All Dark, All the Time

by Brian Keene

  “It did?”

  “Yep. It’s still coming down. You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

  “My stomach hurts, but I’ll be okay.”

  She paused, staring into his eyes. “Eric, I know things have been rough on you lately and I’m sorry. It hasn’t been easy on any of us, but especially for you. How about I rent some movies on my way home tonight and we’ll watch them after dinner. You can pick anything you want.”

  “The Matrix and Spider-Man,” he said without hesitation.

  His mother grinned.

  “I’ve got to get your sister to daycare or I’ll be late for work. Thank God the office gives us onsite childcare. All the other daycare centers are closed today. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be alright. Maybe I’ll play video games.”

  “Okay. I’ve got to go. Your father will be home around four-thirty and I’ll be home soon after that.”

  She headed for the door.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  But she had already disappeared down the hallway to his sister’s room.

  That was the last time Eric Carter ever saw his mother.

  • • •

  Eric hadn’t been fine. He’d collapsed, shivering uncontrollably after his mother had left. Going downstairs to turn up the heat, he fought back tears.

  “Rain...”

  He turned on the radio in the kitchen, searching for Howard Stern, something he was forbidden to listen to, which meant he did every chance he got. All he could find was the news. It was on every channel, the snow being the topic of the morning.

  “Meteorologists are expressing complete surprise at the freak blizzard that blanketed Western New York with up to five feet of snow in some areas. The storm seemed to, quote, ‘come from thin air’, say’s National Weather Service spokesperson James Sager. The blizzard is now making its way down the East Coast with no end in sight.”

  “Hey Farter!”

  Eric winced. Cautiously, he peered out the window. The dazzling brilliance of the sun glinted off the fresh snow, blinding him for a moment. It was everywhere; huge mounds of fluffy white that covered everything and made the familiar landscape seem alien. Tony, Rain and the others were standing outside the house.

  “Come on down, bitch!” Vince hollered.

  “Yeah, come on out and play!”

  “Leave me alone,” Eric whispered, and then he saw it.

  Across the street, where the ebony asphalt had been replaced with ivory powder, something was moving toward them.

  Something under the snow.

  Eric was reminded of a cartoon gopher, burrowing beneath the ground and leaving a funnel of dirt on top. The snow parted in an impossibly long line as the thing silently bore down on them.

  Tony was in the rear of the group and only Eric saw it as it happened. While the others jeered at Eric, Tony froze, a look of mild shock crossing his sloping brow. He turned pale, then chalky, then alabaster as the color drained from his face.

  Jack turned to investigate why his leader wasn’t joining in on the fun and screamed. The snow around Tony’s feet was splattered with crimson. There was another quick movement from beneath the snow and then Vince shrieked in horror as he was jerked off his feet. As he went down, Eric caught a glimpse of a twisting coil, pink veins spider-webbing through its white length.

  More of the things were converging on them now and Eric quickly shut the curtain. He thrust his fingers into his ears as Rain began to scream.

  Across town, a fire siren began to wail.

  The snow continued to fall, covering the red stains.

  When Eric tried to call 911, he got a busy signal. After twenty minutes of trying, he gave up.

  His family never came home that night.

  The television, radio and internet were alive with reports of the snow worms, until the power went off shortly after five in the afternoon.

  Darkness came and all was peaceful and quiet. The only sounds were that of the snow, softly hitting the windowpanes. And the slithering sound beneath it.

  Eric opened the door and stepped outside.

  HOUSE CALL

  STORY NOTE: The following tale features Levi Stoltzfus, a recurring character in a series of novels I’ve written. If you’ve never read those novels, that’s okay. All you need to know is that Levi was excommunicated from the Amish community and now acts as an occult detective, healing the sick and protecting mankind from the supernatural. He is adept at many different forms of magic, particularly the folk art of powwow.

  The knock at the front door came just as Levi Stoltzfus was sitting down to a simple and meager dinner of cornbread, kidney beans and milk. The sound surprised him, simply because he hadn’t anticipated it. Whoever the caller was, they’d somehow made it past his various circles of protection, wards and other alert mechanisms and methods of intruder prevention. At the very least, Crowley, his faithful hound, should have barked from his doghouse in the backyard, alerting Levi to the visitor’s presence. But Crowley was silent.

  Not so the guardian just inside Levi’s foyer. He got up from the dining room table and moved into the living room. The guardian was there, unseen but felt, a coiled length of darkness hidden amongst the shadows where the wall met the ceiling. Had anyone entered the home with the intent of doing Levi harm, the guardian would act.

  The rapping sound came again, patient but insistent. Levi wiped his mouth with a napkin and stroked his beard thoughtfully as he crossed the living room. Cornbread crumbs fell to the floor. He muttered a simple, short prayer as he reached for the knob. Then he opened the door.

  A little girl stood there, staring up at him with dark, mournful eyes. Levi guessed that she was about six or seven years old. She looked vaguely familiar, and he thought it might be possible he’d seen her before. She wore a pair of faded denim shorts, a pink shirt, and scuffed sneakers. Her blond hair was done in pigtails. Levi noted these things remotely, for what interested him most was the girl’s aura.

  She didn’t have one.

  Every person had an aura. Since birth, Levi had been able to see them. Once they were aware of his ability, his father and his grandfather had taught him how to read people’s auras. The most important thing was the aura’s color, which varied greatly, encompassing the entire spectrum, except for black. Levi could determine if a person was healthy or ill, happy or sad, just by noting the color of their aura.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Levi nodded. “Hello, yourself. How can I help you?”

  “Are you the doctor? My Mommy is sick.”

  “Yes,” Levi said. And although he wasn’t a doctor in the traditional sense or in the eyes of the medical establishment, he was indeed a healer. Levi practiced a form of shamanism called Powwow, as his father and his father before him had done. He cured people using magic and methods from a book called The Long Lost Friend, as well as several other esoteric texts. Patients, mostly the elderly or the poor, came to him seeking treatments for various ailments and maladies. Sometimes they did this because they had no health insurance. Other times, it was because they didn’t trust the modern medical establishment. In his time, he’d dealt with everything from the common cold to arthritis to diarrhea. Occasionally, he was called upon for more serious matters; stopping bleeding or mending a broken bone. Despite his knowledge, Levi’s abilities had limits. There were no herbs or ingredients to combat cancer or other fatal diseases, for example. Only prayer could cure those things. Levi wasn’t always successful, either. He had experienced failures, and each one haunted him. But so far, his successes had far outweighed his failures.

  “What is wrong with your mother?” Levi remained in the doorway. He did not invite the child inside.

  “She’s sick,” the girl repeated. “She put something in a needle that she thought was medicine, but it’s really poison.”

  Heroin, Levi thought. Or something just as despicable?

  “Is she still conscious? Is she awake?”

 
“Yes.” The girl nodded. “But barely.”

  “And where is she now?”

  The girl pointed into the darkness. “At our house. It’s not far.”

  “Give me one moment, and I will help you.”

  Levi gathered his things—a brown leather kit bag and his beaten-up copy of The Long Lost Friend—and locked up the house. The girl waited patiently on the doorstep until he was finished. Then he led her out to the garage, half of which had been converted into a stable for his horse, Dee. The horse whinnied softly when she saw the girl, but Levi calmed her. Then he hooked her up to the buggy on the other side of the garage and motioned to the girl to climb aboard. She did so, and Levi reached out a hand to help her. When she placed her hand in his, her touch was cold.

  “After I have helped your mother, would you like me to help you? Do you know how to get to where it is you should be?”

  “Yes. But I don’t want to go there. My Mommy needs me.”

  After that, they rode in silence. The girl spoke only to give him directions. The road was nearly empty of traffic, and the wind was chilly and damp. Despite this, neither Levi or the girl shivered. Dee’s hooves beat out a steady rhythm on the pavement.

  Ten minutes later, they arrived at a trailer park on the outskirts of town. It sat nestled in a strip of woodland between the highway and the banks of the Susquehanna River. Most of the trailers were in various states of disrepair, and a few had notices from County officials posted on their doors listing them as condemned. Derelict cars and trucks sat in front of many of them, and the yards were full of junk and ceramic lawn ornaments.

  The girl directed him to a trailer near the rear of the park. Its brown vinyl siding was dented and faded, and there were two holes in the roof that had been crudely patched with tin sheeting. A headless lawn gnome sat next to the cracked cement steps at the front door. One of the windows had been broken and was covered with a plastic trash bag that fluttered in the breeze. There were no lights on inside, nor any other signs of life.

  “Can you help my Mommy?”

  “I will certainly try my best.” Levi climbed down from the buggy and grabbed his bag. “Will you come inside with me?”

  The girl shook her head, but didn’t respond. She stared straight ahead at the river, a glittering strip of blackness flowing through the night.

  Levi went to the screen door and knocked. There was no answer. He counted to five and then knocked again. When there was still no response, he tried the knob. The screen door was unlocked, as was the main door. He opened them both and stepped inside.

  Levi did his best not to gasp at the squalor. The living room was filthy and packed with debris—stacks of old newspapers and magazines, empty pizza cartons and Chinese take-out containers, crushed soda cans and plastic bottles, ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts—all of it sitting atop a layer of dirt. It was impossible to tell what the carpet’s original color had been. The furniture was mismatched and threadbare. Something that sounded like a rat rustled beneath the recliner. The only clean spot was atop the entertainment center, where a framed photo of a young woman and her daughter sat. The photo had obviously been dusted and cared for. In it, the two were smiling. Judging by the background, it had been taken in a park. Levi could see swings and a sliding board behind them. He recognized both of them. The little girl was the same one who had requested his help.

  And the woman was currently passed out on the sofa, her mouth open, her eyes rolled back in her head, a needle jutting from her arm. Whispering a prayer, he went to the woman and knelt by her side. He gingerly removed the syringe, and after verifying that she hadn’t done any damage to the vein and wouldn’t bleed to death, he checked her vitals. The woman had a pulse, but it was very faint. Her breathing was shallow and erratic.

  He grabbed her arm, placing his hands on both sides of the tiny puncture where the needle had been, and squeezed.

  “By the blood of the lamb,” he said, “I wash you. May his blood enter you and wash the poison away. May his blood cleanse you. May his blood heal you. May it cover you both inside and out. May his blood become your blood. Ashti ento nemo. Ashti ento tamara. Ho-ti. Ensat!”

  It was as if a surge of electricity had shot through his arms. The woman jerked in his grip and sat up so suddenly that Levi’s hands slipped from her arm. Coughing, she opened her eyes, saw him, and screamed.

  “It’s okay,” Levi said. “I’m not here to hurt you. Calm down. I’m here to help.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “You may call me Levi Stoltzfus.”

  “How the hell did you get in here? What’s going on?”

  “The door was unlocked, so I entered freely. As for why I’m here, I only want to help.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You overdosed. I cured you.”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  He smiled. “Of sorts.”

  “You look Amish.”

  His smile faded. “I was... once. Now I’m something else.”

  The woman sat up the rest of the way and glanced down at her arm. An ugly, purple bruise now marked the spot where the syringe had been. She turned her head, scanning the floor until she found the needle.

  “You don’t want that,” Levi said.

  “You’re right. I don’t.” Her tone was one of surprise. “What did you do to me?”

  “I helped. But we’re not done. Not quite yet.”

  He walked into the kitchen and searched through the pile of dirty dishes in the sink until he found a relatively clean coffee mug. Then he rinsed it out, filled it with water, and opened up his bag. He took out a small plastic bag filled with dried, green leaves and crushed a few into the water. Then he placed the mug in the microwave and pressed the button.

  “What’s that?”

  “Something that will make you feel better. Don’t worry. It’s all organic. Very healthy. What’s your name?”

  “Olivia.”

  “Do you live here alone?”

  “No. I mean, I do now. I didn’t used to. My daughter... she...”

  “Is that her in that picture on the entertainment center?”

  Olivia nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. Her sobs were low and mournful.

  The microwave beeped. Levi opened the door, retrieved the hot mug, and brought it to her.

  “Careful,” he warned. “It’s hot. Don’t drink it. Just inhale the vapors.”

  Wiping her eyes, Olivia did as she was told. Within seconds, her color began to return, and she looked healthier.

  “Feel better?” Levi asked.

  “I do.” Her eyes widened. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time. Not since...”

  “What happened to your daughter, Olivia? If you don’t mind me asking?”

  She bowed her head and stared at the mug, cupping it with both hands. When she spoke again, Levi had to strain to hear her.

  “Her name was Cindy. We moved here after her father left us. Son of a bitch ran off with another man, if you can believe that. I wasn’t always like this, you know. I didn’t start using until after Cindy... until she...”

  “It’s okay,” Levi soothed. “Go on.”

  “We were here a year. I was working two shifts at the Danskin factory, and the neighbor, Mrs. Eldridge, babysat Cindy for me. But Mrs. Eldridge was old, and she used to fall asleep here on the couch. One night, while she was out, somebody snatched Cindy from the yard.”

  As Olivia talked, Levi realized where he’d recognized the girl from. When she’d first appeared at his door, he’d thought she looked familiar. Now it all came back to him—a news report from a year ago. A young local girl, abducted, abused and then murdered down by the riverside. Her attacker had never been caught.

  He turned his attention back to Olivia.

  “I’m glad Cindy can’t see me like this. It would break my heart if she knew what I’ve turned into.”

  Levi stayed with her for another hour. He checked her vitals and made sure she
was feeling better, but mostly, he just listened. Confession was good for the soul, and it was Olivia’s soul that needed healing the most.

  When he left, Cindy was gone.

  He rode home alone.

  SCRATCH

  For Ed Gorman

  There is an old adage that says April showers bring May flowers. I guess this is true, but with global warming, who really knows? Things are definitely different from how they were when I was younger. The last few years, I’ve seen deer ticks clinging to my dog in December, and fruit trees budding and blossoming in late February. When I was a kid, we had maybe six or seven snow days a year. I always looked forward to those—a day off school spent sledding down the big hill behind my parent’s house, staying out until my fingers, ears and nose were numb, and then coming back inside to find a mug of hot chocolate waiting for me, complete with little marshmallows.

  These days, my son, Dylan, is lucky if he gets one full day off school due to inclement weather. Last year, they just had a few two-hour delays, and there was never enough snow for him to play in. You can’t make a snowman with powder and you can’t build a snow fort out of slush. The brand new sled I bought him at Wal-Mart sat in our garage all winter long, shiny and unused.

  The weathermen and politicians argue about the cause, just like they do every year. Some say it’s global warming. Others say it’s El Nino. And still others say that it’s just part of a cycle—that these things happen every so often.

  Perhaps that is true. Perhaps some things appear and disappear in cycles.

  Regardless of your political or spiritual beliefs, I think there’s one thing that we can all agree on—Mother Nature is changing, and not for the better. There’s another old adage that we often hear—the more things change, the more they stay the same. But that wasn’t true last spring.

  Last spring, everything changed and nothing’s been the same since.