Nocturnal

by Ilia Bera

  She winced in pain again as another hot jolt of pain tingled deeply through her whole body. After a moment of painful paralysis, she opened the door and began to walk towards her little car.

  The frigid blowing snow made it difficult to see anything. The icy air quickly penetrated her clothes and began to seep into her vulnerable nerves and rigid joints.

  She wasn’t even five steps away from the house when she began to slow down.

  Her vision was becoming a blur, and her body was becoming overwhelmingly weak. She stumbled to remain on her feet.

  A particularly strong and cold gust of wind sent Charlotte to the cold icy ground. Her knees slammed into the icy pavement, and she fell down onto her side.

  She tried to pull herself back up, but she was too weak. She’d been consumed by a violent paralysis. Before her neck fully froze, she was able to look around. But between her blurry vision and the thick blizzard, she couldn’t see anything whatsoever. The cold had overtaken her faulty nerves.

  Charlotte began to black out.

  Suddenly, she felt two hands slip under her arms. Her frozen body was suddenly pulled up to her feet. The warmth of her mysterious saviour kept her from slipping fully into unconsciousness. One of the mysterious warm hands slipped off of her body. Charlotte could hear her car door opening.

  Gently, her body was placed in the passenger seat of the vehicle, safe from the crippling cold winds.

  As the car fired up and began to move through the terrible white out, Charlotte slowly slipped out of consciousness. Her hearing was nonexistent. All she could hear was a sharp ringing as the nerves in her ears fired in pain.

  Images of her son flashed through Charlotte’s mind—the beautiful day he was born, his first day of school, his first hockey game—Charlotte didn’t want to die—she wanted so badly to see her song grow up. At the same time,she was tired of holding her son back.

  Perhaps it was time for her to move on...

  “Try to stay awake,” a fleeting voice reverberated through her head. “Stay with me.”

  “I love you, mommy,” a little five year old Connor said as he wrapped his arms around Charlotte on Christmas morning. His happy, little warm body snuggled into Charlotte’s embrace.

  “Stay awake!” the fleeting voice said again. “Try to keep your eyes open!”

  “Mom?” a nine year old Connor asked.

  “Yes, honey?” Charlotte replied.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Mommy’s sick—But she’ll be okay.”

  “Sick with what?” the little Connor asked.

  “Something very nasty.”

  “Is it lice? A kid in my class had lice. He got to stay home for a whole week.”

  “It’s not lice, honey.”

  “Oh. Are you going to die from it?”

  “Some people die from it.”

  Connor’s eyes began to water. “You’re going to die?”

  “Oh—Baby, I’m not going to die.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to leave me.”

  “I won’t die. I’ll never leave you, Connor.”

  Charlotte bent down and wiped the tears from Connor’s eyes with her sleeve.

  “Never?” Connor confirmed.

  “Never.”

  “We’re almost there,” the mysterious fleeting voice said again, bringing Charlotte back to reality.

  Charlotte’s eyes opened slowly, and she could see the big red glowing hospital sign in the distance. She could feel the car turning into the hospital’s emergency ward. As she was able to make out the word, “Emergency”, her vision began to blur again.

  “Your son missed practice again, Mrs. Knight,” Connor’s coach said to Charlotte on the phone.

  “I’m sorry—I needed him to take me to my appointment. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  “That’s what you said last week. Connor’s a great player, but we have an attendance rule. I can’t keep looking the other way. Other players are already complaining.”

  “I’m sorry—Really, I am.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question, Mrs. Knight?”

  “Uh—Sure. What?”

  “Why don’t you hire a home nurse? My mother has one—I can give you her number”

  “A home nurse? I—I can’t really afford that.”

  “Have you looked into care facilities?”

  Charlotte bit her lip. “Yeah.”

  “There are some very good ones around.”

  “I—I know.”

  “Have you considered one? For your son’s sake.”

  “I’ve looked into it. It’s—It’s not really in the budget.”

  Connor’s coach was silent for a long moment. “I can look the other way on Connor’s attendance,” he said. “But when Connor moves up to the next division, it’ll be out of my control.” The coach had an awkward sheepish tone behind his voice.

  “I understand...” Charlotte said, looking at her feet, embarrassed.

  “Keep those eyes open,” the voice reminded.

  Charlotte tried her best to remain awake. She could feel her heart slowing. Each beat was weaker than the last. The sharp pain began to dissipate and Charlotte’s body began to feel light. As her consciousness began to falter, a strange light began to appear before her.

  All of her cold pain had vanished. She was weightless—floating through an intense euphoric plane.

  The transient voice was becoming increasingly distant.

  “Mrs. Knight!” the voice cried.

  As her vision parted, so did her stress and anxiety. She suddenly couldn’t feel her heart beating.

  The sound of a roaring audience became audible in Charlotte’s memories. The packed auditorium at the Grand Théâtre de Bordeaux clapped enthusiastically as Charlotte caught her breath behind the curtain, stage right. It was a memory of the final night of the most important tour in Charlotte’s career—moments after Charlotte’s most incredible performance.

  “Mesdames et messieurs— Le présentateur a demandé un tonnerre d’applaudissements lorsque elle a annoncé l’artiste. Please give a round of applause for the lead of our show...” a man announced in a thick French accent.

  The lights dimmed and a lone spotlight formed at centre stage, between the rows of smiling dancers. The crowd began to die down.

  “

  ’étoile du nuit—Giselle dans notre représentation. The Prima Ballerina, Charlotte Genevieve Reneux!”

  Charlotte took a deep breath in as the packed audience erupted into cheer. She stood up on her toes and straightened her back. Then, with a perfect and extraordinarily elegant pas de bourrée, Charlotte floated onto the stage, towards the centre stage light.

  The crowd stood up on their feet, cheering the incredible ballerina.

  The incredible moment was only a dozen seconds or so, but it lasted a lifetime. It was a memory that Charlotte would hold with her forever.

  Forever until the day she died...

  Right before Charlotte stepped off of the stage, she looked up at the car’s driver.

  Hanna, dressed in her big coat and her toque, held the cold steering wheel tightly with her small hands. She had all of her focus on the dangerous roads as she carefully turned into the hospital’s emergency ward. Charlotte didn’t recognize the girl—to her, it was a total stranger—Possibly even an angel.

  A gorgeous bouquet of red flowers landed at Charlotte’s en pointe feet. “Tu fais mon cœur danser,” the note read—“You make my heart dance.”

  “Belle nuit ô nuit d’amour,” the announcer’s voice elegantly echoed through the back of Charlotte’s mind. “Une belle nuit, tout le monde!”

  Part of French’s beauty has always been lost in translation.

  Any French teacher or translator would tell you the announcer said “Good night, everyone.” What was
really said was “Beauteous night, O’ night of love. A most beautiful night, to all the world.”

  Charlotte began to slip away again—her vision being overtaken by the impossibly bright light. Her body began to float upwards.

  Before she completely whited out, she noticed something peculiar—

  In the rear-view mirror, she could see nothing—nothing except for the bare back of the driver’s seat, behind Hanna’s body. Hanna didn’t have a reflection.

  Hanna was a vampire.

  Another bouquet of flowers landed at Charlotte’s feet.

  “Il a été une belle voyage,” the announcer concluded.

  Charlotte surrendered to the infinite whiteness.

  It’s has been a beautiful voyage...

  All the silent lullabies,

  The fleeting crowds and faint goodbyes.

  No smiling faces spend their time in mourning.

  No solace for your painful cries

  O’ the moon, your sun will rise!

  Don’t falter in this distant early warning.

  Perhaps you say we are not tall

  Only tender, quiet—but, O, not small!

  Of what ocean makes this call?

  O, dreary life, what doth befall?

  What sweet seduction lies beyond the tell?

  Belle voyage, mon beau. Belle voyage, ma belle.

  White.

  The ceiling is white.

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  A consistent metronome leads a complex ambience of the busy bustling hospital behind a cheap white curtain. The chatter of nearby nurses, patients, families and doctors becomes increasingly audible as reality returns.

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  White.

  The ceiling is white.

  When Charlotte’s eyes finally opened fully, she was faced with the view of a plane white panelled ceiling. Sluggishly, she turned her head and looked around the small hospital room. A splitting pain momentarily crossed the back of her tender skull. The pain dissipated, but brought Charlotte’s attention to another lingering aching—in her chest.

  Sitting next to her bed was her son, Connor. His eyes were red and heavy, and he was reading his copy of A Tale of Two Cities.

  “C—Connor?” Charlotte said with her faint voice.

  Connor put his book down and swiftly turned to his mother. “Mom—you’re awake. Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I—I don’t remember,” Charlotte said. “My chest hurts. I tried calling, but there was no service.”

  “The doctors said you had a heart attack. They said you almost died. Mom—You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I got stuck at school—I’m sorry.”

  “I was worried sick. You know there’s a crazy person running around killing people, right?”

  “I know mom—I wanted to call you—I should have called. I’m so sorry.”

  Charlotte turned her head back towards the white ceiling. A comforting wave of relief washed over her aches and pains.

  “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Charlotte said, not realising what she’d said until after she’d said it.

  She laughed the moment she put it together.

  Connor laughed for a moment, before the reality sunk in. His expression dropped. He looked over at his book. “I’m going to pull out of the class. This won’t happen again—I promise.”

  Charlotte turned back to her son. “Connor—no. You need to finish English.”

  “I’ll figure that out later. That’s so not important right now.”

  “You need it for the hockey team.”

  “I’ll figure something else out,” Connor said.

  “No. I won’t have it,” Charlotte said.

  “Mom—”

  “I won’t have it,” Charlotte said firmly.

  Connor looked down at his feet.

  “That young woman who saved me—who was that?”

  “A girl from my class—you’re lucky she was there when it happened.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Hanna.”

  “Are you close with her?”

  “I don’t know—I’ve only known her for a few days.”

  “Why was she out so late?” Charlotte asked before she started to cough. The beeping of her heart monitor sped up.

  “Mom—You need to get some rest, okay? Enough questions for now.” Connor stood up and adjusted his mother’s blanket.

  “Hanna is really nice. You’re lucky it was her and not someone else.”

  Charlotte stared at her son, thinking back to the empty reflection in the car’s rear-view mirror.

  “What’s wrong?” Connor asked.

  “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I’m going to be careful. I promise. Get some sleep. They’re going to kick me out in a minute here—visiting hours are long over. I’ll just be out in the hall here if you need anything.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Charlotte said. “Go home to your bed.”

  “I want to be here, mom.”

  Charlotte sighed, her eyes beginning to feel heavy.

  “I’m tired.”

  “Get some rest,” Connor said.

  Charlotte’s eyes began to close.

  “Good night, mom.”

  “Good night, honey.”

  Keeping her eyes open for a moment longer, Charlotte watched as her son packed his book into his school bag and walked through the opening in the curtain. She watched as Connor met up with Hanna, who handed Connor a coffee.

  Unable to remain awake, Charlotte drifted back into a deep sleep.

  THIRTY-SIX

  FORSAKEN TOWN

  “Is she okay?” Hanna asked.

  “She’s great, considering what happened—I can’t thank you enough for saving her life. I don’t even know what to say.”

  Hanna smiled. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

  “Yeah, well I’m forever in debt to you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Connor smiled at Hanna. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat from the cafeteria?”

  “I should probably get home.”

  “Come on—just a quick bite.”

  Hanna was silent as she considered the proposition.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” Connor said.

  “Okay—sure,” she said.

  The two made their way through the busy hospital, following the signs towards the cafeteria. The hospital hallways were filled with people—mostly the families and friends of frostbite and hypothermia victims. The nursing team was understaffed, frantically running from room to room.

  Temporary hospital beds had been set up in the hallway corners—an attempt to accommodate all of the facility’s patients. The heavy-eyed doctors looked like they hadn’t taken a break in days as they moved from room to room, seeing as many patients as their exhausted bodies would allow.

  The reception area was an even bigger commotion, as the lower-priority patients argued with the nurses about the severity of their conditions. Almost every available seat was occupied.

  Unnerving screams were audible throughout the whole medical complex. Desperate, crying families found consolation from whoever could spare a moment out of their busy schedule.

  Away from the noise and bustle was the cafeteria—a silent, forlorn space filled with empty tables and cold chairs.

  There was only one lonesome person in the large room, dozing off in a back corner as he stared out the window at the empty town streets—probably thinking about a sick friend or family member—thinking about his own complex life, complete with hopes, ambitions, anxieties and difficult relationships.

  Connor scanned the room. The cafeteria’s buffet line was closed and concealed by a locked metallic cover. There was a torn sheet of paper taped to it, which read, “Currently out of service”.

  Connor walked Hanna up to a series of vending machines, which contained a small selection of pre
-made plastic wrapped sandwiches.

  “We’ve got Ham and Swiss, tuna, or…” Connor scanned the options. “—That’s it,” Connor said, looking back at Hanna.

  “I’m okay,” Hanna said coyly.

  “Pick one—Please.”

  “I’ll take ham,” Hanna smiled.

  “Ham and Swiss coming right up,” Connor said, putting a bill into the machine. He punched in the code for the appropriate sandwich, and the machine did its task, vending the cheap food. Connor handed Hanna the meal, and then he bought another for himself.

  The two wandered across the room and sat down at a table.

  “Everyone says that hospital food is the worst—I honestly don’t think it’s that bad,” Connor said as he unwrapped his food.

  Hanna smiled as she unwrapped her own sandwich.

  “Look—I really can’t—” Connor started again.

  Before Connor could finish, Hanna cut him off. “—It’s okay. You don’t have to keep thanking me. Anyone would have done it. I just happened to be there.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true—I think that a lot of people would have kept on walking. People don’t want to get involved. People aren’t nice like you. You helped—I appreciate that. You’re a good person, Hanna.”

  Hanna shyly looked down at the table as she pushed a strand of hair off of her face.

  Connor smiled. “Sorry—I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable.” Connor took a bite from his sandwich.

  Hanna did the same.

  Beep!

  “Doctor Flacshner, please call extension two nine three six. Doctor Flacshner—extension two nine three six,” the intercom said, cutting the silence in the deserted cafeteria.

  Beep!

  “Did you get in trouble?” Hanna asked softly

  “In trouble?”

  “With Mr. Fenner.”

  “Oh—Actually, no. He gave me a break. He’s not actually that bad of a guy. He’s more understanding than any teacher I’ve had before.”

  “Oh, good. You finished the test?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  Connor laughed. “You know—he’s funny. He sat there marking everyone’s tests, and he did that loud groaning thing every time he came across a wrong answer.”