Available Darkness: Season Two (Episodes 7-12)

by David Wright

“What are we going to do?” Abigail asked, with enough fear in her voice to keep Larry from daring to yell.

  He breathed himself into a calm, then said, “How did you get inside their house?”

  “I don’t know. One minute I wasn’t feeling well so I went to sleep, and the next minute I was in their house. I even slept through killing Bobby. I didn’t wake up until I was standing over his parents’ bed. I think something is wrong with me,” Abigail’s voice cracked, forcing her to breathe before she could finish her thought. “I think I’m broken.”

  Larry remembered how, a decade ago in Florida, John had thought he’d been going out on midnight kills and not remembering them. Of course, it turned out to be his brother Jacob, not him. But what if Abi was killing in her sleep? This added a new wrinkle to caring for the girl, a wrinkle that Larry didn’t know how to iron.

  “We’ll figure this out,” he said, even though Larry wasn’t convinced in the slightest they would. “I’m gonna get some stuff from the kitchen to help get rid of that gas smell on you, so go get undressed and ready to shower, and I’ll bring it to you with some fresh clothes.”

  “What are we going to do? Are we going to move again?” Abi asked.

  “I don’t know,” Larry said.

  “I don’t wanna move,” Abi cried.

  “I don’t know,” Larry said, trying to keep his annoyance from bleeding through his fraying calm. The only thing Larry knew for certain was that he couldn’t handle this on his own. He had to reach John.

  “OK,” Abigail said, then turned from Larry and trudged up the stairs.

  Larry didn’t even have to try and reach John. The soundtrack of rushing water only played for a minute upstairs when the doorbell went ding. Larry crept to the peephole with one hand wrapped around the hilt of his pistol, then opened the door to John and Tiny, standing on his porch, covered in blood, and looking like they had a problem far larger than Abigail’s.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 3 — John

  “I think I’m going to need another Mountain Dew,” Larry said as John finished updating him to the final detail, including the fact that Shadow was now dead, betrayed by his people.

  John and Tiny followed Larry into the kitchen. He handed them each a cold can of soda.

  “The Agency probably thinks I’m dead, or Shadow’s captive, so that’s our advantage,” John said. “I need to find Hope. The two people most likely to know are Duncan Alderman and Bob Cromwell, one of the bosses at the Agency.”

  “Can’t you just ask Alderman?” Larry said.

  “I’d rather not have to kill him,” John said.

  “What? That dude used Abigail as a pawn to get you to join his little Omega death squad. He also used Hope to keep you on a leash. Fuck that dude.”

  “Fair points,” John said, taking a swig of soda. “But he also took care of my brother, Caleb. He did what he did to protect him. I can’t fault him for that.”

  “So, Cromwell’s the target?” Larry asked.

  “Yeah, do you have info on him? Where I can find him?”

  “Let me make a few calls,” Larry said. “I’m pretty sure we can get to him. You wanna do it now, with the sun coming up? Or wait until tonight?”

  “Well, it depends where he is. If he’s at the office or anywhere near Omega, we’ll have to wait until tonight,” John said, sighing. “I need Mathews and everyone else to still think I’m missing. Besides, I don’t have my lightproof uniform, which is just as well. And Tiny doesn’t have one, so we’d be screwed if we’re fighting anywhere near daylight.”

  Larry looked at John, “So, what are you gonna do if you find her?”

  “When I find her.”

  “OK, when — what are you going to do? We’ve got Jacob to deal with, again. And you’re probably gonna piss off Omega if you strike at Cromwell.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” John said. “I only know one thing: once I have her, I’m never letting her go again. Not ever.”

  Larry said, “I still don’t get how she’s from your world! This is way too trippy.”

  “Tell me about it,” John said. “I don’t know how I couldn’t tell. Humans give off a different aura from Otherworlders. It must be a mistake. The list has to be wrong.”

  Larry said, “A bit too convenient to be wrong, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it — you were willing to end your life for her,” Larry explained. “You love her with the kind of love I’ve not seen outside chick flicks. Maybe you two are so deeply connected because you’re from the same place.”

  Tiny interjected. “Hey, guys, I love all this Hallmark stuff, but we need to catch some sleep a bit even if we wind up heading out today.” He turned to Larry. “You got a dark spot where we can crash?”

  “Yeah, I have a spare room upstairs I blacked out just for Johnny, so you guys can share. Sorry, but there’s only one bed. You’re gonna have to bunk together.”

  Tiny smiled, “I dunno, can you keep your hands off me, pretty boy?”

  John smiled. “I’ll try my best to resist.”

  Tiny said, “OK, I’m gonna shower. You wouldn’t happen to also have some fresh clothes?”

  “Got some for John,” Larry said. “But we don’t carry size giant.”

  Tiny laughed. “It’s good to see you again, Larry. Forgot how damned funny you are. So, you got a washer and dryer, then?”

  “Yeah, right through there,” Larry said, pointing at the hallway leading out to the garage. “But I don’t want you walkin’ round my place all naked ‘n’ shit. We got a kid, ya’ know.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll wear a towel,” Tiny said. “How is Abigail doin’ these days?”

  “She’s OK. I think she’s actually taking a shower in the guest bathroom, so let me show you to the master bath,” Larry said as he led Tiny upstairs.

  As John waited for Larry to return, he could feel Abigail — still upstairs in the shower, upset. He couldn’t tell why without probing her mind, and didn’t want to invade the privacy of her thoughts. He paced the kitchen waiting for Larry when his eyes were drawn to the front of the fridge where three of Abigail’s drawings hung, all in crayon.

  He moved closer to look at them.

  One was of a dog playing with a ball on a field. John wondered if it was someone’s dog that she knew, or perhaps a dog she had as a child. He couldn’t remember seeing a dog in any of her previously shared memories. Maybe Abigail wanted a dog, but was afraid she would kill it with her touch. John made a note to tell her she wouldn’t. Their touch was only deadly to humans, non-vampire Otherworlders, and some — but not all — of the monsters from his world. Pets were fine. The second drawing was of what looked like a mermaid, with long blonde hair. The third drawing showed Abigail, Larry, and a woman standing side-by-side, almost like a family portrait.

  This must be Katya.

  John was happy to see Abigail accepting the woman Larry hired, but felt a twitch of jealousy, or maybe regret, that she’d omitted him from the drawing.

  Larry came back downstairs with a serious expression and a hushed, non-hyper Larry voice. He said, “We need to talk.”

  “About what?” John asked.

  “Abigail. She’s not doing well.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t even know where to start, man. But I suppose the squad of fire trucks down the street is as good a place as any.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 4 — Hannah

  Hannah froze as Greg pulled his chair from the table and asked her what she was listening to. Her mind flashed back over what she’d heard him say in the recording — what seemed like certain betrayal. Questions screamed in her mind.

  What is he doing?

  What’s going on?

  Who was he talking to?

  What is he planning to do to me, or with me?

  Who is John?

  A second voice split through the madness, the same inner whisper
that led her to record Greg in the first place — some wiser part of herself that saw through her “boyfriend’s” charade.

  “Don’t let on that you know anything. Play dumb or you’ll never escape.”

  Escape?

  The thought of suddenly having to escape a man she loved, a man she trusted, seemed ludicrous to Hannah, bordering on insane. Yet, she definitely didn’t imagine Greg on the recording. Those were his words, and his voice. The trusting part of Hannah wanted to believe there was some sort of logical explanation. It wasn’t as though she heard the entire conversation. Maybe there was more. Greg could have said something to clarify his comments a few seconds after the part where she had to pause when Greg appeared in front of her asking what she was listening to.

  I must’ve misheard him.

  “You heard him correctly, girl. Stop second guessing yourself.”

  Hannah promised herself she would listen to the rest of the recording later. For now, she would do as her inner advisor suggested: stay calm and play stupid.

  She slipped the phone back inside her purse, hoping Greg didn’t notice that she was in The Dictator app, and not a music player. Fortunately, he never seemed to give too much attention to details, especially when it came to things like her apps or music. Hannah figured her secret was safe, unless she gave it away with a look of sheer terror when he surprised her.

  “Just listening to some music,” she said, painting her mouth with a phony smile she hoped didn’t look like what it was. “So, who was that on the phone?” she joked, “Your other lover?”

  “Yes,” Greg took a sip of wine. He swallowed and said, “She’s meeting us later for a threesome. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “In your dreams,” Hannah said, faking a laugh and hoping she wasn’t overselling it. She lifted her glass and sipped at her wine, but it had turned from a light plum to a sudden vinegar. She winced, set the glass back on the table, then steered the subject toward tomorrow’s plans, wondering if that would be when Greg did whatever it was he planned to do. Not that Hannah expected him to announce his secret, sinister plans.

  “So, what’s on our agenda for tomorrow?” she asked. “I’d love to go shopping in town.”

  “Yeah, we can do that,” he nodded, seemingly preoccupied.

  She wondered what he was thinking. Or what sort of conversation he’d just had. Had his boss, or whomever he was talking to, told him to act sooner rather than later? Maybe Hannah didn’t even have until tomorrow. Perhaps Greg was planning to do something tonight.

  She took another sip of her vinegar.

  “Don’t get drunk. You’ll need your senses sharp.”

  They finished dinner, stretching it out another hour with reels of small talk, as if neither were in a rush to end the evening. They even ordered dessert, which they rarely ever did, a dulce de leche cake that would have tasted amazing under any circumstances where Hannah wasn’t mulling her safety or her sanity.

  Small talk turned slightly bigger as it fell to trips down memory lane. Greg asked, “Remember that time we had that really snooty waiter who kept enunciating everything in a horrible attempt at French?”

  Hannah laughed, “Oh, God, he was awful.”

  “And how he kept getting the order wrong and acting like he didn’t?”

  “Worst waiter ever,” Hannah said, smiling while trying to mine true intentions from Greg’s guarded eyes. He stared at her intently, never breaking gaze as they spoke. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking — if he was jealous of the man in her dreams, or if it were something else, perhaps a part of Greg that was there from the beginning, with her blind to his existence until now. The trip down memory lane felt like some sort of farewell dinner, which only scraped her already frayed nerves.

  An uncomfortable silence stretched across the table and forced Hannah’s wine back to her lips. She took another sip from her glass, ignoring her admonition to stay sober. As she swallowed, a glimpse of memory swirled into her head — a man with long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, staring back at her. The man she’d seen in a glimpse while making love with Greg. The imaginary man whom she fantasized about while Greg was inside her.

  “John. His name is John.”

  The name felt familiar, not just from hearing Greg mention it, but also like a name she’d dreamed of. But there was something more there, just beyond the edge of her memory. He seemed real, like a long-forgotten love. But how could that possibly be? How could she not remember someone she loved? Hannah had never had a lot of success in relationships. Hell, her luck was so bad with men, it was a running joke with her few friends in college. Though, oddly enough, she couldn’t recall a single college friend’s name through the merlot’s haze.

  Troubled, Hannah tried hard to remember her friends more clearly, but picking her brain for a minute could barely recall a reasonably hot redhead with a big mouth, her most outspoken friend.

  Carla? No, not Carla. That doesn’t sound right. What kind of friend am I that I don’t even remember people I was so close to during the best years of my life?

  “You ask this when you can’t even remember John?”

  He can’t be real.

  “If he’s not real, why is Greg worried about him? And discussing him in secret on the phone?”

  She thought of the accident and the temporary amnesia. She didn’t remember much of the hours she’d first come to, but now she started to remember bits and pieces. She’d thought of John then, too, she realized. She’d even asked Greg where John was.

  But who is John?

  Maybe Greg is talking with my doctor. Or maybe he’s consulting with a friend, unsure of what to do. Maybe he was planning to ask me to marry him this week, and now he’s not sure since he overheard me talking about some John guy in my sleep. Maybe I’m just blowing this all out of proportion.

  “No, you are not. Greg is not who he says he is. You know it, so stop denying it.”

  Hannah looked up from her glass and found Greg’s eyes on her again, still staring. If he wasn’t who he claimed to be, who was he? The whole thing seemed almost on the verge of paranoia.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “That you’re going to kill me and dump me in the woods, you psycho.”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just tired. Getting a migraine, I think.”

  “Too much wine?”

  “Maybe,” she tried to laugh but shrugged instead, this time reaching for the glass of water, its ice long ago melted. She swallowed two large gulps as the waiter returned with their bill.

  “Need to use the restroom before we go,” Hannah said, grabbing her purse from the table as she stood.

  “OK,” Greg said, downing his wine

  Hannah went to the restroom, relieved to find it empty. It was a tiny bathroom with dark walls, a stone floor, and only two stalls. White Phalaenopsis Orchids with blush-colored centers sat in potted planters on the sink, draping low between the bowls. Hannah hoped to find a window in the restroom, something she could crawl out of and run, though she had no idea where she could go once she did. Her heart pounded, and her breath went shallow with a sudden, urgent need to escape. She wasn’t sure if it was irrational fear, or some instinct for self-preservation kicking in, but she wanted to run: fast, far, and without looking back.

  But what do I do after I run? Where do I go?

  “Don’t worry about what; just go.”

  First, she had to pee, especially with her nerves so swollen. Hannah sat, and fished her phone from her pocket. Before she knew what she was doing, she dialed a number from an unfamiliar area code as if her fingers were on autopilot. She didn’t dare stop to think about what she was doing, watching as her fingers dialed and the numbers displayed on her screen.

  The number seemed familiar, though she didn’t know why, and was dialed so automatically, Hannah knew she had dialed it many times before.

  What the hell am I doing?

  She brought the phone to her ear. After a long moment, a man answered wit
h a slight accent she couldn’t place.

  “Hello?” Hannah said.

  “Hello,” the man said and let a moment of silence stretch as he waited for Hannah to say something else. When she didn’t, he asked, “Who is this?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” Hannah said.

  After a long pause, the man said, “Hope? Is that you?”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 5 — John

  John showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt, then stepped out of the bathroom to find Abigail waiting in the hall, pushing her striped toe sock into the carpet, making circles. Then she saw him, and the girl who would never be a woman ran up to her angel and threw her arms around him.

  “John!!” she yelled, her voice muffled in his chest.

  He hugged Abigail tight, as tears welled inside him and a sudden warmth spread through his heart. While John had not forgotten how much he missed her, he tried to bury the thoughts when they came, lest they weigh too heavily on his soul.

  “Oh, God,” she cried, “I missed you soooo much!”

  “I missed you, too,” John said, inhaling the scent of strawberry shampoo. While the shampoo was different, Abigail’s scent was still there beneath it, permanently imprinted on him.

  “Come on,” she said, “I wanna show you my room!”

  Abigail took John’s hand and led him to her bedroom, then opened the door to a flamboyant clash of purple, black, and pink that somehow matched her perfectly. The first thing Abigail showed him was the teddy bear he had given her more than a year before. “Look, it’s Mr. Bear!” she said, excited. “One of the cops Larry knows found it in the car I got taken away in. Can you believe it?”

  She hugged the bear to her chest, squeezing almost as hard as she’d hugged him.

  “Wow, that’s cool,” John said, wondering if it was in fact the bear he bought her, or if Larry had gone to the gas station they’d gotten it from and got her another. Either way, Abigail was happy, and that’s what mattered.