Midnight Is My Time

by Mike Dellosso

  “Why not?”

  “She’s something special, right? This is all about her.”

  Those words. The same words the old guy at the diner said to him. Andy walked closer to the house. A few feet from the front porch, he stopped. “Send her out. I don’t want a fight.”

  Trevor chuckled. “I suspect not. You’re not the violent type, right?”

  He was toying with Andy. Somehow he knew of Andy’s past, of his struggle. He knew of the battle that raged within him.

  “Let her go, Trevor.”

  “You want her?” His voice had changed, deepened, become more sinister. “You’ll have to come and get her.”

  Missy let out a muffled scream, then a moan.

  Andy rushed onto the porch, Belle right behind him, and stood in front of the closed door.

  “Come on in,” Trevor said. “The water’s great.”

  Andy turned to Belle and whispered, “When we get inside, I want you to stay close to the wall. When you see the chance, free Missy and get out of the house, run back to the SUV, and drive it down the lane.” He gripped her shoulder. He was putting her in danger and he hated it. But it was the only way. He would occupy Trevor and keep him away from Belle and Missy. “Can you do that?”

  She nodded. No fear flickered in her eyes. Only resolve and courage. “I’m Belle, remember? She took on the beast and won him over.”

  “Good girl. Drive to the end of the lane. I’ll catch up. But if I don’t, and if Trevor comes out of the house instead of me, just drive, and don’t stop until you’re safe.”

  She nodded again.

  Andy straightened, tensed his muscles, and opened the door.

  Chapter 15

  Trevor met him on the other side of the door in an abrupt and violent reception fueled by hatred and malice of the foulest order. He charged Andy and pinned him against the wall. The force of his attack knocked the air from Andy’s lungs. Andy gasped and momentarily lost focus of the smaller man. But in the corner of his vision, he saw Belle rush to the other side of the room. Hopefully, Missy was there.

  Trevor said nothing. Instead, he delivered a fisted blow to Andy’s stomach that again forced air from his lungs and sent nausea radiating from his abdomen all the way to his throat. He thought he’d vomit. Blow after blow, the assault came. Trevor’s tremendous strength and quickness were surprising. Finally, he lifted Andy from his feet and launched him across the room with no more effort than he’d toss a doll into the garbage.

  Andy struck the wall with incredible force, rattling it all the way from the foundation to the ceiling. Somehow he remained on his feet and recovered enough to meet Trevor’s next advance with an attack of his own. As Trevor charged, grunting like a wild animal, Andy stepped forward and landed a punch to the smaller man’s chest that would have killed an ordinary man. Rage exploded within Andy, the kind of rage that frightened him, the rage that he fought to contain. But this was no time to control it. He allowed the rage to overcome him, to shake loose its restraints and have its way.

  The blow had pushed Trevor back a few steps, but it failed to knock him down and failed to incapacitate him even for a moment. Trevor shook it off as if it were a pat on the back and advanced again. He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He seethed and grunted. Connected with Andy with such forward momentum that it pushed both of them into the wall. The plaster broke and crumbled; studs cracked. The house shuddered. Pain shot through Andy’s back like a lightning bolt. But he fed on the pain now, allowed it to fuel his hot rage. Driving his head into Trevor’s chest, he pushed the shorter man backward until they met the other wall. Trevor exhaled sharply; Andy took advantage of the moment. He landed a punch to Trevor’s stomach, then another and another. Alternating right and left hands, he delivered a series of punches as rapidly as machine-gun fire.

  Finally, he grabbed Trevor by the neck and squeezed. He wanted to crush the smaller man’s trachea and smother what life was left.

  .......

  The moment the door opened and the fight began, Missy’s stomach curled into a knot. Trevor was not who she had thought he was. She had been duped. Tears flowed from her eyes. And now Andy had to confront the consequence of her misjudgment. He never wanted to pick up Trevor; he didn’t want Missy hanging out with Trevor. But she’d ignored him and it had come to this.

  Trevor was evil. She felt it, experienced it. Confronted it in her own way.

  Until the girl arrived at her side and ripped at the tape that bound Missy’s wrists and ankles, she thought Andy had come alone. Jordan was gone. And she wondered if Andy would be able to withstand the monster that was Trevor.

  The girl said her name was Belle. She assured Missy that she was with Andy, and they were there to rescue her. Once the tape had been removed, both Missy and Belle scrambled back to the wall, hoping to stay out of the fight.

  The fight. Such violence. Wood cracked, and the house groaned under the weight and impact of bodies colliding. Andy and Trevor battered each other. The house’s aging foundation quaked and creaked.

  Missy reached for the girl, Belle, and held her close. In the darkness, Missy sought the light, that light that was always there, leading her, guiding her, protecting her.

  Where was the light?

  .......

  Trevor still had plenty of fight in him. The man’s stamina and strength were unbelievable. Inhuman. Trevor managed to break free from Andy’s grip and kneed him in the groin. He landed a blow to Andy’s side, his chest, then his neck. With each hit, the force increased. The man didn’t tire; his muscles refused to fatigue. His strength was . . . otherworldly.

  Andy slumped to the floor where Trevor kicked him, landing shots to the abdomen and chest, one to Andy’s face. Andy curled into a tight ball and hoped the assault would soon end.

  And it did. Trevor paused but only long enough to grip Andy by his shirt and pants, lift him as if he were a small child, and launch him against the ceiling. Andy hit it with such force he thought he’d broken the support beams and the entire second floor would collapse upon them. He hit the hardwood flooring face down and lay stunned.

  It was too much. Trevor’s strength and quickness had proved to be more than Andy could defend against, let alone overcome. The man was not of this world. No human could do what he did.

  Trevor sat on Andy’s back and pinned him to the floor. “I’m going to kill you.” His voice was deep and raspy, not Trevor’s voice. This man may look like Trevor, but he was not Trevor at all.

  He gripped beneath Andy’s chin with both hands and pulled upward, forcing Andy’s neck into such extreme extension it nearly cracked. Andy fought back, strained against the pressure, but the Trevor-thing’s strength was too much.

  Across the room, Andy found Belle and Missy huddled against the wall. Both appeared to be unharmed.

  Missy scooted forward on the floor. “Stop it, Trevor. You’re killing him.”

  “I’m going to kill him, then I’m gonna kill you,” Trevor said. He pulled harder on Andy’s neck. No way Andy’s spine could take much more. Eventually, his muscles would fatigue, and the bones would crack as if they were made of balsa wood.

  “Stop it!” Missy cried. She got to her hands and knees, then just her knees. Sobs racked her body. “Stop. Please.”

  Trevor continued to pull. Andy grunted and strained against the pressure. He couldn’t resist much longer.

  “No!” Missy inched closer as her body began to convulse like a dog writhes right before it vomits.

  Missy groaned and clenched her teeth. Every muscle in her body tensed and contracted. Tighter and tighter until she was as rigid as a concrete beam.

  Andy thought she was having some sort of seizure—until the fire came.

  Chapter 16

  The fire. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, if he hadn’t felt the scorching heat on his own skin, and if he hadn’t witnessed Trevor stumbling around the house like a rag doll on fire, he wouldn’t have believed it.

  Missy had
convulsed, opened her mouth, and spit fire like a flamethrower. The jet of flames missed Andy’s head and hit Trevor square in the face and chest. Trevor fell from Andy’s back and writhed on the floor until he managed to climb to his feet. His head and upper torso were engulfed in flames as he lurched and staggered around the room, flailing his arms and clawing at the flames that spread down his body. Finally, he crashed into the wall and fell limp. The flames then spread from Trevor to the brittle, crumbling plaster. They climbed the wall and lapped at the ceiling.

  “C’mon,” Andy hollered. “Everyone out.”

  Missy had collapsed after heaving the fire and only now stirred. Andy lifted her into his arms and hurried out of the house, making sure Belle was in front of him and always in his view.

  They ran until they were a safe distance from the house; then all three fell to the forest floor, panting and sweating.

  Missy was still delirious. “What happened?”

  Andy looked from her to the house, then back to her. “You don’t know?”

  Missy held her head in her hands. “My head is killing me.”

  Trevor appeared in the doorway of the house. Flames leaped from his charred body. The house around him was an inferno, throwing fire ten, twenty feet into the evening sky. But Trevor was not done. He stumbled onto the porch, then down the steps, his legs moving like they were made of rubber, his arms windmilling wildly. He made it another fifteen feet off the porch and collapsed face first onto the ground.

  “We gotta get out of here,” Andy said. He lifted Missy to her feet. “Can you walk?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

  Andy found Belle standing behind him, staring at Trevor’s burning corpse. He turned her head away from it. “C’mon kid, let’s go.”

  When they arrived at the SUV, Andy made sure Missy was safely buckled into the passenger seat. Belle took the back seat.

  He brought the engine to life, backed out of the lane, turned onto the road, and headed north.

  For a few minutes, nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing filled the cabin of the SUV. Andy’s pulse thumped in his ears and the whole way down to his fingertips. Beside him, Missy wrapped herself in a tight hug.

  Finally, Belle said, “Are we gonna talk about what happened back there?”

  “What happened?” Missy asked.

  “Uh, you totally dragon-spit fire at that dude.”

  Missy stared straight ahead. “I don’t remember.”

  Belle tapped Andy on the shoulder. “And how are you not dead after the beating he gave you? He tossed you against the ceiling like you were a stuffed animal.” She sat back hard in the seat. “What’s happening?”

  “How did you do that?” Andy asked Missy.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember doing it. I remember the fight and Trevor . . . the darkness.” She put both hands to her head. “The darkness was suffocating. I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill you. Then . . . that’s it. I came to and the house was on fire.”

  “Yeah,” Belle said. “You did that. You lit that dude up. How is that even possible?”

  Missy stared at Andy.

  “What?” he said.

  “You came after me.”

  “I wasn’t going to let him take you away.”

  She reached across the center console and placed her hand over his. “Thank you.”

  “Hello?” Belle leaned forward again. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that one of you is indestructible and the other projectile vomits fire?”

  “How did you do that?” Missy asked Andy.

  “I don’t know. I’ve always been different like that.”

  “Different? Is that what you call it?” Belle said.

  “Different. My mom told me I had to control it, bring it into submission, hide it from the world. I’ve tried.”

  “So it’s real,” Belle said. “It wasn’t our imagination that you took the beating of your life and walked away from it.”

  “I gave a beating too, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, and that dude was like you. Only badder.”

  He was badder. How did Trevor withstand the violence that Andy had unleashed on him? A normal man would have been killed. Was Trevor like him? Different? Were there others out there like him?

  Outside the SUV, moonlight filtered through the trees and cast the forest in a muted, gloomy light. The road emerged from the forest and sloped upward toward a ridge.

  “The fire,” Missy said. “Was it real?”

  She was still in disbelief. She had no idea what she was capable of. She’d unleashed it on the punks yesterday and now on Trevor. Andy didn’t know how it was possible, but it had happened. He hadn’t imagined it. The house and Trevor’s corpse were proof. “Yes. It was real.”

  “Great,” Belle said. She sat back hard in the seat again. “I’m hangin’ out with the X-Men.”

  Chapter 17

  A couple hours later, they stopped at a bar near the Pennsylvania−New York line. The place was dark and musty; a thin film of smoke clung to the ceiling. A bar lined one wall, backless stools pushed up under it. A few lonely men sat there, nursing whatever brought them comfort. Tables and chairs and only a few patrons occupied the rest of the main eating area. A middle-aged couple sat at one table. Andy eyed their plates of food, and his stomach growled in anticipation. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Neither had Missy or Belle. They all needed some grub in their bellies.

  Booths lined the perimeter of the bar. They took a seat and quickly ordered sandwiches and drinks from a young waitress named Albany.

  They took turns using the bathroom while they waited for the food. When it came, they dug in, saying little to each other. Hunger has a funny way of taking priority over conversation.

  .......

  They were in the bar like he knew they would be. The old man sat with his back to the threesome. He needed to keep an eye on them, but that was all. He was not to interfere. Not yet. Not here. They needed to navigate their own way for now. All part of the process for the girl. She needed to grow and discover what she was truly capable of. And true learning could only come from doing, exploring, discovering. From experience.

  The man had seen others walk the same road the girl was on. It was full of potholes and obstacles and pitfalls. There would be failures and triumphs, discouragement and victories. So many others had trod the same path and experienced the same valleys and mountains. And he’d watched them all, helped some. He would allow her to fail, but she would eventually succeed. It had been ordained. He counted himself fortunate to have a front-row seat to watch her blossom. She was so important, so critical to the path humanity must take. And she had no idea. Not yet.

  But she would discover her purpose soon enough.

  .......

  When all the plates were clear and all hunger satisfied, Belle said, “Seriously, guys, can we talk about what happened back at the house?”

  Andy knew they had to talk about it sooner or later. Really talk about it. He was as floored by Missy’s ability as Belle was. And even Missy seemed baffled by it. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

  Belle leaned her elbows on the table and shifted her eyes between Andy and Missy. “Uh, fire-breathing women and indestructible men?”

  “I can’t breathe fire,” Missy said.

  “And I’m not indestructible,” Andy added.

  Belle grabbed a sugar packet. “Close enough.” She turned to Missy. “How does it work?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where does it come from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you control it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Belle spun the sugar packet on the table. “Okay, well, that clears things up.”

  Missy sipped her soda, then said, “Look, up until yesterday, I didn’t even know I could do that. I didn’t know I had the . . . ability. I don’t remember anything about it, honestly. Both times I got this fe
eling like I was going to vomit, only way more intense, then nothing. I must black out. When I come to, I have this splitting headache, and my mouth feels like it’s on fire.”

  “I guess it does,” Belle said.

  “It’s like it’s involuntary.”

  “But how is it even physically possible?”

  Missy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  While Missy spoke, Andy glanced around the bar. The couple at the table had glanced their way several times. They were talking about the threesome, or at least about Andy. Maybe they’d noticed his face. Maybe it was . . . something else. After both encounters with Colin and the other punks yesterday and Trevor today, he was jittery about the attention of strangers. The men at the bar mostly ignored them. One of them, a scruffy young guy with a patchy beard and glassy eyes, turned and stared hard at Missy and Belle for a few seconds, but other than that, the bar-sitters appeared uninterested.

  Andy turned his attention back to the conversation. “It’s not physically possible. We recognize that there’s something else in play here.”

  “This is like the X-Files,” Belle said.

  Andy and Missy stared blankly at her.

  “Oh, come on. Seriously? Mulder and Scully?” Belle shook her head.

  The blank looks lingered.

  “And what about you?” Missy said to Andy.

  “I told you. I’m different.”

  “How?”

  He motioned to Belle. “According to her, I’m indestructible. Haven’t you noticed? I’m like a superhero.”

  “But why. How did that happen?”

  Andy hadn’t told his companions his entire story. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell them. “My father was like me, only more so.”

  “Was your father Thor?” Belle asked.

  When Andy ignored her question, she said, “What was he like?”

  “I don’t know. He died before I was born. My mom didn’t talk about him much, only that she was glad he was gone. He was different too . . . but in a different way than me.”

  Missy shifted in her seat. “Different how?”