The Day of Legion

by Craig Taylor

  Time slowed down and John was desperate for Alex’s father to get to him, but he still hadn’t gotten there. He sensed something out of the corner of his eye. The man in black stood there, looking straight at him. He just stood and stared, saying nothing. His eyes held no color, they were completely black. He had a mean mouth, with thin cruel lips.

  Behind John, the cars had stopped moving and a pedestrian was in mid walk, as though frozen in time. John was confused. Was he going back to before? Was something wrong? Was this even happening? Was this actually a hallucination?

  He turned his focus back to the man in black. His expression had changed from passive to extreme rage. He was furious and his glare was directed to John’s side. John turned his head. Two other men dressed in the same black clothing were pulling on Jason and Alex, ripping desperately at the boys, clawing and dragging. Each man whispered in one of the boys’ ears, and John could just barely hear them.

  “Run! Run! Pull away from your father! It’ll be fun!

  The first man shouted at the other two in a language John had never heard. They both looked petrified. They pulled harder, with fear in their eyes mixed with aggression. It was all John could do to hang on. The two boys didn’t seem to be aware of anything going on and were both frozen in time like the world around them.

  The two men turned to John and pleaded, “Give them to us! Please! We’ll make it worth your while!” They tried to push the boys onto the road. One of them pounded at John’s arm, scratching and clawing at his skin.

  John answered by gripping the boys tighter and pulling them into him as best he could, making the men angrier, more desperate. They moved close to him, still clawing at him and pushing the boys. He could smell their breath and body odor, and it reminded him of the smell in his dream. Both men screamed in his ear; it was deafening, and he could feel their breath, dry as a bone, against the side of his neck.

  John’s eyes turned to the first man. He let out an ear-piercing scream. His eyes bulged, and then all three disappeared.

  John felt a hand on his back and jumped. “Thank you so much,” a voice said. “The little guy just ran for some reason and wouldn’t stop!”

  John looked around. His heart pounded, his forehead was slick with sweat and he still held on to the two boys. The traffic was moving. The three men in black were nowhere to be seen.

  Alex’s father saw him shaking. “Thank you so much! Alex was heading straight into the traffic. If you hadn’t have stopped him, I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened. My name’s Tom.” He held his hand out, John shook it.

  Tom grabbed Alex by the arm and pulled him into him. “I told you to stop, Alex! You have to start listening to me!” He looked back to John. “Thanks again, I really mean that.”

  He led Alex away toward the school gates. “I’m serious Alex. No friends over for a week, until you learn to listen. That goes for your imaginary friend as well.”

  It took a few minutes for John to calm down. He masked his shock from Jason as best he could, but as soon as he left him at the door of his class room he ran to the restroom.

  He burst through the doors and into a stall. He lifted up the toilet seat, dropped to his knees, and threw up. All of what had just happened ran through his mind. It was far too much to take in. He had Jason back, everything was as before, but he couldn’t get the three men in black out of his mind. Who were they? Why were they doing what they were doing? Where was Christopher?

  He just didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

  Chapter Four

  One Year Later

  John sat in his apartment listening to the most soothing music he knew, Aaron Neville’s “Tattooed Heart” album. As “Beautiful Night” drifted through the sunny room, he relaxed and spread out on the sofa, slowly sipping lemon water. He still remembered what happened a year ago, but as time passed, it crossed his mind less often. It was all such an amazing, incredible, bizarre experience he often wondered if he dreamed it all.

  There were a few times he considered seeing a psychiatrist, then decided against it. There was really no one he could talk to about it, so he lived on, hoping never to repeat the experience.

  He did know a few things as fact, and sometimes ran them over in his mind to try and comprehend it. One, Jason was well and didn’t appear to have any problems. In fact, he seemed oblivious to the whole ordeal. Two, John himself had done well since it happened, was promoted and given a raise. He purchased this nice apartment, near the water in a quiet part of town, six months ago. Three, he hadn’t seen or heard from Christopher since before it happened.

  There had been no dreams, no ghostly visits, nothing else weird as he had been afraid of. He decided if Christopher was telling the truth about everything, he had done his job and moved on. Lastly, he was doing better than Alex and his Dad. Janine let John pick Jason up from school a couple of days a week now, especially after she heard how he had saved Alex’s life from another mother.

  He had seen Tom and Alex in the principal’s office on at least three occasions when picking up Jason from school. Tom was listening and nodding as the principal spoke, frantically trying to get her point across. Alex stood in the corner, his head bowed, but from John’s angle he could see a smirk on Alex’s face. Once Alex caught him looking and poked out his tongue.

  The music stopped. John heard the clunk of the CD player changing discs. Hearing the disc change startled him, made him realize it was time to get ready. He was going out with a friend to a local café. Gone were his days of going to bars trying to pick up women.

  Although he hadn’t met anyone in the last year, he was happy with himself, Jason and work. Even Janine had become a little less uptight about him. She had agreed to have Jason come over the next day for three nights, so she could go on a business trip.

  John had been working hard, keeping fit. His neighbor, Patrick, had found a nice café about five minutes’ walk from their apartment.

  He was ready at six o’clock and went down to the foyer. Patrick was already there reading a magazine. He smiled when he saw John. “Well, Buddy. There’s some ladies gonna be in trouble tonight!”

  John blushed. “Shut up, you idiot.”

  Patrick was a photographer. They met at a party at one of the other apartments, a month or so after moving in. Patrick kept to himself most of the time, which was to John’s liking, but asked him for drinks a couple of times a month. Always out though, or in John’s apartment. They never socialized in Patrick’s apartment, but John didn’t mind. He just figured Patrick liked his privacy.

  As far as he knew, Patrick was single and looking as well, but was always alone. Maybe that’s why they got on so well. He wasn’t the type to force himself on you. They met for drinks, talked and laughed, ate some food, then went their own way.

  John always thought it was odd Patrick didn’t have a girlfriend. He was good looking, had a good job and probably earned a good salary, John guessed. He figured it was his business, and was glad Patrick never asked him about his personal life either.

  They had conversations about work, but Patrick found John’s sales job very boring. He absolutely loved photography and went on and on about it. He talked about how he had been a photographer in the Caribbean and shot models for calendars and fashion magazines. After a few drinks, he would often tell John about the girls he’d got back to his room after a day of shooting. John could never tell if he was telling the truth, but it was fun conversation.

  They arrived at the café shortly after leaving their building. It was small and well hidden; John wondered how they did any business, but Patrick had found it. He guessed others had as well. Inside was small, or “intimate”, as the owner would describe it. The walls were cream and were covered in artwork, mostly with an ocean theme. There was a bar on the back wall, and about fifteen tables spaced around the room. It was quite plain, but cozy and mo
dern. A door beside the bar led to a small kitchen, which could be seen through a serving window.

  Two tables on either side of the room already had occupants. One, a group of young men were likely meeting there as a warm-up before heading in to town. The other was an older couple enjoying a meal and bottle of red wine.

  Just as they sat, John’s cell phone rang.

  “Is that ring tone Barbie Girl?” Patrick asked

  “No, shut up.”

  A waitress came over and handed Patrick two menus and a wine list. He ordered wine for them both and sat back, gazing appreciatively as she walked away. He looked at John, wiggled his eyebrows.

  He ignored both Patrick and the waitress, and spoke to Janine. He could tell she was worried about something. He knew she never called for idle chat. She finally turned to the subject of Jason.

  “It’s gotten really bad, John,” she said. She was whispering, but John was unsure for whose benefit. “I don’t think it’s natural, talking to himself constantly. He says it’s this friend of his, Christo.”

  “We’ve known for a while he has an imaginary friend,” John replied. “Is it really that bad—I mean how much more is he talking to him?”

  “A lot!” Janine replied. “He talks to him whenever he thinks I can’t hear. Last night, I stood outside his bedroom door and listened while he had a twenty-minute conversation. He was talking about school, games and a whole bunch of other silly things. He spoke about that kid at school, Alex and....”

  “Alex?” John interrupted. “What did he say about him?”

  “Something about how naughty he is.”

  “Look, I’ll talk to him when you drop him off tomorrow, and see what the story is. I’m sure it’ll be all right.”

  He said the words, but didn’t really believe them himself. Given what he’d been through, he was very worried about this imaginary friend.

  John and Patrick drank wine for half an hour or so, then ordered food. A few more people entered the café and sat down. Some just came in to drink, stayed for a round or two, then left. A couple came in for dinner and sat talking quietly and holding hands across the table. The murmurings of conversations hummed across the room, just barely audible above the quiet music.

  John ordered lamb shanks and paired them with a nice New Zealand Merlot. He and Patrick didn’t talk much: partly because Patrick had ordered spare ribs and was busy stripping the meat from the bone and also was attempting to talk to every woman who walked past their table to the restroom, but partly because John’s mind was elsewhere.

  He laughed when he watched Patrick attempt to say hello to an attractive blond walking past their table. She gave him a filthy look, and made a remark about the sauce all over his face and how he should ask the waitress for a bib.

  “I think she likes you,” John teased him. “Maybe when she comes back to get to her table, where her boyfriend is by the way, you could put tomato sauce in your hair.”

  “Up yours.”

  John exaggerated a stretch and yawn. “I might call it a night. I’m not really into it tonight.”

  Patrick looked surprised. “Come on! It’s early. Granted, this isn’t the most exciting place on earth right now, but it’ll get busier. You know the ladies come here when they can’t be bothered with bars.”

  John shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve got Jason tomorrow night and I don’t want to be tired or hung over.”

  “What?” Patrick shrieked. “Tired? It’s eight-thirty! Hung over? You’ve had two glasses of Merlot! Come on, what are you going to do? Go home, lay on the sofa by yourself and listen to music? Right on; way to spend a Thursday night, brother!”

  John smiled. “Okay, you’re right. I could do with some company and laughs. Oh and by the way, no one says ‘right on’ anymore.”

  This time Patrick laughed.

  Patrick was about to say something when his attention was diverted to the door. “Heads up. Four very attractive ladies just walked in the door and are sitting down behind you.”

  John didn’t turn around. He wasn’t going to go back to picking up women in bars. Too much baggage there, he thought. Patrick wasn’t giving up.

  “Dude, take a peek.”

  He decided to humor Patrick. He turned around slowly as if looking to the door, but passed his eyes over the group of ladies in the corner. He found himself staring.

  “Hey, the idea is to not let them know you’re looking,” Patrick whispered.

  “I know the brunette from somewhere.” John answered.

  “Where, your dreams?” Patrick scoffed.

  John thought for a moment, then realized who she was. The beautiful nurse who came into his room when he was admitted to hospital in the...other...life. My god, she’s beautiful. If I were to create a perfect woman that would be her.

  “Check out the brunette,” Patrick said, a little too loudly, and one of the women in the group scowled at him.

  She mouthed a word to him from across the bar.

  “I think she called you a Neanderthal,” John laughed, feeling like a teenager for a moment.

  “Is Neanderthal ‘girl code’ for ‘hunk’?” Patrick asked.

  John didn’t hear his last question. He was completely taken by the brunette nurse. He wanted to go talk to her. He had given up on bar pick-ups, but there was nothing meaningless about this woman. He could see himself with her forever.

  “Yo, Hugh Hefner,” Patrick called to him.

  He snapped out of his fantasy and turned to him. “I have to meet that brunette nurse,” he said.

  “How do you know she’s a nurse?”

  “Oh, I think I’ve seen her at the hospital,” John replied, suddenly realizing he couldn’t exactly tell Patrick about his other life, where his son had died, then, when he hit rock bottom, a good soul had offered to change it all for him. Although he had met this woman before, in this life, he hadn’t.

  He shook his head at the mess in his mind, then refocused on the brunette. She ordered a glass of wine and leaned on the bar, looking around.

  She caught him looking at her. He looked away quickly, then, seconds later, looked back. She was still looking at him with a friendly smile on her face. He knew he had better go talk to her before he lost his nerve or Patrick said something embarrassing to her.

  He was unsure of what to say. It had been a long time. When he had been in this situation in the past, either he or his “target”, or both, had been drunk. This was a beautiful, sober angel.

  Before he could say anything she smiled and said, “Do I know you from somewhere? You’re very familiar.”

  John smiled back. He was about to reply when she cut him off.

  “Oh, that sounds like a corny pick up line, doesn’t it?”

  He grew slightly in confidence. “So you’re trying to pick me up, are you?”

  His confidence grew quite a bit more when she giggled.

  “You’re familiar to me as well. I guess we have seen each other in the past, just not noticed.”

  “I would have noticed you,” she replied. Her eyes were warm and friendly.

  He felt his heart speed up. He couldn’t believe how attractive she was up close. From a distance she was beautiful; up close, she was stunning, even though she wore very little makeup. She was olive-skinned, and the cream, knee-length summer dress she wore accentuated the curves of her slim figure and brought out the deep blue of her eyes.

  The thin straps of her dress sat perfectly on her shoulders, showing her cleavage in a classy, understated way. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, which fell to between her shoulder blades.

  “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, making him realize he was just standing there gaping.

  “Oh, ahh, a beer would be nice. Thank you.”

  She ordered a beer from the ba
rtender, who was standing right in front her, ignoring another patron who was waving a twenty dollar bill over his head to get the barkeep’s attention. The bartender was staring at her, as mesmerized by her as John was.

  She handed the beer to him and suggested they sit outside. The sun was still high enough for it to be warm. She mentioned something about melanoma, but John was already heading out the door to find a table. The last he saw of Patrick, one of the nurse’s friends was shaking her head and saying no quite emphatically to him.

  Her name was Rachael Lewis. She was a nurse at a local private hospital. She was born, schooled, and lived nearby. She found that quite boring; John found it endearing. A satisfied woman; something he found very attractive.

  They talked for a while before being joined by her friends and Patrick, who didn’t seem at all fazed that all three of Rachael’s friends had turned him down. They were all from the hospital and were out celebrating Angie’s promotion; she was the small blond who was the first to reject Patrick’s advances. John found her personality grating and thought she looked like a ferret, but pretended she was cute to impress Rachael.

  As they drank more and relaxed, Patrick pulled his digital camera out and took photos of them all. He snapped them all laughing, holding their glasses out, making stupid toasts to each other and in various stages of inebriation.

  Before John realized it, he and Rachael were sitting inside by themselves, the others having left at different times. They shared a bottle of wine and talked more.

  Patrick had managed to attach himself to a middle-aged redhead who kept referring to herself in the third person. The cougar is on the prowl tonight. The cougar is thirsty. John found her repulsive, especially next to Rachael; she radiated class. The ‘cougar’ reminded him of a female version of himself back when he had trawled the bars looking for women for sex.

  She was dressed in tight black leatherette pants, black high heels and a blouse that barely covered her breasts and exposed her belly. He thought her boobs looked fake, but didn’t really care. More power to Patrick if that’s what he wanted. He guessed that was the case, as Patrick escorted the ‘cougar’ out the door and headed in the direction of home with his hand on her butt. The last thing John heard was her voice trailing off. The cougar is purring.