Darker Than Night

by Goingback, Owl

  The crack extended from ceiling to floor, and he wondered if it continued down into the basement. And if it did, was it the same size in the basement or was it larger? He needed to know, for the size of the cracks might tell him how far the Sipapuni had been opened. If the doorway to the underworld was only partially opened, then maybe there was a chance that it could be closed again before it was too late.

  Leaving the library, he crossed the hallway and entered the kitchen. He was halfway across the kitchen when he spotted the faces on the floor. It was a long time since he had seen such faces, but there was no mistaking what they were. They were the faces of evil creatures that inhabited the world below ours. The faces of boogers.

  Sam stopped and stared at the faces for a moment, suddenly feeling as if he were being watched. He turned and looked around the room, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the faces on the tile floor, it looked to be just a normal kitchen. And he looked to be the room's only occupant, but he knew that things were not always as they seemed.

  Opening his medicine bundle, he reached in and removed a tiny leather pouch containing sacred yellow cornmeal. He opened the pouch and took a pinch of cornmeal between his thumb and forefinger, and then, whispering a prayer for cleansing, he slowly walked a clockwise circle around the faces in the center of the room. As he walked the circle, he sprinkled the sacred cornmeal, hoping to kept the evil ones from coming up through the floor.

  He walked the circle four times, four being a sacred number, then closed the pouch and put it back into his medicine bundle. Turning away from the faces on the floor, he crossed the room and opened the door leading to the basement. It was dark in the basement, and he had not thought to bring a flashlight, but luckily he was able to locate the switch to turn on the lights. Switching them on, he started down the wooden stairs to the basement.

  He almost expected to find a Sipapuni in the basement floor, but no such opening was visible. It might still be there, somewhere, but he could not see it. Maybe such things were only visible to spirits and the kachinas. Maybe he had to die first before he could see the doorway to the underworld.

  Sam didn't find any opening in the floor, but he did find six cardboard boxes filled with kachina statues. Again his anger flared. "Stupid woman. She lied to me. She said she would put them back, but she lied. No matter, I am here now. I will put them back where they belong."

  Picking up one of the cardboard boxes, he walked back across the basement floor. He had just reached the steps when the door leading to the kitchen slammed shut with a bang. He stopped and looked up at the door, wondering who had closed it. Did one of the homeowners come home, find the door open, and shut it. No. He would have heard had anyone entered the kitchen. He would have heard them walk across the floor above his head. If not a member of the Anthony family, then who had slammed the door?

  He was still wondering who had shut the door, when suddenly the lights went out, casting him into total darkness. Sam started to call out, but changed his mind. Had someone been in the kitchen, he would have heard them. But he had heard no one. Except for the banging of the door, and the sound of his breathing, only silence surrounded him.

  Maybe the wind had caused the door to slam shut. That was possible, but he doubted if the wind could also turn out the lights. And how could there be a wind when the house was locked tight? That was a good question, but there was a wind. He felt it. Standing at the bottom of the steps, he felt an icy wind blowing on the back of his neck. Second question: how could there be a wind in a basement?

  Fear touched Sam Tochi's heart and squeezed it tight. It was not a fear of the unknown, for he suddenly knew who, or what, had slammed the door leading to the kitchen. And he knew why the lights had gone out. Standing there in the darkness, feeling an icy wind upon him, he realized that the Sipapuni was opened far wider than he had suspected. He also realized that he had just walked into a trap — a trap set by creatures far more intelligent than he'd ever imagined.

  "So, little brothers, you like to play, do you?" Sam smiled and set down the box of kachinas. "That is okay. I like to play too." He reached into his pocket and removed his butane lighter, thumbing its tiny wheel.

  The flame produced by the lighter wasn't very bright, but it was enough for him to see that he was in big trouble. Around him the floor seemed to ripple and roll as shadows scurried about in the darkness, staying just beyond the circle of light cast by the lighter's tiny flame. Circling him like sharks at a feeding frenzy, the boogers waited for their chance to rush in at the old Indian.

  Sam was terrified, but he knew as long as he held the lighter there was still a chance that he might make it out of the basement alive. He thought about climbing the stairs to see if he could get back into the kitchen, but his instinct told him that the basement door was probably locked. All was not lost, however, for he still had his medicine bundle, and he still had the boxes containing the kachinas. If he could keep a circle of medicine items around him, then he might be safe until the Anthony family came home and found him in their basement.

  A strange whispering sound came from behind him. Sam turned in time to see a booger dart within the circle of light and then dart back out again. That was not good. Not good at all. Obviously, the glow cast by the lighter's flame was not bright enough to keep them away. It was only a matter of time, maybe only minutes, before the boogers overcame their fear of the lighter's glow and charged him in force. He had to do something, and he had to do it quickly.

  Tearing open the cardboard box, Sam started dropping kachina statues on the floor around him. He didn't have time to place the statues properly, and only hoped that the medicine of the kachinas might buy him a few more minutes of time. A few more minutes to think of some way to fend off the boogers.

  He had to close the Sipapuni, he had to close the opening to the underworld, but he didn't know where that opening was. He could not see it, and he could not feel it. Wait. Maybe he could feel it. Sam felt an icy wind blowing in the basement, a wind that carried with it the smell of death. The wind must come from the opening, blowing from a place where evil things lived. Looking at the flickering flame of his lighter, he knew from which way the wind blew.

  Praying that his lighter would last a few minutes longer, Sam hurried across the basement. He used the flame to guide him, arriving at one of the far walls. Like the wall in the library above, this wall also had a crack in it. And from that crack a strange wind blew, carrying with it the smell of death and the sounds of things whispering.

  "This cannot be the Sipapuni," he said, placing his hand against the crack. "It is too small. But maybe it leads to the opening."

  Not knowing whether he had found the opening or not, Sam pulled his bony hand away from the crack. Still keeping a firm grip on his lighter, he opened his medicine bundle with his teeth and removed one of the pouches containing cornmeal. Allowing the medicine bundle to drop to the ground, he opened the pouch with his teeth and hurried to take out a pinch of cornmeal. Stepping closer to the wall, he shoved the sacred cornmeal into the crack.

  He had just placed the pinch of cornmeal in the wall, when a patch of darkness flowed from the crack and seized his hand. Sam cried out and tried to step back, but it was too late. One of the boogers had him, dragging his fingers deep into the crack. There was a loud snapping sound as the first two fingers of his left hand broke like dried pieces of chalk.

  "No!" Sam screamed, pain shooting up his left arm. He tried to pull away from the wall, but the boogers had him. More patches of blackness flowed from the crack to grab him, dragging his hand even deeper into the wall. He thrust his other hand toward the crack, hoping the flame of his lighter would drive off the boogers. But the shadowy creatures were not afraid, for the lighter was low on fuel and the flame weak.

  Instead of being frightened off, the boogers grabbed his right hand and dragged it too into the wall. Again several sharp cracks sounded as the finger bones in Sam's right hand snapped like pretzel sticks.

 
; Sam screamed in pain and kicked at the wall, but he could not get loose. He was as helpless as a fish on a hook, the bones in his hands being broken and crushed as the boogers slowly dragged him into the wall. Blood spurted from his broken hands, but he could not see it for he had dropped the lighter and was now in complete darkness. He could only feel the blood, wet and warm, flowing from his injured hands and running down the undersides of his wrists.

  Inch by inch the boogers dragged the old man's hands, then his wrists and arms, into the crack, crushing bones and smashing flesh until his chest was flat against the wall. Sam Tochi was still alive, but he no longer screamed or thrashed about. He only stood there, eyes staring but not seeing, mouth moving but no words escaping his lips.

  His body was still alive, but his mind and spirit had gone to a place where it was warm and safe. Sam did not see the wall before his face, or the blackness reaching out to pull his head, and the rest of his body, into the crack, carrying his crushed bones and flesh down into a world that was dark and cold.

  He saw instead the desert country of Third Mesa, and the town of adobe buildings that was Hoteville. A place of warm sunshine and simple pleasures, where ceremonial music filled the kivas and kachinas walked the night. These were the sights he saw as the boogers slowly dragged his body inch by inch into the narrow crack, for the spirit of Sam Tochi had gone home.

  * * * * *

  Mike and his family had only gone a mile or so down the road when he heard a strange noise coming from the forest to his left. Slowing his pace enough to drop back from the others, he listened carefully to the sounds around him. Almost immediately he realized that the local songbirds, so boisterous only moments before, had hushed their melodies. And in that unfamiliar silence he could clearly hear a queer whispering sound, as if a dozen or so people were quietly having a rapid conversation beneath the leafy canopy of the trees. It was the same whispering he had heard coming from the crack in his library wall, right before he was attacked by the boogers.

  He stopped and turned in the direction of the sound. Though he couldn't see anything, he could clearly hear the strange noise as it moved through the forest. The sound seemed to be following them, moving at a rate that paced their steps. More whispering came from the forest on the opposite side of the road. Again, he saw nothing.

  We're being followed.

  There was no doubt in his mind that the boogers had followed them from the house. He couldn't see them, but he could plainly hear the noise they made. Like tiny voices. Excited, hungry voices. He didn't know how many of the shadowy things were following them, but as long as they stayed on the road, protected by the sunlight, they should be safe.

  Not wanting to alarm his family, he started walking again, hurrying his pace to catch up with the rest of them. Holly and the kids were engaged in a lively conversation and hadn't noticed he had stopped. It was just as well; no sense panicking them unless it was necessary.

  Rounding a bend in the road, he stopped again. Up ahead, Sawmill Road

  narrowed to little more than a bumpy path running through a very dense section of old growth forest. Here it was always dark, no matter what time of day it was, the towering oak trees blocking out any and all sunlight. Mike saw nothing to indicate danger, yet he knew something waited for them in the darkness covering at narrow stretch of road.

  He turned quickly and looked behind him. There was nothing to be seen, but he could still hear the whispering sounds that followed, pacing them. No. Not pacing. Stalking. The boogers had been stalking them, herding Mike and his family into a trap. He was certain now that more of the shadowy creatures waited up ahead in the darkness that covered the road. It was a perfect trap, one he had almost foolishly led his family into.

  "Wait! Stop!" Mike said, his mouth going dry with fear. The others stopped, Holly turning to give him a concerned look.

  "What's wrong, Daddy? Why are we stopping?"

  "Shhh..." Mike studied the darkness ahead of him, and then turned and looked at the road they had just traveled. Standing there, he became aware of how late it had gotten. The sun hadn't set yet, but all around them the forest was already growing dark.

  Suddenly he realized the mistake he had made, placing his family in danger. This was exactly what the boogers wanted, this is why they had sabotaged the van. The wanted them out in the open, alone in the forest. In the shadowy darkness that covered the road they could attack from all directions. Five miles to town? It might as well have been five hundred miles. They would never make it.

  I've got to do something, and do it quick. But what? What can we do? Think, man, think. You're a fucking writer, use your damn imagination.

  Standing there in the middle of the road, his family watching him, he quickly thought up and dismissed a dozen different plans of action. He was unarmed, so he couldn't fight the boogers. Not that having a gun would have been of much help. That left only one option open: they had to make a run for it. But they couldn’t continue forward; they would never make it in the darkness that lay just up the road. Their only defense was to retreat.

  He tired to keep his voice calm, but it wasn't easy. "Tommy, remember the games we used to play in the park? Remember how we used to have races and you would always win? Well, I bet you're even faster now. Let's say we all have a race back to the house to see who is the fastest?"

  "Back to the house?" Tommy asked. "You said we were leaving."

  "We can leave later, but let's have a race back to the house now."

  Mike turned to look at Holly and Megan. He thought his daughter would give him an argument, but she remained silent. Apparently she too had been listening to the sounds following them and knew something was wrong. Fear showed in her eyes.

  "You guys up for a race?" Mike asked.

  Holly and Megan both nodded.

  "Okay, then, it will be a family race." Mike smiled, his gaze gliding over the forest beyond the road. "Everyone line up. No cheating."

  He stepped up to where Holly and the kids stood, lining up to face in the direction from which they had just come. His wife took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, letting him know that she understood what was going on. He looked at her and smiled. A weak smile, one chiseled from fear rather than happiness

  "Okay, everyone get ready." Tommy leaned forward in his best imitation of a sprinter's stance. Apparently he was the only one who had not heard the whispers and didn't realize the danger surrounding them. Megan also leaned forward slightly, but she knew the race was for anything other than fun. "On your mark. Get set. Go!"

  They took off running back toward the house. No sooner had they started than the forest around them exploded in a barrage of sounds. There must have been dozens of the unseen creatures, maybe even hundreds. They were completely surrounded.

  "Hurry!" Holly yelled, keeping the children before her. "Don't stop."

  "Faster, Tommy. Don't let me beat you," Mike yelled, spurring his son on to greater speed. He threw a glance over his shoulder and saw a sight that nearly took his breath away. Back behind them where the road narrowed and the towering trees created eternal darkness, the forest floor seemed to be rippling and boiling. But it was no natural phenomenon that he saw. Instead it was hundreds, if not thousands, of shadowy creatures scurrying from their hiding places along that stretch of road, to give pursuit to Mike and his fleeing family.

  Oh, dear God.

  Like cockroaches spilling from an open sewer, the boogers poured from that darkened patch of forest to give chase. They moved like ebony liquid, flowing over the ground and around the trees and brush. With them came the maddening whispering sound they made, growing in volume until all other noises perished beneath it.

  Mike could no longer hear his footfalls, could barely hear himself when he shouted encouragement to his son and daughter. The whispering filled his ears like the shrill cadence of a million hungry locusts, bringing fear and madness with it.

  Tommy looked back at his father. A smile was no longer pasted on the boy's face. H
e heard the noise too and knew what it represented. Instead of a smile, his eyes had grown large with fear. Mike wanted to tell his son that there was nothing to be afraid of, but he could no longer find his voice.

  They reached the driveway and raced into the yard, stopping when they reached the van. Turning, Mike expected to see an army of shadows chasing after them, but there was nothing there. The boogers had stayed in the forest, not daring to venture out into the open where sunlight still caressed the land. The hideous whispering had also stopped, replaced by a heavy silence that was every bit as terrifying.

  "We're safe," Holly whispered, embracing her husband. "They don't like the light."

  "Safe?" Mike glanced up at the sky. There were only a couple more hours of daylight left until it got dark. They were safe for now, as long as they remained outside in the open, in the daylight. But night would be coming soon, and with the night would come the boogers.

  29

  Night was coming. The sun had already dipped below the tree line to the west, casting long shadows across the front lawn. With the darkness would come the boogers. Mike didn't want to go back inside the house, preferring instead to stay outside in the open. But he no longer had any choice. Inside there were lights to keep the dangerous shadows at bay. As long as there were lights they would be safe.

  Unlocking the front door, he led his family back inside the house. Holly started flipping on lights as soon as she entered, not waiting to be told to do so. She paused, however, just inside the kitchen doorway, her finger on the light switch. Even in the darkness she could see that something had changed. When she switched on the light, what she saw horrified her.

  The hideous faces on the floor had doubled in number, maybe even tripled. And they were no longer just on the floor. They were also on the walls and ceiling, staring out at her from their world, trying to get through. The sight was so startling, so terrifying, she almost screamed. Along with the faces, there was a strange circle of yellow powder on the kitchen floor.