The Darkest Night

by Mike Ramon

Chapter Eighteen

  Tom was deep asleep when he felt someone shaking him awake. He came out of sleep slowly, reluctantly. He opened his eyes and saw the shape of someone standing over him, but the image was blurry. He rubbed at his eyes and the image became the tiniest bit sharper. Who he saw was Katie, Harry’s young, blond assistant.

  “Mr. Dwyer, are you awake?”

  “Whuh? Yeah, I’m awake.”

  “Follow me. Harry thinks you should see this.”

  Katie had bunked up with Patricia for the night, while Harry had called dibs on the couch. Patricia had no cots, so Tom and Jack each got a spot on the living room floor. When Tom sat up he could see enough of the living room by the illumination of the flashlight that Katie held in her hand to see that both the couch and the spot on the floor that had been occupied by Jack were bare.

  “Where is everybody?” he asked.

  “Shh. Just come on.”

  Tom threw off his sheet and got first to his knees, then to his feet. He followed the young woman as the beam of her flashlight bounced with each step. She led him to the open door of Patricia’s room and walked right in. Tom hesitated at the door for a moment, reluctant to see whatever it was that he was supposed to see. Then he walked into the room.

  The whole gang was huddled together with their backs facing him. Their attention seemed to be focused on the wall a few feet in front of them, but he couldn’t understand why. In addition to Katie, Harry also had a flashlight, and the two beams played across the wall. He saw Katie lean close to Patricia and whisper in her ear, and Patricia turned to look at him. She motioned with one hand for him to come over, and as he came closer she moved aside to let him join the group. When she moved he was finally able to see what it was that demanded their attention.

  In the center of the wall there was a small black circle that was about eight inches in diameter. It looked like a puddle of spilled ink that had somehow adhered to the wall. Tom looked closer, and he could see that the dark circle appeared to be swirling around in a clockwise motion, and seemed to pulse like some alien heartbeat.

  “What the hell is that?” Tom asked nobody in particular.

  “I noticed it first,” Patricia whispered. “I was lying in bed half asleep when all of a sudden I get this weird feeling like there’s someone in the room watching us. I sat up in bed and looked around, and at first I didn’t notice anything, but then, just barely, I was able to make out this…thing. I was afraid to turn on a light, so I woke Katie up and she got her flashlight. When she saw it she woke up Harry and Jack so they could take a look at it. I was the one who asked her to wake you up, too.”

  “Like I said, what the hell is it?”

  “Who knows?” Harry said. “I’ve never seen something like this before. See the way it pulsates?”

  “Yeah,” Tom said. “I noticed that. I have to say that it’s not very comforting to hear the so-called ‘expert’ say that he has no idea what’s going on.”

  “Oh, I know what’s going on,” Harry protested. “They are putting on another show for our benefit. Another warning to back off.”

  “Well, I have to say that I prefer whatever this is to what happened to us last week,” Patricia said.

  “Yeah,” Harry said. “I think we’ve got it right--they have to expend a lot of energy to pull these stunts off so far from the Home, and I don’t think they have the energy left to repeat what they did to you three a week ago.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” Tom said.

  “What is it doing?” Jack asked. “Is it just going to keep swirling like that on a fixed point on the wall?”

  “Fuck if I know.” Harry said truthfully.

  “This is kind of creeping me out,” Katie said.

  “Me, too,” Patricia said.

  “Me, three,” Tom joined in.

  Neither Harry nor Jack said anything, but Tom could see that the younger man was indeed nervous. Harry looked cautiously curious, but not overly concerned. Tom didn’t know whether the man’s calm demeanor could be put down to foolishness or bravery.

  The swirling black circle began to rotate faster, and the beat of its pulse started speeding up. The surface was smooth and reflective, and Tom could see a reflection of the midsections of the group that had gathered around it.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Jack said.

  “Hush,” Harry commanded. “Everything is all right.”

  The circle started growing larger. It grew to twice its original size, and then continued to grow even more. Now Tom could see a reflection of everybody in the group from the knees to the tops of their heads.

  “No, I’ve really got a bad feeling about this,” Jack said.

  The assistant started to move away from the wall, but stayed facing it, as if he were too frightened to turn his back on it. Tom thought the guy had the right idea; he grabbed Patricia’s arm gently and whispered to her:

  “Let’s get out of this room.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him; she was transfixed by the swirling black ink spill on the wall, smooth enough so that it looked like a black mirror, something you would find in a creepy carnival funhouse. He gave her arm a little tug.

  “Patricia, I think we should get out of here. Come on.”

  “It’s strange, isn’t it?” she said, her words slurred a bit, like she wasn’t drunk but was starting to get buzzed. “It’s like…”

  She didn’t finish the sentence, and Tom was frightened. It was like that dark spot on the wall had lulled her into a trance. He looked at the others; Harry and Katie both had that tranced-out look in their eyes as they watched the dark spot expand.

  “Shit,” Tom muttered under his breath.

  He pulled hard on Patricia’s arm, moving her toward the door, but it was like dragging around deadweight, and he was having trouble getting her to come along. Jack had already reached the doorway, and he finally turned and disappeared down the hall.

  “Patricia, come on, damn it!”

  Tom’s first priority was to get her away from the room, and then he would come back and see what he could do for Katie and Harry. He gave Patricia’s arm another hard tug; his grip was tight enough that he had little doubt it would leave a bruise on her bicep. It would be a small price to pay to get her away from that thing.

  That was when the ink-black, glassy surface of the thing on the wall burst forth like a paint bomb, spewing forth a viscous black fluid. Harry and Katie caught it full in the face; Tom, reacting without any coherent thought, lifted the arm not holding on to Patricia to try and pull her free of the blast zone. Everything happened too fast, however, and Tom was slapped on the right side of his face with the thick, gooey substance. Some of it also got on his arms, bare thanks to the short-sleeved undershirt he had gone to bed in. Some of the liquid splashed onto Patricia’s t-shirt; most of that would have caught her full in the face had been blocked by Tom’s bare arm, with only a small splash painting a small spot on her left cheek.

  Patricia, Harry and Katie had broken free of their frozen state. Patricia looked around the room with a confused look on her face. Harry was busy spitting out some of the black liquid that had gotten into his mouth. Katie was sobbing quietly.

  “What the fuck just happened?” she asked.

  Tom let go of Patricia and tried to wipe the fluid from his face. It was a thick, tar-like substance, and wiping it with his hands seemed to just make it spread more. At first the liquid had felt cool on his skin, but it started to warm up. Then it started to feel downright hot. Then it was searing hot, and he heard Katie begin to scream; evidently, she was feeling the same thing. Harry began moaning in pain, wiping at his face and continuing to spit. Patricia grunted with a flash of pain as she wiped at the spot on her cheek where the black fluid had landed.

  Tom looked toward the doorway and found Jack peeking in warily, like a scared young boy peeking out of some bushes to see if the bullies were still waiting around for him.

  “Get out of the way!” Tom yell
ed as he grabbed Patricia’s arm once more and pulled her along toward the bedroom door.

  Jack did get out of the way, but whether he did it because Tom told him to, or of he just didn’t want to get near any of them and whatever the black stuff was that had splashed all over them, Tom didn’t know. Patricia pulled her arm free of Tom’s grasp.

  “Oh God, it burns like hell!” she said.

  “We have to wash it off,” he said, thinking that she had made an understatement; it burned worse than hell, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

  Patricia followed him to the bathroom. Tom hit the light switch, and the bathroom filled with the cold blue-white light of the fluorescent bar over the sink. Tom pulled the shower curtain hard enough to tear it free of three rungs, pushing it aside. He got into the tub and turned on the faucet, then pulled the knob to divert the water from the faucet up to the showerhead. He kept the water cold, letting it splash over his face and arms, rubbing at the hot black substance.

  Patricia turned on the sink and leaned down into it, splashing water on her cheek. She grabbed a towel off the rack and wiped her face with it. Only a tiny splash of the stuff had made contact with her skin, and when she took a look at herself in the mirror she saw that she had managed to get it all off; all that remained was a raw, red welt on her left cheek. She noticed for the first time the black liquid coating the front of her shirt, and she screamed as she pulled the shirt off and threw it into a corner.

  As Harry and Katie came rushing into the bathroom she covered herself with her arms, then remembered that she still had a bra on, and she out her arms down, feeling silly. Harry and Katie were both stripping out of their spattered nightclothes.

  “I’m coming in there!” Harry bellowed as he clambered into the tub with Tom.

  Katie got in with the both of them. The tub wasn’t terribly large, and it was a tight squeeze. Having gotten most of the stuff off of himself, Tom stepped out of the tub, dripping onto the linoleum.

  “I need a towel,” he said.

  Patricia turned, meaning to run out to the hall closet to get some clean towels, but she stropped when she found Jack standing in the doorway with an armful of towels, having thought ahead.

  “Thanks,” she said as he handed her a towel, which she in turn gave to Tom.

  Tom wiped at his face and his right arm. Patricia could see red welts like the one on her cheek on the spots where he had been splashed by the dark fluid. She checked his shirt to see if it had any of that stuff on it, but it looked clean.

  Harry and Katie took turns under the spray from the showerhead, and water splashed out onto the bathroom floor and the side of the toilet. Harry kept opening his mouth to let water fill it up, after which he would swish it around his mouth before spiting it out into the tub.

  After a couple more minutes of this they were both clean, and Harry shut off the water. In the relative quiet that followed Patricia realized that the sink tap was still running, and she shut that off. Jack handed the still-wet pair some towels, and they dried off before stepping out of the tub. Harry had on a pair of boxers which sagged under his shaggy gut, and Katie had on underwear and a gray undershirt.

  Tom, Patricia, Katie and Harry stood inside the bathroom, the floor completely wet, and Jack stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

  Jack was the only member of the group who didn’t have welts on his face or arms. He looked over at Harry, who still winced at the leftover burning sensation in his mouth.

  “Everything’s all right, huh?” Jack said.

  “Shut your trap,” Harry said. “Nobody likes a smartass.”

  Jack smiled at the reproach, and seeing that smile somehow reassured Patricia. Whatever dark force lived inside that damn abandoned orphanage had taken one last shot at them to ward them off, but they were alive, basically okay, and at least one of their little tribe was able to smile.

  “Oh shit,” Tom said, drawing her attention to him.

  “What?” she asked, concerned at the worried look on his face.

  “What if something happened to Frankie while this was going on here?” he asked.

  Tom bolted past Jack, running out of the bathroom, down the short hall and out into the living room (which had been his bedroom for the night, though he didn’t think he would be getting any more sleep) and searching for his cellphone. He found it on the end table near the couch. He picked it up and fumbled with the buttons for a moment, then stopped himself, took in a couple deep breaths, and tried again. This time he managed to successfully dial Frankie’s number. The phone rang five times, and Tom thought it was going to go to a message when Frankie finally answered.

  “What do you want?” Frankie asked sleepily.

  “Frankie, are you all right?”

  “Yeah; why? I was sleeping, for chrissakes.”

  “There’s nothing…strange going on there?”

  Frankie took a moment to answer.

  “No. Why? Did something happen over there?”

  “Yeah,” Tom said. “I’ll tell you about it some other time, though. I’m sorry for waking you up. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

  “Well, I am,” Frankie said, sounding just the slightest bit irritated.

  “All right. Go back to bed. And…just go back to bed.”

  “See ya.”

  Frankie ended the call, and Tom put his phone down on the table again.

  “Is he okay?” Patricia asked, having followed him out to the living room.

  “Yeah, he’s fine. I don’t think he appreciated being woken up in the middle of the night, though.”

  He looked down at her.

  “So,” he said, “are you going to put on a shirt, or are you going to put on a show for us all night long?”

  She rolled her eyes and gave him a punch in the arm, then went back to her bedroom to find a clean shirt.