifted from his rotting flesh. His hair had fallen out in patches and his skin was the color of Swiss cheese.

“Hey there, Sammy,” Brent said. His voice rumbled through cracked, bleeding lips.

“Brent? My God, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’ve been a bit under the weather, but I feel fine now. Never better, in fact.” He scratched lightly at his cheek as a ribbon of flesh caught beneath his fingernail and tore away. He looked at the scrap and laughed. “I may need to see a dermatologist, however.”

Between the gagging smell and his physical appearance, Sam’s eyes began watering uncontrollably.

“We have to get you some help,” she said.

“Oh, Samantha, don’t you cry for me… I come to good old Elmview with a banjo on my knee.” She stared as Brent sang his ditty and watched her as if waiting for applause. Sam wanted nothing more than to run inside and lock the door behind her.

“You’re scaring me,” she said.

“Scared of me? You know I’d never hurt you. Don’t you know I love you?” Brent stepped closer, forcing her back. She bumped into the wire fence surrounding her mother’s garden. “This is only the beginning, Sam. The Shadowking showed me how things are going to be. You can come with me and live in the stars. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Brent, don’t listen to that monster. It’s feeding you lies, don’t you see that? Stay here with me and Danny… we’ll help you get better.”

“Danny,” he grimaced. He rolled the name on his tongue and frowned at the bitter taste it left in his mouth. “Danny is a snake and a coward. He took you away from me.”

“Took me away? Brent, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play games with me,” he hissed. “Everything has been written. There’s an order to the universe, and when that balance is challenged, something needs to be done.”

“Brent, I want you to leave. You’re not well…”

“I’m starting to lose my patience with you, Samantha. You have an opportunity to be part of something extraordinary, don’t you get that?”

“Please,” she begged. “Just go.”

“Please,” he mocked. “Please, please, please. You stupid bitch,” he screamed. Saliva sprayed from his mouth and spattered her cheeks. “Ungrateful little whore! Do you think Danny can offer you a tenth of what I can? Are you so fucking blind you don’t see what’s going on? Danny will be dead and rotting in the street and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” He spit a tooth into his palm and tossed it aside.

Sam looked away, choking on the gassy stink of his breath.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “I’m not asking again.” He grabbed her by the chin and pulled her head toward him. His skin was hot and covered in slime from the suppurating wounds covering his arms. When he pulled his hand away from Sam’s chin, he left skin behind. It hung from her neck like a wattle.

“I’m looking,” she grunted through clenched teeth. “Say what you have to say and get the fuck out.”

“Oh, baby girl, now you’re just turning me on,” he laughed. He pushed his crotch against her leg, grinding his erection into her thigh.

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’ve been called much worse than that. Why don’t you give it a chance? Maybe you’ll enjoy it.”

“Never,” she screamed. She tried pushing Brent out of the way to create enough space to run inside, but Brent didn’t budge. He raised his arm and smacked her hard across the cheek. She rubbed the tender flesh in shock. It was the first time anyone had hit her.

“I tried talking sense into you, Sam, but you just don’t fucking listen.” When he struck her the second time, he did so with a closed fist. Sam crumpled to the ground at his feet.

He grabbed her legs and dragged her inside, slamming the door behind him.

“Oh, Samantha… don’t you die on me,” he sang. He pulled her up the stairs and dumped her body on the bedroom floor, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. He sat in Sam’s desk chair and waited for her to regain consciousness.

It would be much more fun that way.

***

Sam opened her eyes and gasped.

The ceiling and floor had swapped places.

She hung from the wall like a cheap painting, upside-down, her hands and feet bound by torn shreds of clothing. Wooden garden stakes had been pounded into the plaster to keep her in place. She looked up at her feet and saw she was completely naked.

The ceiling was a living sea of wasps.

“Glad to see you’re finally awake,” Brent said. “I thought I’d killed you for a second there.” He stepped from a shadow in the corner of the room, wearing nothing more than a filthy pair of socks. His body was covered in open sores. His penis jutted out in front of him, leaking blood from its engorged tip.

“Brent? What are you doing, you sick fuck?”

“Nothing yet,” he laughed. “Admiring the view. I see why Danny finds you so interesting. Those little tits though… what a letdown.”

Sam wriggled and twisted but the knots only grew tighter.

“If you try to escape, I’ll gut you like a fish. You’re not going anywhere, Sam. You’re mine now.”

She’d grown lightheaded from hanging upside-down. Her face burned from where Brent had struck her. He put a hand on her thigh and pushed her against the wall so she couldn’t struggle.

“If you make this difficult, I’m going to find Danny and make him watch while I tear you apart. Do you understand?”

Sam didn’t reply.

Brent punched her in the thigh as her muscles cramped painfully. “Do you understand?” he repeated.

“Yes, yes,” she screamed. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore. Let me down and go. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not worried about that, dear. When we’re finished, there won’t be anyone left to tell.”

“No, please. Untie me. You don’t have to do this.”

She twitched as a wasp landed on her toe.

“You’re not getting it, are you? I do have to do this. Now, be still.” He reached out, grabbed her breast, and squeezed until she screamed. His ruined hand left behind a sticky patch of blood.

“Why, Brent?” she groaned. “I know this isn’t you. That fucking monster is making you do this. It’s controlling you.”

“It’s not making me do anything. You walk around in those tight shorts with your ass hanging out for everyone to see. I wanted more than that… I wanted to touch you. Taste you. That would’ve never happened with Danny in the way, but he’s not here, is he? Danny?” he called. “Daaaannnny? Nope, we have the house all to ourselves.” His right hand reached higher, brushing her pubic hair with the back of his fingers. “Is this what Danny does to you before you fuck him?”

“It’s none of YOUR BUSINESS,” she cried. Brent slapped her across the mouth, rocking her head to the side. She heard one of the garden stakes groan.

“Everything is my business,” he said, reaching between her legs. Sam tried squeezing her thighs together when Brent punched her again. The pain made her toes grow numb. “The more you fight, the more it hurts. We can take this nice and easy, honey. I’ll be gentle.”

“Please, Brent, you don’t have to hurt me anymore. We can work something out. Just untie me. I won’t run, I promise.”

“Your promises mean nothing. It must have been so easy for you being the pretty girl. When you talk, the boys listen, huh? They all want to fuck you and the other girls want to be just like you. Poor, poor Samantha. How does it feel not being in control for once?”

“What did I ever do to you, Brent? Was I mean? Did I call you names? I don’t deserve this.”

“I’ll decide what you deserve, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

He rubbed the smooth flesh between her breasts, but she could do nothing to stop it. Several more wasps glided from the ceiling and landed on her legs. The sensation would eventually drive her mad.

“I was nice to you. I only ever wanted to be your friend.”

“What do you know about friendship? You got to pick and choose every friend you’ve ever had. Which ones are the prettiest, which ones are the smartest, which ones will kiss your ass and tell you how perfect you are?”

“It’s not like that,” she yelled. “Let me go, goddamn you!”

“What did I ever have? Danny was always the popular one and Eric was the one they felt sorry for. I was the fat one. The one everyone smacked with wet towels in the locker room. No one wanted to get to know me… all they saw was some disgusting kid with cookie crumbs on his shirt.”

As Brent raged on, Sam felt the stake at her feet give a little more, sprinkling the carpet with plaster dust.

“You’re much more than that and you know it,” she said softly. “Danny and Eric love you. I…”

“You? You what? You love me?” he interrupted. “Is that what you’re going to say?”

“Yes, as my friend, as Danny’s best friend.”

She noticed a brief twinkle in his eye, a single moment of recognition.

“I see what you’re doing,” he shouted, shaking his head. “You can’t sweet talk me, bitch. I see through your bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, it’s the truth. You’re better than this. The Brent I know would never hurt his friends.”

“I’m not the Brent you know,” he screamed. “I’m the Brent who takes what he wants.”

“You don’t want this,” she said. Her vision blurred.

Are the wasps poisoning me? she thought. Please, no. I don’t want to end up like him.

Whether from the wasps or from hanging inverted so long, she couldn’t tell, but either way, if she didn’t escape soon, she might not have another chance.

She collected her thoughts and changed tactics. If Brent’s weak spot was his feelings of inadequacy, maybe there was a way to bring him back.

“You know what, Brent? Fuck you! I’m done pretending.”

“You… what?” The shocked look on his face filled her with hope.

“You heard me. Of course, I never liked you, no one did. What’s to like? You’re disgusting. Look at yourself.”

Brent’s brow wrinkled as he looked down at his flabby, drooping flesh.

“That’s right, take a good look. Did you think the girls would line up at your door when you look like that? If I was you, I never would have left my house.”

“Wait… why, why are you saying that? Stop.”

“Why am I saying that? Jesus Christ, you’re not very bright either.”

“Shut your mouth…”

“Why? You can’t handle the truth, you tub of shit? And look at you now… look what your master has done to you.”

“It’s made me stronger,” he raged. “Better!”

“Better? How? Look at you. You’re not only fat, you’re absolutely horrible!”

“SHUT UP!”

Sam wasn’t prepared when Brent punched her in the stomach. Air exploded from her mouth in a strangled wheeze. She pinched her eyes closed as stars exploded behind her eyelids.

“AAARRRGH!” Brent screamed, turning his anger on the furniture. He upended the desk and threw one of the drawers through the window. He broke a coat rack over his knee and used the pieces to break holes in the wall. He was too busy destroying the room to notice that the wooden stake holding Sam’s feet had broken free from the wall, tumbling her in a heap on the floor.

She wriggled her arms free and struggled to her feet, forgetting they were bound by a strip of her shirt. She went to work on the knot as Brent knocked her aquarium to the floor.

Sorry fishies, she thought. Your sacrifice won’t be forgotten.

Brent still hadn’t turned around.

Once her feet were free, she began working on the knot binding her hands. She grabbed it between her teeth and pulled, amazed by how easily it came apart.

“I’m NOT A MONSTER!” Brent bellowed, kicking the door and splintering the wooden frame.

The wasps grew uneasy.

Sam bent and grabbed the broken half of her coat rack, holding it in her hands and feeling her courage soar.

She hissed as one of the wasps planted its stinger in the back of her neck. She swatted it with her hand and held the chunk of wood out in front of her as Brent stopped what he was doing and turned with a wicked grin.

“You double-crossing cunt,” he said. With clenched fists, he charged, prepared to break the ungrateful bitch’s neck with his bare hands. “You’re mine! The master promised that YOU’D BE MINE!”

When Brent tackled her to the floor, Sam felt like she’d been hit by a truck. All two hundred pounds of Brent’s leaking, pasty flesh pinned her to the floor.

But he was no longer fighting.

Sam used the last of her energy to roll Brent onto the carpet. It was then she noticed the splintered coat rack jutting from between his ribs. Brent lie on the floor, panting and choking as his punctured lung filled with blood.

“I’m sorry, Brent. You didn’t give me any choice.”

“Sam? What happened… where am I?”

She cried out as the wasps took flight, and when she looked down, she saw that Brent was already dead.

“Goddammit,” she cried.

Brent’s lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.

The wasps were growing restless. She’d seen what they had done to him and she wasn’t about to let that happen to her. She jumped to her feet and crossed the room, pounding on the door that was now wedged tightly in its frame. She yanked on the doorknob and felt it give the slightest bit.

One more pull…

Sam felt a blinding pain in her lower back as Brent punched her in the kidney and sent her reeling to the floor. She couldn’t catch her breath. Brent stood over her and removed the broken sliver of wood from his chest. He showed it to her like a trophy and licked blood from its jagged tip.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” he asked, kicking her in the ribs. “Did you think the Shadowking would allow this to happen?” He stomped on her arm and broke her ulna just beneath the elbow. “It didn’t have to be this way if you’d just fucking LISTENED!”

Sam felt her nose collapse as blood ran down the back of her throat in a hot, salty river. She felt every blow, but no longer registered pain. If she had to die, she only hoped Danny and Eric could stop Brent and the monster who controlled him.

Brent wanted the wasps to take her, but his master wouldn’t allow it.

Leave her.

Brent laughed and dragged her down the steps to the first floor. He found the cellar door, and after kissing Sam’s bloody lips, he let her tumble to the concrete floor below.

He closed the door and waited.

An hour later, Sam’s mother came home from work, made a sandwich, and sat at the small dinner table, when she heard a muffled cry below her. She put her sandwich down and stood.

“Sam? Is that you down there?” she called.

“Sorry, mom. Sam’s not here,” Brent replied.

She spun on her heels and saw Brent standing a few feet away, naked and covered in blood and festering sores. He grinned and lunged at her before she had a chance to scream. He dug his thumbs into her throat and smiled as her windpipe collapsed beneath his hands.

When she stopped moving, Brent grabbed a large steak knife from the kitchen cabinet and removed her head. He propped it on the kitchen table and laughed as the wasps descended from the second floor and covered every inch of her horrified face.

“A gift to you,” Brent chuckled.

His mother had always told him not to bring his toys to the dinner table, but this was too good to pass up.

Besides, his mother would never bitch at him again about anything.

She’d already become a hive.

Brent stomped away and returned to the cellar door. Sam was in the same place he’d left her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at him, cradling her broken arm and weeping in the darkness.

“I know you’re mad, honey,” Brent said, “but we can work it out. Brent’s going to make it all better.”

Sam shrieked as Brent stepped forward and closed the door.

***

Everything was falling into place.

The Skryel saw the path clearly. It smiled as the remaining strips of its false face sloughed from its skull; it shed its skin like a molting snake, becoming something new, becoming its true self.

The frozen void amid the stars brimmed with soul energy.

The Skryel hovered in the abyss, feeding on tortured souls and licking their essence from its clawed fingers.

Earth was in its grasp.

The creature gorged until it was sated, and then continued eating, growing fat from its bounty.

Victory was within its grasp.

***

Danny and Eric sat on a park bench near the train station and waited for Sam to arrive, watching as people went about their lives. Danny understood why she hadn’t wanted to come along to Ben’s with them. It was too much to ask of anyone.

“No one sees what’s happening,” Eric said.

“It’s part of the game,” Danny replied. “We’re being isolated.”

Eric sighed and gazed into the dim sky. The Darkening was getting stronger, and just like Ben had said, the Earth would begin to die. They stood on the precipice.

“Where the hell is Sam?” Danny asked. “She should have been here by now.”

“She’s pretty shaken up. It’s a lot to comprehend.”

“She’s not the only one who’s shaken up.”

“Yeah, but she’s a girl. She’s not tough like us.” Eric smirked and saw Danny smiling back.

“She’d kick your ass.”

“I can’t deny that.”

Danny laughed and watched traffic pass on the highway. There were people on their lunch hour, families on vacation, little faces and hands pressed against car windows, watching as the world sped by. Danny envied them. He’d forgotten what it was like to be normal.

Eric was lost in thought when he was startled by a muffled thud in the overgrown grass in front of the station. A black cat lay there twitching, its neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Eric looked to the roof and back to the unfortunate animal.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

“Huh?”

“That cat,” he pointed. “It must have fallen from the roof.”

Ten feet away, a second animal thumped to the ground. It may have been a Dachshund, but it was nearly impossible to tell since most of its body was covered in sores and its head was missing. A parrot landed several feet away; its wings had been torn free and little white worms wiggled in its empty eye sockets.

“Christ, get out of the way,” Danny shouted.

He grabbed Eric by the arm and pulled him under the overhanging roof. All around them, animals rained from above: cats, dogs, birds, ferrets, hamsters, turtles, fish, gerbils. It was as if the Skryel had broken open a pet store and shook it violently above the thick, dark clouds.

Across the highway, a severed giraffe head fell onto a parked car. A rotting horse carcass landed in the center of the road and dumped maggot-blown intestines into the gutter. Smaller animals bounced off rooftops and cars like hail. Blood ran into rain gutters and pooled in the street.

“What do you think they see?” Eric asked, pointing at the passing cars. “Is it just like any other day for them?

Danny shrugged.

“The endgame is near,” a voice said from behind. “Reality is beginning to collapse. Worlds are merging.”

“Would you announce yourself when you show up?” Danny shouted. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry, it’s a bad habit of mine.” His laughter sounded forced and tired.

“Is this it?” Eric asked. “Is this the end?”

“Not yet, there’s still time,” Ben replied.

“What do we do?” Danny asked.

“Prepare your mind for what’s coming. This little display is only the beginning, it’s going to get much worse, and if you’re not ready, it’ll drive you insane.”

“Are you going to help us?” Eric asked.

“I can only do so much. I have something you might need. Come see me soon.”

Ben disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived. Corpses rained down for several more minutes, followed by a brief shower of warm blood. It coated the streets and trees in a congealed, gelatinous slime that reeked like burning wires.

Elmview looked and smelled like the killing floor of an abattoir.

Shortly after the rain stopped, they made their way over the hill to Ben’s house. He said nothing, wringing his hands as he looked out over the town. It was only a little after two in the afternoon, but already the sun had begun a quick descent to the horizon.

Danny was worried about Sam. He should never have left her alone. Her absence was marked by a dull ache in his chest. Ben could sense his fear, and if he could, so could the Skryel. He wanted to comfort Danny but couldn’t find the words. Ben could no longer feel Sam’s energy… she was being hidden from them.

The air had grown thick, making it uncomfortable to breathe. People stumbled around town as if in a dream, walking slowly and aimlessly like zombies. Children played in the park without laughter. An anesthetic fog hung over Elmview, numbing everyone to the real world around them.

The sun disappeared just before three, painting the sky a sickly shade of orange. It remained that way for the rest of the afternoon.

“It’s going to dark soon,” Ben said. The old man put a gnarled hand on Danny’s shoulder and held it there. “What you need to understand is that you have all the tools you need to defeat the beast. There’s a power inside you unlike anything the world has seen in two centuries. You might not know what it is right now, but I know you can feel it. It will come to the surface when the time is right, and if you can harness that energy, there’s a chance to beat this thing.”

Ben blinked his eyes hard to clear them and re-focus. He bent and reached under his chair, pulling out a small, plain cedar box. The wood was flawless and unadorned, the lid held on by three brass hinges tarnished with age.

“Take this box and open it whenever you like,” Ben said. Danny took it and placed it in his lap, rubbing his fingers over the worn wood. “When you and I are through, you may never see me again, but rest assured I will be there for the final battle. I’ll be the ground beneath your feet and the air in your lungs. As long as you believe I’m with you, I can lend you my strength. The rest is up to you.”

Eric and Ben shared a look as Eric’s fear was replaced by the icy chill of hate. Ben knew from that moment the boy would never be the same.

“We’re going to kill it,” Eric said. “No matter what it takes.” Ben nodded and turned to Danny.

“This is your last resort,” Ben said. “If all else fails, you know what has to be done. It’s your choice and your choice alone. Do you understand?”

Danny slid the latch aside and peeked into the box. The sky’s orange glow glinted on what lay inside, something he didn’t need to examine to recognize. He closed the box and nodded.

“I understand.”

Chapter 14

It was impossible to tell the time in the orange glow of eternal dusk. Every watch and clock in town had stopped working the second the sun dipped below the horizon. The animal corpses that had rained upon Elmview still remained, their stinking, bloated bodies covered in thick clouds of hungry flies. Traffic had come to a standstill as drivers left their vehicles and wandered into the street. The air crackled with unseen energy.

An entire block of houses on Carter Street was engulfed in flames.

On Madison Street, a man chased his three daughters into the woods behind their house and slew them with a pickaxe.

Chemicals from the sewage treatment plant leaked from their containment tanks and spewed into the river.

A woman boiled a large stewpot of water and tossed in her four-month-old son, watching as his skin peeled. When he stopped moving, she upended the pot and drank deeply, dying in agony.

The Elmview High School sank into the ground like a ship at sea. Parts of the building collapsed before plunging into the depths.

A man’s prize-winning English Bulldog writhed on the living room floor and died seconds after growing a second head in the middle of its back. This head barked for ten minutes before joining its body in death.

A murder of crows descended on a group of teenagers at the Little League field, clawing and pecking as the kids fell to the bloody grass.

Old man Moyer sat in front of his bedroom window, gazing down at the Rimmel factory, a shotgun resting beside him on the bed. He’d been uneasy all day.

Starting as a low rumble and building in intensity, his house shook violently, nearly knocking him to the floor. He grabbed the gun and peered out the window just as the factory’s smokestack crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust and soot. He took three steps and collapsed, dead before he hit the carpet.

All around Elmview, people committed random acts of torture and violent murder.

The sky darkened to crimson.

***

“We have to find Sam,” Danny said.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she has to fight this battle on her own.”

“If something happens to her…”

“Don’t think about that. No one else is going to die.”

They sat on the picnic bench overlooking the downtown, the same one where Eric had met Ben for the first time. It seemed like it was a million years ago. The small cedar box rested between them. Danny had shown Eric what was inside before quickly closing it without another word. Danny saw Eric’s eyes drop, understanding the significance immediately.

It was the same gun his father had used to end his own life.

The weapon didn’t have supernatural powers, it was just like any other. Danny had seen it in his first vision in Mr. Donovan’s classroom. He was no longer afraid of dying, but he was afraid of failure. The fate of the world rested heavily on his shoulders.

On Broad Street, a man stabbed a teenage girl in the chest with a large butcher knife before turning the blade on himself and opening his neck in a spray of blood. This would have horrified Danny a month ago, but now he barely noticed.

“Do you really think we have a chance?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know, but if we don’t try, we lose. It’s that simple.”

The bells at the First Presbyterian Church rang loudly, chiming an ugly, discordant tune that hurt their ears. The hollow notes ceased as their echo reverberated over town.

“I keep thinking how ridiculous this is,” Eric said sadly. “I want so badly for this to be a terrible dream. I’ll roll out of bed and my dad will be making scrambled eggs for me and Jacky. My mom will be dancing around to some silly song on the radio and we’ll all laugh when my dad smacks her butt and calls her Ginger Rogers. I want that more than anything, but I know it’ll never happen. This is real.”

“This is real,” Danny repeated.

“My father wasn’t strong enough. I used to think he was the toughest man in the world, but in the end, he was scared just like us.”

“Maybe,” Danny said, “but he did what he needed to. He gave us all a chance.”

“Then we’d better do everything we possibly can. If not, he died for nothing.”

Eric stared into the crimson sky and wept. He felt like a character in a comic book, trapped on the page and unable to change what happens next. Everything spiraled to some unknown fate he couldn’t control.

“I miss our old life,” Danny said. “I miss Charlie and Brent. I miss the sound of crickets in the yard and the smell of fresh brownies in the kitchen. How did we get here?”

A skinned vulture circled overhead, watching them. Its loud chatter sounded like human speech.

Die. Die. Die.

Danny felt a swirling pit of emptiness growing inside him, threatening to consume him. His failure would mean the end of everything. Everyone would die, the light would die, love would die.

The Skryel would win and plunge the world into darkness forever.

***

Sam dragged herself across the basement floor before collapsing. Her face was battered and bruised, her eyes swollen shut, and her lips split open and bleeding. Several of her teeth had been knocked out and her nose was badly broken. Lumps and bumps bulged from beneath her shirt where her bones had been broken and twisted out of place.

The awful things Brent had done to her were just blurry images. She’d slipped in and out of consciousness as he beat her, yanked out clumps of her hair, raped her with every object he could lay his hands on. Eventually, she’d gone numb, feeling like she’d left her body, only screaming back to reality when she heard her bones snapping beneath his vicious blows.

After an eternity, Brent stopped. The air had changed, thickened, and Brent walked into the swirling cloud that had appeared at the cellar bulkhead. He turned one last time and waved, smiling through a mouthful of bloody teeth. Wasps covered his rotting flesh like a suit of clothes.

“We’ll meet again,” Brent said. “Either in this world or the next.” Then he was gone.

All Sam thought about was Danny. Was he okay? Was he alive? Sam pulled herself closer to the door, but her body betrayed her. The pain flooded in as she faded out. A sickly red light streamed in through the cellar windows.

With all the concentration and energy she could muster, Sam sent a message to Danny and Eric, praying they were still alive to hear it.

She was still waiting for a response when she lost consciousness.

***

Brent hung suspended in the darkness.

He gazed out over all creation, billions and billions of flickering pinpricks of brilliant light. For a second, his resolve weakened as he looked at the beauty of existence.

Why would anyone want to destroy this?

“Because I can,” the Skryel replied, “and because it was our agreement, one for which you’ll be handsomely rewarded.”

Yes. Eternal life. Ascension to godhood.

“What now?” Brent asked.

“We wait and we feed. Soon the dance begins.”

Brent closed his eyes in ecstasy as he drained the soul energy from countless victims. The Skryel had saved the best for last, offering Charlie’s essence like an after-dinner mint. As Brent fed, he felt Charlie struggling, fighting him, begging him to stop. Brent could see his friend’s memories, his experiences, his love for his family, and his love of life.

The sweetness of the essence turned bitter and Brent wavered. What am I doing? How can I hurt Danny and Eric?

“Focus,” the Skryel purred. “You’re on your way to becoming a king.”

Brent shook his head and cleared his mind. He drained Charlie, tossed away the empty husk, and moved on to the next.

What are any of these people to me? Why should I feel anything for these sad parasites?

Brent absorbed the Skryel's energy, basking in it. He longed for that kind of ultimate power. It was that hunger that would allow him to see this through to the end.

When it was over, he’d be one of the most powerful beings in the universe. With that thought, Brent went back to feeding, being swept further into his delusions.

The Skryel felt the shift and grinned.

***

Ben sat trembling on his sofa.

The Skryel’s influence over Elmview was strongly affecting his ability to think clearly.

He felt Danny and Eric in his head, but Sam and Brent were hidden. In his experience, that could only mean two things: the Skryel was hiding them for some unknown purpose, or they were already dead.

Ben stood, his knees popping loudly in the stillness of his living room. He went to the front porch, lit a cigarette, and sighed. Full dark would arrive any second.

The battle was about to begin.

Ben flinched as his neighbor burst through the front door two houses over and pumped a shotgun blast into his wife’s back. He turned, waved to Ben, and went back inside to finish off his children.

The hills to the southwest were being consumed by raging wildfire. A teenage girl ran past the house wearing her gutted pet cat on her head like a coon-skin cap. A loud shriek sounded overhead as a 767 passenger jet skimmed the treetops; one wing burned furiously as the jet rolled over on its side and plummeted to the earth in a massive explosion. The ensuing fire made Elmview inescapable from the west.

Ben carefully undressed and folded his clothes neatly on the porch glider. White light gleamed in his eyes. His human form shimmered and dissolved, rising into the air as an opaque mist.

Seconds later, his house toppled into a newly formed sinkhole and disappeared beneath the mountain.

***

The beast was sated.

Energy sizzled and crackled as Brent’s flesh blackened and burned from the heat.

Tempered into something better.

“You will go first,” the Skryel said. “Use the power I’ve given you. The wasps will protect you and kill for you. The more that perish, the more energy I’ll have when I arrive. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Brent replied.

“I will take care of everything. You know what you have to do. Find the boy and make him suffer. When he begs for death, you will bring him to me. Do not underestimate your enemy… he’s far stronger than I’d imagined. If you kill him, that doorway will close forever and all this will have been for nothing. You will never become a king, and your failure will be punished eternally.”

Brent nodded and disappeared.

Chapter 15

The sky was dark and starless. A shroud had been pulled over the Earth.

Danny and Eric sat side-by-side on the picnic table and watched as leaves browned and fell from rotting trees. The grass yellowed, and the flowers shriveled and died. A fetid wind blew in from the south, carrying the smell of smoke and things much less pleasant. The streetlights came on, shining dim circles of yellow light that did nothing to dispel the shadows.

Elmview was dying.

A mile away in the rank darkness of the Rimmel factory, a black wall of smoke opened and dumped Brent to the floor. Scraps of clothing clung to his charred flesh. His open wounds leaked a thick, yellow pus that plopped to the floor in stinking clots.

His wasp army grew restless beneath the surface of his skin, droning loudly in anticipation of the work ahead. His body was falling apart; if he was going to get the job done, he needed to hurry.

Brent walked through the crumbling building, imbued with his master’s strength and will. The large metal garage door rose before him, screeching on rusted tracks. He walked into the waiting world with purpose.

Find Danny and kill everything else in his path.

Brent shuffled up the road, scanning the houses around him as petrified humans peered out from behind the curtains. A small boy and his older sister sat on the swings in the front yard, watching as he passed.

The hole in Brent’s leg opened like an infected mouth, vomiting a cloud of angry wasps into the night. They were on the children in seconds, entering their bodies, stinging their eyes and tongues. They flew down their throats, clogging their windpipes, choking them. They fell to the grass, scraping at their necks, unable to scream. Once they stilled, the wasps left their bodies like rats on a sinking ship, returning to Brent to form a protective cloud around him.

Everything in his path was quickly overwhelmed and obliterated as the chorus of pained screams echoed into the unnaturally darkened sky. Brent reveled in his new power.

Brent The Destroyer.

Surely, his master would be pleased.

Brent’s reign of terror continued across town, leaving bloated, stinking death in his wake.

***

Eric pointed to something on Broad Street and asked, “What the hell is that?”

Danny squinted, but couldn’t make it out in the gloom.

Suddenly, Elmview went dark. Sparks spit from overloaded transformers and rained into the street. The only illumination was from the raging fires that consumed parts of Elmview’s business district. Citizens ran from their homes, driven by the need to be close to others in their terror and confusion. They set fire to garbage cans, dumpsters, and parked cars to keep the darkness at bay. Civilized, rational thought ceased to exist.

Danny and Eric stood and walked drunkenly over the side of the hill, pulled toward the blurry, black shape floating down the center of Broad Street. They picked up the pace, running at an all-out sprint, barely able to control their own actions.

“Oh, my God, Danny,” Eric puffed. “I’m not ready for this…”

“If we get separated, hide. It’ll kill you the first chance it gets.”

Eric nodded.

The night enveloped them.

When they reached the intersection, a harsh white light exploded before them, forcing them to cover their eyes with pained shouts. A rancid, acidic wind soundlessly washed over them. The only sound was of their feet crunching on the loose dirt and stones beneath their feet.

Danny opened his eyes slowly. They were in The Gray. Familiar houses and storefronts surrounded them on both sides; they were still in Elmview, just not the one they called home.

Danny’s face was covered in sweat and the weapon Ben had given him was tucked securely in the waistband of his shorts. It dug painfully into the tender skin at the small of his back.

“What is this?” Eric asked. “What do we do?”

“Stay behind me… something’s coming.”

A wood-frame house exploded in a dusty cloud of splintered wood as the Skryel emerged with a roar. It no longer masqueraded as a man but had assumed its natural form. It hurt their eyes to look at it.

The monster walked into the center of the street on six black legs covered in sharp, white spines resembling fence pickets. Its spider-like body was covered in thick, greasy hair and secreted a yellow fluid that steamed and smoked as it dripped to the cracked asphalt. On either side of its pointed head were vertical lines of silver eyes, six on each side, every one an unbroken mirror reflecting everything it saw. Its long snout was lined with hundreds of jagged, needle-sharp teeth. A long, cracked tongue hung to the ground ten feet below, curling and twisting in the dirt like a nightcrawler.

The Skryel remained perfectly still, watching the boys, waiting for them to turn and run or beg for their lives. Instead of falling to his knees, Danny stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Eric whispered. His bowels felt like hot jelly. Danny wasn’t paying attention, intent on the creature before him. He knew it wouldn’t kill him or the doorway would close. The Skryel read his thoughts and seethed with anger. It growled and spit large gobs of green saliva into the street.

“The Doorway and The Traveler,” it hissed. “I will take everything from you. Your friends, your parents, your precious human slut. I’ll kill them all and force you to watch. Give up this nonsense, you know you can’t possibly win.”

“Doorway and Traveler?” Eric asked. “What’s it talking about?”

“There’s so much to learn. So much the Guardian hasn’t taught you.”

“I can beat you, and I will,” Danny shouted. “Even if it means putting a bullet in my head.”

“You coward,” it raged. “Don’t you see this is the only way? The multiverse can’t survive without me.”

“Maybe that was true once. Maybe you served a purpose before you let your jealousy and greed take over. There are others ways, but you’ve chosen to ignore them on your quest to become a god. The human race is not yours to destroy.”

“It’s mine when I say it’s mine. You’re dust in my path. Nothing. When I tire of you, I will fuck this world to death and lick my fingers clean.”

“You can’t and you know it.”

The beast walked forward, its legs gouging large holes in the hardtop. On either side of it, buildings trembled and collapsed, spewing debris into the street.

It was so close, Danny could see himself reflected in its eyes. The Skryel roared and rushed toward them. A swirling globe of darkness surrounded it, growing thicker as it gained ground. Arms of black smoke reached out in every direction, grabbing burned-out vehicles and tossing them aside. Buildings were shredded like paper.

“Danny, take my hand,” Eric screamed.

Danny only heard his friend from a great distance. His concentration was aimed at the Skryel.

“Danny, now,” Eric said. His voice was clearly frightened, but calm. The beast grabbed a rusted fire hydrant and hurled it toward them, missing Eric by mere inches. “Take my hand,” Eric repeated.

Danny obeyed.

“What are you doing?” the Skryel bellowed. “You don’t run from me!”

The boys disappeared in a blinding flash as the Skryel descended on them. The dark cloud surrounding it pulsed with anger and grew in size until it covered the buildings on either side of the street. The dried wood burst into flames and burned furiously as the creature vanished, following the boys through the vast space between worlds.

Its wail reverberated through all realities as it chased them to the battlefield.

***

For a minute after they arrived, they were blind.

Eric dropped Danny’s hand and peered down Broad Street, expecting to see the monster charging toward them. The orange, flickering glow of the burning Home Savings & Loan was the only light.

“What the hell just happened?” Danny asked. “Did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “It was just a… feeling I had. I saw the town and knew I could get us here.”

A wave of shouting people emerged from the darkness and ran toward them.

“Now what?” Danny asked. Before he could make sense of it, a quick, searing pain shot up his arm, from his fingertips to his shoulder. He stumbled and nearly fell before recovering.

The crowd of people grew larger, passing them by and gathering behind them, crying out the names of those still lost in the gloom.

“We need to get out of here,” Danny said, his voice was wracked with pain. “Just don’t grab my hand again, okay? I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

Eric nodded, still not sure how he’d brought them home, but scared to death of his hidden ability. “Where do we go?”

“To your fucking graves,” a broken voice shouted.

Brent’s mangled body approached from the crescent of dim firelight, walking on legs that had rotted to the bone. The crowd hiding behind them erupted into a chorus of prayer. Danny blocked out the noise and gawped at what was left of his friend. Wasps buzzed around him like a wall of electricity.

“Oh. My. God.” Eric whispered. “Brent? Is that you?”

“What’s it done to you?” Danny cried.

“Sorry, the old Brent is gone, this is the new and improved version,” he cackled. “I’m the Brent who never needs to worry about bullies, or girls, or school ever again. This Brent is going to become a god!” As he spoke, chunks of rotten flesh slid from his face, revealing the bloody bone beneath.

Something exploded a few blocks away in a wave of light and heat. Eric cringed but didn’t waver.

“Why would you do this?” Danny asked, his voice choked with emotion. He rubbed his arm as it throbbed and burned. “I’m your best friend. I would never hurt you, Brent.”

“You couldn’t offer me what the master has offered. I can live forever, free from pain, free from sorrow, free from this body that’s caused me nothing but grief for the past sixteen years of my miserable life. I will be eternal and I will be feared.”

“This isn’t who you are. You’re funny and kind and have the biggest heart of anyone I know.”

“That Brent is dead. He got shit on for everything he did, for how he looked and how he talked. He watched his best friend slowly slipping away. Always getting the pretty girl and living happily after ever. Danny wins again.”

“Is that what you think? That I always get what I want? You have friends who care about you, who’d do anything for you. The only thing I want is for you realize that.”

Brent looked down at his body and his hard exterior began cracking. He frowned and rubbed his hands over his ruined flesh. “No one will ever love me now. Look at me. For fuck’s sake, just look at me.”

“Everything can go back to the way it was,” Danny said. “Long nights on your back porch talking about our favorite bands and what we want to be when we grow up. Sharing jokes only we understand. The way we felt when we were together and how we always stood up for each other when things got tough. We can do that again.”

“How?” Brent asked. “Too much has happened and the monster… the master… is coming to take it all away.”

“We can stop it, Brent. We can fight together, just like we always have.”

“Like we always have,” Brent muttered. The buzzing wasps changed pitch as the cloud thinned.

“Yes, you and me and Eric. Friends until the end, remember?”

“Friends until the end.”

“Fight it,” Danny shouted. “You can do it, Brent. Don’t let it control you anymore. I don’t want to stay here without you by my side.”

Brent’s lips curled in a frown. “Don’t worry, Danny. We’ll meet again.” He opened his arms and the cloud of wasps swarmed forward. “Right now, I have everything I need.”

The wasps surged over them and began attacking the crowd. Eric reached out for Danny’s hand. It was hot to the touch.

“Be careful,” Danny warned. “We have to stay and fight. Do not take us away from here, not now.”

“I don’t even know how,” Eric said.

“Just keep your mind blank.”

The crowd scattered, tripping over each other and being trodden down by their neighbors. Eric couldn’t stand it anymore. He closed his eyes and blocked it out. Only Danny’s hand and the ground beneath his feet felt real.

Danny turned and pulled Eric with him as they ran the opposite direction. Brent laughed. “The wasps are the least of your worries. Run while you still can.”

Panic surrounded them. When they ran to the town limits, it’d grown so dark, they couldn’t see the road two feet ahead of them. The stretch of highway led off into an unknown world beyond.

Brent followed them slowly as his army killed everything in its path. The gloom hugged him tightly. He laughed until his larynx ruptured, spitting blood between cracked lips. Behind him, the world exploded. He turned to witness the birth of the Shadowking.

Only it wasn’t his master. The luminescent white cloud raced up the street toward him. His smile faltered. Brent knew at once he’d been beaten.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” the Guardian said. “I’ll look over your friends, but your part in this story is over.”

Brent’s voice whined inside the Guardian’s head. Why would you take this away from me? I was promised I would live forever.

The swarm returned to him, surrounding him, instinctively trying to protect him. As soon they touched the white, swirling mist, they dropped to the ground and exploded like cheap firecrackers. Within seconds they were gone. Brent stood alone.

“Your master lied.”

The white cloud drew closer. Brent’s face twisted in a rictus of pain as the cloud tore him apart, flinging pieces aside like discarded trash, stripping the rest of the flesh from his bones in a cyclonic whirlwind. In a matter of seconds, Brent’s body was reduced to a steaming lump of bloody meat. The ground where he’d stood was scorched and blasted.

The Guardian dissipated. He’d done what he could. He was weakened and powerless to help any further. The Skryel would now have to face Danny and Eric alone. It was the chance they needed. With his remaining energy, the Guardian sent out a powerful message to Danny, hoping he’d hear it, and praying the boy was strong enough to do what needed to be done.

The white cloud vanished. The Guardian, known to his young friends as Ben, was gone.

***

The voice in Danny’s head was so loud that he stumbled and fell down the embankment running next to the highway. Eric’s hand was torn away as Danny tumbled down the hill, coming to rest in a pile of dead leaves. He couldn’t see anything. Small creatures cackled and squealed in the forest beyond.

You can defeat it, Danny, the voice had said. Dig deep, harness your gift, and fight. I will find you.

Danny tried reaching out to him but there was no answer. Ben was gone.

First Brent, then Eric, and finally Ben. He feared the worst for Sam. All he could hope was that she was safe. His heart ached for everything he’d lost. He tried calling out to her, but only received static. Either his gift was gone, or there was no one left to hear it.

Danny sat and listened as the things in the forest crept up on him. He was running out of time.

Chapter 16

Danny heard the soft babble of water on his right and knew exactly where he was.

He and his friends had spent many afternoons here. The stream came out of the hills a mile from town and ran alongside the highway, disappearing into thick brush and going underground. Before it did, it passed within a few yards of the abandoned Shulman Mine tunnel. Danny was sure if he followed the stream it would lead him directly to the mine. A place to rest, to hide, to plan his next move.

I’ve done this before, he thought. He’d seen in it his first vision. It rushed back at once, forcing him to question if it was happening at all.

Danny stumbled through brambles and high weeds for five minutes before reaching the rusted steel gate at the tunnel’s entrance. He flipped the latch, walked inside, and closed the gate behind.

At that moment, the Skryel pierced the veil with a deafening roar. The portal inside the Rimmel factory split open as the beast stepped into the ruins. The building exploded and collapsed, sinking beneath the earth and stone. Danny felt the vibration beneath his feet, and an even more disconcerting pulse that felt like the beating of some diseased, subterranean heart. It thumped rhythmically beneath the surface of the factory, echoing down tunnels hidden beneath the skin of reality.

It’s not only in Elmview, but part of it…

Danny backed away from the entrance. He felt the Skryel searching for him. Deep in the tunnel, he heard rocks crashing together as parts of the ceiling collapsed. His only way out was the way he’d come.

He pulled Ben’s gun from his waistband and held it in his hand. The cold steel felt reassuring. He couldn’t kill the monster with it, but that wasn’t why he was carrying it.

The .44, the same one Eric’s father had used to end his battle, was meant for Danny.

He put the gun to his temple and closed his eyes. He didn’t have the answers, no magic powers, only one way out of this mess before the creature could find him and use him. He heard the Skryel’s path of destruction along Broad Street. Crowds of frightened voices rose into the night only to be silenced.

He applied pressure to the trigger and waited.

Pain exploded in Danny’s arm. He dropped the Magnum and heard it clatter away in the dark. He searched frantically, trying to retrieve his weapon, but it was nowhere to be found. The tunnel shook, covering him in dirt and small stones. A portion of the ceiling collapsed, much closer this time, sending Danny reeling toward the entrance. His arm felt like it was on fire.

He stumbled toward the mouth of the tunnel, following the smell of Elmview’s fiery death. He reached the gate and cautiously walked outside, instantly struck by the stench of burning flesh. He covered his nose and climbed the hill back to the highway.

“Danny? Is that you?”

“Eric?” He’d never been so happy to hear his friend’s voice.

Danny jogged the rest of the way and found Eric crouching in a patch of tall grass. He grabbed him and hugged him fiercely, feeling Eric trembling in his arms. They began walking, saying nothing, glad to have one another in the crushing blackness. Eric stopped suddenly when he realized they were walking back toward town.

“No, Danny, I can’t do it. Please don’t make me.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“There are things out here, Danny. Things in the dark. I heard them whispering to me.”

“I know, Eric, but we have to end this.”

“You mean we have to die.”

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.”

Eric resigned himself to his fate and walked at Danny’s side. The last beacon of hope crumbled inside him and fell into the sea.

When they reached town, they saw the streets were deserted. If anyone was left, they’d gone into hiding. Their feet crunched on the ground as they stepped over a blanket of dead wasps. Danny stopped briefly and stared at the ground where Brent’s remains glistened wetly in the firelight.

There was no sign of the Skryel.

They walked down Broad Street in silence as Eric began crying quietly. He stopped long enough to talk to himself in hushed tones. When he started crying again, it sounded like laughter. Danny felt him slipping away. Whatever remained of Eric’s sanity was lost somewhere along the highway amid the shadows and whispering voices.

The monster burst from the front of the barber shop a block away and stood in the center of the street. It watched them approach with a grin, feeling one step closer to its greatest achievement.

Danny walked toward it as a strange calm came over him.

“No, no, no,” Eric stammered. “Make it go away, Danny. Please, make it go away.”

The Skryel reached out a giant black arm and crushed a house into a splintered heap. Another pounded a station wagon into useless scrap. A third found a man hiding behind a tree, pulled him screaming into the air, and tore him in half, raining blood into the street.

Eric whimpered and clapped his hands over his eyes.

“I’m not scared of you,” Danny shouted. “You won’t hurt me.”

“But you are scared,” it growled, “and you should be. Everything hangs in the balance.”

It reached out one of its growing number of tentacles and swatted the steeple from the roof of the Salem United Church. The tower exploded in a flurry of splintered wood. The bell landed in the street with a discordant thump and bounced through the front window of a doctor’s office.

The closer the Skryel came, the more Danny’s arm throbbed. He knew it had done something to him but was powerless to stop it.

The hidden heartbeat continued pumping beneath his feet.

“I can give you anything you’ve ever wanted,” it said. “You can be eternal. Leave this world behind for one even more beautiful.”

“Like you promised Brent, you son of a bitch? Where did that get him?”

“Brent was weak. He hated you for being stronger than him, hated you for falling in love with Samantha and having something he could not.”

“Because of you. You turned him against us. You made him hate.”

“We’re wasting time,” it growled. It picked up a van and tossed it down the street like a child’s toy. The Skryel had grown; its head was even with the surrounding rooftops, its body spanning most of the width of the two-lane blacktop. Eric looked into its mirror-eyes in horror.

Danny grabbed Eric by the shoulders and forced him to pay attention. “You need to stay here, okay? You’ll be safer out of the way.” He backed him into a small alcove between two houses and waited for him to comprehend.

Eric nodded. “Yes, Danny, just make it stop.”

“Don’t worry about the lonesome Traveler, let him die like his father.”

“Fuck you,” Danny spit. “You’ve taken everything from me. You can’t have Eric, and you can’t have my home.”

“Your home? This was mine until humans came along and forced me out. I don’t want it back, it stinks of human shit. I just want it gone.”

It swept another of its many black arms and leveled the pool room. The propane tank exploded, covering the Skryel in a wall of flame. The monster continued toward them.

Danny was so focused on the Skryel he didn’t notice the group of people that once again filed in behind him. Small groups became larger ones as he watched them emerge from their dark hiding places. They watched him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Thirty yards behind them, the street collapsed into the sewer, cutting off any means of escape. The Skryel laughed and hurled a bicycle into the crowd, hitting a woman in the face and tearing her scalp wide open. She fell to the street in a spray of blood.

“I’ll kill them all, one by one. Is that what you want?” it asked. “When I’m done with them, I’ll move on to your parents. When everyone around you is nothing more than rotting meat, I’ll bring your beloved Samantha and turn her inside-out.”

“Leave them alone,” Danny cried. “This isn’t their fight.”

Above them, in the swirling clouds, Danny heard the skinned vultures circling, waiting to pick over the corpses in the street. One swooped down and grabbed an old woman by the head, pulling her up and away into nothingness.

“Where is Samantha, I wonder? Did she finally realize how crazy you are? Wanted to just wait this one out?”

Danny’s squinted in pain as his arm throbbed more steadily and began to go numb. He staggered.

“Maybe she’s still sore from all the things Brent raped her with. Did you ever meet a woman who could take a solid foot of broomstick up her ass? I’d say she was meant for a career in the adult film industry.”

A sea of rats poured from the sewer and engulfed the crowd, biting and scratching and clawing. Eric kicked one away with a screech.

“Maybe she’s already dead. Where has she been all day? Don’t you want to know? Don’t you care?”

“Stop it,” Danny whined. “Please, stop…”

Another house toppled to the street in a jumble of brick. Cockroaches poured from the ruins and scuttled along the gutter.

Danny wished he still had the Magnum. Maybe he couldn’t kill the monster, but even if he could extinguish the glow of those mirrored eyes, he’d die satisfied. The Skryel laughed at Danny’s thoughts as thick viscous fluid dribbled from its mouth and steamed on the ground below.

“Help us,” a woman pleaded. “Please, son, help us.”

“What do you want from me?” Danny shouted.

Eric crept from his hiding place and joined them, holding his grasping hands in front of him like a drowning man.

The monster opened its poisonous maw and spit a large gob of yellow, sticky snot into the crowd. The glob of mucus hit a man in the face and began sizzling. He fell to the ground screaming as the slime ate into his flesh and melted the skin from his skull. A minute later, the man’s head was little more than a bubbling bowl of soup.

The crowd parted.

Danny backed away. His resolve was crumbling. How could he fight this? Was it worth it? Everyone he loved was dead or dying or going insane. What would be left for him when this was all over?

“See, now you’re beginning to understand. Just come with me and this will all end. There’s no sense trying to save a race that willingly kills itself. With or without my help, Earth will never be able to sustain your numbers. The planet is dying.”

Danny backed away until he was one with the crowd. They reached out to him, clutching his clothing and hair in their sweaty hands. Their fingers brushed his skin reverently. The pain in his arm was excruciating. The Skryel sensed the moment of weakness and charged. It was close enough for Danny to touch.

What the hell? he thought. He saw a strange, white light reflected in the monster’s eyes.

He looked down and realized why the crowd had formed around him, why they clung to him, why they begged for his help.

Danny’s arm was alive with white fire.

He held it in front of him and the light brightened. It glowed beneath his skin, silhouetting his veins and bones. Danny looked up at the aberration as it loomed overhead. Energy surged through his body like nothing he’d ever felt before.

The Skryel roared.

Danny stepped back and bumped into someone behind him. Eric. He wore a sad smile on his face. His tears were gone, and he was no longer shaking. A calm had settled over him. He grabbed Danny’s hand and screamed in pain. The white light seared Eric’s palm.

“NOOOO!” the Skryel cried. “YOU CAN’T! YOU CAN’T!”

The cloud of undulating darkness thickened and drew tighter around the creature’s body. Its arms flailed, crushing cars and digging furrows in the asphalt. Telephone poles toppled to the street as the monster fought its way through a tangle of electric wires. Long tendrils of concentrated darkness reached out in all directions and destroyed everything they touched.

Danny held his and Eric’s arms above their heads like a giant torch. The Skryel shrieked and momentarily paused. The light grew brighter, illuminating the street and all who’d gathered there, baptizing them in its pure glow. Shafts of white light extended from Danny’s fingers to each of those standing with him, drawing from their soul energy. They gave willingly of their essence, rocking side to side in a state of euphoria.

The Skryel cursed and promised death, but Danny could feel it weakening. It stopped in the center of the street, unable to come closer. The shroud of black enveloping the creature quickly burned away in a brilliant blue fire.

The pain in Danny’s arm was gone. He could feel the electricity crackling between his and Eric’s hands. Suddenly, Danny understood. He needed Eric by his side. The boy had his own power. He was Danny’s amplifier.

“This isn’t over,” the Skryel bellowed. Holes opened in the monster’s leathery skin. Blood sprayed from its body and rained on those below. One of its legs snapped off at the joint and the beast stumbled. “I will have what I want!”

“Not this time, Shadowking,” Danny replied. He pointed his and Eric’s arms forward like a giant flashlight. A sizzling beam of pure white light exited their closed fists and hit the creature in its pointed head. The lines of mirrored eyes exploded as it lurched backward.

“STOP!”

The beam of light pulsed in time with Danny’s heartbeat, counteracting the already present thrum of the monster’s own. The ground beneath the destroyed Rimmel factory split open and buried the dying remains of the Skryel’s life support system.

“No more,” it howled.

“Your kind is not welcome here,” Danny said. “You will never take what’s ours.”

“I will have it!”

The light surged one final time and died away. Behind Danny were dozens of desiccated bodies of those his energy had sucked dry. They had begged him for salvation, and in return, he gave them death.

How am I any better than my enemy?

The Skryel’s screams faded as its body slumped to the street. It writhed in a lake of its own blood, its arms reaching out and grasping at the air. It could no longer see him, but it knew the boy was close, could feel his essence burning like a star. It was too weak to speak. All it wanted was to return to the abyss and sleep.

The darkness above Elmview parted and natural light filled the sky. Gray clouds passed overhead. The warmth of the hidden sun burned away the heavy, thick air.

The Skryel’s body melted into a puddle of bubbling, black sludge that looked like tar. A light rain fell from the heavens, growing heavier by the minute. The black muck melted away, running into the gutters and carried along into the sewer where it belonged. Danny turned his head to the sky and let the rain wash over him.

“You did it,” a weak voice said.

Danny looked down and saw Eric lying motionless on the street. His body had been burned beyond recognition.

“Eric, oh my god, we have to find help.”

“No, Danny. I’m dying.”

Danny sat next to his friend and wept. “You can’t die, you can’t leave me here alone.”

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be close.” He tried reaching out to grab Danny’s hand, but his strength was gone. His body was shutting down.

“I’m so sorry, Eric. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. The world needed you, Danny, and you saved them. You saved me.”

Danny grabbed Eric’s burned hand and felt his skin crunch beneath his fingers. Eric was beyond pain.

“I love you… brother.”

Eric stilled.

Danny sat in the rain and cried until soft, warm hands picked him up and carried him away.

Somewhere inside of him, he’d found his strength, his power.

He’d saved an infinite number of people who would never know his name or what he’d done.

He defeated the Skryel and sent it screaming into the abyss…

…but at what cost?

***

The small television in the corner of the room was set to one of the local stations. Machines hummed and hissed and beeped around him. Cars passed on the street outside, dragging colored leaves behind them. Halloween was only a few days away.

“I’m going to grab something from the vending machine,” Danny’s mother said. “Do you want anything?”

“No thanks, mom. I’m okay.”

Danny sat in an uncomfortable, straight-back chair, the same one he’d occupied four days a week for the past three months.

Samantha didn’t move. Her eyes were closed and her body was connected to a dozen machines that kept her tethered to the hospital bed. Modern science was keeping her alive, but it couldn’t bring her back.

Only she could do that.

A television report caught Danny’s attention.

“The small town of Elmview, Pennsylvania has effectively closed for business. The once thriving town was rocked by a series of bizarre events last July, culminating in what officials are calling a gas explosion. Much of the downtown area has been left in ruins and local businesses have cut their losses and set up shop elsewhere. Fearing for their safety, many of Elmview’s residents didn’t wait around to find out the fate of their homes. Some didn’t even bother taking their personal belongings with them.

“The government has since stepped in, declaring a state of emergency, and evacuating those who still reside there. They say that although it will take months to complete the evacuation, they hope to have the town empty by March of next year.

“Stories and eyewitness accounts have trickled in over the last few months, ranging from alien attacks, visitations by demons, and mythical monsters. The government is blaming these stories on the effects of the apparent gas leak.

“Strange you say? That’s not the half of it. With the entire story of the Elmview evacuation, here’s our very own Jean Martin.”

Danny stood and carefully walked to the room’s only window. It felt good having the sun on his face.

“The town of Elmview, while never a bustling metropolis, was once a vital community. This past July, all that changed. A forgotten gas main beneath the town’s main street had been leaking for some time, causing the town’s residents to fall ill with a variety of startling health concerns and hallucinations. One spark and Elmview is part of the history books. The number of those killed in the blast has still not been determined.

“After the smoke had cleared, things grew even more confusing, as locals began telling tales of government conspiracy and monster sightings. You heard me correctly. Monsters!”

Danny tuned it out, he’d heard it all before. The government hung their hats on the gas leak while others seemed to remember bits and pieces of what had happened that summer. It was a great story. The tabloids paid quite well for interviews and photos of the ravaged town. Entertainment Tonight ran a special about it three nights in a row while celebrities weighed in on their thoughts and opinions. A novel and a television movie were already in the works, and some local disc jockey by the name of Dexter Maitland had turned his entire morning format into tales about local legends and things that go bump in the night.

Danny knew what had really happened, and he was prepared to take the truth to his grave. Kids who told stories about supernatural monsters sometimes earned special rooms with padded walls and jackets with extra long sleeves. Samantha was the only one he could talk to. If she was still in there, and could still hear him, she knew what’d happened too. Far too well.

The report continued. “After months of mourning and burying their dead, the remaining citizens of Elmview are moving on. Half the town’s residents have already packed up and moved away, while the others are still waiting for word on what’s to become of their property. The empty streets still bear the scars of this terrible tragedy.

“The upcoming months will see water and electric services terminated, and talks have begun to revoke the town’s postal zip code. The tedious and heart-wrenching task of removing the interred bodies in Elmview’s five cemeteries is scheduled to begin next summer. The construction of a permanent detour around the town is in the pipeline for the spring of 1988.”

On the TV screen, cameras panned over what had been left behind. Streets all but gone, buildings leveled, blackened and burned, trees and telephone poles lying in the road like kindling. Danny didn’t turn his head. There was no point looking.

Danny was completely blind.

His sight had never returned after that awful night on Broad Street. For a while, he saw blurry images, but even they eventually faded. He’d seen enough, too much for one person… for one life. He treated his blindness as a blessing more than a curse.

His home was gone, his friends were dead, and with them died his childhood and innocence. He clung to the hope that someday Samantha would open her eyes.

But Danny no longer believed in happy endings.

***

Time passed quickly once his family had left Elmview behind. Danny’s father took a job offer in Omaha, Nebraska in the hopes of starting fresh. Danny didn’t put up a fight, there was nothing left for him in Pennsylvania.

No matter where he went, he’d always see his friends’ faces etched in his memory, and see the Skryel as it took everything away piece by bloody piece. Although he could no longer see, he’d never forget. All he could do was try his best to move on.

Danny met George in 1991. George worked with his father and the two had become fast friends. He was often at the house, was always kind to Danny, and always quick with a joke or a laugh. His father was a different person in Omaha. Happy. Available. Danny enjoyed those times together.

His mother had passed away from liver cancer in 1993 and his father only two years later of a heart attack. Danny inherited everything, but couldn’t live on his own. Daily tasks like getting groceries and housekeeping were nearly impossible for him.

George stepped in and agreed to help, something he’d promised Danny’s father in the event of his death. Danny sold the cars and the house and cashed out his father’s bank accounts. When all was said and done, Danny was worth over two million dollars. Soon after, he moved into George’s apartment in the tiny town of Cedar Bluffs. He sent a monthly check to Pennsylvania to help Samantha’s stepfather with her long-term care.

Danny flew to Pennsylvania every couple months to visit Sam, but he’d made his peace with her condition. She was never going to wake up, never going to smile at him with that gleam in her eye, never going to hug him with all her strength and tell him it would be okay.

Samantha was taken off life support in 1998, on Danny’s 28th birthday. He prayed she’d finally find peace.

As he grew older, he’d often dream of his friends. He saw them vividly, laughing, innocent children on the sunniest day of their lives. Brent cracking jokes and Eric braying laughter until tears squirted from his eyes; Charlie sharing tales of the girls that got away; Samantha with her hair spilling over her shoulders, freckles dappled across her cheeks, looking at him in that special way she saved only for him.

He remembered them all the way they were.

Before The Darkening.

Epilogue

In 2001, America was attacked and the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center crumbled to the ground. Danny listened to every word on the television and George filled in the rest. It was times such as those when he was happy his vision had been taken away. The world was no longer the place it had once been.

Time slipped ahead.

In 2005, Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans, forever changing the city and its people.

Time slipped ahead.

A massive 7.0 earthquake destroyed Haiti in January 2010, killing more than 300,000.

Time slipped ahead.

A tsunami slammed the Pacific coastline of Japan’s northern islands in 2011.

Time slipped ahead.

Danny felt that every year there was another tragedy to mark time’s passing. He was glad his friends weren’t here to see it. They wouldn’t recognize the world they’d left behind.

It was now halfway through 2018, and the days seemed to get shorter all the time. The summer of 1986 was a lifetime ago.

George often joked about getting older. The hair on your head thins while the hair in your ears prospers. Your pants get a bit tighter, and your bladder a bit smaller. Danny laughed and wondered if he’d ever live long enough to find out.

“You know,” George said. “I’ve always wanted to visit the south. Maybe we should go sometime.”

“Where? Georgia? Louisiana?” Danny laughed. “What the hell are we going to do there?”

“Cajun shrimp, Mardi Gras, jazz clubs. What’s not to like?”

Danny nodded as Rusty licked his hand. “I swear, George, this old girl is going to outlive us both.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He patted Rusty’s head with a wrinkled hand. The dog looked at him and whined.

“It’s okay girl,” George soothed.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked. He heard something in George’s voice that made him uneasy.

“I think we need to talk.”

“Oh, Christ. You’re not dying on me, are you?”

“Dying?” George laughed. “No, Danny, I’m not dying.”

“Then what? Spill it.”

“Give me a second, I’ll be right back.”

When George returned, he sat in the chair across from Danny and placed a cold drink in his hand. Danny heard a lighter strike and smelled the pungent smoke of a Pall Mall cigarette.

“George, what the hell are you doing? You don’t smoke.”

“I did a long time ago. No reason not to pick up the habit again.”

“You’re crazy. You don’t pick up smoking at your age. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

George inhaled deeply and opened his can of Dr. Pepper with a hiss.

“You want me to open yours?” George took the can from Danny’s hand, opened it, and set it on the table.

“Are you going to give it back or do I have to search for it?” Danny laughed nervously.

A searing pain crossed Danny’s face and burrowed into this brain as Rusty barked harshly and spun in circles on the carpet.

“George? Jesus… what the hell?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’ll see? Are you trying to be funny? My head is killing me.”

As the seconds passed, he came to the shocking realization of what George meant.

Not you’ll see, but you will see.

It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.

Bright light pierced the fog in Danny’s brain as he saw his surroundings for the first time in over thirty years.

“George? What’s happening?”

He stared at the man he’d known for nearly three decades, letting it sink in that colors and shapes were a real thing. They still existed outside of his perpetual darkness.

“We soon have to take a trip, Danny. You, me, and Rusty. There’s something we have to do.”

“I don’t understand,” Danny cried. The multi-colored prisms from his tears were too beautiful to bear.

“There’s a place outside an abandoned town in Pennsylvania… an old house where it has buried its roots deep beneath the earth.”

“George? What are you saying? Elmview? Buried its roots?”

“Yes, Danny. Elmview. You knew the time would come.”

“What are you talking about? You can’t possibly know… there’s no way…”

Danny met George’s eyes for the first time and felt the room spin.

The face had changed, but his eyes were exactly the same.

“How? How is this possible?”

“Drink your soda and we’ll talk about it.”

“Ben?” Danny shouted. “Is it really you?”

“Different formula, same great taste.”

It was Ben. He’d changed his body all those years ago, hiding in plain sight, but staying close to keep Danny safe. The Skryel had been searching for him for years. His blindness had only been a tool to keep his location a secret.

Danny would have time to be pissed later… for now, he only wanted to hug his friend.

“It’s so good to you see you,” Danny cried. “It’s so good to see anything.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Danny. Please forgive me.”

“Why? Why now?”

“The Skryel has returned to Elmview.”

Danny’s stomach churned, and he felt the need to vomit. He’d always known it was a possibility, but it didn’t make the news easier.

“You can’t seriously expect me to go back there! I’m not sixteen years old anymore.”

“We’ll have help, but that comes later. I have to go ahead… there are things I need to do.”

“Ben… you have to explain it… what are you doing… what am I doing?”

“Danny, calm down. I know this is sudden, and I know you probably want to hit me, but we can save that for another time.”

“Then what the hell do you want me to do?”

Ben, who’d ten minutes earlier been a man named George, bent and ruffled the hair behind Rusty’s ear. He thought carefully about his response.

“For starters,” Ben said, “drink your soda before it gets warm.”

A Few Words About 'The Darkening'(2nd Edition)

Here we are again.

In 2016, after years of wandering through the dark, I was finally able to release my first novel… the book you’re now holding in your hands. The road to the book’s release was a long one, plagued by personal tragedies and my fear of putting it out there for others to read. Then, of course, there was the very real obstacle of not having any idea how to get my manuscript ready. The story of how it all came about is out there if you’re interested, but this isn’t quite the same book I put on Amazon two years ago.

As one of my characters say near the end of the novel: ‘Different formula, same great taste.’

I never had any intention of revisiting the manuscript. With all its flaws, I wanted to leave it as-is as a testament to where my writing was at the time. I still loved the story, but once I really began looking through it, I found so many little errors and details that could use clarification, I had no choice but to go through it page by page and make it the book I wanted it to be. Parts of the narrative had been around for more than a decade and some of the writing was downright dreadful.

The curse of the perfectionist…

Although it was great fixing the grammar and spelling, there was something deeper that needed to be addressed… issues with parts of the tale I thought felt contrived or dull, or in some cases, extreme for the sake of making readers cringe. After a couple weeks of solid re-editing, I feel that I’ve corrected these issues to the best of my ability.

Rest assured, the story and characters are the same, they simply received a much-needed facelift, as did the cover for this new edition.

I feel the most noticeable changes come in how my characters speak to one another, and how they react to certain situations. Teenagers are often foul-mouthed - I certainly was, and still am - but as I went through the book, I noticed that my teenagers were of a special variety that used bad language as one might use a comma. I certainly didn’t turn my book into some PG-13 summer film, but I did tone it down the slightest bit for the sake of the story.

I mean, fuck it, right?

Several scenes that I felt weren’t necessary to the story were either removed or completely re-written. For those of you who have already read the first edition, I think you’ll notice them immediately.

A few of the minor changes include moments of foreshadowing for the continuing mythology. While I’d always had the idea of someday expanding the story into a trilogy, I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. With several of these small changes, you’ll get a glimpse of what’s coming in the next two books, and I’m excited to say that what you’ve experienced is just the beginning.

The second book, ‘The Traveler,’ will be available a short time after you read this - July 2018. I can only hope you’re as excited as I am to see where we go from here.

The Skryel is a nasty enemy, one that won’t simply sit back and watch the story unfold. The monster needs to create chaos, needs to feed, needs to kill. It’s a trickster with no regard for human life, and just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there hiding in the shadows and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Be safe on your travels. If you feel you’re being watched in a dark room, or that you’re being followed down a rain-swept alley, take my advice and move on.

Now is not the time for second-guessing. The Skryel is already here, and you, my friend, are in its way.

We all are.

Christopher Motz - June 2, 2018

About The Author

Christopher Motz was born in 1980 and lives in small-town Pennsylvania with his wife, step-daughter, small dog, and two very hungry turtles. He’s an avid music fan, collector of classic vinyl, and musician. He has appeared in several short story collections as well as having published three novels and two novellas since 2016.

You can reach Christopher on the web at:

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