Darkness Descends

by J. C. Kavanagh

  On the fourth floor, he paused. The door to Richard Hatemore’s room, 417, was closed. He walked past slowly, listening for voices. If Richard had visitors, they were silent.

  In Georgia’s room, Connor’s parents sat on either side of the bed, each holding her hand. His mom’s pale face matched her nurse’s uniform and his dad’s lips were pressed into an ashen slash. They had been by Georgia’s side for over 24 hours.

  “You brought Foleydota.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick gave him a sad smile and took the stuffie, gently positioning it between Georgia’s arm and chest. A sob escaped her and she lowered her head onto Georgia’s shoulder.

  “Please, Mom.” Tears came to Connor’s eyes and he placed a reassuring hand on his mom’s back. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Really?” She stared at Connor, confused. “How can you say that? Look at her.”

  Mr. Fitzpatrick came around the bed and pulled her into his arms. “It will be okay.”

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick closed her eyes and began to weep against her husband’s chest. She sobbed silently while the tears fell like rain down her cheeks. “I’m supposed to take care of other people’s children… not my own.”

  Connor glanced away and took a deep breath. Watching his mom cry in front of Georgia’s sleeping body was too much.

  “Why don’t you two go home,” he managed to say, “and maybe grab a bite to eat. I’ll stay with Georgia for a few hours.”

  Mr. Fitzpatrick nodded at Connor. He kissed the top of his wife’s head and then leaned toward Georgia, brushing a wispy black ringlet from her forehead. “I’ll be back later tonight,” he whispered in her ear, “and your mom will be here tomorrow morning. Foleydota is with you and so is your big brother.” He waited but there was no response from Georgia, no sign of awareness and no glitches or hiccups from the beeping monitor.

  “I know she heard you,” Connor said softly. “I just know it.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, the evening nurse walked quietly into Georgia’s room. “Would you mind waiting outside?” she asked Connor. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Connor replied. “But first, um, I was just wondering about the boy in room 417? Will he be okay?”

  The nurse gave him a quizzical look. “It was a terrible accident,” she said slowly, “but we’re all hoping for the best.” Connor let the silence hang uncomfortably, hoping it would prompt the nurse to provide more information. The nurse was not swayed. “I can’t tell you anything more than that.”

  “Really?” Impatience unloaded its great weight on Connor’s shoulders and he threw it back at the unsuspecting nurse. “I’m asking a simple question – and the answer might be the key to saving Georgia, and you can’t tell me anything more?”

  “Young man,” replied the nurse. “Please watch your tone with me. I don’t make the rules here but you must understand every patient deserves privacy.”

  With her rational and calm tone, Connor’s ‘impatient’ load suddenly slid off his back. “Well, alright,” he replied. He backed out of the room mumbling ‘sorry,’ as the nurse pulled the privacy curtain around the bed.

  Stretching his shoulders, Connor walked down the hall, toward room 417. Shake it off, he told himself. A baby was crying loudly from a room behind him and a female voice responded with a consoling, sing-song lullabye. The crying faded as he got closer to Richard’s room. He stood outside the closed door and checked the hallway. Visiting hours were over and the hall was empty. Squaring his shoulders, Connor reached for the handle and pushed inward. Richard was the sole occupant in the room. If he ever had any visitors, there were no physical signs. The room was devoid of colour: no flowers or balloons or ‘Get Well’ cards. Just gaunt, skull-scarred Richard, along with tubes, IV bags and display monitors.

  How long has he been here? Connor wondered. His previous dream adventures in the Valley of Tired took place months ago. Has he been here that long? Connor walked toward the bed and stopped by Richard’s side. He was attached to the same type of IV drip and monitors as Georgia. The boy’s long, gangly arms lay on top of the white sheets, with needles and tubes snaking out of one arm and a finger monitor fastened to the other. The metal bars connected to the bedside were shiny and mirrored Connor’s tired face. His image was as distorted as Richard’s skull was disturbing.

  Uncertainty took hold of Connor. Does Richard sleep in the dream world? Is it always night-time there? He touched Richard’s thin arm. It was cool and dry. Connor examined the boy’s face and a pang of pity tore through his heart. What happened to you? The boy looked to be in his mid-teens but the emaciated face and frame made him seem older. The thick red scar across the top of Richard’s head pulsed like a gigantic varicose vein. Connor closed his eyes. If Georgia is in Richard’s dream world and she sees this monster… He couldn’t bear the thought.

  His pity for the boy dissolved and was replaced with a ferocious protectiveness toward Georgia that was so intense, his knees buckled. With clenched teeth, Connor gripped the metal bars and leaned over Richard. “If you hurt my sister, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

  He straightened and backed out of the room. “I’m coming for Georgia,” he whispered, “and you better stay out of my way.”

  * * *

  Jayden unlocked the apartment door and slid her backpack onto the hallway floor along with her dusty baseball gear. She was still pumped with excitement after her team’s come-from-behind win. Saluting herself in the mirror, she gave herself a high-five and hollered, “Woo hoo!” The win assured them a spot in the ‘A’ Division playoffs. But topping her adrenalin rush was the fact she had driven herself home. Miss Independent!

  “Ma, come check out my new wheels!”

  The television was blaring from the living room and Jayden walked in, keys dangling.

  “Come on, Ma, you’re going to love it!”

  Her mom, Patty, was sprawled on the couch, a half-empty glass of something alcoholic in her hand. The ice tinkled in the glass as she waved it toward Jayden.

  “New car? When can I borrow it?”

  “Sorry, not going to happen, Ma,” responded Jayden. Not ever, she thought.

  “Well, then, I don’t want to see it.” Patty put on her best pout-face and twisted her head back toward the TV.

  Jayden’s eyes sparkled as she walked forward, blocking her mom’s view. “It’s orange,” she coaxed, “our favourite colour…”

  “Red wine is my favourite colour. And brown rum,” said her mom derisively. “NOT orange.”

  “Come on, Ma,” pleaded Jayden. Her adrenalin rush was coming to a sour end. “You have to be happy for me.”

  Her mom stood up, steadying herself against the stained coffee table and glared at Jayden.

  Jayden took a step back. Uh oh, she’s gonna blow.

  “After all these years and all I’ve been through, your father buys you a car and I’m left with nothing.”

  Jayden could feel the resentment dripping from her mother’s voice and she swallowed hard, controlling the urge to fight back.

  Her mother continued. “I, yes me, Patty Watson-Nanjee, deserve a vehicle way more than you do, you selfish, ungrateful, spoiled child.”

  It was Jayden’s turn to glare. “You are so wrong,” she declared. “You don’t even know me.”

  Her mom wobbled to her feet and pointed a finger at Jayden’s head. “Really? Do ya think I don’t know about your little gang at school? And what people say about you?” She laughed, a wicked humourless sound. “Yeah, I know about you. And what they call you. The Queen of the Bully Biahtches.” She puckered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, that Jayden,” she mimicked in a sing-song voice, “she’s so lovely and so, so mean…”

  Jayden could feel the heat rising in her face and hear the blood pounding in her ears. “Who taught me to be mean and selfish, eh Ma? Who?”

  Her mom took a step closer, bitterness clouding her bloodshot green eyes. “It wasn’t me.” She spat out the words
, panting in anger. “It was your dad.”

  The false statement caused Jayden to pause and she shook her head defiantly.

  “No, Ma. Everything good in me is from him. Everything bad… well, that’s all on you.”

  In one sweeping motion, Patty hurled the contents of her drink across the room. Jayden blinked as the liquid struck her face and the ice cubes bounced from her baseball shirt onto the floor. The strong odour of rum filled the air.

  “I’m going out,” Patty said. “Feed yourself.”

  Jayden stood there, face dripping and hate seething through every pore in her body.

  “If I’m a bad person, then it’s because of you, Ma,” she said to the closing door. “BECAUSE OF YOU!” But her mind was telling her differently; she was having an internal tsk tsk, a bickering conversation she couldn’t stop. It’s up to you to be you. Choose – be a bully or be nice.

  Head bowed, Jayden fumbled her way to the bathroom. Even after showering, the stench of self-loathing hung about her like an invisible cloak. She thought about the fictional story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the tale of a man torn between his good nature and his wicked impulses. Which person am I? her ‘nice’ self asked. Well, her ‘bully’ self snickered, which one do you want to be?

  Jayden stretched out on her bed, then turned and punched the wall. I’d rather be in the dream world than here. Anywhere but here.

  Chapter 10

  The J Stroke

  The light was getting closer. Why is it so hot?

  Jayden held her breath and peered ahead. There he is. The stick figure was advancing toward her, but he wasn’t walking. His body was moving gracefully, as though an enormous wave was pushing him gently from behind. She closed her eyes against the blinding light.

  Moments later, sensing his presence, she held out her right hand.

  “Jayden,” the figure whispered.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” she interrupted him. “I’ll cross over. Your side.” Ignoring the pounding and chanting noises to her left, Jayden stepped forward.

  The falling sensation enveloped her and Jayden stretched out her arms, welcoming it. Instantly, her hands were grabbed and she heard herself scream. Wait, she thought. That’s not me. Blinking, she became aware of Max beside her, his mouth open wide in a scratchy-voiced screech. Her peripheral vision momentarily displayed Connor and then she hit the water, hard.

  Hot! The water is HOT. It seemed to take forever for Jayden to plunge to the lowest point in the river before buoyancy took over. She swam upward, gasping for air at the surface. She could see the full moon shining its scarred face in the sky above. The spiders, she thought. We jumped off the cliff to escape the swarm of spiders.

  Splashing sounds drew her attention and both Max and Connor bobbed beside her. The current was strong and she felt herself being drawn down river.

  “We have to get to shore!” shouted Max, pointing behind them.

  “But the top of the mountain is across the river,” Jayden yelled in return. “The other way!”

  Connor was dog-paddling furiously, fighting the current. “Max is right. Swim to shore!” Gasping for air, he began a sloppy front-crawl toward the sandy shoreline.

  The current was still dragging them down river but its pull weakened as they got closer to the beach. Minutes later, they pulled themselves onto the sand, panting. They knelt in a circle as crickets chirped in the shadowed woods behind them and the river rushed past with a swooshing sound.

  The moon cast a pallid glow on their faces and Jayden shook out her long, dark hair. Max’s ginger-coloured mane was plastered to his head like an unruly mop pretending to be a crown.

  Jayden smoothed out her wet pyjama top. “Look,” she pointed at the bright orange sleeve and then at Max. “It matches your hair.” She giggled but neither Max nor Connor was amused.

  “Really?” asked Connor. “You don’t remember the ‘think first, speak second’ part?”

  “But it’s my favourite colour,” she said, softening the insult. “It really is.”

  Changing the subject, Jayden pointed to the top of the stubby mountain beyond the river. “Aren’t we supposed to be climbing?”

  “Yeah,” answered Connor, “but we have a mission to accomplish first.”

  “A mission,” Jayden repeated.

  “That’s why we’re here,” piped in Max.

  “That’s why we’re here?” questioned Jayden. “I’m totally confused. What do you guys know that I don’t?” She waited patiently for a reply, watching as multiple emotions crossed Connor’s face.

  “I think my little sister Georgia is here. Stuck somewhere.”

  “What?” Jayden shook her head in disbelief. “How?”

  “She was having bad dreams about talking trees and bushes. But I didn’t think she’d be in this dream world ’cuz she didn’t mention anything about having to climb. Until it was too late. Too late for me to warn her.” Tears came to his eyes and he brushed them away. “She’s in a coma at the hospital.”

  “Wow, that’s terrible,” whispered Jayden. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “It gets even worse.” Connor cleared his throat. “Richard Hatemore is real. He’s in the same hospital as Georgia. And... he’s in a coma too.”

  “Wait,” interrupted Max. “You didn’t tell me that part.”

  “Because I only saw him yesterday. Saturday.” He inspected the back of his hand, perplexed. “Do we even know what day or, actually, what night it is here? Isn’t it always night-time?”

  “Yeah, I think it is,” agreed Max. “Always night-time.” He shifted his stance. “So, let me get this straight. We’re here now and our mission is two-fold: first, rescue Georgia; and second, find and then ‘fall’ into the Town of Sleepmore. And also avoid wolves. And Richard Hatemore. Oh, and spiders.” He nodded to them. “No problem.”

  It was Jayden’s turn to be confused. “Aren’t we somewhere in the Valley of Tired?”

  “Not according to the signpost built over that mammoth spider colony,” replied Max.

  Jayden rolled her eyes. “Well, I didn’t pay attention to that signpost, what with wolves and spiders chasing me.”

  Max kept his composure, ignoring Jayden’s sarcasm. “The signpost displayed five different places, including the Town of Sleepmore. The Valley of Tired is somewhere across this river and the sign said there was a volcano vent. The other places were...” he paused, thinking. “The other places were: Devil’s Door Rapids, Devil’s Door Waterfall, and Twisted Pines. They were all pointing in the same direction.” Max gestured to the top of the stubby mountain. “Up there. Beyond the river.”

  Jayden stood. “Do you think we should swim across?”

  Max shook his head. “Negative. Did you notice how hot the water is? And how strong the current is?” Both Jayden and Connor agreed. “There’s got to be hot springs within the river, and my guess is this narrow waterway is actually the Devil’s Door Rapids. That means there’s also a waterfall somewhere along the line. At least, that’s what the sign said.”

  Suddenly, Connor lifted a finger to his mouth in a shushing gesture. In the stillness of the night, they realized the silence around them was unnaturally quiet. Gone was the chatter of crickets and frogs. Only the sound of the rushing river disturbed the night air. Then they heard it.

  “I don’t like it.

  I don’t want it.

  I HATE it.”

  THUD THUD THUD

  “It’s that guy, that Richard Hatemore crazy guy,” whispered Jayden. “Dick!”

  After each chant, three loud thuds were heard.

  “He must have those cable cutters with him,” Max said. “The ones he used to bang on wood and the very same ones he used when he snipped our zip line months ago in the Valley of Tired.”

  Agitated, Connor slammed a fist into the sand. “We should ambush him!”

  “No, no – wait!” Max examined the woods to determine Richard’s location but the voice echoed all around them. “He
mustn’t have Georgia!” Max said softly, “Because he wouldn’t be chasing us down if he did.”

  “And Georgia would call out to you, right?” suggested Jayden.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” agreed Connor. “Then that means he’s trying to stop us. From climbing.”

  The three stood shoulder to shoulder, peering into the woods. Spoonfuls of mashed potato clouds slid over the moon and they were left in semi-darkness. Moon rays were replaced with charcoal shadows.

  “There!” Max pointed to a long, dark apparition about 30 metres from them. “At the edge of the woods on the sand!”

  “That’s not Richard,” replied Jayden, staring intently. “That’s... what is that?”

  “It’s our way out of here,” Max declared. “Come on!”

  They ran toward the long shadow and increased their pace when they realized what it was.

  “A canoe – it’s our way across the river!”

  Hurriedly, the three dragged it into the water. The chant and the thuds were louder.

  “I don’t like it.

  I don’t want it.

  I HATE it.”

  THUD THUD THUD

  “Come on!” Jayden glanced back to the woods. “He’s getting closer!”

  They waded out further until the water was to their knees. Max jumped into the centre of the wooden canoe and handed Jayden and Connor a paddle. “Jayden, you paddle from the bow and Connor you paddle and steer from the stern.”

  “What?”

  “Duh!” Max lifted his hands palm up and then shrugged at their inexperience. “Okay then, Jayden, you get in the front of the canoe – the bow, and Connor you get behind me – the stern.”