The Darkness Rising

by David Stuart Davies

  ‘Leave him,’ the creature snarled, the Kylie White face contorted in fury. ‘Leave my son alone.’

  David turned to face the Michael thing, and once more its fiery red eyes fixed him with their penetrating gaze and held him. It was as though he were paralysed; he could not move a muscle.

  ‘Kate will not die,’ it said in a deep guttural croak. ‘I have not come back in order to let my darling Kate die. I need your body for my own.’

  David struggled to move, but those fierce eyes dominated him. They glowed like burning coals; he could feel their power penetrating his mind.

  ‘Think of the bitter poetic justice, Cole, when I make love to Kate with your body.’

  ***

  All was quiet in the ward. Nurse Gillis was just about to go and make herself a hot drink when there was a scream. It seemed to ricochet against the walls and fill the whole ward with noise. At first she couldn't place the scream—actually now, she realised, it was more of a cry.

  Then she knew where it came from.

  She ran into Kate's room to find her sitting bolt upright in bed. She was calling someone's name at the top of her voice. Was it Jim? No, Tim. That was it, Tim.

  ***

  ‘Think of the bitter irony,’ the creature was saying, ‘when I make love to Kate with your body.’

  Without warning Tim leapt from the bed and flung himself straight at Kylie. The creature, caught completely by surprise, was knocked sideways by the ferocity of the boy's attack. Tim's fingers were scratching and gouging at Kylie’s face and she lost her balance altogether and crashed to the ground with the boy sitting astride her.

  David took one step forward to assist, but Tim called out to him.

  ‘No, David. Go. Run. Get out of here or he'll kill you.’

  David faltered. The words were true and he knew it. This Michael creature would surely not harm his own son, but he had no such immunity. His death was not only a necessity but it would give Michael pleasure. This was his chance to escape: he could not miss it.

  Sidestepping the fallen girl who was still struggling with the frenzied boy, he grasped the door handle, flung the door open and fled the room.

  Seeing David escape, Kylie White emitted a ferocious roar of fury and with strength not natural for the frail female body, she rose from her prone position and lifted Tim above her head. Without hesitation, she flung him across the room. With a whistling intake of breath, the boy crashed against the wall above his bed. There was a sharp snap and twist of the neck, as he fell, landing awkwardly on the floor.

  The sudden stillness of his body shocked the Michael creature and its boiling fury died instantly. Her long, thin nervous fingers reached out and touched the face of the inert figure. She ran them gently down Tim's cheek and slowly on to his neck. There was no doubt about it: it was broken.

  Pain and anguish ripped through its very being and the Kylie White body crumpled to the floor with an unearthly wail.

  ***

  David stumbled out into the icy night air. How his feet carried him down the stairs and through the hotel foyer, he did not know; he was just glad to be out of the place and breathing good fresh air. As he hurried into the street, his feet slipped on the wet surface and he fell to the ground, his hands scraping along the cold, slimy pavement. The sudden shock and pain helped to clear his muddled mind a little. He knew that whatever that thing was back there in the hotel room, it was evil and he had to get away from it. For the moment, little else mattered.

  However, as he pulled himself to his feet, his head began to throb, filling with strange sounds. They filtered in at first, insidious and faint, but then they grew in volume, until the noise became painful. Wincing with the increasing racket in his head, he tried to carry on walking, but the thunderous throb played havoc with his co-ordination. Like a man learning to walk with artificial limbs, he thrust one leg forward. The knee gave way and he staggered forward almost colliding with an elderly couple who were passing by. They quickly dodged out of his way, staring disapprovingly at him. The man said something but David could only make out the word 'drunk'.

  He didn't care. He could hardly think: his head roared with the noise. It was like the booming of drums. The heavy beat thundered in his brain.

  Thundered.

  Thundered.

  THUNDERED.

  He dragged himself unsteadily towards his car, the noise drawing all the energy from him so that he could hardly lift one foot after another. Each step required all his concentration and effort. He fought desperately to maintain his equilibrium, but incredibly, the drumming grew louder, drowning his reason in a flood of noise. Each step took a lifetime and when eventually he reached the car, he did not fully comprehend what he was doing. It was only reflex action which caused him to pull the car keys from his coat. He looked down at them, shining dimly in his hand. He fumbled with them, his fingers testing the silver shapes until he found the one he wanted. With infinite slowness, his mind fighting against the power of the noise, he inserted it into the lock, turned it and heard the satisfying clunk as the central locking system released itself. Still functioning on some inbuilt automatic pilot, his trembling hands grasped the door handle. It was slimy and cold to the touch. With a feverish effort he pulled the car door open and fell onto the driver's seat.

  ***

  ‘Well?’ said the sister, softly, her brows inquisitively.

  The doctor shook his head, his eyes remaining impassive. ‘There's nothing we can do now.’

  Poor woman, thought the sister. Poor woman.

  ***

  The thunder continued.

  David was now ready to surrender to it completely.

  And then... through the misted haze of the windscreen he saw the figure of Kylie White emerge from the hotel. The cold hand of fear grasped him so tightly that it shocked him into action. He had never been so frightened in his life.

  He pulled himself up in the driver's seat and began fumbling with his car keys again in a desperate search for the ignition key.

  God, I must get away, his mind screamed over the cacophony in his brain. I must get away from that thing. I must. He found the key: the shiny sliver of metal that would help him escape. The drums thundered on. At any moment his head would burst open.

  Like a drunken man, he aimed the key at the ignition switch. It wouldn't go in. The key was now enormous—far too big for the slot he was trying to slip it into.

  He looked up in panic and saw Kylie White gazing into the street. Her eyes flashed with demonic intensity. She glanced in his direction. God, she had seen him.

  His hand gripped the key so tightly that it pierced his skin.

  ‘Get in, you bastard!’ he cried, once more trying to push it into the ignition.

  A fierce smile brushed Kylie's lips as she moved down the hotel steps towards the car.

  The key skidded past the slot again.

  ‘Damn you,’ he yelled.

  He tried once more, the tip of the key wavered over the aperture and quickly he rammed it home.

  ‘Thank God.’ Swiftly he turned the ignition. The engine, cold and damp as it was, protested noisily at this rough attempt to start it.

  Kylie White was moving slowly with deliberation towards the car.

  David tried again. This time the engine turned and then reluctantly spluttered into life. In mad triumph David yelled a cry of delight, almost drowning the noise in his head.

  Kylie was nearly at the car now, her face appearing hideous, illuminated by the headlights and distorted by the condensation on the windows.

  David whipped the handbrake off and put his foot down. The engine roared lustily and then died in a choking splutter. Like a demented man, his mouth working noiselessly, fingers working in spasms, David turned the ignition key again.

  Kylie now had her hand on the door.

  The engine hummed.

  He jammed his foot down on the accelerator.

  Kylie pulled the passenger door open.

  Tyres squea
led and the car leapt forward, wrenching the door from her grasp.

  With a furious passion, David drove away at high speed, the car rocking wildly, the door still swinging open.

  Through the mirror he could see the lone static figure of Kylie White staring after him. She rapidly grew smaller until she disappeared into the distance.

  After driving for about a mile, he felt it safe enough to stop and close the open door. This done, he drove on, he knew not where just as long as it was away from that creature. The further he drove the quieter the drums sounded in his head until after a few miles or so, the noise faded away completely. It was then that he pulled over to the grass verge, his body drenched in sweat and his hands still shaking with fear. He slumped over the wheel exhausted in mind and body.

  Unconsciousness, like a pleasing wine seeped into his body and he fell into the arms of a deep and merciful sleep.

  ***

  Some thirty minutes later a taxi drew up outside St. Luke's hospital and a slim blonde in a thin raincoat got out. After paying the driver she hurried inside to the enquiry desk.

  ‘It's my sister, Kate Barlow. She's in Intensive Care, I believe. I've only just heard about it: I've been out of the country for a while.’ The words were spilled out in an emotional flood. It was a convincing performance.

  ‘Just a moment, love.’ The night porter put down his paperback and wandered off into a back room.

  Kylie White turned away and leaned with her back against the counter. Her face was devoid of expression, but inside the shell of this girl, the Michael-creature was coiled and tense.

  ‘Yes. She's in Intensive Care, love.’ The porter had returned. ‘Apparently she's been moved into a private side ward.’

  ‘Oh. Is that good or bad?’

  The porter looked at her, his tired face forming a non-committal smile, ‘Difficult to say, love. It usually means they're on the mend.’ He leaned over the counter and pointed. ‘You go down this corridor to the end; then turn right and you'll see the lift. That'll take you up to Intensive.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Kylie White hurried away down the corridor.

  The porter returned to the paperback, mumbling to himself. ‘It usually means they're on the mend—or there’s nothing more they can do for 'em.’

  ***

  David awoke.

  He was conscious of the cold and the dark. As he focused his eyes on the blackness before him, the glare of the brilliant yellow light filled his line of vision and then in an instant was gone.

  And then there came another.

  And another.

  Headlights.

  Slowly his mind cleared and his memory began to function. Fragments from the past few days and mental snapshots gradually fell into place and he remembered. He remembered everything and shuddered.

  For him, in the last twenty-four hours the world had gone mad. Nothing seemed real any more. Somehow he had been spirited away into another reality—a world where dead men walked, inhabiting the bodies of the living.

  David put his head in his hands and emitted a long low grieving moan. What was he to do? Dear God, what was he to do? Suddenly, the answer came to him: clear and obvious. He had to get to Kate before Michael did. The thought came with such searing clarity that without further hesitation, he started up the car. He must get to Kate before Michael. He didn’t know why; he just knew that he had to.

  ***

  ‘There's no record of Mrs Barlow having a sister.’

  Kylie White did not reply at first. She just stared defiantly at the nurse. And then she said with quiet deliberation: ‘I would hardly be here at this time of night to visit a stranger. May I see my sister now?’ Her face remained an expressionless mask.

  Nurse Gillis felt intimidated but poor Kate Barlow was dying and she could hardly deny access to this woman who ever she may be. She nodded to the woman and said: ‘Come this way, please. We've moved her into a side ward for more privacy.’

  As the nurse turned, she felt a restraining hand on her arm.

  ‘Tell me,’ said the woman, ‘Is she dying? The truth, please.’

  The nurse hesitated a moment before attempting a reply, but the expression on her face answered the query more eloquently than words.

  Kylie White gave a guttural croak and seemed to stagger back against the wall.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked the nurse but the woman did not reply. She just leant against the wall for some moments, her eyes glazed and vacant as though she were in some kind of trance. And then quite abruptly she seemed to snap out of it and pull herself together.

  ‘Please take me to my sister.’

  Nurse Gillis led her to Kate. In the dimly lit room, she was lying on her back with her arms placed by her side outside the smoothed down white covers. The pale sunken face, framed by dark hair was just visible over the crisp sheet, tucked neatly under her chin. The features were at rest: the eyes were closed.

  ‘Leave me,’ said Kylie White. The words though spoken softly were imperious and harsh.

  The nurse left.

  Kylie White knelt down by the bed, her face close to Kate's.

  ‘Kate. Wake up. It's me. Michael. I said I would come back, didn’t I? Well, here I am.’ The words were a whisper—a dark penetrating whisper in masculine tones. Pulling back the cover, the creature took Kate's hand and squeezed it. ‘Kate, don't give in now. Don't desert me at the last. It's Michael, I've come back for you.’ Kylie White felt the pulse rate quicken slightly.

  ‘Kate, my darling: Wake up. Fight against the darkness; don't let it take you.’

  Gently and erratically the eyelids fluttered and then with infinite slowness they opened.

  ‘Kate, I've come back to you, just like I said I would.’

  The forehead furrowed as the eyes tried to focus. Those sensuous lips parted slightly and the tip of her tongue trailed along the contours in a feeble attempt to moisten them. The pupils of her eyes dilated and retracted trying to bring the room into focus. Gradually they steadied and she seemed to see the figure before her.

  ‘Kate,’ it said.

  It was a voice she knew.

  That voice.

  It repeated her name again.

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘Michael?’ she said, her voice barely audible.

  ‘Yes, my darling. I've come back for you. I’ll never leave you again.’

  Her glazed eyes widened further. Incredulity and horror were mirrored in there.

  ‘Don't you worry about how I look. I'll soon change that. What matters is that I'm back for good.’

  Kate gave a gagging sound in her throat and with all her feeble strength she raised herself a few inches from the bed, her mouth working violently in desperation to say something. But no words came.

  Finally, she fell back against the pillow.

  It took some moments for the Michael-creature to realise that Kate was dead.

  ***

  As David approached the hospital, he could see a small group of people gathered on the path by the shrubbery to the left of the main entrance. Drawing nearer he saw that the object of their interest was a body sprawled halfway on the path and half in the shrubbery. Pushing his way closer, his heart missed a beat as he recognised the thin yellow dress the corpse was wearing.

  It was the body of Kylie White.

  She was sprawled awkwardly on the ground like a discarded doll; her body lay in the shrubbery but her head had caught the stone pathway and had cracked open. Blood and brains lay glistening by the doll-like face—a face that was barely recognisable.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘Looks like she fell from one of the windows up there?’ said a burly fellow dressed in a heavy overcoat. He pointed upwards.

  David gazed up at the row of lighted windows like yellow eyes staring out at the night and noticed one which was open, the white net curtain gently flapping in the breeze.

  ‘How she came to do it, I don't know,’ the same fellow was saying
.

  ‘It must be suicide,’ said another bystander.

  At that moment a doctor and two orderlies carrying a stretcher emerged from the hospital and the group of onlookers moved back. David glanced up at the open window again, mentally counting the floors. As he did so, he saw the window close.

  While the orderlies lifted the remains of Kylie White onto the stretcher, David ran past them into the hospital. Within minutes he was ringing the bell on the Intensive Care Ward.

  ‘Come on. Come on,’ he snarled with impatience.

  The door was opened by Nurse Gillis.

  ‘I must see Kate Barlow.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  He brushed past her and went into Kate's room.

  Kate was lying still, on her back, her arms resting on top of the white covers. She looked at peace.

  As he moved towards the bed, he noticed that the net curtain had been trapped in the window when it had been closed. His mind was distracted from this observation by some movement in the bed.

  Kate stirred and opened her eyes.

  She smiled. It was a sweet smile.

  David was speechless looking down at her. At her pale smiling face. And those eyes.

  Those eyes.

  Somehow they seemed strange.

  They held none of Kate's familiar warmth.

  And yet he knew those eyes.

  He had seen that satisfied stare before.

  He had gazed at it in a painting.

  Then he knew.

  As he finally realised the awful truth, his heart turned to ice. The eyes in that smiling face still continued to gaze at him. Michael had achieved his ultimate desire. He was now as close to Kate as he could ever be.

  ‘Come to me, David.’ Kate said, smiling sweetly.