Midnight Is My Time

by Mike Dellosso

  “What’s about to begin?” He didn’t understand this new Missy.

  “The end. We need to find Amos.”

  The end of what? Andy needed more information, more answers to questions he hadn’t even asked yet.

  But before he could ask, Missy turned her face toward the back of the building. When she spoke, urgency vibrated through her voice. “We need to go. Now.”

  Andy took her by the hand and led her around the building. They ran across the parking lot to the rig. He opened the door and helped her in. Across the street at the gas station, the two men were gone. Either they’d grown bored of the drama, or they’d left to get help. Andy started the truck and shifted into gear, but before he turned onto Route 1, he heard the growl of engines in the distance. Coming from the south, less than a quarter mile away, a pack of motorcycles barreled down the road. They did not appear to be a friendly gang enjoying a leisurely tour of the northeastern coastline.

  “Hold on.” Andy hit the gas and the rig lunged forward.

  Chapter 34

  Andy pushed through the gears on the rig as fast as he could, but the motorcycles were much quicker than the oversized truck trying to accelerate its thirty thousand pounds. In less than a minute, the bikes surrounded the rig. The riders were all men, big in the arms and shoulders. They wore leather vests and chaps over jeans. Stereotypic bikers. Long hair, handlebar mustaches. Lots of ink.

  Andy pressed the gas pedal closer to the floor, and the engine roared. He yanked on the air horn, a warning to the burly bikers. But his warnings were either misunderstood or ignored. As long as he kept moving, they couldn’t do anything but tag along. But the rig was running low on fuel, and the Portland city limit was quickly approaching. He’d have to slow and obey the speed limit.

  The I-295 bridge lay low over the water of the Fore River before the city limits. The truck rolled down the road at seventy-five miles per hour with its motorcycle escort on all sides. Andy thought about running a few off the bridge or maybe hitting the brakes and clearing a few bikers that way. But he decided against it because of the other traffic on the road.

  In the passenger seat, Missy appeared relaxed about the current situation.

  “You okay?” Andy asked.

  She turned her face toward him. “Of course.”

  She had to hear the rumble of the motorcycles all around them; she had to feel the pressure in the cab of the rig. She had to smell the odor of Andy’s stress sweat emanating from his pores.

  And yet she was as calm as if they were taking a lazy ride through the Maine countryside.

  “Up ahead,” she said. “Get off the highway and go right, toward the harbor.”

  Forest Avenue was the next exit.

  “But that’ll take us into the city. Lights, intersections, traffic.”

  “And Amos.”

  They came upon the exit quickly and Andy took it. He had to slow and eventually stop at the end of the ramp. His two-wheeled escorts stopped as well; the engines of the bikes idled loudly. None of the riders looked at him. Not one even turned his head in Andy’s direction. They all stared straight ahead as if nothing could distract them from their mission. They did not appear aggressive in any way either. But there was something strange about them, about their behavior, that sent spider legs down Andy’s spine.

  When the light turned green, Missy said, “Go right.”

  Forest Avenue headed straight for a few blocks, then dead-ended at Congress.

  “Go right,” Missy said again.

  “How do you know?”

  She smiled. “GPS.”

  Andy turned the truck right and headed down Congress to Park Street.

  “Left,” Missy said.

  The motorcycles stayed close. There were fifteen in all, and they positioned themselves in front and back of the rig. The drivers showed no antagonism in either their driving behavior or body language. They actually appeared calm.

  Park sliced through downtown Portland until it dead-ended at Commercial Street, which ran parallel with the harbor and its assortment of piers.

  They stopped at the intersection of Park and Commercial. The bikes idled noisily in front and back.

  “Which way?” Andy said.

  Missy held up a hand. She turned her head side to side as if she could see the surrounding area—the streets, homes, piers, and warehouses.

  Behind the bikes, a pickup honked its horn.

  “Got anything?” Andy asked.

  “Right,” Missy said.

  “You sure?”

  The pickup honked again. Andy checked his mirrors. The bikers appeared unfazed by the impatient driver.

  “Yup.”

  He shifted the truck into gear. The bikers in front seemed to know the plan all along was to go right. They led the way.

  A couple blocks down Commercial, Missy said, “Here. The warehouse.”

  The bikers slowed and turned into the parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse on a land pier that jutted into the Fore River. Andy followed.

  The warehouse was made of brick. Some of the bricks were cracked and broken. Long narrow windows, at least a story high, lined one side of the building. Some of the panes had been broken out and never replaced. Beyond the warehouse and pier, a swollen, orange sun touched the horizon.

  Andy stopped the truck and let the engine idle. He was unsure of this plan even if Missy was totally on board with it. The motorcyclists stopped their bikes in a sloppy circle around the truck and shut off their engines. One by one, they dismounted and entered the building.

  .......

  They had arrived. Finally. After all that had transpired the past few days, they were finally here, in his grip. He would take them here, manipulate them, kill them. But he would do it in style. He would not kill the girl. As much as he wanted to, he needed to practice restraint. He would allow Andrew to kill her. And he would make him want to kill her. By the time he was done with the freak, he’d eat out of the man’s hand like a dog.

  He would take his time, though. Make it last until midnight. The end of one day, the beginning of another. It would be symbolic of the end of one era and the beginning of another. This was his time. He called the shots. He ruled and all obeyed him. He only needed to get the two mutants out of his way. And he needed to do it with an exclamation point.

  The man’s skin crawled and tingled with anticipation. He could barely contain his elation. Not in two thousand years had he felt this kind of nervous excitement.

  .......

  “What do we do?” Andy asked Missy.

  Her expression had changed. The smile that had parted her lips for most of the trip through Portland had vanished. Her jaw was slack, her brow tense. She held her hands in tight fists on her lap.

  Andy touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “We have to go inside,” she said. Her voice was tight and cracked mid-sentence.

  “You sure? I mean, we don’t have to.”

  She nodded. “Yes, we do. It’s part of the plan.” She grabbed his hand and held it tight, turned her face to him. “Andy.”

  “What?”

  “No matter what happens in there, you have to believe in who you are, who you were made to be.”

  “What do you mean? What’s going to happen?” This new Missy spoke in riddles. He didn’t have the knowledge she assumed he had.

  “No matter what is said or done, you have to be strong. Believe.” Her face grew tense; her eyes stopped bouncing around and narrowed. “You must believe. Be who you were meant to be. You must trust the truth, not your feelings.”

  “Who was I meant to be, Missy? I don’t understand.”

  She loosened her grip and her face relaxed. She stared straight ahead again. “You were meant to be great. And good. We have to go inside. It won’t begin until we do.”

  “What won’t begin?”

  She tightened her fists again. “I told you. The end.” This time her voice held an edge that revealed her irritation with
his obtuseness.

  Andy killed the truck’s engine and they both sat in silence. After a few seconds, he said, “Are you ready?”

  “You need to be ready,” she said. “Remember what I said. There won’t be anything easy about this.”

  Andy opened the driver’s side door and slid out of the seat. He went around to the passenger side and helped Missy down. They held hands as they crossed the crumbling parking lot and entered the building.

  Inside, there were no lamps, but the light that filtered through the grimy windows cast a dirty glow on the cavernous interior. The bikers lined the far wall as if they were awaiting instructions.

  At once, the locks engaged on the door Missy and Andy had just come through and on the large overhead doors on the far side of the warehouse. The sound of metal engaging metal echoed through the empty building.

  Missy stepped closer to Andy and grasped his hand tighter.

  Chapter 35

  On the north side of the building, a door opened, and a man stepped out of what appeared to be an office space. He was tall, lean, muscular. Middle-aged. Dark hair and narrow, deep eyes, long face. Full lips. He wore a pair of wrinkle-free gray slacks and a light-blue dress shirt. Business casual.

  The man walked to within thirty feet of Andy and Missy and stopped, clasped his hands behind his back.

  He stared at them without saying a word for a full thirty seconds before Andy said, “Who are you?”

  The man’s mouth curled into a devilish smile. “You want to know who I am. How ordinary.”

  An odd comment from an odd man. Andy didn’t feel right about this guy, and he could tell by the way Missy held his hand that she felt the same way.

  “Who I am,” the man said, “is insignificant, don’t you think?”

  Andy said nothing.

  “Who you are,” he said, then shifted his dark eyes to Missy, “now that’s of great importance.”

  The man knew who Missy was, or at least he thought he knew. Andy glanced over the man’s shoulder at the bikers still lining the wall. They hadn’t moved. If they chose at some point to attack, he’d have a tough time fighting all fifteen of them.

  “You need not worry about that,” the man said.

  Had he read Andy’s thoughts? Looked inside his mind and found the fear and concern there?

  Yes, Andrew. I can see you.

  The voice—the man’s—slithered through Andy’s head. Andy closed his eyes, tried to push it out, but it was still there. Deep. Resonating. Inviting.

  I see you. I know you.

  “My colleagues will remain where they are as long as you both cooperate,” the man said.

  You are one of us, aren’t you?

  “Where’s Amos?” Andy said. Maybe if he addressed the man directly, he could force the voice from his head. But did he want to dispel it? There was something . . . comforting about it. Almost reassuring. Like the sound of a father’s voice to a homesick child.

  The man stepped to his left, then began to pace. “Amos. It’s interesting that you bring him up.” He stopped. “I know Amos, of course. Met him a few hours ago. Quite the interesting fellow. Feisty, though.” He frowned. “Even uppity, I’d say. He wore out his welcome very quickly.”

  “Where is he?” Missy said.

  “Oh, look, the blind girl isn’t dumb as well. I was beginning to think maybe you weren’t a threat after all.”

  Missy leaned her weight forward. “What did you do to Amos?”

  “What makes you think I did something to him?”

  Missy’s eyes darted around the interior of the warehouse as if she heard something Andy couldn’t. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, somber. “You killed him. Because of us.”

  The man smiled. “You’re good.” He lifted a hand and flicked his wrist. Behind him, one of the bikers broke from their formation and walked the length of the building to the south side. There he pulled a lever. The sound of metal disengaging was followed by the rattle of loose chains. Andy looked up in time to see a body fall from the metal rafters. It stopped about ten feet short of hitting the floor, bounced at the end of a chain, then swayed lazily.

  It was the body of an older man, trimmed beard, short graying hair. His eyes had been gouged; dried blood covered his chin and neck. Amos.

  Andy was glad Missy couldn’t see the dangling Amos. Disgust and anger forced bile into his throat, and he had to swallow hard to push it back down.

  “What is it?” Missy asked. Her eyes darted again.

  “Amos,” Andy said. He looked at the man standing across from him and, for an instant, wanted to rush him and tear him limb from limb. He could, too, but then he’d have to deal with the bikers, and he wasn’t sure if even his strength could fight off all of them. He had Missy, though, and that had to give him the advantage.

  Missy’s mouth opened but no words came out. A tear ran from her eye, down her cheek, and followed her jawline.

  Andy put his arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

  “It’ll be okay?” the man said. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it won’t be okay. It certainly will not.”

  He drilled Andy with another evil stare. I know who you are. I know who your father is. You’re no different than him. Stop fighting who you are.

  Andy shut his eyes and pressed them closed. He knew he should push the voice from his head, but in some strange way, he didn’t want to.

  We will destroy you. And then we’ll have our way with the girl. Or maybe we’ll allow you to have your way with her first. You want that, don’t you?

  Did he know what Missy was capable of? He must. And yet he spoke with confidence. And how did he know the thoughts and desires Andy had wrestled?

  “Andrew.” The man stared at him again, grinning.

  Your father wanted more for you than this.

  “It’s all lies, Andrew.”

  “What is?”

  “What you’ve heard about your father.”

  He was a great man. A powerful man.

  Andy never knew his father. He only knew what his mother had told him about the man. And what Clem had said.

  He had a dream, your father. A dream for you. A hope. He wanted so much more for you than this.

  As if she could sense the battle raging within Andy, Missy pressed herself closer to him and whispered, “Don’t listen to him, Andy. You don’t have to give in. You can make a choice.”

  There is no choice to make. You are who you are. Why choose anything different?

  It was a plausible question. He was who he was. Half human, half demon. Wasn’t that right? He couldn’t change that. No matter what or who he wanted to be, fact was fact. There was a dark half to him. Why should he fight that? Wasn’t it a losing battle? Eventually, his nature would surface. He’d seen flecks of it already, not just in the strength he possessed but also in the rage and hatred that often accompanied it, in the desires he felt and longed to satisfy. Those vile feelings came from within him, from somewhere deep in the moorings of his soul. They were who he really was. Could he change that?

  Missy said again, “You can make a choice, Andy. You have a choice.”

  But did he? Could someone change his innate nature? Can a human decide to no longer be human just because he doesn’t want to be human? Of course not. The thought was preposterous. So how could he decide to no longer be a demon just because he didn’t want to be a demon?

  Now you’ve got it. Now you’re making sense.

  Amos’s body stopped swaying and hung still, the blank and empty eye sockets stared at the floor.

  You are what you are. Who you are. No need to fight it any longer.

  “Don’t believe him,” Missy said. “Please, Andy. I need you.”

  She did need him. He was her protector.

  That’s all you are to her. You mean nothing else. You never have. She harbors no feelings for you, no desire for you. And if she could see you as the freak that you are, she’d want nothing to do with you. Like the
rest of them.

  Andy now noticed that the bikers had inched closer. They no longer stood against the wall in formation. They had spread out around the room and were closing in, slowly tightening the noose around him and Missy.

  Humans are so finicky. No loyalty in them. Given the opportunity, she’ll betray you.

  “Andy,” Missy said, “you must choose who you want to be. No one can do that for you. There is a better way.”

  But was there?

  The better way is to embrace your destiny.

  “There is good in you,” Missy said. “I’ve seen it. I feel it. Belle saw it too.”

  Belle. He’d let her die. She’d trusted him and he let her get shot. But she’d trusted him. She must have seen something trustworthy in him. She was a girl who had seen the world for what it was and found something in him, something worth trusting. Some good.

  “If you won’t choose for me,” Missy said. “Choose for Belle.”

  Choose for yourself. This is what you were created for.

  Andy looked at Missy, looked at the man. The difference between the two was so severe he didn’t know how he’d missed it before. Not choose for her? He’d do anything for her.

  He loosened his grip on Missy’s shoulder and leveled his gaze on the man standing across from him. He was now very aware of the bikers just feet away on all sides.

  He had a choice, and it was now clear to him.

  Andy released his hold of Missy and sidestepped away from her. “I choose my true nature.”

  Chapter 36

  The man smiled wide.

  “Andy. No.” Tears spilled from Missy’s eyes and coursed down her cheeks. “Please. No.” She reached for him, but he was already stepping toward the man and his wolf-like grin.

  As Andy approached, the man extended his hand, palm up—a gesture of goodwill, an invitation to fellowship. He was welcoming a lost son home.

  Andy took the man’s hand and squeezed. Hard enough to turn his smile into a grimace. The man’s eyes went wide. He sensed what was about to happen. Knew he’d been duped. Played.

  In a move that was more catlike than anything an ordinary man could perform, Andy spun the man around so his arm twisted behind his back. With his other hand, Andy reached from behind the man and gripped his chin. Then in one quick motion, he twisted the man’s head to the near breaking point of the neck’s vertebrae.