Deep Night

by Greg F. Gifune

  The greeting kicked on, and a gruff-sounding Louis muttered, “Leave a message.”

  A tone sounded.

  “It’s me. If you’re there, pick up.” With the phone still pressed to his ear, Darian twisted around in his seat, taking in as much of the area as he could, searching the lines of parked cars on either side of the street until he located Louis’s SUV a bit farther up the block. “Lou, I know you’re home, I’m looking at your car. Pick up the phone.”

  He was just about to flip shut his cell when the piercing sound of feedback screeched through the earpiece followed by a clunking sound as Louis answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night. Are you all right?”

  “What do you want, man?”

  “I’m outside. I need to come up. There are some things I haven’t told you, I—”

  “Now’s not good.”

  “I’m coming up.”

  Louis sighed heavily into the phone but said nothing.

  “Goddamn it, Louis, I need to come up!”

  Silence filled the line for a time.

  “OK, Mother.” His tone softer now, defeated. “You might as well be here when it happens.”

  Darian felt a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach. “When what happens, Lou?”

  The line clicked, went dead.

  * * *

  In the dream Seth found himself on his knees in a clearing ringed by a thick forest of enormous trees. Snow blew about like dust, but just above the treetops, through the darkness and swirl of flakes, he could make out a section of cobalt sky. Breath surged in thick clouds from his nostrils and open mouth, his chest rising and falling rapidly, lungs sore from the cold and straining for more oxygen. He attempted to push himself back up onto his feet, but the freezing temperature had left his hands numb and useless. Tears from the cold, fear, frustration or all three filled his eyes, and he whimpered helplessly.

  Screams hemorrhaged the short-lived silence. Exploding through the trees surrounding him in squealing waves of agony and terror, the shrieks circled and cornered him there in the clearing, a pack of ravenous coyotes closing on wounded quarry.

  The sky trembled and cracked as an unearthly storm coursed across the heavens, stealing his eyes and sending him plummeting into horrible darkness.

  Sounds of skin splitting and clothes tearing trailed the screams still echoing through his mind, screams from familiar voices.

  “Raymond!”

  The darkness, thick and endless, encircled him in a slow sweep, a series of black waves crashing over him, swallowing him and pulling him deeper into nothingness, it filled him like a cancer invading his body against his control. He breathed the darkness into his lungs, felt it bleed through the corners of his eyes, rush deep into his ears and absorb into his pores until there was no longer physical separation. He and the darkness had become one, the same.

  I’m so sorry, Raymond. Christ, I’m so sorry.

  Seth realized his attempts to struggle against the night he’d found himself lost in were futile. He felt the rigidity in his body slowly uncoil and release, submissive now, he became a lamb led to whatever slaughter the darkness had planned for him.

  This is home, something whispered to him from not so far away.

  As the darkness parted like a huge curtain, he saw his mother standing at the sink in the kitchen of their home. He sat at the table, his face smudged with dirt, blood, tears and snot, pieces of grass stuck in his mussed hair. His knuckles were bloodied and sore, and his jaw and cheeks ached where they’d punched him.

  Their mother turned from the sink with a washcloth in her hand, moved quietly to the table and crouched before Seth. She gently took his hands in hers and cleaned them, wiping away the blood. She had done the same moments before with Raymond, cleaning his split lip, kissing him and sending him to his room to lie down for a while until she could sort this mess out.

  “How many were there this time?” she asked softly, emotion scratching her throat.

  “Four.”

  “Why do they feel the need to terrorize him so? Raymond doesn’t bother anyone, why can’t they just leave him alone? Why do children have to be so cruel?”

  Seth shrugged.

  She took his chin in her hand, slowly raised his head up so they could look each other in the eye. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Seth. I know you mean well and you love Raymond—and you should defend him, you’re his older brother—but getting into fistfights isn’t the answer.”

  “I’m not very good at it anyway,” he told her. “But I got a couple of them good. I hit Tommy Hennessey so hard he fell down and started crying.”

  “You’re only lowering yourself to their level when you do that, sweetie,” she said. “You need to learn to just take Raymond and walk away. Don’t give them the satisfaction.” Seth nodded, but he could tell by the look in her eyes she was proud of him. This gentle and spiritual woman who would not hurt a fly was secretly pleased he had jumped in and taken a beating bullies had intended for his little brother. She kissed his forehead, her lips soft and cool against his flushed skin. “Raymond would be lost without you, Seth. You’re all he has.”

  “He has you and Dad, too,” he reminded her.

  Something in her face changed, and she smiled, but it was a smile so subtle he nearly missed it for what it was. “Yes, and so do you. But one day, all you’ll have is each other. One day when Mommy and Daddy are gone. I know it’s hard for you sometimes, honey, with Raymond, I mean. But you’re a good boy. You’re doing the right thing in looking out for him. God sees what we do. Good and bad, Seth. And He doesn’t forget either.”

  Neither do we, Mom. Neither do we.

  Through slowly churning patterns of black and gray, his vision cleared and the dream faded, giving way to a blurred version of a high white ceiling.

  “It’s all right.” Nana’s voice, soft and sympathetic. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

  The room came into clearer focus, and Seth sat up a bit. He was stretched out on a large bed in one of the many bedrooms in the house that normally went unused. Ornate and mostly antique-style furniture littered the room, and the lone window on the far wall was covered with a white lacy curtain and a shade that blocked most of the light. There was a musty smell here, like an old closet that hadn’t been opened and aired out in some time.

  Seth turned, felt pain ricochet through his temple. “Nana?”

  “I’m here.” The mattress shifted as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Her face came into view, the white scarf still wrapped about her head and down around her neck. “How are you feeling, love?”

  Seth realized the only light in the room was from a small lamp on a night table next to the bed. Beneath it was an old, small porcelain basin filled with water, a washcloth draped over the side. He blinked, the light leaving traces of dark patterns gliding across his scope of vision. “Bit of a headache,” he mumbled. “What happened?”

  “From all indications, you suffered a nosebleed and fainted.” She dipped the washcloth in the basin then gently wiped his forehead with warm water. “We found you in the dining room.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, sorry for what?” She arched an eyebrow. “Have you eaten today? You look awfully pale.”

  He let his head lay back against the thick, plush pillow. It was soft and cool and felt good against the back of his neck. “No, I—Nana, where’s Ray?”

  “He’s near.” She smiled, put the washcloth on the night table. “You were dreaming.”

  Seth studied her face a moment. “Where’s Ray, Nana?”

  “Downstairs.”

  “Did you two have a nice talk?”

  The slight edge of sarcasm in his tone did not go unnoticed. Rather than answer directly, she said, “He’s quite worried about you.”

  “I’m worried about us both.”

  Her eyes settled on his, blinked slowly. “So am I.”

/>   “Well he was the one who wanted to…” His voice trailed off, leaving only the faint sounds of ocean crashing coastline.

  “One must always say what one means, Seth.” She removed her scarf carefully, so as not to muss her hair in the process. “Always.”

  “He’s the one who wanted to come here, not me. But I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just—”

  “I understand.”

  “Raymond needed to see you. He needed your… guidance.”

  “Well, Raymond is—”

  “Special. Yes, I know.”

  She waved at the air as if to swat his comment away then crossed her arms delicately across her chest. “I love you both more than you can imagine, Seth, but Raymond has special issues, and knows I understand them and always have. And now he needs you to understand them as well, because as much as I’d like to, unfortunately, I won’t live forever.” She brightened a bit, which seemed peculiar in such a dingy and quiet room. “Immortality is a thoroughly tasty concept, though, don’t you think?”

  “Depends on whose life it is.”

  “In the early 70s, accompanied by a gentlemen friend of mine named Armando, a painfully handsome trumpet player of Cuban ancestry, I visited Egypt and had an opportunity to experience the country in all its magnificence. Ancient Egyptians fully embraced immortality as a reality. In fact, when I visited the Great Pyramids, I—”

  “Nana, look.” Seth sat up slowly. The pain in his head had subsided. “What does—”

  “You never listen, Seth. It’s one of your shortcomings, I’m sorry to say. You’re always too busy talking to hear anyone else, or to see what’s right in front of you.”

  “You’re my grandmother, and I love you, Nana, but—”

  “And I love you.”

  “—I find that criticism rather ironic coming from you.”

  “As the British author and poet Elizabeth Bibesco once said: ‘Irony is the hygiene of the mind.’”

  Seth sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, but your Auntie Mame routine never captivated my imagination the way it did Raymond’s.”

  “Pity.”

  “Something’s happening to us, Nana…something…”

  “You were dreaming,” she told him again. “Just now.”

  Seth nodded, hoping to dislodge the memories and lose them forever.

  Nana stood up and moved back a bit from the bed so Seth could swing his legs around onto the floor and sit up fully. “You called out for Raymond at one point.”

  “What did Raymond tell you?”

  “In many ways, it’s remarkable the degree to which he resembles both of your parents,” she said fondly. “Though your father wasn’t blessed—or cursed, depending on your personal outlook, of course—with the demands Raymond has had placed upon him. And frankly, Raymond is significantly more intelligent than your father ever was. You both are. If we’re to be honest, and why shouldn’t we be, my son was a fool, a jester, but a good soul. He always meant well, he truly did. And he loved you boys. My God, how he loved you boys. He also worshipped your mother, as any good husband should.” Her expression turned stoic. “I respected your mother as well, for a great many reasons, not the least of which was it takes a truly special woman to tolerate someone as marvelously eccentric as your father was. We had little in common, your mother and I, but one thing we shared was how deeply and dearly we loved him. Your mother also had a spiritual aspect to her I respected enormously, and one that Raymond shares, though his is far deeper and wider reaching than her somewhat limited beliefs. But then he’s not bound by the same religious boundaries your mother adhered to, of course.”

  Seth gave a sullen nod. “I miss him. I miss them both.”

  “As do I,” she said tranquilly. “I not only lost a daughter-in-law, I lost my son, my only child. My child. There’s nothing quite as perverse as outliving one’s own child. Remember that, won’t you?” She strolled to the window, her heels clacking against the floor with each step. “Raymond tells me you’re seeing a psychiatrist. Is this helping you?”

  “It was at first but now, I—I’m not so sure.”

  “Raymond’s gone to doctors. They feed him pills.”

  “He needs those pills, Nana.”

  “That’s the answer to everything today. Drug it.” She turned from the window, looked back at him. “No drugs can help your brother, Seth. He’s not mentally ill, he’s gifted—special—and he always has been. Your parents couldn’t reconcile it in their own minds and poor little Raymond still can’t. Look at your brother closely and without judgment, and you’ll see a devastated young man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Look into his eyes and you’ll see the soul of a man who has seen things no one asks to see, no one wants to see, but eyes that cannot look away because he, like the rest of us, has not been given that luxury. Do you think people with his abilities—real abilities—to see things others cannot, host insipid television shows or give tarot card readings in low-rent storefronts or at your local mall? How patently absurd.”

  Though he still felt a bit lightheaded, Seth slowly rose to his feet. “You’ve always believed Raymond was psychic—or whatever label you want to give it—but I never thought that kind of thing actually existed in any real sense.”

  “You’ve always simply pretended it wasn’t there, and in doing so, in many ways pretended Raymond wasn’t there either. You’ve looked for answers everywhere and anywhere except in the one place where we all know the answers truly lie. Are you still prepared to do that, Seth, to believe that?”

  “I don’t know what the hell to believe at this point.”

  “Believe this: The few people on this planet who have the gift your brother possesses are more often than not either tucked away in mental institutions or victims of suicide before they reach their formative years.” She moved back toward the window, closer to the shadows in the corner. “Imagine knowing what he knows. Really, truly knowing it. Seeing it before it happens. It’s destroyed his life. No meaningful relationships, no peace, no rest. Why do you think he was so frightened as a young boy? Night terrors. Indeed. Look to history, Seth. Your ancestors come from a land rich in tradition and knowledge of many things people dismiss now as nonsense due to ignorance and fear. Study the saints and the martyrs, if you’re more comfortable dealing with a religious experience you can relate to. They all thought they were mad, particularly initially. Voices, visions, things no human should be capable of and something no human can endure with-out consequence.” She hesitated a moment, bound by reflective thought. “Your mother knew. I believe she always did, and tried to pray it out of her son, tried to destroy it because she feared it, feared what it was doing to him. But you can’t destroy it without also destroying him.”

  “And where does this gift come from exactly?”

  “Well, that is the question, isn’t it?”

  “Why him?”

  “Perhaps there’s some greater purpose he needs to fulfill, I don’t know. But what I can tell you, is that Raymond has never recovered from these things, and he’s never recovered from the death of your parents.”

  “Neither have I,” Seth reminded her.

  “But it’s time you knew something, Seth.” She raised the window shade enough to allow a bit of outside light into the room. “Unlike Raymond, you didn’t know it was coming. You didn’t see the accident that would one day kill them night after night in your dreams.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Once when he was a child, Seth fell from a tree he had been climbing. Upon hitting the ground, all the air was knocked from his body and he lay there a moment squirming like a fish out of water, gasping for oxygen in a haze of furious panic. In those few seconds before his lungs again filled with air, he realized what it must be like to drown or suffocate, an awareness that never completely left him.

  In the silence of the bedroom, he felt a similar sensation, like he had again hit the ground with such force he could no longer breathe. His legs felt weak, and he slowly lowered himsel
f down onto the edge of the bed.

  Nana, well aware of the impact of her words, fell silent and returned her attention to the sea beyond the window.

  “How could that never occur to me?” Pain seared through his midsection then faded to a dull ache, which left him feeling like the victim of a punch full in the gut who had not first had the opportunity to tighten his stomach muscles. “In all these years,” he muttered, “how could I—how could I have missed it? It’s so obvious.”

  “Why would something you choose to disbelieve occur to you?” she asked him. “You never believed Raymond was anything other than a frightened and confused little boy. Later, he was mentally ill, emotionally disturbed, a young man with problems. Not a terrified and nearly destroyed soul with abilities he has no control over. After all, only Nana—silly and eccentric Nana—would believe such nonsense.”

  For just a second it seemed she had succumbed to time, and her always-perfect posture slumped. Seth was certain Nana had never looked like an old woman until that very moment, but it too passed as she caught herself and corrected it like an actor who had forgotten her line then suddenly remembered it. “Sadly, we are a repugnantly self-absorbed species. It is our nature in many ways, so of course those who choose to slog along rather than enlighten themselves have no idea what’s taking place right beneath their noses, nor do they care. But believe me, there’s a symphony being played by a full orchestra, you only have to listen for it. It’s simply a part of life, of being a living thing, Seth, of being alive. And sometimes, those simple truths that ought to be obvious remain hidden because we simply refuse to see them. Somewhere along the line we convince ourselves it’s easier that way, which of course, it is not.”

  “But he knew they were going to die?”

  “That and other things,” Nana said. “You must understand that there are countless situations and scenarios taking place all around us at all times: realities, possibilities, mysteries, riddles and the rest. Only human beings would be so pompous as to believe our existence is singular not only in terms of importance but in a literal sense. It might explain why we’ve managed to achieve the levels of destruction and agony on this planet no other species has come even remotely close to. When you’re the only one at the party, do you really give a damn if someone pees in the proverbial punch?”