IS
17

I awoke to the house phone ringing, and then the answer machine taking over with the help of Corey’s voice.

“Hi. You have reached the Stone residence. Leave a brief message, and we will get back to you as soon as humanly possible!” beeeeep.

“Josh, this is Carmine. Hey man, everyone at the dealership’s wondering where you are, and why you haven’t called! Is… is everything okay? Mr. Franklin was asking about you also. Just a heads-up buddy! Call me!”

“Fuck!” I blurted out, as I grabbed for a pillow to shield my face from the sun’s rays, which had undoubtedly been punishing me for quite some time. It wasn’t too long after that the sick feeling of remembrance crept into my waking thoughts, calling me to rise from the couch, when anxious fear kept me frozen for a spell, waiting for the right second to make my move. Only then would I finally be obligated to leave the quiet comfort of denial, and move forward into the daunting reality that had now become my life. The way I saw it, either I was losing my mind and seeing things that hadn’t really happened, or everything I could recall actually did happen, and my sanity was normal, and intact. Either way you looked at it, I was a dead fish out of water, or something like that. I was done. Turn off the grill and serve me on a plate!

I could lie there no longer. Relentless anxiety kept a constant reverberation throughout my whole upper body. I finally sat up and let my feet fall to the floor. Raking my fingers back through my hair, I flinched when I found the forgotten wound I’d suffered to the left side of my head; the latest addition to my list of injuries. Before leaving the couch, I quickly assessed all my wounds; dropping my damp jeans to the floor and starting at my thigh, with its makeshift bandage that had moved down to just above my knee. It wasn’t pretty, but healing nonetheless. Then to my hand and elbow which were less sore and pretty well scabbed over. And then back to my head wound again, which was incredibly sore and surrounded by dry, blood-crusted hair—a monumental example of the good fight.

All of these could do no less than solidify the fact that dreams and nightmares would now be passed over as explanations to my fears; that maybe I was going crazy. And if so, how and when would I know for sure? And if not… well, I had a pretty good feeling that answer would be coming around soon enough.

I stood up and walked to the very center of the kitchen, looking all around me for anything that would give a sign, some indication that he had actually been here, and that I wasn’t losing my mind. As I stood there with nerves on end, extracting bits and pieces of what I could remember, there was a smell present; a disgusting pungent odor that could no longer be dismissed as normal, or possibly even human!

It wasn’t long before I realized, and was slightly embarrassed at the fact that the disgusting odor in question was my own. That moment of relief turned melancholy at the sight of an unopened can of tuna I had found the night before. The night I welcomed her company.

One single and disturbing thought then began to take over, as I once again turned to the window over the kitchen sink. It was at this moment that I think I was forced to see just how much all of this had really changed me. For just as I felt when informed of her passing by Mike, the same could also be said for the compassion, or lack of, that I felt as I saw her lying there, lifeless and cold. I hated myself for this! I hated that I had taken her death for granted, and only worried for the repercussions of it. But as I now stared at the clean, bodiless concrete patio baking in the hot afternoon sun, for now, that was good enough for me!

I left for a bottle of water from the fridge, but only for a second or two. I returned back to the very same spot, breaking the sealed cap and tilting back a good long swig of cool and refreshing satisfaction. And it wasn’t until the plastic opening touched my lips a second time, that I noticed the answering machine out the corner of my eye, blinking and calling for my attention.

Outside, Mike was starting his lawnmower, and children were playing. The mailman was making his rounds, and a teenager was being lectured on the dangers of smoking. Families were fighting, and families were praying. Good men were dying, and poor souls were paying… and then there was me. Alone and outside the familiarities of normalcy, while encapsulated inside my own personal apocalypse, waiting and wondering if I would ever join the ranks of normal again. I took another drink, and stared at Mike Stanton as he made a pass with the mower, wondering if he had found Midnight, or if it could be possible that my new ally had swept her body away before anyone had seen her.

It felt strange to think of him as an ally when I had feared his presence for some time now. I thought long and hard about the story he told me, and especially the part about his evil twin. And even though I continued to hydrate myself, I couldn’t seem to get rid of the parched sensation that existed in the back of my throat. I devoured the last remaining gulp and tossed the empty bottle into the sink. I then reached across the counter and pushed a button on the answering machine. As I stood in front of the opened fridge again, overwhelmed by its cold interior, Alley’s voice filled the room–-anxious and mad.

“Dad! I tried calling your cell but it made a weird sound! Where are you? Please call me!” Beeeeep.

“Dad! where are you, and why haven’t you called me back? Your cell’s still dead. Call me, please!” Beeeeep.

“Hey hon, just wanted to call and say hi! Listen, something’s going on with Al. She’s not acting like herself. Actually, she’s been keeping to herself and won’t talk to anyone. I love you and I miss you. Call me!” Beeeeep.

I closed the fridge door and stepped down into the living room, and over to a back window; the very same window where all of this had started for me.

“Dad!” Alley screamed. “You lied, Dad! You lied to me about him. I know you’re in danger, and now I can’t get a hold of you! Where are you?” she yelled a second time. Beeeeep.

I probably should have responded differently to what I heard. Actually, I should have responded–-period! Only I didn’t have it in me. I wasn’t the same person they knew before they left. The stability of my humanity had been tested far past the boundaries of what should be expected of any human being, and it had changed me. As I gazed though the double paned glass and across the school yard to the tree line beyond, I felt nothing for anything. I, at least for the moment, was nothing more than a breathing and beating shell.

Tyler—one of Shane’s best friends—was cutting through the back yard and heading for the school when he saw Shane’s old man standing in the window. Waving for his attention, Tyler soon became uncomfortable with the lack of emotion he received from Mr. Stone’s empty stare. He then began to jog; anything to escape the disturbing presence that seemed to see right through him. It wasn’t until he had almost reached the front parking lot that Tyler turned around to witness the same vision he had only seconds earlier ran from. “What the hell is up with him?” he remarked, as he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket to call his best friend.

“Shane! Hey, what up dude?” He paused for a response before continuing on with why he really called. “Yeah. Hey, what’s up with your dad, man?”

“What do you mean?” Shane’s voice asked over the speaker phone.

“Dude! I just cut through your yard and he was just standing there in the window, looking all weird and shit!”

“Weird?”

“Yeah! Like a frickin’ zombie or something!” Tyler continued. “I waved to him, but it was like he couldn’t even see me. Like he was awake, but sleeping! You know what I mean?” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“He was probably just tired or something” Shane replied, trying to validate his dad’s actions without actually seeing for himself.

“Scared the shit out of me!” Tyler reported. He then went on to ask when Shane would be home.

“I guess a couple more days” Shane answered back.

“Cool!” said Tyler. “Gotta run! Keep in touch, brother!” He then reached behind to stuff his cell into his back pocket again. As he slowly began to jog away, a feeling inside forced him look one last time when he really didn’t want to, as he skipped backwards, unaware that a large playful golden retriever had moved into his path. He tried to catch his balance, but failed. He tumbled awkwardly to the ground, cursing the large friendly beast while quickly rising back to his feet.

“Young man!” an old woman shouted out, as she frantically moved to collect her pet. “I hardly think it was his fault!” she continued.

“Yeah, sorry,” he answered, embarrassed and frightened, as he looked back yet one more time before running off.

Shane slid his cell into the back pocket of his jeans as well. He then looked out the second story window of his room and down to the beach where his sister was sitting in the sand, alone and seemingly oblivious to everything around her as she gazed only at the ocean.

Although he was only twelve, he wasn’t blind. And he certainly wasn’t deaf to the mysterious phone call he had accidently stumbled into while searching for his skim board earlier that morning. Alley hadn’t noticed another presence as she verbally lashed out at her grandmother’s cell phone, pleading with her father to call her back. And just like every other call she had secretly made to her dad, Alley had again found a private spot, this time behind the garage and away from the possibility of unwelcomed ears–-or so she thought.

He moved in just close enough to make out what she was saying, but her call ended before he had the chance to get comfortable. But he had heard enough. He had heard the painful fear in her voice as she called their father a liar, and the distress that remained as she practically begged him to call her back. And then with the calculative demeanor of a spy, she was gone. Shane stayed there for a few seconds longer, crouched behind his grandfather’s newly restored ’57 Chevy, staring at his reflection in the bright chrome hub cap.

Even though the message was short, it was also alarming, with a handful of words that triggered concern. Actually, everything he had heard gave him cause for alarm. And who was she referring to, when she said you lied to me about him! Even worse was the phrase, I know you’re in danger. What the hell was that? For whatever reason, she had taken it upon herself to keep it a secret. As Shane continued to watch her from his window, reeling with mystery and confusion, she turned and looked up at him with a partial smile, as if at that very moment she not only knew where he was, but also what he was thinking. As if she could read his mind.

I remained there standing at the window for some time, not really knowing what to do; not having an answer to everything I would surely be facing in only a matter of hours. It was only human to wish myself away from all of this, if it had not been for the fact that I had already moved far past any unattainable aspirations, and surrendered to what had now been laid out before me in black and white. As I watched a family passing through the school yard, laughing and enjoying the latter part of the day together, my heart yearned for normal days again.

I sat back on the arm of the couch and continued watching through the window, relishing the life I had once, not so long ago, the one I was accustomed to. The worries and fears I had before all of this seemed so insignificant to me now. Let’s face it. They really were.

I would think that the legitimate fears of a soldier heading off to war might shy in comparison to what I was standing forefront to. At least he would be facing off with his own species. I, on the other hand, was about to be matched up against something I had absolutely no idea about. I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking this, but I was hoping for him to show—the good one.

I would have to give him a name. I then took a few seconds to ponder, when a smile almost came to my face at the thought of one label, or identity in particular… Powder.

This would be his name. It had to be. And then one thought rushed over me like a tsunami, slapping waves of panic against the boundaries of my conscience. What if the evil had already gotten to him? What if I was already next on the list? Time was a son-of-a-bitch, and definitely not in my favor, as I reclaimed an identity of my own. I was once again The Omega Man, watching the sun’s position in the sky, watching the existence of bright warmth and optimism slowly give way to the other side.

I could never look at the night again as anything less than a dark, formidable hell. He had done that to me. He had made me regress to a frightened child, all over again. Only now there would be no closing the closet door. I had no one on my side to check under the bed and illuminate the darkness around me. How could it ever go back to how it used to be, when I had seen the truth about what exists outside the light of day–-on the other side?

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