The Darkest Time of Night

by Jeremy Finley

  “Yes, Miss Roxy.” Don winked at me.

  “Don, you really don’t have to do that,” I said, fanning myself with the newspaper.

  It’s the heat. That’s why I’m sweating. My nerves can’t be this bad already.

  “Trying to earn my keep,” he said with a grin. “Any foxes in the garden today?”

  “Oh, I think I saw one a while ago,” I said, looking around.

  “Not too hot for foxes, I hear. I’ve found the more I expose myself to this Tennessee heat, the more I become used to it.”

  Just like you got used to everyone calling you Don. Just like you got used to your sister hovering around you constantly. It didn’t take you long to see how your mannerisms are exactly the same, and how you both have the exact same color of silver in your hair. You knew it as soon as you met. And now … how your eyes light up when she comes to visit you, driving down from Illinois every other weekend.

  Has Don told you, Barbara? About our pact, our promise to each other? That, if suddenly, we have blinding pain in our heads, our ears begin to bleed, and we hear a terrible ringing, we know what’s happening. We know they’ve activated us, and God knows what we could do to you and to everyone around us.

  Don said that from time to time he saw it happen to patients, when he was being treated in the hospital. He said the doctors whisked them away, and he never saw them again. He says it never happened to him, and I know it has never happened to me.

  But if it does, Don and I agree to leave and disappear. Despite the pain I know all too well of having a loved one suddenly disappear, I would vanish in a heartbeat, jump in the closest car and keep driving away, if it meant protecting my family.

  And William. What did those monsters mean that he was the conduit? That he wouldn’t harm people when he was activated, but instead, he was the final stage—

  “Looks pretty busy in the kitchen right now.” Don motioned with his chin to the house. “I think I’ll break into the back of the shop and get some water. Clean up a bit.”

  “Clean up a lot, please,” Roxy muttered.

  “I’m just happy to have a job with you, Miss Roxy!” he called out.

  “The man thinks because he rents my back room that I like him,” she said, carefully navigating the paving stones through the grass. “Husband enjoys his company, though. Two peas in a pod, those two, pickin’ at guitars, thinking they’re Johnny and Waylon. Ed may have advanced cancer, but he’s healthy enough to stay up and smoke cigarettes with Don. Good thing you’ve found room for him on the payroll, or else all they’d do is play guitar and drink beer. I guess Don’s not planning on going back to Colorado.”

  I knew Roxy saw me purse my lips and what that meant. She came to sit down next to me. “Crossword puzzle. The vacuum must be broken. What’s got you all riled up—?”

  “Nanna!”

  The screen door screeched open, and Brian stuck his head out. “Where’s the Nutella?”

  “Pantry, second shelf. Next to the microwave popcorn.”

  “I didn’t see it!”

  “Jesus, boy, are you hoping the neighbors will be able to help you find it?” Roxy asked.

  “Sorry Roxy! Brian waved.

  You yell all you want. I could listen to you yell every minute of every day for the rest of my life. From the moment you saw William and said his name, I swear I cried for two days straight.

  “Will! Mom says to come inside soon!” Brian yelled, and then slammed the screen door.

  “Don’t want to.”

  We both turned to the boy crouching down next to a turtle statue, barely visible under a rose bush.

  “There’s that redheaded fox we’ve been looking for!” Roxy smiled.

  “I know Don saw me,” William said, his hand in his pocket. “And you’re wrong, Nanna, about the turtle.”

  I loved his jutted-out bottom lip so much. “No, I’m not, William. You will. I promise.”

  “I won’t,” he said glumly, walking over to the chair. I reached out and rubbed his head, careful not to irritate the bump of his head. Already, I’d noticed it was starting to diminish, but he still winced when anyone even came near it. I didn’t dare mention to anyone what that bump could indicate.

  “I won’t ever remember.”

  “It was your favorite statue, and it will be a memory one day.”

  “I don’t remember anything,” he pouted. “I don’t remember that stupid turtle. I don’t remember you, I don’t remember Mommy or Daddy or Roxy or Grandpa or anyone.”

  I leaned in towards him. “Here’s what I promise you: One day, when you’re all grown up, you will remember that turtle and how I told you that when you were a really little boy, you loved it. I tell you that every day, so it will become a new memory for you one day.”

  You will relearn, as I did.

  “But I want to remember it now.”

  “I know,” I said, looking down at my watch. Three o’clock.

  “William, why don’t you show Roxy where we found that frog yesterday by the fountain? That foxglove is really spreading behind the Peddler, and I may want to make a bed there. I might have Don put the mulch back there.”

  I quickly walked towards the shop, as Roxy’s raised eyebrow was like a stick poking me in the back. She knew I hated foxglove.

  ”Nanna, how long will you be gone?”

  “Not long,” I said, giving him a wave without looking back.

  I left the garden, pausing only to pick a few daylilies. The red bell jeered at me from the pitch of the roof of the Peddler. Look what happened to your life once you disregarded your father’s warning.

  I glared back. I would have it removed this week. I certainly didn’t need it anymore.

  Even though it was in deep summer and the trees were heavy with leaves, I could see the iron fence that now lined my property. It had been a massive expense; jaw dropping to get the final bill. But to install an entire eleven-foot tall fence, with extending upper rows of wicked barbed wire, around the entire perimeter of the woods, was an expensive project. And pricier still when I demanded the keyless entry.

  I looked back to see Roxy and William deep in discussion near the fountain in the garden. I stepped past the first tree and reached into my pocket for the tiny remote. I’d practiced the code many times, for I was the only one who possessed it. Though my memory was legendary in my family, I still forced myself to recount the code every morning, to make sure it was set in my mind. I didn’t dare write it down. No one would ever be able to enter the woods again.

  I had already activated the gate earlier that afternoon. As long as I was within a mile of it, the remote prompted it to unlock. So I had casually stepped outside, punched in the code, and went back inside.

  Exactly an hour later, I was now standing directly in front of the gate. You couldn’t tell where the fence would open; there was no visible gate, at my request. The ironworkers who made it had looked at me with confusion at my request, but ultimately worked with a locksmith to design the hidden mechanics.

  The remote looked like a small calculator in my hand. Once I touched the right combination, I heard a buzz, a click, and one section of fence opened.

  I quickly seized it, for it was also manufactured to close within five seconds. I stepped inside and shut it behind me, making sure it locked.

  The woods were bustling with a crush of squirrels, buzzing in the branches above. I was careful where I stepped. I was grateful for the way the woods were stubbornly territorial, trying to cover as much of the earth as possible with tangling underbrush and fallen limbs, preventing encroachment of the outside world. The fence was my contribution to the effort.

  It should have been difficult to locate the clearing, with the crime-scene tape long removed and the evidence of hundreds of searchers now covered in decaying leaves under a new growth of weeds. But he still found it, as I knew he would. He’d come just as I’d opened the gate remotely and slipped in.

  “Hello, Lynn.”

  Steven stood
in the center of the grassy area. Perhaps it had been the unflattering light of the hotel lamps the last time I saw him, in that frantic meeting before the government agents stormed in, but his skin seemed healthier now, his tan showcased nicely against his closely cropped white beard.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” he said.

  I nodded. As he slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, I walked to the far end of the clearing. A few butterflies flew drunkenly before me. In the shadows of the tree line, I knelt down in front of the gray headstone I’d had delivered before the fence was finished. I laid the lilies before the stone.

  Amelia Shrank, 1931–2018. Beloved Daughter, Friend to Children.

  I traced my finger across her name, and then turned to Steven. “I’m here because I am indebted. Especially to you. To say a proper thank you for leading me to William. And also … to say I’m truly sorry for what all of this has cost you.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. The government forced my hand when they planted the trumped-up investigation and then labeled me a child murderer. Even after the charges were dropped, I knew the damage was done. I should have left academia a long time ago and devoted all my time to investigating the disappearances. Not that I’ve had much of a choice, but I’ve chosen to go underground.”

  “With this group you mentioned in the hotel? The Corcillium?”

  “They’ve shown me so much, Lynn. The Researchers are just the front lines. The Corcillium guides it all. The Researchers are necessary to gather the intelligence, but the Corcillium is truly the heart of the effort. Through them, I finally learned the truth about Argentum.”

  “So all that time, when you said Argentum was just a debunked theory … you truly didn’t know?”

  He nodded. “Not even what it meant. The Corcillium wanted it that way. To protect all the Researchers.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will. It all started when one of the members of the Corcillium came in contact with, of all things, a janitor,” Steven said, and then chuckled sadly. “A janitor in love, who fell for a woman with no memory. Helped her escape some sort of hospital in a remote town in Colorado.”

  Despite the summer heat, I rubbed my arms.

  Steven continued. “Of course, that colleague took extensive notes of his discussion with this janitor and his girlfriend. But not a day later, the two were killed. Tragic accident. Their car exploded. Brand-new car, too. Then that member of the Corcillium went to Argentum himself, to confirm what he’d been told … and was killed in a skiing accident. Strange, don’t you think? And when the Corcillium sent others to try and verify, they all disappeared. It became simply too dangerous. They knew what the janitor said—about people with no memories appearing in shafts of lights from the heavens—but could never prove it. And anyone who tried to find out never returned.”

  I remembered what Don said about the academic couple who came to Argentum and were seized by the police and never seen again. And, of course, what almost happened to Roxy and myself.

  “The janitor and his girlfriend had no proof, and when they died, their stories died with them. All the Corcillium had were the notes from the interviews with the janitor. To honor their sacrifice, they developed the idea of the poem to send to all the families of the missing. The idea was to give the families part of the key, and if the day came when we could prove the abducted were returned to Argentum, then the answer was there. In the last line of the poem. But I, and all the other Researchers, never knew.”

  “The Corcillium did that to protect you.”

  His mouth formed a straight line. “They assumed in our web of research, someone might come across a mention of Argentum. They couldn’t risk any of us losing our lives pursuing it. So they purposely disseminated what came to be called the Argentum theory. It was one of the first pieces of information a Researcher learned: never to believe anything that mentioned ‘Argentum.’ It was part of our vernacular. We debated it endlessly. I still remember getting my first piece of encrypted information, containing what avenues not to explore. The Argentum theory was at the top of the list. We all learned to dismiss it.”

  I exhaled. “When I was in Argentum, I was told of a couple—academics—who came to Argentum. They were seized by who the locals thought were police.”

  “Dr. Adam Abraham and Dr. Nancy Little. Two members of the Corcillium. They were never seen again. It was only when the Corcillium rescued me, and I acknowledged that it was my own grandson who was abducted, that they told me. And warned me I would likely never return. But I was willing to risk it. I knew you would risk it as well. Of course, in the end, you were the only one to ever come back.”

  “Steven—” I took a deep breath. “I need to know … if this Corcillium has determined … what we carry inside us.”

  Steven rubbed the back of his neck in response.

  “Then you know about it,” I said. “I am hoping you have uncovered more. I’m deeply worried about my family and their safety.”

  He shook his head. “I wish I could tell you more, Lynn. But there’s a lot that I have yet to learn. Even though the Corcillium has investigated this, I know there’s no physical evidence. There’s never been any device or implant ever discovered in someone who claims to have been abducted. Now, we’ve never had someone like you or William—”

  “There will be no inspection of my grandson.”

  “But, there is … you.”

  I smiled sadly. “Observing me all those years ago wasn’t enough, was it? Do you want to dissect me now?”

  “Of course not. But … we have to try to determine what may be within you. You’re the only one, Lynn. The Corcillium understands allowing them to run tests on you would be … taxing. That’s why they’re offering up your father’s letters. About your mother.”

  I blinked. “There are more letters?”

  “I was shown the first just before I came. There are several, I’m told. They explain how your parents found you. And honestly, it led to a great discovery. It’s incredible where they found you—”

  “That I wasn’t returned to Argentum but to one of the other bases the government set up to contain us?”

  His eyes widened as I continued. “Obviously you’ve seen the brief footage of me at the end of that interrogation film. I’m looking out a window, and beyond that window are a beach and an ocean. At my last recollection, there is no ocean in Colorado.”

  “You’re as sharp as ever, Lynn. You see a brief flash of something in an old film, and you connect the dots.”

  “I’ve also seen the entire film, including my responses to the government agent’s questions. I know what I described aboard that ship. I know what William saw too, because there’s a recorded interview of him as well. And … I saw them.”

  I could see that Steven had stopped breathing. “You saw one of them? What did it say?”

  “I want those letters, Steven. I want to know what happened to my mother.”

  “And you should have them. You must have them. We asked Barbara to give you my message asking to meet here for two reasons. One—we need access to this site to study. There are so few places in the world that we know of where multiple abductions have occurred. It’s vital we try to understand why. And two, because … because they want you to come join us.”

  I brushed an unruly curl from my face. “I risked everything to keep my family together, Steven. There’s nothing that could convince me to leave them now. Or ever.”

  “I’m not asking you to leave them forever. But Lynn … what you’ve seen … the fact that you had some sort of communication … it’s essential we learn from you. And you from us. What the Corcillium has uncovered. What they know about the abductions—”

  “I’m not leaving my family. Ever again.”

  “If those letters were mine to give, you’d have them right now. But I don’t. Only the Corcillium has them.”

  I breathed out slowly through my nose. “I get it. They entice me with the let
ters, show you just enough to whet my appetite, as a way to draw me in. Well, you will remind them that this is my land, and neither you nor any of your peers will ever step foot here again without my permission. So here are my terms: If you want to come to this site to study, you will only be given access when and if I deem it possible. I don’t know what you hope to find, but whatever you do, you will then report to me and answer my questions. All of my questions. You will share every single shred of information, regardless of how minute, about what may be implanted within us. And as a token of your appreciation, you will deliver all the letters from my father. It’s that simple. If you agree, you can pass your requests to come here through Barbara and I will reply with the appropriate times. There’s no negotiating on this.”

  Steven managed a smile. “You still hold all the cards, Lynn. It’s why the government and the entire world is waiting on you to explain how you found William. What is it you said when you gave that statement to the reporters in Denver? ‘There is a vast government conspiracy, and I’m working to uncover the truth.’ No wonder the government still has Argentum shut down and closed off for ‘homeland security’ reasons. And all those people with missing loved ones are still rallying outside, protesting, demanding to know if the person they’ve been searching for is in there.”

  My face softened. “I wish I could tell you that I saw your sister, even though I wouldn’t have begun to know what she looked like. The people who have called me, written me, asking if I saw their missing friend or relative—I can’t bear to tell them the truth.”

  Steven hesitated. “The truth?”

  “That if their loved one was once abducted and then returned, only to be contained in the government bases, they’re gone now. All those people were taken back into the ships that arrived above Argentum. What they intend to do with the people, I don’t know. But there is another stage, something else is coming. If your Corcillium has any information about what’s happened or may happen, I must be told.”