Midnight Is My Time

by Mike Dellosso

  The bikers stepped closer in unison. Their movements were coordinated and synchronized almost to perfection. Like the flocking behavior of birds.

  “Stop,” Andy shouted. “I’ll break his neck. I will.”

  They knew he could and so did the man. The effort wouldn’t even strain his muscles. In this position, it took about a thousand pounds of torque to break a neck, but that was not an obstacle too difficult to overcome.

  The bikers stopped. All eyes were on Andy.

  “What are you doing?” Missy asked.

  “Do it,” the man said. “Break it.”

  You want to. I can feel it. It’s your nature to hate. Give in to it. You don’t need to resist any longer.

  Missy extended a hand toward Andy. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks. “Don’t, Andy. This isn’t the way.”

  “It’s the only way and you know it,” the man said.

  I’ll live in your head. In your heart. I will be one with you.

  Andy cranked a little harder on the neck. The man grimaced and groaned. His body wanted to turn with the motion, but Andy braced it with his right arm.

  “Do it!”

  “No,” Missy pleaded. “Don’t. Andy, please don’t do it.”

  Andy loosed the tension on the man’s head. He knew that wouldn’t be the end of it, that they weren’t going to allow Missy and him to walk out of the warehouse and live out the rest of their lives in peace. But he didn’t want it to go this way, not with him giving in to the hatred that had buried itself inside him. Yes, he may be part demon, regardless of what Clem had said, and yes, that dark half may be part of his nature, but he didn’t have to give in to it. He didn’t have to feed that black wolf. He could choose not to.

  Andy kept easing off the man’s head and neck until his hands were free and the man could step away from him.

  The man rubbed his neck, then ran his hand over his hair, smoothing it against his head. “You’re weak,” he said to Andy. “I honestly hoped you’d do it.” He then ran his eyes over the group of bikers and nodded.

  Andy saw the nod for what it was—a signal—but he didn’t react quickly enough. One of the bikers directly behind Missy leaped forward and placed a bag over her head just before tackling her to the floor. The other bikers simultaneously attacked Andy.

  He tried to fight them off. He swung his arms, landing a few blows, shifted his weight, twisted and turned, but the force of fourteen burly men upon him was too much. He felt suffocated to the point that he was no longer able to move, let alone fight. Their strength individually was amazing; collectively, they overpowered him and pushed him to his knees, held him in a crucifix position.

  The man crossed the room slowly and returned with a long sword. He stood before Andy and thumbed the blade. “Only one way to get rid of the two of you. I was hoping to wait until midnight to do this. It would have been so dramatic. So symbolic, don’t you think?”

  He then left Andy and walked over to where the biker held Missy. She too had been pulled to her knees with her arms held behind her back. The bag on her head was constructed of some kind of metallic fabric. She heaved for breath but said nothing, in fact, made no sound at all.

  “No,” Andy shouted. “Don’t. Please, don’t.” Anger overcame him then, but it was not fueled by hatred. This was a righteous anger, fueled by love and loyalty and the desire to protect and nurture.

  Andy strained against the men holding him. They struggled to stifle his movements and hold him in place.

  The man stood before Missy, sword gripped with both hands. “You could have done this. It would have been so climactic.”

  “No!”

  Outside the wind began to blow, the windows grew dark.

  Missy seemed unfazed by all that was happening.

  The man looked around nervously as the wind beat against the windows and the metal roof rattled.

  Andy whipped his head back and forth in an attempt to generate some momentum and free himself. One of the bikers hit him in the head, over and over. The anger boiled over, and Andy could no longer contain it. He screamed and writhed.

  The wind increased and howled like a pack of angry wolves clawing at the glass. At once, the windows shattered and the metal roof peeled away.

  The man turned to the bikers and pointed his sword at Andy. He hollered above the roar of the wind. “Kill him!”

  In unison, the bikers fell on Andy, punching, kicking, pummeling him on all sides.

  Lightning flashed; thunder crashed and boomed, ripped through the sky and tore it open. Rain fell in huge droplets as the attack continued.

  Andy had to do something. They’d kill him and then kill Missy if he didn’t. He tried lifting himself from the floor, but the weight of the men on him was too much. He strained against them and again, tried to move anything—an arm, a leg—but they had him pinned to the ground while they continued their barrage of blows.

  Suddenly, pressure built in his abdomen and chest. He felt like he would vomit. Then the burning came, intense heat rising from his belly through his chest to his throat. His abdominal muscles contracted rhythmically like a dog preparing to heave. His diaphragm then joined in.

  What happened next was not anything Andy had been prepared to handle. He turned his head as fire leapt from his mouth. In that moment, he lost control of everything. He felt the burn in his mouth and the heat of the fire against his flesh, but he could not contain it in any way. It was as if the fire had a will of its own.

  Slowly, Andy faded from consciousness. He could hear men screaming and yelling, but it was distant as if he were miles away, listening to the sounds of hell transmitted over a phone line.

  When he came to, he was lying on the concrete floor in the middle of the warehouse. His mouth was dry and tasted like sulfur. His throat burned. He quickly oriented himself. Above, the sky still roiled. The winds whipped. Thunder crashed. Lightning lit up the sky. Around him the charred bodies of fourteen men lay strewn across the floor like discarded fire logs.

  The man was still there. And Missy. One of the bikers still held her with both arms behind her back. The man still held the sword. He lifted it above his head, ready to bring it down upon Missy.

  “No!” Andy shouted. And as if his voice had triggered some meteorological phenomena, a jagged bolt of lightning descended through the open ceiling of the building and struck the sword. The electrical current traveled down the sword and through the man’s body, lighting it up like a thousand-watt bulb.

  The man dropped to the floor; the sword clattered on the concrete. The biker holding Missy suddenly looked confused, then went into convulsions. He released her and stumbled back, his body twitching and jerking. Finally, he fell to the floor and lay motionless.

  Andy rushed to Missy and pulled the bag from her head. She reached out and touched his face. “Andy, what did you do?”

  Chapter 37

  The odor of burning flesh hung in the air like a cloud of dust, making it difficult to breathe.

  Andy stood and helped Missy to her feet. “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

  The storm had died and the sky had cleared. Sirens screamed in the distance. The storm had caught everyone off guard. Outside, people emerged from their homes and businesses, all gazing skyward. But the sky had turned clear again; stars dotted the now black backdrop. The warehouse appeared to be the only building hit by the rogue storm. Its windows were blown out, and the metal roof curled back like a dark wave in the moonlight.

  As the sirens grew closer, Andy said, “We better get out of here. I don’t feel like answering a bunch of questions when they find what’s in the building. Think one of these motorcycles will do?”

  Missy nodded. “Definitely.”

  Andy climbed on and Missy sat behind him. Andy had ridden plenty of dirt bikes and four-wheelers around the ranch in Kentucky, but he’d never tamed a Harley. He cranked up the engine and smiled at its deep, throaty growl. Yeah, definitely.

  He backtracked his way to
I-295 and took that north out of Portland. At Yarmouth, Andy exited the highway and found a secondary road that wound to the coastline and an overlook. There he parked the bike and got off. Missy did the same. The ocean sprawled before them, its green depths stretching all the way to the horizon where the line between water and sky was blurred. A gentle breeze, soaked with the aroma of salt, blew in off the water.

  “You want to talk about what happened back there?” Missy finally said.

  The breeze played with her hair as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

  She knew what had happened, what Andy had done. There was no need to repeat the ordeal in detail to her.

  Andy said, “What does it mean?”

  “What?”

  “The prophecy. Where does it lead?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to walk by faith, won’t we?”

  “Why us?”

  She turned her face toward him and took his hand. “I don’t know.”

  “We’re no better than anyone else.”

  “We’re just a couple of freaks.”

  They held hands for a few long beats. The ocean moved quietly, slowly. The water was remarkably calm.

  Finally, Andy said, “It’s not over, is it?”

  Missy faced the water. “Not by a long shot. It’s just beginning. There is so much more to do.”

  “They won’t stop coming for us, will they?”

  “They’ll keep hunting us.”

  “And according to the prophecy, they’ll kill us.”

  “I’m not looking forward to that.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Dying isn’t cool.”

  “Nope.”

  “But even then,” Missy said, “it won’t be over.”

  “I’m not sure I can do this.”

  Again, Missy faced Andy and took both his hands now. “You can. We both can. We must trust that the prophecy is truth. We must trust that our steps will be guided, and that protection will come when it’s needed. We must walk in faith. Every step. No matter where it takes us.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It won’t be easy. But it’ll be necessary.”

  “One step at a time. Will you be with me?”

  “Every step of it.” She put her back to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’ll never leave you if you never leave me.”

  “Deal.”

  She turned, keeping his arms around her waist until she faced him. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. She reached up and draped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for never giving up on me, for coming after me, for sticking with me.”

  Her closeness stirred deep emotions in Andy, and he almost began to cry. “Can you see me?”

  She smiled. Her eyes bounced around his face. She lifted her right hand and placed it on his face. Lightly, with just her fingertips, she traced every line, every scar, every ridge and valley until she’d covered his whole face.

  Andy’s heart pounded in his chest; his breathing grew shallow and rapid.

  Finally, Missy said, “I see all of you. And you’re perfect. You’re just the way you should be.”

  “I’m a freak.”

  “Then you’re a freak that I love.” She pulled his head down until their lips touched. Her kiss was gentle but passionate and pushed tears from Andy’s eyes.

  They held each other for a long time before Missy turned back around. The breeze blew her hair into Andy’s face, and he drew in a long breath of her scent. “How will we know what to do next?”

  She paused. “Amos was supposed to tell us.”

  “Amos isn’t here.”

  “The prophecy says we eventually wind up in Jerusalem, so I guess we need to make some travel plans.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  Missy put her hands over his. “Is that going to be your standard retort?”

  “Maybe.”

  Chapter 38

  Andy and Missy remained on the beach until the sun peeked above the watery horizon. Andy didn’t sleep. He held Missy as the salty air and tumbling water kept him company. Thoughts swam through his mind, reviewing the events of the past several days. Never in a lifetime did he imagine what would follow when he’d climbed into that drainage pipe. His life had taken so many turns; so much had transpired in such a short amount of time. Enough to fill two lifetimes.

  Strangely, he had a peace now, a certainty that all would be well. He knew the future held more turmoil and conflict, more rough waters, and many more forks in many more roads. But he also knew what the end held. He saw how it all would come together. And as long as Missy was by his side, he could cross any ocean.

  Missy snuggled into him, and he kissed the top of her head, stroked her hair. He worried for her, wondered if she could endure to the end. Of course she could. She was remarkable and competent. She had a gift, and it consisted of more than the ability to breathe fire. She was chosen.

  When the first rays of light split the darkness and reflected across the wide expanse of the Atlantic, Missy stirred and grunted. She opened her eyes and turned her face toward Andy. “Did you sleep at all?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Not at all. I didn’t want to miss a moment with you.”

  She sat upright and stretched her arms above her head. “Is the sun up?”

  “Barely.”

  “I can feel its warmth.”

  The night had been chilly but not uncomfortable. Missy ran her hands through the gravelly sand. “What does the beach look like?”

  “It’s Maine, so it’s not really much of a beach. It’s rocky, large boulders here and there. Pine trees along the coastline. The water is calm this morning. The sunlight glistens off the tips of the waves.”

  “Like silver.”

  “Yes. Like silver.”

  “I went to the beach once as a kid. New Jersey. My mom took me early one morning so I could see the sunrise. I remember what it looked like.”

  Andy ran his fingers through her hair. “Can you smell the salt in the air?”

  “Oh yes. I love it.”

  Movement caught the corner of Andy’s eye. He turned quickly and found a man plodding along the shoreline, walking in the surf. He appeared to be elderly.

  “Someone’s coming,” Andy said.

  “Someone?”

  He stood and helped Missy to her feet. “An old guy.”

  “Did he see us?”

  “I think so. Yeah. He’s walking toward us.”

  As the man approached, his features came into view. Andy recognized him immediately. “It’s Clem.”

  Missy’s eyes widened. “Clement? How?”

  Clem waved and stepped around an outcropping of small boulders. When he got close enough, he said, “Good morning. You made it to Maine.”

  “Clement?” Missy said. “How are you here? I thought—”

  Clem walked right up to Missy and put his hand on her cheek. “I’m here, little one. That’s all you need to be concerned with now.”

  He didn’t have a mark on him, no wounds, no scars. The last time Andy saw Clem he was being attacked by a Doberman.

  Clem sighed, clasped his hands in front of him, and smiled. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?” Andy asked.

  “The rest of your adventure. You didn’t think it was over already, did you?”

  “It’s only beginning,” Missy said.

  “You’re right. And you have so much ground to cover.”

  “I have some questions first,” Andy said.

  Clem lifted his eyebrows. “Questions? Why, of course you do.”

  Questions had been gnawing at Andy’s mind since that first encounter with Colin. Questions that had gone unanswered for far too long. “Who were Colin and Trevor and the guy in the big rig? Were they . . . like me? Different?”

  Clem’s face grew serious. “Andy. Missy. There are others like me here to help you, but there are many others who
will try to stop you. They didn’t succeed this time, but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop. They won’t. Not until . . . not until—”

  “We’re dead,” Missy said. “I know. The prophecy.”

  “Colin and Trevor and the others,” Clem said. “They weren’t like you, Andy. They were pawns. Used and discarded by the enemy. They meant nothing to him.”

  “The enemy?” Missy’s faced creased with concern.

  “The man you met in the warehouse.” Clem shrugged. “The enemy.”

  “The lightning got him,” Andy said. “It killed him.”

  “Not by a long shot, son,” Clem said. “He can’t be killed. He’ll be back at a later time, a more opportune time.”

  “What are we to do?” Andy asked. “Where are we to go?”

  Clem reached out his hands and touched Missy and Andy. “You two are special. The world is about to turn very evil, and you alone will be the voices of truth. You are to be lights, and you will shine the brightest when the world is darkest. You will make a great difference.”

  “Are we to go to Jerusalem?” Missy asked.

  “Yes. Your journeys will take you there. That is where you will encounter the enemy for the final time.”

  Missy nudged closer to Andy and shivered. “The prophecy.”

  “Let it guide you, little one,” Clem said. “It is not something to fear. You both were meant for such a time as this. You were born for this purpose and this purpose alone.”

  “And what are you, Clem?” Andy asked. “An angel?”

  Clem smiled and winked. “We all can be angels to someone, right? I’m a messenger, a servant. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’ve delivered my message and now my job is done.” He took both their hands. His hands were soft and warm, his grip firm. “Now go in peace and walk with the eyes of faith.”

  Clem released his grip and let his arms fall to his sides. He smiled one last time and walked the way he had arrived. Andy and Missy watched him until he disappeared around a large boulder.