4 comments/ 6199 views/ 0 favorites It Happened in the Night Ch. 03 By: loganforester Thanks to MistressLynn for her editing help and support. For all those wondering Chapter 4 should post within a couple days after this one does. CHAPTER 3: DESCENT INTO MADNESS Sunlight beamed through the open window illuminating the room. Brian awoke in a tangle of bed sheets, believing at first that something was holding him down. Thrashing around, trying to clear the sleep from his brain, he managed to throw them from the bed into a heap on the floor. He lay in the middle of the bed motionless; reliving last night's horror in his mind still not sure if it was real. "Oh man, I didn't even get the number of the truck that ran me over," Brian mumbled to himself, realizing how sore his body was. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make his head throb as severely as it was at that moment. He would have ripped it right off his shoulders if he could have. His entire body ached from the strain of the shoveling and carrying the day before but that wasn't what concerned him. What was really concerning Brian was the headache that seemed about to tear his head apart. He ran his short thick fingers through his hair, stopping at the large indentation in the top of his skull. Fingers traced over the outlines of the familiar ridge. It was a gift from his childhood. Just touching it brought a rolling sensation to him. The car he'd been in flipped several times before coming to rest in the ditch and smashing his head in. The doctors worked around the clock to save his life and fix what was left of his destroyed skull. His father had told him that the ambulance driver said he was the most beat up thing he'd ever seen that was still alive. To fix his skull, the doctors had to weave metal wire throughout a large part of it to keep the bone together. This spot seemed to be the source of his headache. Brian pressed his fingers against it and could feel his fingertips vibrating just a little. He jerked his hand away quickly, not knowing what to make of it. Brian sat on the bed with his eyes closed and focused his thoughts through the cloudiness of his mind. There was a faint humming sound, as if tuning forks struck the wires in his skull. The incessant noise burrowed deep into his psyche, causing him real physical pain. Holding his head in his hands, Brian got off the bed and started dressing. "No point in getting fancy today. Nobody around to see it," he joked to himself as he slipped on his track pants and an old T-shirt. He froze even as he said it, remembering the night before. They wouldn't still be in the house would they? That didn't really happen did it? Those thoughts and more echoed in Brian's mind as he unlocked his bedroom door and looked into the hallway. The coast was clear so far. Brian crept down the hallway, trying not to step on the squeaky parts of the floor. The two bedroom doors had been closed, but the bathroom was open and that was his first stop anyway. Silence was all he could hear as he trudged into the empty bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet searching around for some aspirin. Cold water filled the glass to the brim and overflowed back into the sink as Brian's mind wandered. He popped a couple capsules into his mouth and swallowed them with a swig of cold water. The water felt so good against his hot skin that he splashed more on his face. Thoughts of a hot shower hammered against his brain before he shut and locked the door and undressed again. The warm spray felt oddly refreshing, as if it could rinse away the pain of yesterday. Life had seemed so utterly boring and yet he would take that boredom over the excitement he had been having. Fully refreshed from the shower, Brian headed back into the undisturbed hallway and into Josh's room. The reality of last night didn't hit home until he saw Josh lying in his crib again. "How did you get back here? You're all dead." Josh looked the same as before, except upon closer inspection there was dirt under his fingernails as though he'd had to claw his way through the earth. If Josh had returned, everyone else would have as well. Brian swayed in the middle of the room, not yet ready to face his wife again. It was Karen last night. She said she'd be watching him, that someone would always be watching him. He looked around the room, studying every detail. There was nobody around except Josh. Brian moved closer to his crib and bent down beside Josh, looking him in the face. His eyes were closed and not moving. "I still love you buddy," he whispered to his dead son. Just as he was moving away, he heard a faint sound. "Light," Josh moaned. "What buddy, what did you say," Brian implored, moving against the bars of the crib, ever hopeful. No answer came. Light? Brian wondered what his son was talking about. He shrugged it off as the utterance of a three year old. Matt's door was closed and it seemed like an impossible obstacle for Brian to overcome. His hand shook as he reached out to turn the knob. He opened the door to see Karen and Matt lying in the bed huddled together. This would have been a camera moment if they weren't both dead and supposed to be buried in the backyard. The next thing he noticed was Karen's ripped shirt. It hung open and her breast was spilling over the top in plain view. It was like she had planned for that to be the first thing Brian saw when he walked into the room. Then he realized it was her plan. She'd been trying to seduce him into opening the door last night and was still working on him. It was as he walked closer that he saw the blood all over the sheets. Panicking, he ran to the bed to see what the source of it was. He picked Matt up and looked him over before he was certain it wasn't coming from him. Karen had a perverted smile emblazoned on her face as he turned to look at her. "I know you can see me Karen. You'll never win." With trembling hands, he reached out to examine her next. Her skin was the same as the days before except it seemed to have a mottled look to it, as though it was decomposing. He looked over at Matt's face and noticed that about his complexion for the first time as well. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear horror music playing, as if he was living a scene from the movie "Halloween". The terror Brian felt was immeasurable. His hands searched over the body that he knew as well as his own looking for where the blood came from. Then he saw her left hand and had to cover his mouth to keep from vomiting all over the bed. What was left of her ring finger was a stub cut back to the first knuckle, with her wedding and engagement ring still on it. Upon further inspection, the cut wasn't a clean knife blade cut either. A jagged tear had severed the top of her finger. Brian fled the room and headed for the kitchen looking for his open bottle of rum. His mind was so distracted that he walked right up to the wall before he realized it. How could he have not seen it right away? He collapsed to his knees sobbing as he stared at the wall. This couldn't be happening to him. These things just didn't happen in real life, only in the stories he wrote to scare unsuspecting readers. On the wall in front of him, written in frenetic strokes with a blunt instrument, was the words 'Home sweet home'. It was apparent to Brian that the writing was dried after he ran his fingers over it. Looking down at the floo,r Brian noticed the severed fingertip. It lay there mocking him. Shrill laughter echoed in his mind in the same sardonic voice that he heard for the first time last night. She was going to drive him insane. In that instant, Brian realized that was her goal. Visions and noises crashed against his mind like waves on the Bay of Fundy pounding the beach as the tide rolled in. The incessant buzzing noise along with the blood hammering in his temples made Brian believe he was losing complete control. Brian stumbled towards the liquor cabinet, sliding the glass doors open and pulling out the partially finished bottle of rum from the day before. In one deft motion, his thumb twisted the cap off and poured the second half of the bottle down his throat, trying to numb his pain. It felt like drowning to him. Like the time when he was a young child and he'd jumped into the pool without knowing how to swim at a family pool party. The floor felt much more comfortable as the alcohol took hold of his body. A coughing fit wracked his body, forcing him to sit up and lean against the liquor cabinet. Time crept along as he waited for the liquid courage to find him. He felt like a miner trapped deep underground looking for any light that would show him the way out. Even though sunlight poured through the windows, darkness shrouded his mind. He ran his hands through his still damp hair as he contemplated his next move. Shame ripped though his heart like a dagger. How could he do this to himself? Was he that weak? His legs gained strength and he pulled himself up as his head cleared a little. Stumbling over near the stairs, his foot slipped and sent him tumbling down into the basement. If not for his years of judo where he learned how to fall, Brian would have been seriously hurt as he smashed into the landing at the bottom. As it was, the soreness seemed to blend in with what he was already feeling. What caught his attention was a message written on the wall similar to the one upstairs. This one was much more elaborate though. Hundreds of small pictures of lidless eyes surrounded the words "We're watching you". Each one had the pupils drawn in. This must have taken hours for her to do. Finding his legs, much like he learned how to do on his deep-sea fishing adventures, was easier said than done. Wobbling like a first timer on a boat in rough weather, Brian made his way to where the words were written. The coppery smell of blood tinged the air, adding to the macabre absurdity of it all. The myriad of smaller eyes formed a border around the writing, creating the look of one larger eye. Brian looked around the room and could find no evidence of anyone watching him. Remembering the previous day, he sauntered over to the window that faced the neighbor's house behind them. He was certain he could see a pair of eyes looking out the upstairs window into the room he was in. Who was that? Karen told him last night that their were others and they'd always be watching him. Scanning his backyard, he noted the grave where his family was supposed to be sleeping in eternal peace. It was still open as it was the night before when he looked anxiously from the upstairs window. By the time he looked back at where the person he'd seen watching him was, they were gone. Brian stood in stunned silence looking at the remnants of his once happy family. Their pictures still lined the wall opposite the message. It was a sharp contrast to the cryptic signal sent his way and his heart ached as he thought of how he once took his simple life for granted. At that moment, he would have given anything to have it back, to hold his still breathing wife and kids in his arms. The alcohol overcame his senses and Brian slid down the wall onto the floor. Moments later, he was snoring. * * * * When he awoke hours later, his head throbbed, not just from the buzzing in his skull but also the start of a nice hangover. By this point, it was late afternoon and Brian had slept most of the day away. He raced up the steps and into the bedrooms. Everything was just as he'd last seen it, except his wife was naked. Around both of her breasts, still dripping with blood, was a drawing of the lidless eye. Her perpetually erect nipples served as the perverse pupils. A grotesque combination of lust and abject horror washed over Brian as he stood in the doorway gaping. His cock sprung to life and his gag reflex worked at the same time. The power of his confusion froze him in place for several minutes as he tried to comprehend the scene. "Whatever you're trying to do it won't work. I don't know who you are but you're not my wife. Not anymore." Just then, he noticed a mocking grin graced her visage showing utter contempt for his attempts at bravery that she knew were false. His breath caught in his throat as he approached the bed again. He reached down, grabbed an empty garbage bag out of the box and laid it open. The bag went up over her head and down until he managed to fold her inside it. The force of his pulse crashed like waves against a breaker. After he finished tying the bag a thought crept into his mind and he said it before he had a chance to sensor himself. "You're much better looking with a bag over your head. Maybe even fuckable." Those words died on his lips as she responded in a violent raspy tone muffled through the bag. "Night is coming. Beware the light." His hands recoiled as if bitten by a poisonous snake. The bag was moving and stretching. Her voice rose to a crescendo chanting the same refrain. "Night is coming. Beware the light." "Night is coming. Beware the light." After the sixth time, Brian grabbed the bag and hoisted in over his shoulders. His muscles strained holding it in place as it writhed above him. He carried it out the front door and down the slick hill to the back yard. The chanting got so loud he couldn't hear himself think. All he knew was he had to get it into the ground before she stole the last shred of sanity remaining. When he reached the hole, he tossed the bag in with a thud, shocked by his own callous treatment of what used to be his wife. The chanting stopped at once. The bag was still. Looking up at his neighbors, he could see two eyes peering through the curtains, following his every move. In an act of defiance, he raised his middle finger towards the window. Before he even realized what he was doing, he began shoveling dirt into the hole again until the bag was covered. The original plan was to leave them in the house until nighttime when he would have to hide in his room. It didn't take him long to realize just how dangerous she was to him. The kids he could handle, her feminine wiles had always been hard to resist, but this represented a new level of cunning. The sun beat down upon his face, leaving the imprint of its warm touch. He shivered from the omnipresent wind howling across the yard, removing the last vestiges of fall color from the trees. The cycle of decay was all around him and within him all at once. His mind was rotting from the inside out trying to survive. After resetting the grave, he climbed back up the hill to the house and went in through the front door. The kids were both still in bed. After harboring a quick glance at the message adorning the wall, Brian rummaged through the kitchen to find a large bowl and washcloth. He ran warm water into the bowl and approached the bloody imprint. The water washed the blood off the paint with efficient precision. For a few minutes, the therapy of cleaning the wall gave him a peaceful feeling that perhaps he had some amount of control in an uncontrollable situation. He continued downstairs and removed all the lidless eyes and the rest of the message. With his normal paranoid tendencies, he looked out the window at the grave just to ensure it was still intact. It was this time. At the same time, he noticed the lengthening of shadows and realized how late it was getting. His stomach lurched and rumbled reminding him that he'd eaten nothing all day. After disposing of his cleaning supplies, he raided the basement freezer, which was more like a cooler at this point, and found a nice big T-bone steak for dinner. "Well at least something has gone right for me today," he commented with a smirk. Grilling steaks was something Brian had always enjoyed. The fresh air was filled with smoke, the smell of cooked meat wafted through his nose and he didn't even care that it was windy or the flame kept going out. Or that the beer was more cool than cold. Being able to enjoy a normal experience after the past few days was the best thing he could imagine at that moment. The experience was almost paranormal as Brian sat down to eat at his kitchen table where he'd shared so many meals with his family. Eating by candlelight was also an interesting change. Nighttime was fast approaching and he knew they would be back tonight. His fragile psyche was bracing for another round of torture. Just to reassure himself, Brian grabbed the flashlight and looked out the window. The grave remained covered. By instinct, he shone the light at the neighbor's house and could faintly see two eyes looking straight at him, piercing the darkness like an arrow. Brian stepped back with a shudder and the reminder that someone was always watching him ringing in his mind. He was used to staying up until the middle of the night in his previous life, but tonight he was in his room by eight o'clock. The sheer power of the darkness overwhelmed his courage. Brian waited. The room became his prison, while he waited for the sounds he'd been expecting all day. He tried sitting on the bed, but quickly grew bored. Then he tried reading by flashlight, all that did was hurt his sensitive eyes. Finally, he gave up all pretense of being busy and paced the floor back and forth. "I always think best when I pace anyways. If I'd been allowed to write while pacing, I would have aced all my college exams," Brian told himself chuckling. His attempts at humor were little consolation against the growing dread burrowing into every fiber of his body. The he heard it, a faint little creaking sound. It could have been the wind but he knew at once that it was them. There was more creaking and then the sound of little voices in the distance. Even though he'd been preparing himself for this all day, he suddenly felt very unprepared. Tears streamed down over his cheeks and his hands clenched and unclenched. Brian sat on the end of his bed, hands over his face. It was the same routine as last night. He heard the sounds of children having fun in the bath and then silence as they went off to bed. It was all he could do to keep from screaming as he waited for the sound of her voice. "Brian you naughty boy, you erased all my drawings. That took me a long time to do," the voice of his wife remarked from beyond the bedroom door. His own voice caught in his throat. He tried to say something in response, he did try, but nothing came out. The buzzing in his head became louder as he slunk against the wall and onto the floor sitting in the fetal position. "Get a grip Brian," he whispered to himself. It was pointless trying to convince himself she wasn't there because he knew she was. "I'll have to write you another one tonight Brian. I still have nine more fingers to use. Not that you'll live that long," she cackled. After she said that, Brian heard the floor creak as she walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. He sat against the wall waiting for her voice to return. He waited what must have been hours until sleep finally claimed him early in the morning. * * * * Brian was fucking his wife again. Her beautiful body knelt in front of him and his cock was pistoning in and out of her from behind. He heard the sounds of her pleasure as muffled gasps through the pillow she'd buried her face into. The room smelled of sweat and sex commingled. She was so wet and he thrust himself as deep into her as he could. Brian felt like it'd been months since he last made love to her and knew he wouldn't last long. The pressure built inside him like a bomb designed for maximum impact. He grabbed her hips roughly, admiring the softness of her skin. His left hand drifted forward to find one of her full breasts; he tweaked her nipple knowing the effect it would have on her. Her back arched and she pushed against him, taking his thrusts with ease. He couldn't believe it felt so good to be inside her again after the last few days. That had all been a dream he told himself. His hands held onto her with a vice like grip, needing to feel her. Her muscles contracted around him and he couldn't contain it any longer. It Happened in the Night Ch. 03 Pulling her back against him, he slammed all the way into her again as his own release hit him like a brick wall. His entire body shook and spasmed as his orgasm passed through him and into her. After a few minutes, his breathing returned to almost normal and he backed away to pull out. He felt something holding his cock in place. Panicking, he pulled back hard trying to extricate himself and was greeted with a sharp searing pain around his cock. At that moment, she turned her head around to look at him and Brian started to scream. Her smile showcased all her missing teeth and the bare patches where the bone peeked through the decaying skin. The eyes were the worst. Nothing remained but large black pupils fully dilated looking into his soul. "Was that good for you dear?" his wife asked with a ghastly grin on her face. Brian awoke covered in a pool of his own cold sweat, screaming at the top of his lungs. He sprung out of bed clinging to the last vestiges of his sanity. His body shook uncontrollably and his teeth chattered. He took his hands and felt all over his body and down to his still hard cock. He was sticky from his all too vivid dream. Everything had been a dream except his own orgasm. "Holy shit that felt too real," Brian said as he stood up and got a towel to clean himself off with. It had been six days since his family died and every day was worse than the one before it. Memories of his family haunted his days and his efforts to survive in this new world. Nights were even worse with visits from his wife as she tried to convince him to open the door and let her in to ease his pain. Even his dreams had become nightmares of unspeakable horror. Perhaps the worst part was the messages on the walls that he awoke to each morning. They became increasingly morbid and sophisticated all at the same time. Brian was becoming nervous that whatever intelligence had taken over the minds of his family was getting craftier. At first, they had been simple warnings. Over time they had morphed to include double meanings and have an almost riddle like quality. Brian dressed for another day of the same routine. He'd come to realize that repetition was hell. Whether it was Sisyphus rolling a boulder up a hill or living in some twisted version of your former life every day, repetition was hell. His own personal hell was starting to take its toll on his body and mind. The extra ten pounds that had been hanging around his midsection was just a memory. The hangover-induced headache that kept his head pounding was another daily event in itself. "Tonight will be different," Brian confided in himself as he pulled his pants on. "I'm going to open the door and face my fears head on even if it costs me my life. I can't live like this anymore." With little care, he opened the door and headed to the bathroom for an aspirin. Having dead bodies sleeping in bedrooms down the hall had become so common that it was of little concern. Standing in the bathroom with the water running, he could hear the wind rattling the windows. It was a stormy day out and one that matched his mood well. Walking into Matt's room, he noticed his son and wife in bed together as usual. The biggest thing on his mind was which finger had she cut off this time. As she said that second night, the messages would continue every day until he was dead. This morning it was her left thumb missing, the last of the fingers on her left hand which was nothing but a stump. Both of them had deteriorated every day since they died. Skin was turning yellow and cracking. Their gums receding and bloody, eyes sunken back into their heads. The most obvious sign was their hair falling out in clumps. If it wasn't so sad to see his family in such awful shape it might have been comical the way they looked. As it was, it acted as a chilling reminder of his once promising life. Shaking his head and walking away, Brian sighed in anticipation of another day of passing the time until nightfall. Josh was sleeping in his crib when Brian entered the room. It looked like he was sleeping and for a minute, he even managed to convince himself. Brian picked him up and held him in his arms. Josh looked different from his mom and brother. Even after six days, the physical changes that had so altered their appearances had just started to affect him. His skin was still the same pale white color in contrast to the sickly yellow of the other two. His eyes, hair and gums all still intact. Brian held his son, pondering what could be different about Josh that would cause him to resist the changes. He couldn't help thinking that the answer to that question might have some bearing on the overall fate of mankind. Was there something that he and Josh had in common that the other two didn't? Josh hadn't spoken again since the other day, but Brian sat with him every morning for a while hoping he would say something. After holding him for half an hour this morning, Brian placed him in his crib and strode to the living room to read this morning's message. Written in the biggest letters yet was 'Someone's knocking on the door'. He stopped and stared at the wall not knowing what to make of it. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He stood looking at the wall for a while before walking downstairs where he knew the rest of the message would be on display. On the basement wall in big bold letters, he saw 'Open the door and let em in'. He paused for a minute knowing that it sounded very familiar. A few seconds later, he was on the floor laughing hysterically. Even though the circumstances of its writing were very odd, the use of popular seventies song lyrics on his walls struck him as hilarious. "That was pretty funny," Brian joked to himself as he walked back upstairs, mulling over how much more effective the messages were getting. "At least you guys have a sense of humor," Brian muttered as he re-entered Matt's room, looking at the two of them curled up in the bed. It had been a very stressful few days for Brian. Empty liquor bottles littered the kitchen counters and aspirin containers filled the garbage bin. His head throbbed with a pulsing sensation anytime he was out of either liquor or aspirin. He felt like a giant antenna with the wires in his skull acting as a receiver. Brian laughed as he thought about that. It was ironic since no other receivers were still working. The day before Brian had gone to the hardware store, found a large generator and filled it with gas from the gas station. "Maybe, just maybe if I can turn on the TV or go online I can find out about what's happening here and if it's all over the world or just local," he'd said to himself. When he'd returned home, he hooked the computer up to the generator and tried to open the internet. Nothing happened. After playing with it for over an hour and getting no response from the network, he gave up. The TV was much the same story. He hooked it up and got nothing but static off the satellite. Even when he hooked it up to the upstairs TV with an aerial, he had no luck. There was no signal in the air. His cell phone also had no service when he tried it. It was as though all the technology of the last twenty years had just stopped working. Even the land telephone lines were no longer working as they had the first day after it happened. What was it anyway? He knew that people were dead, all of them dead, but what had happened? Brian had always been a smart guy, but he had no idea what could cause such widespread devastation. Why was he still alive? All this and more ran through Brian's mind constantly. As he sat watching his wife and son lying so peacefully in bed he became agitated, as he so often did. "Why don't you just kill me? There are hundreds of you and only one of me. If you hate me so much, why let me live." Brian stopped himself, realizing he was screaming. "I've got to get out of here. This place is driving me insane. I'm fighting ghosts and my own demons more than anything else." Brian had an epiphany, like when the apple struck Newton in the head. The reason they didn't kill him is because they couldn't, at least not yet. It seemed like an embryonic process where they had to learn all about the world and how to handle it before they could move forward. Every day he observed his former wife getting smarter and more cunning in her techniques. To Brian it appeared the same as watching his kids growing up and gaining new skills. "I've got to hurry," Brian muttered under his breath, cutting through the alcohol induced fog and finding a new sense of direction. He grabbed his family and performed his daily ritual of sending them back to the hole in the ground. Dust to dust, he thought to himself not for the first time. After that chore was complete, Brian headed back off to the hardware store. He needed some last minute supplies and had a very specific list in mind. For the first time in a week, his mind was clear and focused as he cast the buzzing into the background. * * * * The rest of the day went according to plan. Nightfall was again upon him before he knew it and his mind churned thinking of the days' preparation. Sounds on the stairs and the usual bath time routine shattered his thoughts. "Brian, I missed you today. I was such a dirty girl; would you like to clean me off?" She taunted him, laughing. For the first time in the last week, Brian was prepared to face her. "No sorry I'm not into mud and grass." "Oh, I see you found your tongue. I'm sure I can put it to good use." "I'm sure you can. Who are you? I know you're not my wife, she'd never talk that way." "I am your wife only better. I look like her, sound like her, have all her memories but I fuck much better. Want to find out?" "I'll pass for now, thanks." "I know you want me Brian; I can feel it from here. Your heart is racing and you're starting to sweat, telltale signs of arousal." "How do you know that?" Brian responded, shocked. "I know a lot of things. We have senses that you humans could only dream of. I can see your thoughts and feel your desires." "If you know me so well, what am I thinking about right now?" He conjured up an image of the Eiffel tower, his favorite place to see from the honeymoon trip to Paris with his wife. "I see a fresh baguette topped with Prosciutto, Swiss cheese and mustard." "Wow, that's impressive," Brian responded, wanting her to believe that she was correct. She had somehow received a scrambled message. They had bought baguettes and made sandwiches as she described in their hotel room that had a direct view of the tower. He wanted to try again and make sure. In his mind, he pictured his father's fifteen-year-old German shepherd, Rex. "So now what am I thinking of?" "The zoo. You're thinking of a trip to the Toronto Zoo that we went on every year." "You're good." Brian's heart leaped inside knowing that she couldn't see inside as well as she thought. She must be getting a scrambled signal and using her memories of their time together to fill in the blanks. "So why don't you open the door and let me in Brian, I can feel how lonely you've been. I can make you forget all about her for tonight." "What do you want from me?" "To make you feel good and bring you a happy ending. I want to feel passion the way you humans do it. She has very fond memories of your sex life." "That's good to hear. You won't try and hurt me?" "Oh it doesn't hurt. It's a pleasure beyond what you can ever imagine and it goes on forever. Open the door Brian and end your suffering." His heart was pounding and his hands shook. Taking the steps towards the door was the hardest steps he would ever make. His voice trembled as he said, "Okay, I'll open it. Just a minute." "You won't regret it Brian." I hope not, he thought to himself. He looked back at the head of the bed at the preparations he'd made and stretched his hand out to grab the doorknob. It felt bitter cold to the touch and he almost stopped himself, so strong was his fear. He had to do it. Brian opened the door. Thanks for taking the time to read my story. Please feel free to send me feedback in public or private and to vote on this submission. It Happened in the Night Ch. 04 Thanks to Mistresslynn for her editing and support! CHAPTER 4: BLAZE He had to see her alive with his own eyes one last time whether he lived or died because of it. The knob felt icy in his grip as he opened the door, revealing a silhouetted figure beyond. Sweat pouring from his brow, his eyes rose to meet hers in an uncertain stare. "I've been waiting for you Brian, waiting to fulfill your fantasies. Aren't you going to invite me in?" As she said those final words, Brian could almost feel an invisible barrier blocking the doorway. It was some sort of metaphysical last line of defense. He realized it wasn't too late to turn back, not yet. He peered into the icy blue depths of her eyes that sunk into her head like an abyss of nothingness. Could he simply turn his back on her now and walk away, back into the room? No. He had to know for sure if she was dead inside. "What are you waiting for Brian; it's rude to keep a guest waiting." There was a sinister undertone in her voice that she'd managed to keep hidden since the first night she came back. Her arms reached out to him, for him to hold her close. His body longed to feel her soft skin and her delicate breath licking against him. He'd made his choice and there was no turning back. "Of course my dear, come in." She crossed the threshold, dispelling the invisible barrier between them, leaving them one on one. He could see from the dim lantern light that the week's worth of slow decay still marred her skin, but somehow it seemed to radiate with an inner glow despite the imperfections on the surface. "I can feel your heat, Brian, and smell the sweet scent of your sex from here. All that pent up energy trapped inside your body." She slowly advanced on Brian with far more aggression than he was expecting. Actually, he had no idea in that moment what he had been expecting. He was lost in an epic battle between his basic need for survival and his equally primal need for sex and intimacy. His cock was standing at attention, clearly indicating which side of the battle it was on. Brian's mind was a maelstrom of indecision as he backed up further and further until he felt the softness of his bed pressing into the back of his legs. "Wh ... what's your hurry? I thought we could maybe talk a bit first," Brian stammered, trying to maintain the thin veneer of composure that he was certain was transparent. She flashed him a sardonic smile, delighting in his discomfort. "Okay, what would you like to chat about? I know everything there is to know about our lives together. How you like to be touched, teased and all those kinky things you wanted to try but could never tell me. The little dark secrets that nobody could ever know, I know them all. Guilty pleasures you could never ask a woman to give you. I can offer you those and so much more." The look of shock on Brian's face prodded her onward. Her hands reached out, touched his face and ran down his defined chest, tracing lines over his thin T-shirt. "My, my, you've been working out, Brian. I didn't realize how well built you are. This is going to be more fun than I imagined. Especially this," she added, reaching down to stroke his full erection through the fabric of his track pants. Brian's mouth tried to form a response, something to get her to back off for a minute to let him regain some control. He was losing all levels of self-control. It was too much to handle after the trauma of the last week. She seemed so much like his wife and this felt too good to be true. All he could do was stifle a moan as she stroked him. "You like that big boy. Touch me. I can feel your lust. Reach out and touch me like you want to. Don't hold back, give it to me." Almost against his own will, Brian's hands snaked out and grabbed her medium sized breasts, tweaking the nipples through her thin shirt, that was quickly discarded. Not even the musky smell of dirt and mildew could deter his lust. Her breasts were softer than he remembered or ever imagined was possible. The skin was a silky texture with a granite-like coldness under the surface. She urged him on, reaching under his pants and tugging on his bare cock. The heat was building up deep inside him, trying to escape. Her vice-like grip acted as a tourniquet, preventing him from erupting. His fingers tore at her skin and the harder he pulled or pinched, the more she responded to him. They became more emphatic as his control slipped through his fingers. The only thing he could think to do was to mumble, "What's your name?" "What?" "What's your name? I'm not used to fucking someone without knowing their name first. That's rude." She stopped touching him for a minute and stepped back to look into his eyes with a cold stare. "Just call me Karen, it's easier that way." "I never do things the easy way. You should know that. What's your real name?" "I was once called Leilandra. But that was a long time ago." "That's a beautiful name. What happened?" "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." Brian looked into the dark depths of her eyes and his entire body shuddered hearing her answer because he could see it was the truth. "Where are you from? You're clearly not human." "None of that matters now. All that's important is releasing your inner energy. Lay down and I'll make you feel like you've never felt before." With an urgency born from fear, lust and idle curiosity, he laid on his back in the middle of the bed with his legs spread apart and waited. She whisked his pants down over his legs and onto the floor in a fluid motion that released his cock with a hard smacking sound against his belly. Without wasting any time, her fingers danced along the base of his rigid shaft like fine tendrils. Her other hand crept down between his legs, caressing his sac and to the sensitive area below. The softness of her hands was incredible, and Brian couldn't help but think of how soft her inner core of wetness must feel. Pleasure overwhelmed his guilt in submitting to her as he pressed back into the bed and moaned. He was startled out of his revelry when he felt a finger tickle the bud of his asshole. "You've waited years for a woman to do that to you, haven't you Brian? All those times when your wife was between your legs sucking you, you silently pleaded for her to touch you there, to feel that forbidden dirty pleasure. " "Yes. Please touch me." The finger penetrated deeper into his ass, causing him to wiggle against her, as her mouth descended upon his slavering cock. She took it into her mouth and slammed it down her throat to what Brian felt was an impossible depth, as if she was swallowing his entire body. The sensations her mouth produced were beyond anything he had ever felt before. It made the hairs on his body stand up as if she'd administered an electric shock. The grip around his cock tightened like a noose. Her finger was all the way inside his ass, penetrating, going in further than her finger should be able to reach. It felt like her tongue, which had started by teasing the base of his cock, had somehow wrapped around him. He was getting so close to orgasm it was starting to be painful. Every nerve ending he had was tingling with fire. It felt like he was going to spontaneously combust from the sensory overload. Then the searing pain that he remembered from his dream hit him. Like an iceberg attached to his balls. He issued a silent scream, his vocal cords seemingly useless. Looking down he could see her tongue wrapped around his cock, covering it completely, with her mouth a long distance away. What was truly terrifying was seeing the forked end of her tongue, like a snake, burying itself into the tip of his cock. Perhaps what horrified Brian the most was seeing her face looking normal, without the decay of the past week. The reality of the situation crashed into his consciousness. This was a huge mistake and he hoped he could still fix it. He was on the verge of the most intense orgasm imaginable and he had to hold it off. "Brian, give it to me. Give me all your energy. Flow it into my mouth. Don't fight it; give in to your lust." Using the last of his reserves, he reached under the pillow behind his head and pulled out the large carving knife he had stashed there earlier in the day. With one deft movement, he slashed it across her face and used his feet to kick her away, hoping that the surprise was enough to move her. It worked. She fell back against the wall with a thud. Brian scrambled to his feet beside the bed, examining his scorched cock and brandishing the weapon in front of him to ward her off. His stamina was very low and he could barely stand up. Not exactly an imposing figure, more a result of sheer desperation. Brian's mind churned as he put his hastily designed plan into action. Flicking a nearby switch, a loud generator started and a blinding flash showed him that the UV lights he'd rigged above the bed were activated. The room was aglow with a blinding white light. He looked over at her hoping that the sunlight would have an adverse affect. She brandished a stark grin on her face, masking the seething anger boiling underneath. "Oh, it's so bright. Help me, help me," she mocked him for his efforts. "You watch way too many late night movies Brian. You should get some more sleep. Did you think that would hurt me? Oh silly boy you don't know what you're dealing with." The color drained from his face as he realized what a pointless endeavor his "clever" plan had been. He was stuck with a creature he had no idea how to attack in a situation he couldn't run away from. "Do you really think you can get away from me now, Brian?" She cackled in a loud voice as she rose to her feet and gave him an imperious stare. "You can't run away and you can't kill what's already dead." "I'm certainly willing to give it a try, bitch!" "Bitch, am I? I'll give you credit, Brian. You possess a great strength within you. Most men would have succumbed to my charms by now. But it won't save you. I need your energy and I will have it," she said as she lunged towards him with surprising agility. The knife blade plunged deep into her chest, splitting the skin between her breasts, sinking all the way to the hilt, until he felt the blood gushing over his hand. With one swing of her arm, she knocked him back against the wall. "You've seen what I did to my own fingers. Do you really think a knife scares me?" Her hands reached forward, grabbing him around the throat and lifting him off the ground, choking him. She pulled him forward and slammed him back against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. "I tried to do this the nice way Brian, but you had to be a hero. Now I have to take it by force. I do so love a nice struggle." He could barely think as she slammed him against the wall again. His hope was fading fast; he knew there was no chance to overpower her. Just as he was ready to give up, he looked over and saw the oil lantern sitting just out of reach on the bedside table. He hoped her mind reading was still not working properly or he would have no chance. "Are you going to pass out already, Brian? I'm disappointed in you. The darkness is already creeping ..." Just then, he smashed the lantern against the side of her skull in mid sentence. Her head burst into flames as she recoiled from the blow. "It burns! It burns! I'll get you," she screamed through the pain. Thinking quickly, Brian managed to shove her through the door and into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it. "Consider yourself uninvited," he yelled through the door. The invisible barrier around the door seemed to reappear before his eyes. "Mom, are you okay?" He heard Matt's voice through the door. "No son, your dad just tried to kill me," she shrieked in response. "Look at my face." "Dad, why did you hurt Mommy? I'll hurt you if you ever touch her again." "I don't know who the hell you are, but you're not my son. He's dead and buried in the backyard," Brian responded, as he felt an enormous weight lifted off his chest. The fear and guilt of the past week had been unbearable. For the first time since that fateful morning, he felt free. Eerie laughter filled the hallway. "You'll find out soon enough who and what we are. I tried playing nice and giving you the easy way out. But you had to fight me. I'm so going to enjoy getting my hands on you again," replied Leilandra. Just as she finished talking, Brian heard this quiet little voice talking from Josh's bedroom. It was hard to make out exactly what he was saying but it sounded like "Daddy ... run. Daddy ... go." "Shut up, you little brat. I don't know why you're not turning as fast as the rest of us, but soon enough you will." "Josh! Daddy's here. I hear you." "Daddy ... trap ... green light coming." "What light, Josh? When's it coming?" "That's it little boy. You've said too much. Good night," Leilandra yelled at Josh. After that, all Brian could hear was the sound of Josh's door opening and then his music box going on to drown out anything he'd have to say. That was the end of the conversation for the night, as Brian stood by the door listening for a long time. Finally, exhausted from his ordeal, he returned to bed and drifted into restless slumber. **** A long night's troubled sleep led to one conclusion for Brian. He had to leave town and do it as soon as possible. It wasn't safe anymore. What did Josh mean that there was a green light coming? What kind of trap? The rays of light shining through the window prompted Brian to rush out of bed and get dressed. He knew it would be a long day ahead, so he needed to start early. The house was the same as every other day. Josh was asleep in his crib, hence no talking. In the next room, Matt and Karen lay tangled together as usual. Her badly burnt face showed a charred layer that was missing skin down to the bone in places. So numb from the heartache of the past week, Brian didn't even register the grisly sight as anything unusual. Upon walking into the upstairs living area to read today's message, he was shocked to see the words 'Green Light'. His heart pounded in his chest as he climbed down the stairs to see the message there. The wall contained only one word, and it was more confusing than anything before. 'Shalima', he read. "What the hell is Shalima? I guess it has something to do with a green light," he said, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. The messages confused him. All he knew was that if this green light was coming here, he wanted to be somewhere else. Flying back up the steps, Brian wanted to get his family back into the ground so he could get out of town. It was like any other job to him at this point. Throwing his former loved ones into trash bags like a heap of garbage and tossing them into a hole in the ground. Under any other circumstances, he'd have considered this bizarre. One thing that you learn about the human condition is the resilience to do whatever it takes to survive, even if it's normally seen as a deplorable act. With Karen and Matt already buried, Brian wanted to say good-bye to Josh. "Sorry buddy, I have to leave you. I just hope you can forgive me. Soon enough you'll be one of them, I can see it starting in you." Brian couldn't put him in the bag. Not anymore. He cradled him in his arms as he walked down the steep hill slope with the wind whipping all around. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his legs felt like lead. When he reached the hole, Brian hugged Josh tight and started to lower him. "Fire ... burn ... hurt," Josh whispered barely audible. Brian stared at him, mouth gaping wide open. Josh's eyes were open and his voice seemed so distant, as if coming from deep inside. "Love you ... Daddy. Burn ... go." After one more hug, Brian laid Josh into the hole and walked away, weeping from loss and despair. It was difficult for Brian to sort through his feelings but as he walked back up the hill, it became obvious what Josh had been trying to tell him. He had to get his stuff packed quickly and attend to some new business before he could leave town. **** One of the good things about Brian was that he always traveled light. When he was in high school, he went on a school trip to France for two weeks and had the lightest suitcase out of the group. Now, aside from some clothes and hygiene products, Brian brought some food and a few mementos from his family. One of them was the pendant that Matt had made for his birthday. He slipped it into his front pants pocket of the light grey khakis that he wore. There were a lot of family pictures strewn around the house as Karen had always taken the camera everywhere they went. He grabbed wallet size photos of each of the kids and of the four of them. Once the van was packed, Brian drove to the liquor store and stepped through the shattered glass doors. His eyes scanned the inside of the store and it appeared empty as before. Bottles of every variety lined the shelves. Brian had never made a firebomb before, but he assumed that vodka was as good a choice as any was. The wind howled outside the store, causing Brian to rethink his plans. If I light things on fire, how far is it going to spread? Is it going to go too fast and trap me in town? What about all the animals in the woods near my house? Brian, you have to trust your instincts, his inner voice countered. He went over to the grocery store to take an empty cart to load the bottles in. As he emerged through the shattered outside doors, he heard a loud snarling sound coming from inside. The kind you'd expect from a dog, or even worse, a wolf. Wolves weren't very common where he lived, but there were a few around. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight in the air. The carts were only a few feet away, but he stayed still, paralyzed with fear. Oh, the irony of it, Brian thought. He was escaping the horror of his house only to be killed by wolves before he left town. The sounds grew in intensity and Brian decided it would be better if he left empty-handed. He figured it was better to live to fight another day. Instead, he went back to the liquor store and used the hand held baskets to fill with vodka bottles of every description. The stress was getting to Brian as he finished loading the alcohol. He opened a bottle of Smirnoff and took a long pull from it. The overpowering fire of the liquor entered his belly, causing him to step back and shake his head. "Wow. I don't know how people drink that stuff straight. It tastes like rubbing alcohol." Little did he know at the time that would be his last drink of liquor ever. His next decision was the tough one. Which houses did he want to set fire to? He'd never done anything like this before and had to figure out how to maximize the destruction. There weren't enough bottles or time to torch every house in town. Arriving home, he went to the back of his van and started winding the tops off a couple bottles and using strips of tea towels that he'd cut up earlier to act as wicks. The house across the street from his was an old run down dump owned by an older man who called himself Mr. Fixit. He'd hardly spoken to Brian in the year they'd lived across from each other and many of his other neighbors thought he was a pedophile. Brian stood with his face ashen in the middle of Mr. Fixit's lawn brandishing a bottle of Smirnoff's and a barbecue lighter. It was an odd scene for any onlookers to witness. The usually calm and laid-back model citizen was about to destroy private property, again. This time felt different to Brian. There was a sense of calm to his demeanor that he found almost disturbing. He was adjusting to the new reality and a part of him enjoyed the freedom it allowed. It Happened in the Night Ch. 04 He lit the wick and watched as it caught faster than he expected and nearly dropped the bottle in his surprise. Instead, he launched it through the front window and waited. At first, he was disappointed when he didn't see anything happen. Moments later he heard the whoosh as the fire took off and ignited the living room. Smoke billowed through the broken windowpanes. The house was mostly solid wood inside and the finished floors burst into flames, pushing them past what he'd expected. He watched, captivated by the fire, drawn like a moth to a flame. His emotions were a twisted combination of hubris and disgust. Brian stood in the middle of the road, having to back off from the heat and smoke, watching for what felt like hours. It was msybe only fifteen minutes before he heard a loud crash and watched in rapt fascination as Mr. Fixit dove out the upstairs bedroom window and landed on the gravel driveway in a heap. He must be dead after that kind of fall, Brian murmured to himself. But something kept him away from checking on him. A few minutes later, Mr. Fixit started to move around. Brian was horrified. "Holy shit! Now what am I going to do." Mr. Fixit managed to stand and glared at Brian. His face was a bloody mottled mess and the decay was obvious even from that distance. "What the hell are you doing lightin my house on fire, you young bastard. I'll teach you a lesson." He was approaching Brian, walking with a heavy limp in his left leg. The snarl never left his face, the hatred evident. Brian retreated, not looking where he was going, and bumped into the open back of his van. In his panic, he realized he'd almost knocked a basket of bottles on the ground. He grabbed one out of the basket, still holding the lighter in his right hand, and held it aloft for Mr. Fixit to see. "Don't you think about it, you little shit. I'll kill you with my bare hands and then I'll come visit your little boys." He stumbled onto the street, his hands outstretched, reaching for Brian. "No, you'll burn. It hurts you, doesn't it? That's why you jumped out the window to avoid the fire." "Don't throw it or I'll burn you up too. Take you with me." Brian lit the wick, waited until it was almost in the bottle and launched it at Mr. Fixit's feet. It exploded in an orange glow and he burst into flames. "It burns! You little bastard. We're coming for you. There's no escape. Fly like a little birdy while you still can. Wherever you go, we'll be waiting." His wails echoed through the town. He flailed around screaming for minutes before falling in a heap in the middle of the road, still on fire. The rotten stench of vodka soaked burning flesh was more than Brian could handle as he turned his head to the side and vomited his breakfast on the grass. That smell would linger with him for as long as memory served him. Not wasting another second, he closed the van door and hopped into the driver's seat and sped out of his driveway, making sure he didn't drive over Mr. Fixit, and sped towards the new subdivision a few blocks away. Beads of sweat doused his forehead, as he parked in the middle of the road at the end of a cul-de-sac. After the recent ordeal, he knew he needed to be quicker. There were still people in most of these houses, he was certain of it, and many of them would come after him if flushed out. He opened the back door and grabbed a basket of bottles. Picking almost at random, he strode up to the houses one at a time and tossed bottles through the front windows. They all erupted into a plume of fire and smoke. Having hit most of the neighborhood, he drove around the block and repeated the same concept again. The wind was gusting heavily and looking back at the first area he'd hit, the fire was leaping from one house to the next. After he'd tossed over thirsty bottles, he returned back to his house and noticed that the house beside Mr. Fixit's was also engulfed in flames. He stopped the van in front of his house and tossed a bottle inside. Mesmerized, he stood and watched his own home burn for too long. Sounds were coming from nearby houses as people fled the flames and ended up outside. Looking down the road towards the subdivision, he could see a group of ten or so people coming towards where he stood. He reached into his basket, and lit a couple of bottles and tossed them towards the unsuspecting mob. The reaction was a quick burst of flames that engulfed the group, causing an ensuing panic. They raced around screaming, trying to put the fire out. In their panic, they were spreading it onto trees and other nearby houses. Brian clambered into the van and sped away for the main street. He got out and lobbed bottles at the local businesses as he went along. In minutes the hardware store, local bar, restaurant and furniture store all burst into flames. Next, he stopped the van across the street from the gas station. Brian hopped out, looked around the deserted Shell station and attached auto repair shop. "This is one way to get a fire going." He lobbed a couple bottles into the repair shop, watching as it lit up. On his way back to the van, he smashed a bottle on the gas pumps. His final stop was the liquor store. By this point, he was almost out of bottles, so he restocked the van before breaking some bottles around the store and tossing a lit one in behind him. The fire roared almost too fast for him. The heat that it set off blew him back. Brian pulled the van out towards the road when he saw a pair of silver wolves running out of the grocery store with a large slab of meat dangling from the larger one's mouth. He lost track of them when the gas station exploded. The blast shook the windows in his van and a large mushroom shaped cloud of fire and smoke shot into the sky. When he hit the highway, all he could see in his rearview mirror was a giant plume of smoke soaring up and away. Brian drove over the hill and down into a lowered area, losing sight of the town he'd called home for the last year, certain he'd never see it again. The drive was a familiar scene for Brian since he went this way to work every day, but it looked so different with his change in perspective. The landscape seemed dead to him. Farmer's fields highlighted both sides of the road, with the occasional swampy section with some scrubby evergreen trees. Where was he supposed to go? Brian knew he couldn't stay where he was but where could he go. His mind was roiling with tension as he put his home miles behind him. The road seemed to be slipping past, as if he drove in a dream world. It didn't seem real to him, not much did these days. His hand turned to the radio, switching it on. Nothing but static. It wasn't a surprise to Brian, he'd tried it before. He turned it to CD, having no idea what was in his six-CD changer. The song that played got his pulse jumping. The words blared out 'I've been drivin' all night, my hands wet on the wheel. And it's a half past four and I'm shiftin' gear.' "Radar Love" by Golden Earring was one of his favorite driving tunes and it helped him forget about this morning, at least for five minutes. By the time the song was winding down, Brian was driving into the next town. The sign read 'Haven', but Brian knew it as the place he'd grown up. His family moved to town when he was six and lived there until after he was gone to college. It was a small village with a few small businesses and not even a Tim Horton's coffee shop. Brian laughed when he thought of it, since that was such a big deal anywhere you went in Canada. The town only had one traffic light and that's where Brian stopped. Haven had seen its fair share of fires over the years that he'd lived there. On one corner of the main intersection was an empty lot, the only remnants of the large hotel that had once stood there for decades. It had only been his first year in town when it mysteriously burnt to the ground in the middle of the night. Fire trucks responded from all the local fire departments and the downtown corridor remained cordoned off for days to deal with the debris that covered the highway. On the other side of the street had stood a bar that was a local fixture for generations that burned down a decade before. Brian parked his van next to where it used to be. It had been the only place to find liquor in town and was a gathering spot for every possible demographic. In the interceding years, nothing sprang forward to fill the void. "Hello! Is anybody here?" Brian yelled at the top of his lungs, standing beside the van. He held a bottle in one hand, the lighter in the other. His paranoia wouldn't allow him to think of leaving the vehicle unarmed. "Can anybody hear me?" The once bustling highway was deserted and the traffic light long since stopped working. It was starting to hit home to Brian that he might be the only person left unaltered. "Somebody. Anybody. Please answer me." Brian was close to tears, he had a lump in his throat of epic proportions. His mind was playing tricks on him again. He thought he could hear the sounds of traffic barreling down the highway, steps from where he stood. Late morning as it was, the streets would be full of pedestrians going from shop to shop. The bank that he took deposits to several times a week wouldn't be open for a few hours yet. "Stupid bank hours," he muttered to himself. Brian could see the funeral home he'd visited his grandma in shortly after her death a decade ago. He wondered if he would join her soon enough. What was there to live for? Let these things have the world if they wanted it so much. "Come on out and take me! I know you're here somewhere. If you're so strong, why don't you just kill me?" He stood in the middle of the main intersection of town swinging his bottle of Smirnoff in the air. At that point, he really didn't care if he died. Everything and everyone he'd ever loved was gone. In some ways, seeing the town he'd spent the majority of his life growing up in turned into a ghost town was worse than his dead family. It was so tempting to douse himself with vodka inside and out and let the fire take him. Instead, he lit the wick and tossed the bottle through the window of an apartment complex on the corner. Within seconds, it was burning, plumes of smoke wafting through the shattered windowpane. The screams came only moments later. He had no idea how many voices there were, and some seemed to be coming from inside his head even. The wires vibrated in his skull, he could hear the collective outrage to the pain he'd caused them. One voice stood out above the rest of the associated noise. "Daddy ... run. Go now." That little voice chilled his bones as he heeded the command. The sounds became louder as they approached the van. They were coming from all sides. He'd underestimated the danger he was in. They didn't want to come outside but they would if threatened. Mr. Fixit had made that abundantly clear. Realizing the gravity of the situation, he sprinted to the van and turned the ignition. The engine drowned out the screaming as he raced out of town. One single look in the rearview mirror was all he allowed himself. It was all he needed to see. The street was filling up with people; some even ran after him. He put the pedal to the floor, going faster in town then he ever believed he would. Things were unraveling fast. He needed to get somewhere he thought would be safe and find other people. If he didn't by the time the sun went down, he might never see morning. There was one loose end left. Work was on his route and he needed to see if his dad was still alive or not. Minutes later, he pulled into the driveway. Tires crunched over the gravel as he stopped in front of his father's house, which was on the same property as the family business. "This place feels like one gigantic tomb. Get in and out quick ... or not at all." Brian trudged up the front porch steps, admiring the gigantic house that he'd helped his parents build one summer so many years ago. There was no sign of anybody, not even Simba, the family husky. Simba had once been Brian's dog when he lived in the city with his wife, before they were married. The aggressive husky nature couldn't cope with being tied up all day while she worked and he went to school, so his parents agreed to take him in. "Simba. Where are you boy?" Only the sounds of silence greeted his calls. "I hope you're okay." His hand stuck on the doorknob, trying to force him to leave and never come back. The air hung like a damp rag, thick and heavy around him. Click. The door opened, giving him a vista of the foyer with no signs of life. Brian crept inside, hoping to avoid detection. "Shit. I forgot my bottle. I hope I don't need it," he chastised himself, walking into the main living area. The lighter was still in his pants pocket. The 'pink' living room was empty. His parents had hired an interior decorator to pick colors for their house. She really loved pink, so now his dad lived in the house by himself with a main living room featuring three shades of pink. "How masculine", Brian said and smirked to himself. Quick searches of the bathrooms and spare bedrooms revealed nothing either. Brian went to the cabinet above the fridge, where he knew he would find a can of bug spray. He knew if he sprayed that into the open flame of the lighter, he'd have a makeshift flamethrower. He threw the door to the master bedroom open and leapt inside, holding the can in one hand, lighter in the other, ready to defend himself. "This is ridiculous! I'm jumping at shadows and looking for a needle in a haystack." The room was empty, having no signs of anybody around for days. The house had a finished walkout basement with a plethora of windows. After he'd gotten married, they'd moved in with his father for a few months and their bedroom had been down there. Every inch of the basement still felt like home as he walked down the stairs. His kids would never play here or anywhere else again. A walkthrough of the basement left him bewildered. "Where the hell is he? At work? Wow, that would be impressive dedication to the job." Brian couldn't help but laugh in spite of himself. The breeze was refreshing outside as his feet carried him across the parking lot to his work. He'd grabbed a flashlight from the van before he walked over, knowing it would be dark inside with a lack of windows. The front door was unlocked as he expected and he stepped in, brandishing the flashlight in front like a light saber. The beam shone off wall after wall, looking for something, until Brian stopped cold in his tracks. He could see a figure standing by what had been his father's desk in the darkness. "Brian ... son, good to see you," the figure said in greeting. "Cut the shit. We both know you're not my dad. I know what you are." "You don't know anything, kid. We're far beyond anything your puny mind can comprehend. You only get to see what we allow you to see." "I know you feed off sexual energy and need it to survive or else you start to decay. I met Leilandra. She told me about the green light and Shalima." Brian tried playing possum, hoping the man would let something slip. He saw the figure's face recoil in shock. "Leilandra. She told me you'd be coming. If she'd told you about the green light you wouldn't be here, you'd be looking for the source right now." The man paced back and forth in front of the desk, neither advancing nor retreating from his prior position. "Enlighten me then." The man laughed at Brian in uproarious guffaws. "You really think you have a chance. We were powerful beyond anything you humans can imagine and it crushed us beneath its might. The elders tricked us. By the time we learned of their deception it was too late." "So help me fight it, maybe ..." "No! I'm risking their lives by talking to you now. You know too much. I don't need your energy, their will be many to feast on soon enough. I'll let you go for now. You've angered many of my kind already today. You won't last long." "Where do I find this green light? Are there others still alive?" "Listen to the wires in your skull. You can hear them talking, I know you can if you pay attention. When the green light comes, follow it as if you're chasing the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. It comes from one single source. There are others. Find them and the source of the light." "Thank you. What's your name?" "Halperion. If we meet again, I'll have to kill you, so be prepared. Fire is your only friend, Brian. Find the source. Now go." With that, he turned around and sat in the seat behind the desk. Brian scrambled through the door and back to the safety of his van, buckling the seat belt up and leaving the parking lot like a bat out of hell. His work disappeared in a cloud of dust and he never even considered looking back. His mind was an ocean of ideas floating around trying to piece together the puzzle of what he learned. * * * * He drove down the highway passing through small towns and open countryside for what seemed like an eternity. It had taken a half hour before he finally was able to settle his mind from the last confrontation. When he looked through the windshield, he noticed a sign for the small town called Alma. It was a nondescript town with only a few shops on the main road, which he was traveling on. "Another boring little town. This drive is taking forever." With no traffic on the road, Brian's concentration had all but lapsed. His vision meandered across the countryside with very little consideration for the barren open road that lay in front of him. He slowed the van to take a right hand turn at the main intersection when he noticed something flash across his peripheral vision. His attention turned to in front of the van and he slammed his brakes as hard as he could to avoid the girl running across the street. The van swerved and came to a complete stop only a few feet from where she stood. "That was close," Brian admitted to himself, relieved to have avoided an accident. She stared through the windshield at Brian and he returned her gaze. They stayed that way, eyes interlocked, for a few seconds before he opened the door and got out to greet her. It was hard for Brian to tell much about her the way her oversized Northern Reflections sweatshirt covered her up, but her curves were evident through her ensemble. "Hey Mister! My eyes are up here. My tits ain't going to shrink just from you staring at em." Brian tried to respond, flustered and embarrassed at being caught checking out her ample breasts. "Uh ... sorry about that. What the hell were you doing out here? Trying to get us both killed?" "I saw you coming. I hadn't seen anyone still alive in over a week and figured I'd flag you down. You damn near ran me over. What were you doing in there, watching porn or something." "No!" "Well you sure as hell weren't watching the road, that's for sure. So you're going to the city right? Mind some company. I'll even let you stare at my tits if that's your thing." Brian tried to maintain his composure but the shock of the last week was overwhelming and her boldness shocked him. "Yeah, that's where I'm headed. You can tag along if you want." She raced around to the passenger side and hopped onto the seat with a bounce. "Well come on, we ain't got all day. I reckon those things won't be napping forever. Let's haul ass!" Putting the engine back into gear and easing out of town, Brian looked over at the young girl. She was clearly many years younger than he was; he figured she was just out of high school. Her shoulder length auburn hair shimmered in the sunlight. "So what's your name?" She gave him an irritated glance and softened it into a toothy grin. "Name's Misty. Misty Clark. Yours?" It Happened in the Night Ch. 04 "Brian Johnson. Nice to meet you Misty. That's an interesting name." "I'm an interesting woman. Now cut the chitchat and get that foot on the pedal. You drive like my granny." Brian took an instinctive liking to Misty and had a feeling that they would be seeing a lot more of each other. He'd finally found someone to talk to. They sped off down the highway together, awaiting the unknown. * Thanks to everyone for continuing to read my story, I appreciate all the feedback I've received.