Light of Darkness Read online

  I snap up fully awake. I’m not in the classroom anymore but in a vast void of white. Both the chair and the desk fly out from under me. The overwhelming feeling of falling washes over me as my stomach twists. The sky appears above me and the ground below me. I close my eyes, bracing for impact. Instead of a sickening splat, my feet touch down softly on the ground. What in the hell?

  I open my eyes. Dirty water puddles cover the ground around me. Trash lines the road on either side of me, collecting against the brick buildings I’m in between. An alley? I look up to see The Gateway Building, the tallest building in Roc City. I’m downtown? How did I get downtown? What’s going on?

  A man wearing baggy jeans, a gray jacket and a fitted hat walks out of the alley past me. He doesn’t look at me; it’s like I don’t exist. He stands at the mouth of the alley.

  “Hey. Hey, man, what’s going on?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer; he doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps bobbing up and down, looking out to the street. I walk up next to him. His blue eyes dart back and forth, looking at the people as they pass by. I wave my hand in front of his face. He still doesn’t react.

  He chews at his lips, tapping his foot. “Come on. I need to unload my stash,” he mutters. I think this guy’s a drug dealer. He fiddles with his strawberry blond goatee. His angular face is filled with worry. I wonder what he’s so worked up about. A chill goes up my spine, making my stomach do flips.

  Slowly, I turn and look out into the crowded street. A towering man stands there looking up at the buildings. His robes are covered in dirt. His skin is translucent, with black spots burning into his flesh as the sun hits it. It looks like he just crawled out of a grave. People pass by him like he isn’t there. It’s like he’s a ghost.

  “Yes,” the dealer says to himself. With a smirk, he steps out of the alley and in front of the robed man. “Hey there. You new to the city?”

  “Yes,” the man says never looking down. His voice is hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in forever.

  “Cool, cool. How do you like it so far?”

  “So many people, so loud. I find it vexing.”

  “I see. Sounds to me like you need something to take the edge off.”

  The man shifts his head to the side, looking at the dealer with clouded eyes, in slight confusion. “You can see me?”

  “Of course I can see you, clear day like this. Who couldn’t see a big guy like you?” The robed man smiles. His teeth are rotted and black. The dealer takes a step back, but keeps his composure. Reaching into his pocket, he discreetly withdraws five little bags, filled with purple crystals. “Anyways, I got something that may help take that edge off. If you down.”

  The robed man looks down at the bags, then back to the dealer. “Sure.”

  “Cool, follow me.” The dealer leads the man back into the alley. I move out of the way before they run into me. As the robed man passes me, a nauseated, light-headed feeling washes over me. I fall back into some trash cans, and they tumble over with a crash. The pair stops and looks in my direction. “What was that?” The dealer asks, reaching to his back.

  The robed guy looks right at me. The dead look on his face and the gross feeling he gives me doesn’t help my stomach in the slightest. “It was nothing. So, you were saying something about taking the edge off?”

  “Oh yeah. How many would you like? They’re fifty a pop.”

  The robed man rubs his bald head. “May I?” he asks, holding out his skeleton-thin hand. As the dealer reaches out to give him one of the bags, the man grabs his wrist and peers into his eyes. “I want no drug from you, boy, but your body will do just fine.”

  The dealer yanks away his hand and steps back. “Hey man, watch it. Did you just say that you want my body? Dude, what drugs are you on?”

  The robed man lifts his hand. All his fingers are bent and broken in every direction. He smiles. “I am on no drug. I just want your body.” In a blur of movement, he moves forward, taking the dealer by the collar of his shirt and lifts him off the ground. The dealer reaches into the back of his pants, drawing a gun. I step back against a wall as the nose of the gun flashes. The dealer lands on his feet while the robed man falls to the ground with sickening crunch.

  Fixing himself, the dealer waves his gun around, “Yeah…that’s what you get for messin’ with me, you freak!” he says, breathless, spitting on the man.

  Crumpled on the ground, the man laughs. His body parts, broken in odd angles, begin to snap back in place with stomach-turning cracks. The dealer backs up, confusion dancing on his face.

  “Fool! Human weapons cannot harm me!” The robed man crawls toward the dealer with unnatural speed. Before he can think about pointing his gun, the dealer is already pinned against the wall next to me. I feel myself starting to shake as my heart races a mile a minute. I look to the dealer, who is freaking out, struggling against the man’s hold.

  My eyes move from the dealer to the robed man’s face. Half of it is missing. Thick brown sludge oozes from the blackened muscles. He smiles, and it makes my skin crawl.

  Like a mouse trying to frantically escape the claws of a cat, the dealer struggles to break free. “What the hell are you, man?”

  With a sly grin, the robed man proclaims, “I am but a messenger. War is coming, and I have been summoned to prepare New Birth for its true masters. You shall be my vessel.”

  The Messenger’s body starts to convulse. His eyes roll back, revealing a milky, yellow substance. His head snaps back, and a large bulge moves from his chest and up his throat, stretching the skin to the point that small tears begin to appear. A thick, oily substance drips out of them onto his robes. Then, his head snaps forward, and he projectile vomits brown sludge all over the terrified dealer. I shuffle away from them as it splatters everywhere, filling the air with a rotting smell.

  As if it were alive, the sludge slides down the wall and enters the dealer’s eyes, nose and mouth. He flails, trying to spit the sludge out and fight for a breath.

  Both the Messenger and the dealer stop moving. After a pause, they both fall to the ground. The Messenger’s body crumples into a pile of decay. The yellow substance—pus, I think—pools on the ground around him. It’s quiet now. What the hell? Cautiously, I walk to the dealer to check on him. He’s slumped on the ground, back up against the wall. The brown sludge is dripping from his mouth, ears, and nose. I put my hand in front of his face. There’s no breath. I think he’s dead.

  He snaps to life, violently gasping. His eyes open wide, full of fear and panic. I jump away from him and nearly scream, but catch myself, covering my mouth. His veins bulge and pulse as he strains against himself. Blood pours from every orifice as his eyes roll back.

  Then he stills, seemingly frozen in agony. The dealer exhales, and his body relaxes. His breathing becomes normal, and his eyes roll back around; there are specks of white within the dark irises. A low, gargled laugh comes from him as he stands and stretches. “Yes, this body shall do nicely,” he growls. I step back into a puddle of water. He looks in my direction, steps closer and lingers, waiting for me to make another sound. A car horn catches his attention, and I hurry out from in front him. “To work then,” he says and walks out of the alley, vanishing in a crowd of people.

  After a long second, I remember how to breathe. This is madness. I don’t understand. This all must be a dream, right? Hands softly grab my arms from behind me. “Are you ready?” Someone whispers into my ear. I turn around and am blinded by a white light. “For what is to come,” the voice finishes as I’m engulfed in light.

  I wake up gasping, the smell of trash and rot still in my nose. I roll over and puke onto the floor. My heart races. “The hell was that?” The high-pitched peal of the school bell brings me back to reality, and I notice all the medical charts and supplies lying around. “Where am I?”

  “The nurse’s office.” I look up to see Rica standing in the doorway, her face twisted in disgust. “You fell asleep during first period and when the teacher t
ried to wake you, you wouldn’t.” She walks in, taking off her pink-and-silver book bag, and sits in the chair next to the bed I’m in. She makes sure to scoot away from my mess.

  I wipe my mouth on the sheet covering me and sit up. “Why are you here then? Is it lunch?”

  She chuckles and pulls out her cell phone. The screen turns on, and the clock reads two o’clock. “Boy, school is about to end. You’ve been asleep most of the day.”

  “Wow, really? I didn’t think I slept that badly last night. Why am I still here then? You would think the school would’ve called an ambulance and I would be at the hospital.”

  “They did. Called your aunt too, but she said to cancel the ambulance and let you sleep it off.”

  “I tell her all the time that’s not how things work.”

  “But the school never really argues with her. They treat her like she owns the place. Besides, you know how your aunt gets. When she wants something to happen, it happens.”

  I lay back on the bed. “True. What are you doing here?”

  “Free period. So, I came to check on you. Page and Airca just left.” She gets up and places her forehead to mine. As mean as she can be, she’s really nurturing. Especially with those that are close to her. “No fever,” she says, leaning back. “What’s going on with you?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I just didn’t sleep well.”

  She sits back in the chair. “Not at all if you ask me. So, make sure you do when you get home.” The bell rings. She gathers up her bag, leans in, and gives me a hug. “You gonna be okay? I think your aunt should be here soon. Want me to wait with you?”

  “No, I’m okay. Don’t want you to miss the bus.”

  “Okay. Call me later.”

  “Okay,” I say, waving.

  She shuts the door. I lean back into the pillow, close my eyes, and try to remember the dream. It’s all just a blur now. A dank, wet alley, a drug dealer, and the smell of rot. No other details really stick out beyond that… Wait, there was something else. There was a light and a voice. It was so familiar.

  A few minutes later, the door flies open; Aunt Serena comes bursting in, frantically looking for me.

  “He’s in the holding room over there,” the nurse says, a little freaked out.

  Serena appears in the doorway to my room, all done up in a gray pantsuit. “Oh, my baby.” She rushes to my side, grabbing my face. “Are you okay? I would have come sooner, but I was in a meeting and then traffic.”

  I take her hand. “Aunty, I’m fine. Can we just go home?”

  She smiles. “I’ll grab your things.” She helps me up, and we make our way out of the school. Her little red sedan sits in the fire lane. She does this all the time. The parking officers don’t even bother to ticket her anymore. They know that they’d get chewed out something fierce. I plop into the front seat. She gets in, starts the car, and we take off for home.

  Traffic isn’t bad, even for rush hour. It only takes fifteen minutes for us to get through the city, onto the freeway, and back to our suburb. After passing all the newer houses, we finally pull into the driveway of my aunt’s house. It’s older than this whole neighborhood, but its three times nicer than a lot of the newer houses. The house and garage are made from brick and wood. It sits on three-fourths of an acre compared to the fourth that is standard. The paint is always fresh, the yard cut and primed. Coming to a stop, she gets out and rushes around to my door. “Kyle, you have to take it easy for a while,” she says, opening the door.

  I slide out of the car, feeling groggy and light-headed. Serena takes me under the arm. “I know,” I agree. She drags me to the big, solid pine front door and opens it. As I pass through the doorway, my eyes grow heavy, like I’ve been fighting sleep for the past couple of months. She lets me loose on the stairs.

  “I’m going to catch up on some sleep.”

  “Go on.” Serena slaps me on the butt, and I make my way up the stairs. Halfway up, everything starts spinning. I try to grab the rail, but miss. Crap. I start to fall backward. Hands press on my back, catching me. “Careful, Kyle.” I look back over my shoulder to my aunt. How did she get up the stairs so fast? I grab onto the railing and pull myself the rest of the way up the stairs. I know she’s as fit as a track runner my age, but that was just weird. I shake my head. I’m so out of it; I’m probably imagining things.

  Now up the stairs, I start to sway again. Clinging onto the wall, I find my room. On the way to bed, my clothes seem to melt away from my body. I face-plant into my cool pillow, then I’m out like a light.

  I awake floating in a void of white. A gust of wind slams into me, sending me spinning in I don’t know what direction. Minutes pass as I try to ground myself, but with no luck. What the heck is going on?

  A warm breeze, smelling of freshly dug earth, blows past my face, and I start to slow down. It comes again, this time smelling like the air after a spring rain, and I stop spinning. I’m still floating backward, but at least I’m not spinning anymore. Lightly, something touches my back, halting me completely. It feels like a hand. I look over my shoulder and see nothing there, but feel another hand appear as they move around my sides. Thin but strong arms wrap around my chest, embracing me from behind. “Welcome, little one,” a voice as quiet as a whisper, but as powerful the gust of wind, says in my ear. It’s the voice from my dream.

  A feeling of comfort washes over me, casting away my worries and doubt. The smell of wildflowers fills the air. If spring could give a hug, I’m sure this is what it would feel like.

  “Where am I? What is this? Who are you?” I ask, my voice more curious than concerned.

  It chuckles. “In this life, most are given only one chance to become who they are meant to be. By the grace of the Creator, you shall have another.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Good luck.” It releases me. My stomach does flips as I feel the weight of my body grow. The air is sucked from my lungs as I plummet into nothing.

  I scrunch up into a ball, bracing myself. I land on something soft but firm, and it springs me back into the air. Then, of course, I fall back down. This time, I land flat on my back on the hard ground; the wind is knocked out of me on impact. Blotches of light cloud my vision as I fight for breath. Finally, my lungs give, allowing me to suck in some air.

  I roll over onto my stomach, coughing. The lights fade away, and the back of my head and face begin to throb as pain sets in. I reach back to check for blood. There’s no gash, but there is a decent-sized knot starting to form. Must have hit it when I landed. With a deep breath, I push off the ground, slowly getting my feet under me. To my left is the endless void of white. To my right is the same void. All around me, the same. “Alrighty then.” I start to walk forward, out into the nothingness. If this is a dream, then maybe I’ll come across something that will wake me up. With just one step to the left, I slam face-first into something hard.

  I step back, holding my nose. “What?” The oily print of my nose and forehead are there, hovering in the air ahead of me. I put my hands out and lightly touch… a wall? The oil dries and vanishes. With my hands on the wall, I follow along it. There are four walls, each of them close to six feet in length. I’m in a room, a cell of some kind. I sit back against the wall closest to me, crossing my arms. “Then how do I get out of here?”

  I exhale, my breath visible on the air. The air grows cold, and a chill runs up my spine as the room starts to tremble. On either side of me, huge, bone-like claws jut out from the wall behind me. I try to scramble away, but they latch down on my arms and drag me back to the wall. “There is only one way,” a voice says in my ear.

  With all my might, I pull myself away from the claws, and they give. Turning around, I find nothing but a bare, white wall. Something moves over the skin on my arms. I look down to the remnants of the claws absorbing into my skin. My hands begin to tremble as my skin starts to burn and my muscles chill.

  “What is this?” My voice startles me; it sounds d
ifferent: deeper, stronger and much more menacing.

  There’s a deafening crack behind me. Out of nowhere, a torrent of wind drags me off my feet and toward the other side of the room. Just as fast as they began, the winds die out, releasing me. I scramble to my feet, practically running back to the wall. Huffing and puffing, I try to catch my breath. My mind is hazy, and my body is wild with fear, but I’m grounded enough to sense something huge behind me. I spin around, scared out of mind, to face whatever this thing is.

  To my surprise, there’s nothing. No monster, no huge thing standing behind me, but I’m positive something was there. Even with the relief of being alone, I’m still afraid and on edge. It’s the room, I think. It’s off now, somehow.

  I stare at the wall I was being dragged toward. The burning sensation in my arms intensifies, spreading up into my face. My eyes start to burn as well, and my vision blurs. Tears stream down my face, the perfect white of the wall melts away. Dirt and debris are all over the floor, even under my feet. A weight bears down on my shoulders as my eyes are drawn back up to the wall.

  Now, there’s a huge crack in the wall, filled with darkness. A cold gust rushes through the opening, chilling me to my bones. “Into the darkness,” the voice says, radiating from the crack.

  Tentatively, I walk over to the wall and examine it. The black is frightening, off-putting, but what other choice do I have? Reluctantly, I stretch a hand into the darkness. It’s warm, close to average body temperature, and thick like oil, but so dark that even the bright light of the room isn’t illuminating it. After a second, my hand goes numb. Not like I’ve been sitting on it for too long, but like it’s not there at all. Just part of the darkness. Quickly, I pull it back. It’s still there, thank goodness.