The Long Night

by Jessica Scott

  "So have you figured it out yet?" Merrick asked.

  "Figured what out?"

  "What Anu brought you here for."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Merrick nodded toward the dog. "Anu. She brought you here. She'll answer you, too; just not how you think."

  Sam's flashlight flickered as Merrick took another step closer.

  "Who are you?” Sam demanded. He took another step backward. "What are you?"

  Merrick's smile widened and reminded Sam of a smooth-talking lawyer. "You already know the answer to that," he said softly, his voice filled with the hissing of a thousand snakes. "I have so many names," he said. "The gatherer of souls. The adversary. Old Scratch." He smiled. "I am every thing to every body."

  He took another step toward Sam and finally, Sam moved. Backward. Away from the stench of sulfur and the reeking darkness that pulsed off Merrick in black, stinking waves.

  "I'm what you needed me to be," he hissed. He took another step, his palms open, his hands empty.

  "I never needed you," Sam said. His voice broke and sounded far, far away.

  "Oh, but you did," Merrick said. His smile flattened. His eyes glittered like black diamonds, hard and merciless. "You needed me to get back to your precious Faith. You called me. You opened the door wide for me to walk right through." Another step closer. "You made a promise to do anything to get back to her. Anything. You lied!" Merrick hissed.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The little girl. Remember the little girl?” Merrick's smile was cold and hard. "You killed her to protect your men. You failed." A harsh whisper.

  Sam stumbled and nearly fell. He struggled to hold his weapon higher. "That's not true!" Sam shouted. His shoulders bumped the wall behind him first, then his buttocks. He was trapped. Trapped in a container of death with…his brain rejected the truth.

  It couldn't be.

  Merrick's smile was back, filled with charm and malice. "Even after all we've been through, you still don't believe?" He folded his hands over his heart. "I'm wounded, Sam." He lowered his hands. "What's it going to take for me to make you believe? Do you want to know what Lewis and Hale are doing right now?"

  "Liar!"

  "They're burning. In the cold fire, they’re burning. Do you know why?" He held up one hand and an echo of a scream filled the container. "Because they failed to see the truth, too. There is no way to come home from this the same." His voice took on a mocking tone. "You think you can go to war and not do unthinkable things? You think you can go to war and go home the same loving man you were before?" His eyes narrowed to slits. "Your men are dead because you failed to do what you were supposed to do. You were supposed to sacrifice yourself to save them. Instead you were a coward. A miserable, stinking coward who kills little kids." He paused, tipping his head to look at Sam with benign curiosity. "I think I shall enjoy making you burn." He held up his hand. "I want you to hear the truth. For once in your life. Listen."

  Sam? Sam?

  The voice. A voice he knew well. A voice he heard in his sleep. A voice he woke to. The voice of his love. His Faith. It bounced off the walls and then it twisted, rising, getting louder and louder until it was a continuous agony-filled scream.

  "Faith!"

  He fell to his knees. His weapon banged against his kneecap. His hands fell limp by his sides. The flashlight rolled a foot away, bumping into Anu's paw. He'd forgotten she was there. "That's not true. She's not—"

  "Oh, but she is." Merrick's voice was gleeful. "How long has it been since you talked to her, Sam?" Merrick trailed his fingers down the wall of the container. Metal on metal screeched into the darkness. "She died from an infection from your precious Peanut. The baby killed her, Sam. Your baby killed her."

  "No! That's impossible!"

  "Is it? Or is it just that you destroy everything good you touch? You could have saved your men, Sam. But that one little girl was too much for you." The screeching grew louder, drowning out everything but the hissing sound of Merrick's voice. "You're a selfish man, Sam Brown."

  "That's not true!"

  "Just because you don't want it to be true doesn't mean it's not."

  Sam's flashlight flickered, sputtering one final time before it gave up. Darkness fell, sucking all the light into the macabre darkness behind Merrick. The blackest night, the blackest depths. It was an absence of everything. A perfect evil.

  He could still see Merrick, despite the lack of light. Somehow the darkness illuminated him. His eyes glowed red, piercing the abyss behind him.

  "Do you believe me now?" Merrick asked. "Your precious Faith is dead. And you killed her." Merrick crouched down in front of Sam. He looked over at Anu and patted his thigh. The dog didn't budge.

  A lightning rage flashed across Merrick's face. Just an instant, but Sam saw. In that instant, he saw through Merrick’s lies, through his own fear to a faint glimmer of hope.

  "Your precious puppy not obeying anymore?" Sam asked.

  Merrick's jaw twisted. "She can disobey all she wants. She knows who she works for."

  "You said she told you when the enemy was coming." Sam didn't look away. "Maybe she switched sides."

  Merrick shook his head slowly, his eyes glittering dangerously. It dawned on Sam that it might not be a bright idea to taunt the man in front of him.

  "Anu doesn't have a side," Merrick said. Those blood red eyes focused back on him, and Sam’s soul cowered. "Not everything is black and white. You promised you'd do anything you could to get back to your Faith. But she's gone now, Sam." He paused. "And you killed her."

  * * *

  "You're lying." Sam’s voice was weak. He trembled with fear. The glimmer of hope died, wilting in the dark.

  "You think so?" He reached out, touching the spot over Sam's heart with one clawed fingernail. Sam's skin burned beneath his fingertip. "Your precious Faith is dead. Everything you did to go home to her was for nothing."

  Sam felt the tapping against his breastbone, a hollow echo above his empty heart. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  "It’s time. You need to come with me." Merrick reached out to tap Sam's chest once more.

  The idea of him touching Sam made his skin crawl, his soul retreat. He grabbed Merrick’s wrist. Surprise lit the cold red eyes.

  "You lie. Everything you say is a lie," Sam snarled. "Faith is fine. She was fine the last time I talked to her."

  "Did she tell you about the bird, Sam?"

  Sam froze. He hadn't told anyone about the bird.

  Merrick's smile was cold in the shadows. "Yes, Sam, I know about the bird. Who do you think sent it? She was crying and screaming and cursing you for not being there while she swatted at it with a broom." Merrick inhaled as though savoring a delicate aroma. "The scent of her fear is a beautiful thing. She died alone in the hospital room, the baby inside her poisoning her blood. It was a terrible way to die."

  Sam lunged, his hands going for Merrick's throat.

  Merrick laughed. With one simple move, he wrenched Sam's arms behind him, pinning him against Merrick's chest. Sam was shocked to find Merrick was nothing but bone. Unbreakable, solid bone. "You're so naive. You think you can beat me? You think you can win? Your pitiful lives are so short, so pointless." Merrick's voice hissed in his ear, his breath hot against Sam's skin.

  His palm slipped up, forcing Sam's chin higher until Sam thought his neck would snap. He tried to slam his head back, but Merrick dodged and slipped his arm around Sam's throat.

  Like a patient constrictor, Merrick squeezed, slowly pushing the air from Sam's lungs. Refusing to allow his throat to expand.

  Sam’s vision faded to white stars against the blackness, then Merrick yanked him back, throwing Sam off balance.

  The dark expanded and Sam realized he wasn’t passing out. He was being dragged into the night beyond the container. A sinking hole in the center of the blood. Not his body. His soul. It felt like it was being sucked out of his skin, pulled toward a vacuum that didn’t exist in this wor
ld.

  "Your death will be mourned as just another tragic non-combat-inflicted injury," Merrick whispered. "And your Faith will die alone."

  Sam stiffened. "You said she was dead," he managed.

  Merrick's lips brushed his ear. "I lied."

  Sam's mind raced, trying to figure out a way to break the hold, but Merrick was too strong. With every step, he felt darkness swirling up, pulling him under.

  If he passed out, he was a dead man.

  He had just one chance.

  He dropped all of his weight, letting his legs go slack. The sudden shift in his load unbalanced Merrick and a sudden rush of air filled Sam's lungs as Sam was thrown away. He landed hard on his knees, hard enough that he thought he would shatter bone. Bright pain exploded through his body. His palms scraped against the dried blood smoothed over the wooden floor, and splinters cut into his flesh.

  He turned and tried to crawl away but the container tipped up. He scrambled, trying to find a hold, anything to stop his slow, tormenting slide toward the blackness below.

  Anu growled low in her throat as Sam's fingers unexpectedly found a tiny hole, a hook for a cargo strap. The metal sliced into his fingers as he dug into it, held on with everything he was.

  Anu. She had Merrick's leg, dragging him away from Sam, toward the opening of the container.

  Nothing but darkness was down there now but somehow Sam could clearly see shadows and shapes and writhing things reaching up out of the depths.

  His foot jerked. Merrick's clawed fingers curled around his ankle. "You're mine," he hissed.

  Sam's fingers nearly snapped with the added weight. He swung his foot violently, trying to kick Merrick away.

  "Your soul is mine."

  "She's not dead!"

  Sam's free foot connected. Blood exploded out of Merrick's mouth. His lip burst like a bloody grape. He spit and a tooth tinked against the wooden floor, bouncing down, down, like a pebble skittering against a cliff wall.

  Merrick looked up at him. His bloody smile was black and cold. "You think you've won? You think this is freedom?" His laugh grated, a harsh echo against the container walls. "Your God doesn't care about you. He abandoned you the moment you were formed in your mother's womb." His other hand swung up, gripping higher on Sam's leg. "You let me in once, Sam. I'll never let you go."

  Sam kicked. And kicked and kicked until the face smiling up at him was bloody pulp. Until Merrick’s fingers released. Until Anu dragged Merrick away.

  And the macabre abyss swallowed him.

  25

  The quiet told him he was still alive.

  No puffy white clouds. No drug-induced visions.

  Just quiet beneath the sound of his own heartbeat. He felt the weight of Merrick's hand still on his ankle, but he opened his eyes, shifted and looked. There was nothing there.

  His palm no longer burned.

  He pushed up to his hands and knees, his bones protesting the movement, his muscles creaking and groaning as if he was an old man.

  For a moment, he simply rested there on his hands and knees. Then he moved to sit on his ass at the opening of the bloody container. The crime scene tape flapped in the light breeze above his head.

  He sat for a long time, listening to the world as it went on around him. The distant echo of the test fire pit. The rumble and squeal of an armored vehicle as it rolled by. Distant shouts in languages he couldn't understand.

  And beneath it all, the sound of boots on gravel. Crunching closer, getting louder with each step.

  Tick stepped into the faint light. He said nothing for a long time.

  Sam, too, remained silent. He wasn't in a hurry to explain why he was there. He didn't know if he was in trouble or not. But funny, he didn't care anymore. He'd wanted to find the dog’s body, find some proof that he hadn't lost his mind.

  His brain still hadn't come to grips with what had happened. There were too many questions he was afraid to answer.

  Tick reached up and pulled a cigar out of his chest pocket. His lighter flared bright as he sucked on the end. Smoke puffed out around it. He took a deep, slow breath, then wrapped his finger around the cigar. "Been a rough few days," he said.

  He’d been saying that a lot recently.

  Sam pressed his lips together and nodded, unsure of how his voice would sound if he spoke.

  Overhead, the moon drifted from behind a heavy cloud. Pale silver light flooded the alcove. Made even the darkness around them look shimmery and pretty. Less violent and ugly. Everything looked better in the moonlight, Sam supposed.

  "So this is where she died, eh?"

  Sam looked away from the moon and over at Tick. "Huh?"

  Tick pointed with his cigar to the side of the container. Sam stood and walked. His foot rolled on a rock and he stumbled.

  Flies buzzed at the side of the container. There, hidden in the shadows, half in a hole in the dirt, was the body of a dog. Her carcass was bloated and reeked of decaying flesh where the flies had feasted on her.

  Sam's breath trembled in his lungs and for a moment, insanity dashed up at him. A wild, mad laughter twisted up against his lips but he mashed them shut, refusing to reveal to Tick and the world at large that he was well and truly fucking nuts.

  "Well, shit, son," Tick said roughly. When had he stepped so close to Sam? He could smell the thick scent of cheap underarm deodorant. It was a fake, heavy clean that clashed with the stench of death and Tick’s cigar. "Looks like you found the body." He slapped Sam on the shoulder. "Congratulations. You're not fucking crazy."

  Sam thought about telling Tick he wasn't so sure of that, but thought better of it. Why bother? If he'd really lost his mind, well then, it wouldn't take long before something else tripped the alarm.

  He felt bad that he'd actually shot the dog. Whether she had really been there or had been a shared figment of his imagination, he no longer knew nor cared. He thought again about laughing, but mashed his lips together and said nothing.

  Really, why bother?

  * * *

  The haze that surrounded his brain made his thoughts slow, his actions slower. Tick thought he was just adjusting to everything, but Sam knew the truth.

  There was no adjusting to the life he lived now. Knowing that evil was real made walking back through the concrete barriers at night that much harder.

  But he kept that to himself. He needed to call home. The memory of Merrick's words whispered across the back of Sam's neck. Maybe he hadn't been lying. As soon as Tick had shown the commander the body, Sam broke free, walking as quickly as he could toward the call center.

  He didn't care how long he had to wait in line. He didn't care if it was the middle of the day or the middle of the night back home. He needed to know that Faith was okay. Needed to know that Merrick had lied to him. Needed to chase away the insidious whisper that there was something behind him, following him through the barriers, nipping at his heels and chasing him toward the crazy.

  As he emerged from the barriers, his heart jumped. No line snaked out the door of the call center.

  It was a good omen. It had to be.

  He approached the stairs that led up into the trailer and saw a sign hanging on the door:

  Closed until further notice.

  His heart went into a spiral of sadness and doubt. He didn't know why it was closed. He didn't care. It was closed.

  He couldn't call home.

  His steps were heavy as he started back through the maze toward his trailer. Maybe it would be open in the morning.

  He tried not to let the sadness and the doubt worm their way into his mind, but by the time he made it back to his trailer, he was tired. Worn down by the war, the loss, by the uncertainty of what was real and what was not.

  He opened the door, the lock turning with a muted click, and climbed the two steps into the dim and dusty trailer that was his space.

  He stood there and felt the familiar solitude. This time, he knew that Hale wouldn't be knocking on his door. Lewis wouldn't
be showing up, ragging on Hale.

  A massive hole gaped in the center of his heart. Around its edges danced a lingering fear that maybe Merrick hadn't lied.

  Maybe Faith was…he covered his mouth with his hand. No. No, he wouldn't believe the lie. He would call home soon.

  Besides, if she was…gone, his parents would have sent a Red Cross message.

  He would know right away if something was wrong, because that was how the system worked. He didn't have to wait months to send a letter home and receive a response.

  He just had to find a working phone line.

  He lifted his weapon over his head and for a moment, sat on the edge of his unmade bed.

  A flash of silver caught his eye. He lifted the edge of a t-shirt he’d left crumpled on the bed.

  The medallion his mother had snuck into his pack. He coiled the chain in the palm of his hand. The metal was cold and gritty with dust.

  His hand no longer burned.

  He stared for a long time at the medallion: St. Michael the Archangel.

  Battling the dragon.

  Protect us.

  He swallowed, his mouth dry.

  He didn’t believe.

  Except that now…His hands shook as he lifted the chain around his neck. It was cold and unfamiliar against his skin, pressing into the base of his throat.

  It couldn’t hurt to wear it.

  What did it say about him that he turned back to a God he’d abandoned just because things had gotten a whole lot of sideways?

  He looked at his palms. He could still feel the echo of Merrick's hooked finger tapping on his chest. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  He rubbed the spot, felt the dry skin of his fingers catch on his uniform.

  He rubbed until his fingers burned and the cotton felt hot beneath his touch.

  And then the tapping was on his door.

  In the middle of the night, the tapping was at his door.

  26

  Seven Months Later