by Brian Keene
“No!”
Turning, Dan ducked the creature’s grasp and fled again. He barreled through the mist until his house reappeared. He cast one terrified glance over his shoulder. As before, the figure wasn’t following him.
He ran into the house once more and slammed the door behind him. His hands were shaking and he fumbled with the lock. When he worked up the courage to peek out the window, he saw that the shadow was still there, lurking in the fog. It stood still as a statue, watching the house.
“What are you,” Dan whispered. “What do you want?”
Eventually, the shadow turned and slowly vanished into the gray haze.
And then Dan was alone again.
SIX
With no electricity or even a working clock, it was hard for Dan to mark the passage of time. The murk outside didn’t help matters. There was never a clear transition of daylight or darkness. There was only the oppressive gray half-light, as if the world were being lit by phosphorescent fungus. Neither the sun or the moon could be glimpsed through the fog, and the sky was empty of stars.
He was alone.
He sat. He tried to cry and couldn’t. He sat some more. He sighed a lot. Occasionally, he attempted to eat something, not because he was hungry, but because it was something to fill the hours. Each time he tried, Dan ended up spitting the food out. All of it had that same flat, unpalatable, tasteless texture. He didn’t shave. He didn’t go to the bathroom. He didn’t have to. His stubble didn’t grow and his bladder and bowels remained quiet. And besides, with no plumbing or running water, he couldn’t exactly bathe or wash up anyway. If he stank, he couldn’t smell it. And so what if he did? It wasn’t like there was anybody else around to complain. He didn’t bother to change his clothes. The bathrobe and boxer shorts clung to him, but if they turned musty, he didn’t notice.
He didn’t sleep. He didn’t need to. He didn’t see the point. Why bother going to sleep when you already were? People never slept in their dreams, and he was most definitely dreaming, so fuck that noise.
And also, when he tried to sleep, he found that he couldn’t. It was strange without Jerry next to him. He kept expecting to hear Jerry breathing or snoring, or to smell his cologne. Instead, there was nothing. The bed felt empty, as did the rest of the house. He felt like a stranger in his own home. He feared that if he closed his eyes, Danielle might return and he wouldn’t see her. Or worse, the thing outside might decide to emerge from the mists again, and this time, it would come into the house. Even if he had felt sleepy, the thought of opening his eyes and finding that monstrosity looming over the bed was enough to keep him awake.
He tried to get drunk—and failed. Neither Dan or Jerry had been heavy drinkers, but they kept a stock on hand for when they had company. The bottles were stored on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard, safe from Danielle’s reach. Dan brought them all over to the kitchen table. He tried tequila, scotch, vodka, and beer. The liquors were tasteless, just like everything else, and the beer had gone flat. He forced himself to drink them anyway, but no matter how much he consumed, the effects were negligible.
He talked to himself. At first, it was just to break the silence and fill the void. Later, he’d catch himself in mid-sentence and realize he’d been doing it without knowing.
He laughed aloud.
Screamed aloud.
Tried to cry, and failed. The emotion was there. It was always there, threatening to rip him in half, but just like always, the tears themselves refused to flow.
He had no idea how long he went on that way. Two days. Maybe three? Perhaps four? Certainly no more than a week, though. In all that time, he did not know hunger or fatigue—only sadness and fear and an overwhelming sense of loneliness. The simple act of existing—of being alive—sent him into a fugue state of depression unlike anything he had ever known.
However little time had passed, it was enough. Eventually, the silence and monotony became unbearable, overshadowing even his fears of the shadow-being lurking outside. Dan convinced himself that the only way to end this nightmare was to embrace it. He tried to work up the nerve to walk outside and confront the entity head on.
“But what if I’m not dreaming?” he muttered. “What if that thing is real? What if I’m the only one left?”
He was still mulling this over when he heard a voice outside. It was a female voice, soft and faint, but noticeable simply because it was the only voice, other than his own, that he’d heard since Danielle’s ghost ... or vision ... or whatever she’d been, had appeared to him.
“Hello,” the voice called. “Is there anybody here?”
Dan bolted out of the chair, consumed with two thoughts. The first was that he recognized the voice. He was certain it belonged to Maria Lopez, the girl from next door. The second, more urgent thought was that Maria was in danger. If the shadow heard her calling, and got to her before he did ...
... well, Dan still didn’t know exactly what would happen, or what the entity’s intentions were. But they certainly weren’t good. How else to explain the terror that consumed him each time he encountered the thing?
“Hello?” Maria sounded closer to the house now. “What happens next? Is this it?”
Dan ran through the house and out the front door, sliding to a halt when he spotted Maria standing on the border of his yard and her parent’s property. He stood there gaping, his robe hanging open, dimly aware of how he must look. Maria caught sight of him at the same time, and gasped. Her eyes went wide, and one pale hand fluttered to her mouth in surprise. That was when Dan noticed that something was wrong.
Two things, actually.
The first thing he noticed was that despite her normally dark complexion, Maria’s arm was pale. The second thing he saw was that blood had streamed down her forearm, all the way to her elbow. The gray, false-light from the fog made the sight look even more garish than it already was. There was a cut in Maria’s wrist, running from just beneath her palm to several inches down the underside of her forearm.
If you’re going to do it right, Dan thought, cut down, rather than across. Isn’t that what they always used to say?
He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sigh.
Maria said, “Holy shit!”
“Maria,” Dan said. “Where did you come from? You’re hurt!”
“Where did I come from? Shouldn’t I be asking you that, Mr. Miller?”
He ignored her strange response, his attention focused instead on her obviously self-inflicted wounds. He’d known the girl suffered from depression. Most of the neighbors knew, in fact. And she had supposedly threatened suicide a few times. But to be confronted with this serious attempt, was altogether unnerving. For a brief moment, Dan forgot all about his predicament, and his missing loved ones.
“You’re hurt,” he repeated. “Jesus Christ, Maria. We’ve got to get you some help!”
Laughing, she took a step backward. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
Dan noticed that the blood on her arm was dry. Instead of dripping, it had crusted like mud in the sun. When the girl took another step back, he saw that she’d cut both wrists.
“Maria,” he said softly, “what have you done?”
Instead of answering him, she glanced around the neighborhood and into the fog. “I don’t get it. I thought there would be more than this. And I certainly didn’t expect to see you here, Mr. Miller. I figured you were long gone.”
“N-no,” Dan stammered. “I’ve been here the whole time. I thought I was alone. I checked your house before. Nobody was home. Where are your parents? Have you seen anyone else? Have you seen Jerry or Danielle?”
She tilted her head to one side and frowned, staring at him.
“Mr. Miller ... don’t you—”
“Shhhhh! Quiet.”
Dan felt it come over him as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water at them—the terror, the dreadful certainty that the shadow-being was approaching. He glanced across the street a
nd saw the mists churning. Seconds later, the haze parted and the figure strode toward them.
“Run,” he shouted, rushing to her side. He grabbed Maria’s injured arm without thinking, but she didn’t cry out or wince. When she refused to move, he pulled her along behind him.
“Hey,” Maria protested. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t you see it? Come on. We’ve got to get inside before it catches us. Hurry!”
“But Mr. Miller. What—”
“Now, Maria! Hurry up.”
Despite her resistance, Dan dragged the teenager inside his house and slammed the door behind them. He locked it, and then crouched down on the floor, motioning for her to do the same. Frowning in confusion, she did as he asked. Dan put a finger to his lips, indicating for her to be quiet. Slowly, the fear subsided. After silently counting to one hundred, he crept to the window and peeked outside. The figure had retreated back into the mist, but it was still visible, lurking at the edge of the sidewalk, standing sentry over the house.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Why won’t it just go away? What does it want?”
“What is that thing?” Maria asked, crawling to his side.
“I don’t know. I wish I did. It’s fucking terrifying, whatever it is.”
“Do you think so?”
Dan turned to her. “You mean to tell me you weren’t scared of that thing?”
Maria shrugged. “No. Not really. Should I have been?”
Dan shook his head, unsure of how to respond. He turned back to the window. The entity hadn’t moved. It was still there, watching.
“I don’t think it will come inside,” he said. “At least, it hasn’t so far. I’m not sure why. I mean, given the size of that thing, there’s no way I could stop it if it did decide to get inside, but for whatever reason, it doesn’t. I think we’re safe, for the moment. Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll get the first aid kit from the bathroom and get you fixed up.”
“But I don’t need fixed up, Mr. Miller. I don’t need—”
“Nonsense. Of course you do.” He got up and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m not going to judge you, Maria. God knows I thought about it a few times when I was your age. I hadn’t come out to my parents or my friends back then. The stress and pressure was... well, let’s just say that there were times I thought that killing myself would be easier than being gay. But it’s not worth it.”
Pausing, he turned back to her. The girl stood at the window, her mouth open, staring.
“Come on,” Dan said, trying to smile. “I’ll get you taken care of and then we can talk about what’s happened. Exchange notes. Because until now, I was sure that I must still be asleep. Thought I was dreaming. Maybe you did too?”
“We’re not asleep, Mr. Miller.”
Dan grinned. “Well, yeah. Obviously not. I know that now. But it still doesn’t explain what happened or where everyone else has gone to. Have you seen anyone else?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, I thought I might see somebody here, but I sure wasn’t expecting you. No offense.”
“None taken. Do you have any idea what it was or where they’ve gone? And really, Maria, we need to disinfect your arms and bandage them up before you get infected. Please?”
“My arms are fine!”
“Fine? You’ve cut them open, Maria!”
Her mouth went slack. She whistled, low and mournful, and then ran a hand through her hair.
“What?” Dan asked. “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t know, do you? I mean, you really don’t know.”
“Know? Know what? You mean what’s happened? No, I don’t know. Haven’t you been listening?”
“Mr. Miller ... Jesus. Maybe you’d better sit down.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Now just tell me what’s going on. Please?”
She took a deep breath. “You ... I don’t need you to fix my arms because I’m dead.”
Dan stared at her. “What?”
“I’m dead, Mr. Miller. I killed myself just a few minutes ago.”
“I—I don’t understand. Dead?”
“It’s a long story, and to be honest, I don’t feel like talking about it. Suffice to say, there aren’t a lot of people who will miss me. I wanted this. My parents were at work, and I got home from school, and I posted a goodbye message online, and then I did it. I used my father’s box-cutter.”
“But you’re ... that’s ... what?”
“I’m dead.”
“Then how...? This doesn’t make sense. If you’re dead, then how are you here? How are we talking right now?”
“Because, Mr. Miller. Don’t you see?”
Dan shook his head.
“Mr. Miller, you’re dead, too.”
“No, I’m not. I’m standing right here.” Dan was aware of just how small and unsure he sounded.
“You’re dead, Mr. Miller. You died over a year ago. You had a massive heart attack while you were asleep. Jerry discovered it the next morning when he woke up. He was really distraught.”
“No. No, I’m sorry, but that’s impossible. I’m not dead.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“No, I’m not!”
“I watched them carry you out myself. Danielle was crying, and Jerry was a mess. My parents and I watched her for him while he made all the arrangements.”
“Stop it.”
“I was at your funeral, Mr. Miller! You had an open casket and viewing. Trust me. You were dead.”
“STOP IT! Why are you saying this? It’s not true. It can’t be true.”
Her expression was sorrowful. “I’m sorry, but it is.”
“You said I died over a year ago?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, that right there proves it can’t be true. I’ve only been here a few days. Not long at all. I haven’t been eating or drinking, and I’m still the same weight I was, so it can’t have been more than a few days.”
Maria started to speak, but he interrupted.
“I want to know what’s going on. The truth, this time. Where did you come from? I was just at your house a few days ago, and you weren’t there then. Nobody was. I checked your place and the Kresby’s. Hell, I broke their window, and nobody—”
“Wait a second! You broke the Kresby’s window? You mean the big picture window at the front of their house?”
“Yes. That’s the one. Why?”
“Holy shit.” Maria leaned back against the wall and sighed. “I see what’s happened now. I get it.”
“Well, that makes one of us. I wish you’d explain it to me. And can we please go into the kitchen? I don’t like standing here with that thing still hanging around outside. The living room feels too exposed.”
Snickering, Maria stood up. “Okay.”
“What’s so funny?” Dan asked, as she joined him at the kitchen table.
“I’m sorry. Just the term. Living room. It struck me funny. Two dead people hanging out in the living room.”
“I’m not dead, Maria. I really wish you’d stop saying that.”
“Am I?” She held out her arms. “Look at me. Am I dead?”
“You’re not bleeding anymore.”
“That doesn’t prove anything. Check my pulse, Mr. Miller.”
“That wouldn’t prove anything, either. I saw Danielle a few days ago. She was here one minute and gone the next. I don’t know what she was—and I don’t know what you are, either. But I’m not fucking dead.”
Maria sighed again. Then she reached across the table and took his hand. Dan flinched, but didn’t pull away. After being alone for so long, the physical contact eased his fears and worries. The girl certainly felt real enough.
“Mr. Miller, I’m going to ask you a few things. Things that there’s no way I should know about. I just want you to answer me honestly, okay?”
Dan nodded.
“You said that you broke the Kresby’s big picture window. Well, shortly after you passed away—”
> “But I’m not dead.”
“Just listen,” she soothed. “Please?”
“Okay.” Dan nodded. “Sorry. I’m just upset.”
“That’s okay. Anyway, shortly after you passed away, the Kresby’s window was broken. It happened while they were watching TV. Nobody knew how it happened. The weather was nice. Sunny. No clouds or hail or anything like that. There weren’t any kids running around outside or anything like that. It just ... shattered.”
“When I broke it,” Dan said, “there was nobody inside the house. The television wasn’t on. There’s no electricity.”
“Are you sure no one was home?”
“I ... yes. Sort of. I thought I heard Susan scream, just for a second, but there was nobody there.”
“A few months after that,” Maria said, “Jerry told my Mom that he was afraid somebody had broken into your house. He called the cops and everything. Apparently, he woke up one morning and found ink stains all over his wallet. He also found some on Danielle’s pillow. They were smudged, like fingerprints, but the cops were never able to get anything concrete from them. Do you know anything about that?”
Ink stains. Dan remembered the pen breaking in his grip, and how he’d smudged Jerry’s wallet and Danielle’s pillow when he was looking for them.
“Mr. Miller?”
He tried to speak, but there was a knot in his throat. Instead, he closed his eyes and nodded.
“A few months after that,” Maria continued, “Danielle said she saw you. She broke down at school and they made Jerry come pick her up, and when she got home, she told him that she saw your ghost. It worried Jerry enough that he took her to see a child counselor. But the counselor said it was just her dealing with her grief and expressing it through a fantasy outlet, and it didn’t happen again.”