Waking Light

by Rob Horner

Driving my normal route, thoughts of dreams and demons began to fade, washed out by the brilliant morning sunshine and the racing pulse of Information Society. Pulling into the parking lot of Bayside High School ten minutes later, everything left my mind. Crystal stood at the edge of the parking lot, waiting for me.

  She was a vision that day, and the sight of her brought a smile to my face. Dressed in a white Nike T-shirt and blue-jean shorts, her clothes managed to convey sexy without being skintight. She walked up to me as I parked and hugged me like we'd been dating forever.

  "I dreamed of you last night," she said, which of course just brought back the full weight of everything that had been racing through my mind since waking up. A shadow of the terror from the night before zinged through me, though I managed to hide it.

  Maintaining a smile was hard, but I managed to reply, "Me too," just to keep her from seeing the dread on my face and misinterpreting it. We held hands walking into the school, and it was nice. Unfortunately, we didn't share first period, so I said good-bye to her outside of her Trigonometry class and returned to my locker to retrieve my gym clothes for Physical Education.

  Chapter 4

  A light seen worldwide

  Standing next to my locker were two friends of mine, both girls. Neither had shown any interest in me as anything other than a friend. One was a freckly redhead named Patty, whom I'd known since transferring to Bayside the year before. She presented a sweet face to the world, but spewed gossip as if it were the oxygen she needed to survive. The other was a pretty, blond, Welsh girl named Nicole, who half the guys in school wanted to date, even though it was painfully obvious she preferred the company of other girls. They were deep in conversation, and from their hushed whispers, it was probably more of Patty's gossip. Deciding today was not an "inquiring mind" kind of day, I tried to just grab my clothes and go. Patty had other ideas.

  "Didja see it, Johnny?" she asked breathlessly, as soon as I came close enough.

  "See what?"

  "Patty says she saw a bright light last night," Nicole answered, her tone implying she didn't believe a word of it and was advising me to do the same. She had the perfect British accent, all clipped consonants and proper pronunciation, which was one of those aspects that drew more guys than it repelled. She was also a classic beauty, with pale skin, blue eyes, light blond hair, and aristocratic features, which drew even more.

  "Yeah, a light," Patty said. "Bright like day, lighting up the whole sky for miles."

  "Well, I didn't see anything," Nicole insisted, taking her books in her arms and heading for her first class. She walked with her back ramrod straight and her arms folded in the front, like her textbooks were a shield over her heart. She gave off a haughty, frigid impression, even to her friends. Having known her since the beginning of the school year, I can tell you the impression was more a product of upbringing than an actual attitude.

  There had been a bright light, I remembered, right after those...things...began pouring out of the black box. But...that had only been around me, right?

  Leaning conspiratorially towards me, Patty whispered, "She didn't see it because she was in her bathroom taking a bath at eight," Patty attempted a British 'ah' sound in bath. "I was in my bedroom, writing a letter to Josh, when I saw this light that just turned everything white as a sheet. It scared the crap out of me. I thought, like...you know, like the next world war was already started, and we were about to be blown to bits."

  Abruptly, she stopped speaking, leveling a shrewd gaze on me. "So, did you see it, or are you going to argue with me, too?"

  I didn't answer immediately, too busy trying to figure out the distances in my head. Patty lived a few blocks from the school, off Haygood Road, which put her more than five miles from the mall and the visiting carnival. From my perspective in the dream, the light was narrow, like a flashlight beam shining through a fog. Perhaps it was bright enough to be seen at some distance, like some Grand Opening spotlights, but five miles would be stretching the possibility. Her words implied something much nearer than a light seen at distance.

  "Did you?" she asked again.

  "No," I answered, unsure what compelled me to lie, "but that doesn't mean I don't believe you. I just wasn't looking outside then." Slamming my locker shut, my gym clothes still inside, I bolted for the nearest exit. I was motivated by a sudden urge to get to my car, check the radio and see what else might have happened.

  As luck would have it, my gym teacher had door-guard duty.

  "Mister Wilson, just where do you think you're going?"

  "Family emergency," I replied, barely dodging his reaching hand as I pushed open the doors.

  "You'd better have a note for me tomorrow!" he shouted after me.

  Without bothering to reply, I sprinted across the lawn toward the parking lot, worried that the longer it took me to get there, the greater chance something awful would happen. My left foot landed in a gopher hole, my ankle twisting painfully. Falling forward, I managed to tuck and roll neatly, coming back up to my feet, then almost fell again as pain raced up my leg. It supported my weight, not wobbling like I'd torn anything, but it reduced my run to a limping hobble. I made it to my blue Dodge, banging myself in the thigh with the car door by opening it too fast, and dropped gracelessly into the driver's seat. After cranking the ignition, Think by Information Society blasted out of my speakers. Jamming a finger at the Eject button, I pulled the cassette tape from the slot, then had to quickly change the channel as the voice of the morning DJ on Z-104 blasted out of my speakers. He managed to scream out something about upcoming concert tickets before I was able to adjust the tuner to a more suitable station and turn the volume down. The monotone voice of a newscaster came in, and my heart picked up speed as I listened in growing fear and wonder.

  "...are listening to News Talk, with John Paulen, on KXRJ 106.2. The top news-breakers today are strange and alarming...

  "Locally, a bizarre series of random assaults in Virginia Beach left at least two people dead, and more than a dozen injured. City police have no clues yet as to the identity of the attackers and are withholding the release of the names of the victims until family members have been notified. Compounding the situation is the sheer brutality of the attacks, as well as the similarities. In separate incidences on both Independence and Virginia Beach Boulevards, a horribly mangled body was discovered. Though these seem to be random killings, as the victims appear to have nothing in common other than the way they were killed, authorities are urging extra caution. Both victims died from blood loss due to numerous cuts which seem, according to forensic experts, to be the work of a very-sharp, possibly serrated, blade.

  "Stay inside if you can, folks, that’s the advice we're receiving. Stay inside, or travel together if you have to go out, and stay tuned for more details as they arrive..."

  He went on to other news, but my brain had already changed gears. Hearing there had been murders, plural, gave me a sudden chill. I knew what had killed those people, and it wasn't any raving lunatic with a knife.

  Demons.

  It was a demon that killed them, and no one else knew it but me.

  I had the brilliant idea to simply drive over to the nearest police precinct and report my knowledge.

  And just as suddenly came the realization that they would, at the very least, laugh in my face, probably kick me out of the building, or might possibly lock me up on the assumption I either had something to do with the killings, or was just as insane as the person responsible. Or I could be on drugs. People always thought teenagers were on drugs.

  The grim reality of my position was overwhelming. I was there when it started. And I might be the only one with any idea what was happening. Which was...what? A biblical Apocalypse? What if it was a one-time thing and they weren't even still around? Maybe it had been a sort of demon Sabbath, a special dispensation, like a one-night Get-Out-of-Hell fling.

  What if all of this was pure speculation? Did I really know what I'd seen? A picture of the horrib
le creature from Aliens flashed through my mind, superimposed over my splotchy memory of the things I'd seen the previous night. Wasn't there enough of a resemblance to at least consider the possibility this was something other than a Biblical assault.

  "And now for the news from around the world.

  "Whether you saw it or not, a staggering number of brilliant white lights shot down out of the sky last night at exactly eight o'clock Eastern Daylight Time, what one witness described as, "spotlights from space." These bright streaks of light were not limited to Hampton Roads, or even to the state of Virginia. No, they were seen across the country and around the world, and they have caused quite an uproar.

  "Scientists are hypothesizing everything from a nearby star gone supernova to an unexpected flare from our own sun, visible in such a pattern because of the numerous areas of thinning ozone in our upper atmosphere. Religious factions are claiming the fulfillment of one of the signs of the Apocalypse. Sinners repent! Heh.

  "Confounding the issue are numerous reports the light seen by most had a kind of aura, a leaking of light from those specific places that gave illumination to the areas around them. In layman's terms, we're being told something big happened, lighting up the outer atmosphere, but rather than a visible flash seen by everyone everywhere, thousands of pinpoint beams shone down, picking out very specific locations, then spreading out from those points. To anyone nearby, it would appear as though the night turned white.

  "The takeaway is that, until we receive more information or a better scientific explanation for last nights' occurrence, try not to believe too many rumors, as they'll only mislead you. Let me please repeat, there has been no official determination on what caused the light, so be careful of other sources of information until we get the official word and report it to you."

  The newscaster turned to a discussion on Washington politics, something about how the President broke a campaign promise not to raise taxes with he signed the spending bill the previous October.

  The light had been seen worldwide. For some reason, that one fact did more to frighten me than to comfort me. What could it possibly mean? It certainly didn't help me differentiate between my two hypotheses. Aliens or demons, the whole world would be involved.

  If my fragmented memories of the past night could be trusted, then the white light had somehow saved me from the corrupting influence of the red light. Had it felt like something good? What if the light was as alien as the monsters? Had it contaminated me? What if it was an otherworldly vaccine, something only a special few of us received to provide resistance to an alien super-flu?

  What if I read way too much Stephen King?

  So many questions, and no answers forthcoming.

  "...and in lighter news," the radio announcer's voice cut back into my thoughts, "if you missed the Boss Brothers' Carnival in Virginia Beach, you'll have another chance to see them at the Hampton Coliseum. It'll be their largest show here in Virginia, as four traveling programs will combine to bring us the biggest celebration of the year. The gates open Thursday afternoon at 4pm.

  "And that will do it for the seven-thirty report. As always, I'm John Paulen..." The radio shut off as I killed the engine. How could I go through the rest of the day as though nothing had changed when everything seemed to be tumbling down around me? The answer to that question, at least, was simple: there was no other choice. If the school called my aunt or uncle with a report of my absence, maybe even a recitation by my gym teacher, who would quote me claiming a family emergency, the stuff really would hit the fan.

  With a whirling mind and a heavy heart, I climbed out of my car, stumbling once on my hurt ankle, and limped my way back into the school.

  Chapter 5

  "I have the power!"

  Don't worry if you don't get the He-Man reference; your parents will understand.

  By the time I limped my way back into the building, first period was half-over. Instead of grabbing my gym clothes out of my locker and going into class late, I opted for getting my German textbooks, which would be needed for second period, and heading for the nearest Boys' Bathroom to wait out the last twenty minutes or so. It wouldn't do for Mister Bailey, the gym instructor, to see me coming back in after lying to him about a family emergency, and he'd certainly have questions about my new pimp limp.

  Besides, the bathroom was right around the corner, next to the stairs leading up to the second floor of the school. Moving as quickly as my hurt ankle would allow, I went from locker to bathroom door, hoping there weren't any hall monitors moving about.

  The door opened silently at my push, which turned out to be a good thing, since there was a conversation going on in there, making me an unintended eavesdropper.

  But first, a description of the place. If you've seen one high school boys' bathroom, you have a pretty good idea of what to expect. This was one of the smaller facilities in the school, with only two blue metal-walled stalls and two standing urinals, also separated by a sheet of blue metal, on the right, and three white porcelain sinks on the left. There were liquid soap dispensers on the walls beside the sinks--empty--and two paper towel dispensers--also empty. A trashcan near the door appeared to hold all the missing towels and then some, with more balled-up paper trash strewn around it, a testimony to the poor basketball skills of a lot of my fellow students. The far wall had that classic prison cinder block look, with two small windows just high enough to let a little light in, but not big enough to allow anything to escape, be it a student or their smells.

  Speaking of smells, there was a certain odor to the room as well, but we don't need to go into that.

  I could hear two voices talking, carrying on the kind of conversation you see depicted in comic books, or on cheesy after-school Just Say No public service messages. There was a suspicious quality to it that made it a certainty they wouldn't appreciate being overheard. It also tweaked my curiosity enough that I couldn't just walk away.

  One other feature of the room was a small partition set in front of the door, so it was the first thing you'd see when you opened it, a feature designed to prevent casual passersby from being able to see the actual facilities within. Though it supposedly happened before my time, there was an urban legend about a timid mouse of a girl who happened by a boys' restroom just as some guy yanked the door open, giving her a glimpse of another young man using one of the urinals. I can't speak to the truth of the story, other than to be thankful for the partition. We had them in every restroom in the school.

  It was on the near side of this barrier that I crouched, too curious to simply leave, which might have been the wisest thing to do given the nature of the interaction. We've already established my innate inability to mind my own business. And after last night and the news this morning, I was hyper-alert to anything which might have something to do with the events at the carnival.

  "Just wait until you see this, Jerry. You're going to love it."

  We've all heard sinister voices before, both realistic and exaggerated. Think Mumm-Ra from The Thundercats, but pitch it to a whisper, take away all the subtlety, and imagine it coming from a teenage boy's mouth. Let's just say it was about as wrong as a white guy rapping. (Sorry, Vanilla.)

  "All right, Dave. What is it?" the kid, obviously Jerry, replied.

  "Got it right here," the sinister voice said, which I now placed as belonging to Dave Rompon, one of the school's habitual bullies.

  There was the sound of a zipper being opened, followed by the rustling of a bag, probably one of the canvas Nike sports' bags we loved so much back then. Then came one of those reverse whistle sounds that can mean "Awesome!" or "This chili's hot!" depending upon the situation.

  "Wow! Would you look at that thing!"

  "Isn't it the most?" Dave asked. He sounded excited, too.

  "Yeah! But what...what is it?"

  Say what you want about cats and their curiosity, but they always have a satisfied look on their faces. I had to have a look.

  Slowly, carefully, I eased
my head and shoulders to the side, leaning out to look around the partition. There, in front of one of the two stalls, were the boys. The first, Dave, I recognized right away. It would be hard to mistake the strategically torn jeans complete with lewd, penned-in suggestions and untucked, very worn T-shirt, along with the shoulder length, oily hair and scraggly beard struggling for life on his pimply face.

  The other boy was a stranger to me, but that wasn't surprising; it was a big school with a large student body. Jerry looked like every high school kid ought to look. Neat, presentable jeans, clean tennis shoes, and an untucked but clean Polo shirt. Nice, well-trimmed hair and a smooth face topped him off. He would fit right in with any large crowd of kids, just another face to be ignored.

  What was surprising was what Dave held in his hands.

  It was a small statue, or maybe a large action figure, somewhere between ten and twelve inches tall. And it was a demon! Not just your average, garden variety demon, either. No pitchfork or bat wings, or fire-baked, brick-colored skin. No, that would have been too easy. This was an almost exact replica of what I'd seen the night before coming out of the glowing box. More than a statue, the thing looked like an oversized action figure, though the feet weren't detailed but remained a part of the base. For stability most likely, just like those green army men we used to buy by the dozens.

  The legs were just a little too long in proportion to the length of the torso, and the knees had a weird kind of double joint. The statue had one bent forward and the other backward. The arms were as much out of proportion as the legs, just a little too long, and with the same weird joints at wrist and elbow. The fingers each had an extra knuckle, and they all ended in a talon. The head wasn't quite like I remembered. This one had a twin row of fins starting at the center of the scalp and running down the neck. The whole figure was the color of dirt, which seemed right. It was hard to be sure, considering how dark it was in the trailer park.