When the Sky Goes Dark

by Oliver C Seneca

  “See this?” Jon said. Now, he sounded like he was infected with the parasite. A mad man. “This is a loaded rifle. High fucking caliber rounds. How would you like it if I shoved it right in your mouth and fired?” He was unaware that he was speaking at regular volume now.

  Mrs. Cooper showed no interest in the threat, only more squirming and flailing. “Hmmm! Ermmm! Hmmmm!”

  “Alright. Not a fan of the Remington, I see.” Jon threw the rifle to his side and straddled on Mrs. Cooper’s chest like he was riding a horse. “How about this?” Jon slipped out the Swiss Army knife from his pocket and presented that beneath the faint beam. The light made it look black. He peeled out one of the blades with his thumb. “Something a little slower, hmm? I can either cut this tape off or cut out your fucking throat.” Jon spoke behind gritted teeth. He was twisted. He hadn’t consumed the water, aka the tainted shit, but he behaved as if the parasite had him in its clutches. “How about it? Now, where are my parents? Where are they, you fucking bitch!?”

  He RIPPED the tape off in a lip-shredding tear. Blood flung from around her mouth and into the dark. A shout began to follow, but Jon placed his hand down over the wounded mouth, covering himself in hot blood. “Eerrrghhhh! Ahhhhhh!” Mrs. Cooper squirmed, eyes going almost white as they traveled up into her head.

  “WHERE. ARE. MY. PARENTS!?” Jon shouted over her snarled screams. He was gone. Mad. Totally sabotaging himself and not caring who heard him anymore.

  “WHERE ARE THEY? TELL ME!” He rose the Swiss knife high into the blackness, ready to strike into her jugular, ready to cut where it counts and end it all right here, even without the answer.

  Mrs. Cooper bit Jon’s hand with an audible crunch. All of her teeth turned red.

  “Fuck!” Jon shouted as he flung himself back. The orange light glided through the air until it landed with its beam facing away from them, toward the metal shelves that held bags of ice melt.

  Now, Jon and Mrs. Cooper sat as shadows. One without lips and one with teeth marks dripping blood from his hand. Both were furious and bleeding.

  With a chunk of his hand turned into a slice of pizza, Jon scrambled and kicked his feet away from the squirming worm that was Mrs. Cooper. All he could see was the entity kicking and inching her way toward him. Blood spilled onto his pants.

  He dropped the knife and grabbed his hand that was drenched both in his and Mrs. Cooper’s blood. The pain felt as if the teeth were still lodged into his skin. His right hand, the dominant hand, was shaking in pain as his other one attempted to squeeze the holes shut.

  “You little son of a bitch!” Mrs. Cooper shouted at him through the dark. “You little fucking pervert!” She made spitting noises. She was hacking up blood and phlegm. Something wet landed on Jon’s left forearm. “Come here! Come over here! Agh! Agh! I’m gonna tear you limb from limb!” she choked.

  Jon’s mind bounced as the voice sounded closer.

  What have I done? What do I do?

  The light. Turn on the light.

  He stood up and approached the LED, the savior of the situation, and clicked on the switch behind it. Mrs. Cooper wiggled her body far enough outside of the spotlight so that her head wasn’t exposed. However, once the light was shining, her body reacted as if the parasite sensed an oncoming sleep.

  Jon couldn’t see her face, which may have been for the best. Only the top of her battered head hung below the edge of the shadow. He grabbed the stock of the light and attempted to aim the beam down into her eyes, those vicious, vicious eyes. Before he could execute the tilt, she lunged at Jon with her bound ankles, scooting herself with impressive speed and distance.

  Bloodied teeth beneath torn-off lips sunk into one of Jon’s shoes. There was a first time for everything and now Jon had just experienced a full-grown woman trying to bite his foot off.

  Mrs. Cooper didn’t penetrate her fangs through the shoe, but it was enough of a chomp and shock that it sent Jon sideways with the LED lamp. On his way down, the lamp’s light flashed across the walls and metal shelving. Boxes and large plastic containers covered in dust whipped by for a moment before Jon caught a glimpse of Mrs. Cooper’s body on the floor. She stared as Jon tumbled.

  It was only for a second. A flash of time. But what Jon saw was the most horrific looking victim of the parasite he’d ever seen in the past few days. Sickening. It was the starved woman with a torn-open mouth. She looked like some fucked up clown with a bright red face. Blood oozed and dribbled down her chin before it puddled on the floor. Repulsive. And Jon was responsible for it.

  No, I’m sorry he thought. I didn’t mean to.

  CRASH. CRACK.

  Stillness. Darkness.

  The little orange flashlight got its time to shine as the only source of light yet again. Jon lay on the cement floor in a splash of blood that once belonged in the back of Mrs. Cooper’s head. He stained the shoulder on his shirt and the wetness bled through. The smell of metallic scents made him feel as though he was back at White Haven College. It was the same smell that came from the countless bodies that spread in the grass between the dorm buildings. Soon, he’d be just like them if he didn’t get up.

  Silence filled the darkness for a moment until Jon could hear laughter, ghoulish, mushy laughter. Choking.

  “Something a little slower. Something a little slower,” Mrs. Cooper said. “I like something a little slower.”

  Jon, surprised and intrigued by her tone of voice, got up from the ground. It was too dark to see. Mrs. Cooper seemed to have put herself up against the wall with her face touching the cement. She was moving, inching at something. Jon couldn’t see.

  The rifle. The flashlight.

  He was quick to grab both of them, although he had to hold the flashlight with his bitten hand. The rifle was too heavy on it. He aimed the low beam on the back of her beaten head, which faced away from him. It looked as if she was eating something.

  Jon inched closer and spoke to her. Softer now. No more yelling, although who knew if Dominic and Rae were currently kicking-in the basement door and sending the chair down the steps in a tumble.

  “Mrs. . . Mrs. Cooper. I’m gonna ask you one last time,” Jon said.

  Mrs. Cooper kept at whatever she was doing. Eating? Licking? Then, she spoke with a driveling sound. “Slower heheheh shlower. You dung sonofabish bashtard unnghh. Dead. Dead. Dead.”

  Jon crept closer to her and raised the Remington with his left hand. It shook beneath the weight of the heavy wood and metal barrel. “Please. I just want to know where my parents are. My name is Jonathan Barnes. You said if I let you go, you’d tell me where my mom and dad are. Remember? From earlier today? You said-”

  “Your parentsh are dead and sho are you!” Mrs. Cooper turned and lunged at Jon before he could get a straight shot out. A bullet POPPED from the rifle and blew a hole in one of the cement blocks of the wall. Her hands were free from the tape. One of them gripped Jon’s Swiss Army knife as she moved forward.

  The tip of the pocketknife shot straight for Jon, but before it could take his eye out, he swung his chomped hand at the woman. The orange flashlight conked the side of her head and she stumbled for a moment, long enough for Jon to juke around her and head for the door.

  A BOOM of thunder filled the dark basement as Jon thrust the door open. The storm outside raged enough to spill its rumble down the stairs.

  After the punch with the plastic orange light, the beam’s power seemed to be depleted. Jon could see someone running down the steps with a bright white light. They ran past the upturned chair with duct tape on the legs. It appeared to be Dominic coming down to save the day and fix the catastrophic mess that Jon unleashed upon the Coopers.

  The beam made Jon squint as it was at least a thousand times more powerful than the orange piece of shit he had. He was about to spin and use the old fingernail trick to lock Mrs. Cooper back in the smelly prison where she belonged until he felt a sudden sharp sting on his back-right shoulder.

  Deeper and deeper th
e sting penetrated him until Jon fell face first onto the carpeted floor. His glasses cracked under his weight. The blade retracted from his skin and muscle with a slimy sound. He fell onto the rifle. The metal rod bruised his chest. Blood flowed from the carving, mixing with the wet stain of blood that wasn’t his.

  “Ahhh!” Jon shouted. “Agghh!”

  He spun his body around as he reached for the wound. Pain shot through him like lightning bolts, making him wince and convulse. Dominic’s mother was above him, about to strike again and finish it all until a POP POP POP sound blasted Jon’s eardrum. Wetness rained down onto Jon’s face and body. Ringing noises filled his ears and his eyeballs stung.

  The figure of Mrs. Cooper fell backward and back into the storage room. Dominic’s bright light was examining her until it struck Jon’s face, not helping the pain. He couldn’t see. He was convinced that there were bits of glass in his eyes. Jon blinked. It stung. There were words in the air, some even from Jon, but all he heard was the ringing.

  Dominic put the Maglite down to examine Jon. A black pistol was in his hand, resting on his leg. He placed the Maglite on the floor, and once the light was propped and the powerful beam lit up the back of the basement, Jon saw it wasn’t Dominic after all, not even Rae.

  It was somebody else.

  Chapter FIFTY-FOUR

  The Storm Continues

  The sound of thunder brought Dominic out of his dream. He was back in high school, about to take a test he didn’t study for. An anxiety dream. Dominic was used to those even though in the waking world he had been a straight-A student. Science and math were his specialties.

  Dominic could never figure out if he was naturally intelligent or heavily driven to be successful to get back at his absent father. Although he had never met the man, there was always a thought deep in the back of his mind to prove himself to his father. To show him. Whoever he was.

  Dominic also wanted to pay his mother back for all of the raising and lessons she had to do on her own. The mysterious Mr. Cooper had sent child support payments, that you could at least give him credit for. This allowed Mrs. Cooper to stay at her nursing job without having to work multiple jobs like the other single mothers she knew. Still, Dominic wanted to be a world-renowned scientist. A doctor even. Something bigger and badder than your average career. That way, he could put his mom in a house twice as big.

  Rae, on the other hand, seemed to manifest her repressed feelings against her disinterested father in another way. Instead of studying hard and having goals and dreams to work toward, she spent her time partying with her girlfriends and getting together with guys who had no ambition. Or, in other words, she often found herself in trouble.

  There were many late-night lies. Rae would be one place when she said she was at another while associating with people who may or may not be behaving within the law. Underage drinking. Smoking weed. Trouble. Plain old trouble. A classic case of a rebellious young girl without a positive father figure in her life, hanging out with her peers that came from similar origins.

  Dominic had tried to be that positive force for his little sister, but what else could he have said to her that his mother hadn’t already yelled and screamed about? What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed! Give me your phone! You’ve lost your car privileges! You’re grounded for the next three months! Where are you going?

  The question then arises: who’s the positive father figure for Dominic? Well, he’d probably go on and on about his heroes, the closest thing to fatherly figures. Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Stephen Hawking. Carl Sagan. Those were the guys that Dominic looked up to and followed. He collected each of their books and DVDs. He even had a poster on his wall of Neil Tyson in red and blue colors, like the classic Hope picture of Obama. But instead of hope, it read SCIENCE.

  Science. . . if only we knew how to stop the parasite, Dominic thought to himself as the rain fell harder against his bedroom window. He had slept for a few hours.

  Mom, how much longer can I do this to you? To us?

  Waking thoughts began to take away from Dominic’s sleepiness. Obsession of the parasite flooded his mind when it wasn’t turned off in slumber. Sleep was the only escape. Now, with the thunder rolling closer, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to drift back away into anxious dreams of high school days.

  POP. POP. POP.

  Dominic’s body jerked upright. Rae screamed from the other side of the wall.

  “Rae? Are you alright?” Dominic shouted. He stood by the edge of his bed in boxers and a white undershirt.

  “No! What the fuck was that?” she shouted back through the wall.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine! It sounded like it came from downstairs,” Rae said, sounding like she was jumping into some pants. “We gotta get down to mom.”

  Dominic yanked up a pair of jeans that were crumpled by the bedpost. His eyes darted from left to right, searching for the crossbow and arrow bag. I left them by the dresser, he thought. The bow and arrows weren’t there, nor were they in the closet, by his desk, or anywhere. Where the fuck are they?

  There was no time.

  The siblings scrambled outside in the hallway. The rain was plummeting down, and more sounds of thunder struck from above.

  “Do you have the bow?” Dominic asked. His eyes were wide. All of his tiredness had evaporated.

  “No, I thought you had it!” Rae replied. Her hair was a sleepy mess and her knee showed through the tear of her yoga pants. She put them on too fast.

  “Shit!” Dominic turned and knocked on the guest room door as Rae began descending the stairs with panicked steps.

  “Rae, just wait a second!” Dominic said, getting no answer from the guestroom door. “Jon! Are you ok? Did you hear that noise? We’re going downstairs to check on our mom!” Still nothing. He opened the door and found the bed sheets made and untouched. No Jon.

  “Jon! Ah, shit!” Dominic searched for his weapon to no avail. “Rae! Wait a second!” No sign of the Remington rifle either.

  Rae was at the bottom of the stairs now, not waiting a second. She turned and headed toward the basement door. Jamie, the family’s grey Tabby cat, sat on top of the couch by the living room window, watching with her golden eyes. Her tail curled.

  Dominic came clambering down the steps. He turned and grabbed Rae on her shoulders, pulling her back from the basement doorknob which she was about to turn.

  “Rae, stop! Let me go first! Stay behind me, please!” Dominic said.

  She tried to step forward from her brother’s grip, determined to get down into the cellar.

  “Did Jon shoot mom?” she asked as if she already knew. “Did he?!”

  “I don’t know!” Dominic shouted, pulling his sister back again. “But we can’t just run down there, we don’t know what the hell is going on!” Dominic shouted so loudly, that it broke his voice. It was as if he was going through puberty all over again.

  “Ok, ok,” Rae said, sounding like tears were about to win her over. She stopped pulling.

  The anxiety was killing them.

  “Fuck, we need a flashlight! Go grab the one from the pantry,” Dominic said.

  Rae swiped her mess of a hairdo away from her face and sprinted into the kitchen. She opened the wooden pantry door. HOME SWEET HOME was written on a wooden placard that hung with little pieces of rope on the door.

  Rae sprinted back out of the kitchen, holding a circular, red flashlight. On the side was a black switch that, depending on how far up or down you pushed it, changed the size of the bulb’s spotlight.

  “Come on!” Dominic said and waved her over. He took the light from her shaking hands. Her nails were bitten and chewed down. The remaining polish was chipped.

  Dominic twisted the knob and the entire basement door flew off its hinges, BANGING on the steps as it tumbled down into the dark in cartwheels. Rae screamed as Dominic jutted back, almost tripping them both backward. Both of them gained their balance and moved down the stairs again. The light
’s glow jutted back and forth from the walls to the steps. The chair that bounded Jon lay upside down on the carpet as the light whipped by. Soon, another light’s rays met theirs. Dominic steadied the beam, causing both lights to become perpendicular to one another.

  Jon, I pray to God you didn’t do what I think you did… Dominic didn’t want to see what he feared his eyes would show him. He knew it would be too much, especially for Rae.

  When the two of them reached the bottom, they saw a figure shining a powerful light back at them from the back of the basement.

  “JON!” Dominic screamed at the outline of a man. The fear of being unarmed crept up his spine. A bullet could fly through the darkness and take them both out, but the thought of his mother shot dead before finding a cure made him want to fight instead of flight. “JON! WHAT HAPPENED!?”

  “TURN OFF YER LIGHT!” the figure shouted back.

  Dominic’s adrenaline was pumping so quickly through his veins that he didn’t realize the voice sounded nothing like Jon’s.

  “PUT DOWN YER BEAM NOW OR I’LL SHOOT YOU! PUT IT DOWN! SHOW YER FACE!”

  “WHAT DID YOU DO TO OUR MOM YOU BASTARD!?” Rae screeched with fresh tears already flowing. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”

  With Rae’s cries traveling across the basement, the figure put down his light first. Dominic’s beam now put the man in the spotlight. A tall, thin man with a shaved head wearing a white wife-beater shirt dotted with blood, stood still at the opposite end of the Cooper’s basement. He wore navy slacks that looked to be both too wide and too short for his legs. In his left hand was a Maglite and in his right was a black pistol.

  Dominic and Rae stood shocked and speechless as their light introduced Rusty Mirch.

  Chapter FIFTY-FIVE