Long After Dark

by Greg F. Gifune

  His mind told him to reach for the camera but he couldn’t move. Horrified, he watched as the being limped into the mouth of the driveway. Slowly, and with what appeared to be great effort, one of the gnarled hands came away from the body, the arm extending out as a single finger uncurled and pointed.

  Directly at Harry.

  * * *

  Don’t open the door don’t open it please don’t please God help me don’t open the door no don’t—don’t open it, help me, I—

  “Mr. Fremont?”

  Harry blinked away memories and wiped perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, I…”

  “I understand you’re not feeling well and under a lot of stress right now, sir, but I need you to stay focused to the best of your ability. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  The police officer stood before him, a petite and attractive brunette with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and held in place with a rubber band. She didn’t look like a cop. Were she not in uniform he’d have guessed schoolteacher, or maybe a sales or public relations person. The radio on her belt crackled, so she lowered the volume a bit, watching Harry in an obvious attempt to discern precisely what it was she was dealing with. Her eyes were large and deep brown, almost black, and though mired in typical policeperson demeanor she came across less officious than most, her tone patient, nonjudgmental and sprinkled with genuine compassion. Harry guessed she was about twenty-five.

  Technically young enough to be my daughter, for God’s sake.

  “Do you think you can do that for me?” she asked again, eyeing his little command center and the baseball bat he’d left leaned against the wall.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just so tired, I…I’m exhausted.” He knew she’d introduced herself when she first arrived but he couldn’t remember her name. Ironically the nametag above her right breast read: Guy.

  “I take it you play baseball or softball, Mr. Fremont?”

  “Not since I was a kid.”

  “Then what’s the bat for?”

  “Take a wild guess.”

  Her expression made it clear she did not find his answer amusing.

  “I keep it in the house for protection,” he sighed.

  “What is that all over it?” she asked.

  He glanced at it with disinterest. “Old scuffs and some mud, I guess. There’s no law against having a dirty baseball bat is there?”

  She didn’t seem to completely accept his answer, but for some reason didn’t push the issue. “Of course not,” she said, clearing her throat, “but this is the second call you’ve made to 911 today and we’ve yet to find an emergency here either time. There are laws against abusing the 911 system.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  She drew a breath, let it out slowly. “No sir, I don’t. Not intentionally.”

  Harry already regretted phoning the police, but he’d been so frightened at the time he couldn’t help himself. It seemed the only sensible thing to do.

  Once she arrived he removed the camera from around his neck and left it on the table, then closed the laptop so she wouldn’t see the sites he’d been researching on sleep deprivation. While she searched the property he waited inside, feeling like a complete ass. Old enough to be her father and hiding in the house like a coward while she protects me from...from what?

  He’d neither shown her the glyphs in the closet nor asked her to search the house for fear she’d see the coyote in the mudroom. Much as he wanted to take her upstairs and show her the inside of the closet door, he couldn’t risk it. Not without knowing it wasn’t some kind of setup. Paranoid or not, he had to consider it as a possibility after the phone calls to Kenny. The way things were going, with his luck he’d get her up there and the glyphs would be gone anyway. And besides, all Officer Guy needed to see was the closet door barricaded with a chair and she was likely to go from being suspicious of his mental state, to convinced he needed serious intervention.

  “But earlier today you reported a man on the roof across the street,” she reminded him as she consulted a small notepad. “Officer Nicoletto responded to the call, and according to his report he was unable to find anything to support your claims. Unfortunately I have to tell you I’ve come to the same conclusion, and my report will reflect that. There are no indications anyone has been on your property, sir, much less your roof. And I certainly,” she licked her lips in a clear attempt to prevent herself from smiling, “saw no signs of a little person.”

  “I don’t know for sure it was a midget, I—”

  “You’re not supposed to use that word.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Midget,” she said. “They find that word offensive. You’re supposed to say ‘Little People’ now.”

  “All right then,” he said drowsily. “I don’t know for sure if it was a little person.”

  “See? It’s really not that difficult to be kind and considerate. Cruelty takes effort, not kindness.”

  Her statement annoyed him. He was sure she meant well but the last thing he needed at that point was lessons in how to conduct himself. Then again, from her perspective that was probably exactly what he needed. “Whoever it was, I found the situation and this…person…threatening. I wasn’t thinking about being kind. I never said for sure that it was a dwarf or a little person or whatever term we’re supposed to use, just that it was someone small. I assumed it was a little person.”

  “Could it have been a child, a kid playing a prank?”

  “I don’t think so, I…” He tried to clear his mind, to find the right words and to put them in the correct order, but they eluded him. “I’m not…”

  “Mr. Fremont,” she said, dropping into a crouch next to the recliner so they were eye-to-eye. “In his report Officer Nicoletto indicated you admitted you hadn’t slept in a few days and that you were also under the influence of some prescription medications for your flu. I can tell by your behavior, appearance, and by speaking with you that you’re in a severely debilitated condition at this point. You just said yourself you’re completely exhausted and having some serious issues here.” She wasn’t wearing cologne but smelled fresh and clean, like she’d scrubbed with a heady deodorant soap. “We need to address those issues before things get out of hand, do you understand? I’ll do whatever I can to help you, but you can’t keep dialing 911 and tying up units on false alarms. The shift commander is allowing me to make the call this time. If we have to come back here tonight he won’t leave it up to me again. He’ll insist I take you into protective custody. I can do that now, Mr. Fremont, but I’d rather not.”

  Harry listlessly pawed at his eyes. “You’re going to arrest me?”

  “No, sir, it’s not an arrest. It’s protective custody, something we do for a person’s protection if we determine it’s not safe or in their best interest to allow them to remain alone or under their own supervision. We’d put you in a cell for the night so you could sleep in an environment where we could be sure you’d be safe.” She smiled ever-so-slightly, almost guiltily, as her thin lips parted to reveal very straight, very white teeth. “But I’m hoping we don’t have to do that. I’m hoping you’ll agree to take whatever medications you need and go to bed. You obviously need sleep, and I think in your situation you’d do a lot better here in your own bed, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said, confused as to why he was having such mixed emotions about this woman. She seemed like a good cop. Was she a good wife too?

  Officer Guy stood up, resuming a position of authority. “I don’t want to remove you from your home, Mr. Fremont, but if it becomes necessary I will.”

  I bet you have plenty of opportunities to stray from your marriage.

  “Do you understand?” she pressed.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I won’t call again. I promise.”

  I wonder if you do.

  “If you need us, call. That’s why we’re here. Otherwise—”

  “I understand. It won
’t happen again. I’m sorry, I—I’m just confused. I feel so ridiculous. Here I am a grown man calling you to come and…”

  “Don’t worry about that.” She gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “You’re so exhausted you’ve begun to see things, to confuse reality and fantasy, and if you don’t sleep it’ll just get worse.”

  He looked up into her big brown eyes. If eyes were in fact windows to the soul he decided hers was a virtuous one.

  “I know these things are frightening, and that they seem very real, but they’re just tricks of the mind. Remember back in school, in science class, the first time you learned about microscopic organisms? All those little bugs and mites and whatnot that can only be seen through high-powered microscopes but exist everywhere—on our bed sheets, on our clothes, our skin, in our mouths, our eyes—but we just can’t see or feel them because they’re so small? For days I was freaked out thinking about these little bugs all over me and everyone else. But then I realized I had to stop. Of course they exist, but whether those organisms were really there or not was immaterial. If I focused on them and allowed those thoughts to be in my head all the time they’d drive me crazy. I’d lose my mind with worry and fear about things on and inside me I couldn’t see with the naked eye or even hear or touch. I wouldn’t be able to function because I’d be searching for or worried about those things swarming all over me. The point is it’s really easy to become obsessed with things like that, and if you’re not careful before you know it they’ve driven you completely out of your mind. Do you see what I’m saying, Mr. Fremont? None of us can control whatever microscopic organisms exist in nature anymore than in your present state you can control the way your mind is reacting to being deprived of sleep for days, but we can control how we think about things and how much power we’re willing to give them.”

  He looked to his hands. She was right. They were swarming with hideous organisms neither of them could see. “Can I ask you a question, officer?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s your first name?”

  Through a sigh she said, “Donna.”

  “I see you’re married. You wear a wedding band.”

  “My personal life isn’t relevant here, Mr. Fremont,” she said, shifting back to a cop that sounded as if she were reading from a script.

  “Can’t we…” He looked to the floor. “Can’t we just talk like two human beings for a minute? Is that so difficult?”

  “I’m sorry you’re having a tough time, sir, and I’m doing my best to help, but this isn’t a social call. I’m on duty and I have other things I need to do. If you’re having personal problems and feel you need to talk with someone I can put you in touch with—”

  “I didn’t mean to pry it’s just that I’m married too,” he explained, visions of Kelly flooding his mind with equal measures of ecstasy and agony. “I’ll bet I’ve been married almost as long as you’ve been alive.”

  “I’m older than I look,” she said. “I’ve always looked a lot younger than I am. The older I get the more I’ve come to appreciate that.”

  He tried to force the pictures in his head to stop but they refused to leave him. “I’ve always enjoyed being married. It’s…nice.”

  “Yes,” she replied quietly. “It is.”

  “To know that…well, that at least you have each other.”

  “And that someone has your back,” she added.

  But is that really how it is? Or just the way I want it—need it—to be?

  “Is your husband in law enforcement too?” he asked.

  “He’s in IT. You know, computers.”

  “Evil.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Evil,” he said again, pretending he’d meant to all along. “You must see a lot of it in your line of work.”

  “Sometimes I do, yes.”

  They’re watching us right now…I know it…

  “Do you ever feel like it’s a losing battle?”

  “I try not to. I’ve only been on the force here in town about a year. My husband’s company transferred him to Massachusetts but we’re originally from Indianapolis. I was a cop there for seven years.” She nervously scratched her ear. “I learned early on there are very real, very powerful forces of evil in the world. You come to realize there’s no question about the existence of evil, only what forms it takes. And it’s not always what we think. In fact it seldom is.”

  “Yes,” Harry said softly, “I think you’re right.”

  “You just have to hang in there, Mr. Fremont. We all do. In the end we have a lot more control and influence over our existences than we think we do. Life’s just a learning curve.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Better hope so.”

  The gun on her hip caught his attention. It looked impossibly large for her, almost comical hung on a woman so diminutive. Yet he had no doubt she knew how to use the weapon and could wield it with extreme prejudice if need be. There was something about her, something at once wholesome and cunning, like she could go from a fresh-faced girl-next-door to a pitiless slayer of evil in a heartbeat. He tried to imagine what she looked like at home with her husband. Did she wear her hair down he wondered? Did she speak differently once the badge and gun came off? Was she someone else entirely or was it a minor transition from cop to wife? Did her husband know both versions of her or only that which she allowed him to see?

  “Your husband must worry about you strapping on a gun everyday.”

  “It’s not easy for anyone to be married to a cop.”

  He nodded as if he understood, but he really didn’t. Had Kelly held a job where she needed to be armed and was always in harm’s way he never could’ve endured the stress. “My wife’s a business executive, a much safer profession than yours, but I worry about her constantly just the same. Even after all these years, when she’s away I still miss her terribly. Isn’t that silly?”

  “I think it’s sweet.”

  Or is it pathetic? I’m not even sure I know who my wife is. I’m beginning to wonder if I ever have.

  “I’m sure your wife worries plenty about you too.”

  “Be nice to think so.” He watched the window. “Lately, I…I don’t know.”

  “Maybe she’s just lost her way.”

  “Maybe.”

  “We all do from time to time. But sooner or later we find our way home.”

  “What if home turns out to be worse than being lost?”

  “That’s probably a lot like being trapped in a nightmare.”

  “Yes,” he said, “it is.”

  “You can remedy your situation,” she told him. “If you just go to sleep, this will stop. If you’ve had enough, sleep. Just sleep. That’s all you have to do.”

  Harry smiled at her, mostly in thanks. But he was embarrassed too. Though he was sure she meant well, she looked at him like he was some disarmingly senile old man, a lonely fool bothering the police with nonsense.

  “You love her very much, don’t you Mr. Fremont?”

  Don’t cry, don’t—don’t start crying you stupid bastard, she’ll PC you.

  “I do.”

  “You mentioned earlier she’s out of town on a business trip?”

  He nodded.

  “When’s she coming home?”

  The answer should’ve been right there at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite remember. His mind sluggishly struggled to find the right answer. “Tomorrow, I think, I…no…wait…is tomorrow Monday?”

  “It’s Saturday night. Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “She’s coming back Monday.”

  Officer Guy considered this a moment. “Would you like me to try to get a hold of her for you and see if maybe she could come back a little sooner?”

  A call from the police would scare Kelly to death. Tempting, but…

  “No, that’s not necessary. I wouldn’t want to worry her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He was suddenly struck with a violent coughing fit. “Yes,
” he finally managed once it was over, “but thank you.”

  “That’s a nasty cough. Do you have anything for it?”

  “Yes,” he answered, wiping thick globs of saliva from the sides of his mouth. “Guess I need to take some more.”

  “Tell you what.” She removed a business card from her shirt pocket, scribbled something on the back, then handed it to him. “This is my card.”

  Harry found the concept of cops having cards humorous, but when he realized she’d written an alternate phone number on the back he was touched.

  “That’s my cell,” she told him. “You need to promise me you won’t abuse it, but if you’re having trouble again call that number instead of 911. You can reach me until seven tomorrow morning, that’s when my shift ends. Between now and then if you get scared or confused or—well—if you need me just call that number, OK?”

  No one can help me. I understand that now.

  “Thanks.” He pushed himself to his feet. “That’s very nice of you.”

  “I hope you feel better, I really do.” She headed for the door and Harry followed. When they arrived she said, “Go to sleep.”

  “I will.”

  “Goodnight then.”

  “Goodnight.” He stood in the doorway as Officer Guy returned to her cruiser.

  Even before she’d reached the car he saw them.

  Emerging from darkness, the two men in black stood partially concealed in shadows just beyond the light from the streetlamp.