I was screaming when I awoke.  I sat upright and wailed as though my life depended on it.  My screams sounded terrible to me.  They reminded me of George’s bellowing as he was ripped from the porch, and of Margaret’s bloodcurdling pleas before she was muffled by … by the unforgivable.  I was even reminded of Mosko’s horrific whimpers and painful howls as he disappeared into the darkness.  My voice sounding like those events was a terrible thing.

Tears streamed from my eyes and the wetness of them comforted me somehow by confirming I still felt something.  It was something the darkness hadn’t taken from me.  At least not yet.

Still, darkness was all around me.  It took me a moment to realize it was a lack of light and not some ethereal evil coming to visit endless death on me.

I shook my head as if trying to free myself from confusion.  There was only a small amount of light in the darkness, but it was enough for me to see I was in the office.  And then something stood over me and reached toward me.  I screamed again even as it spoke.

“Dave!  Stop it, son!  You had a nightmare.  It’s your father.  Calm down.”  He grabbed my shoulders and shook me several times to get my attention as he continued, “Stop it!  Right now!  Dave, it’s your father!  You’re okay!”

I started laughing.  My ears heard it as a sick demented laugh of the hopeless mixed with the cackle of the mentally ill.  I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

My father’s face was very near mine as he looked at me in bewilderment.  He wondered about my laughing.

I wasn’t sure it was enough of an explanation when I said, “No, Dad, we’re not okay.  We’re not going to be okay.”  Before he could say anything, I added, “Where’s Mom?  Where’s Mom!?”

“I’m right here, Vey.”  The voice came from across the room.

I looked around and located the source of the words.  She sat on the arm of the small recliner in the corner of the room.  Even through the darkness, I thought I could see Helene in the chair next to her.

“Is that Helene?”

“Yes.  She’s sleeping.  She was in shock but now I think she’s sleeping.”  The fear in my mother’s voice was discernible.

I looked around the room, around Carr Beholden’s office.  It was dark with a bit of light coming from the various computers and security equipment, and also the emergency light in the corner of the ceiling that gave some illumination, although it was in its final throws of death.  Losing power …

I looked at the computer that ran the security system.  Its screensaver always showed the time.  5:07 P.M.  It changed as I watched.  5:08 P.M.

It amazed me that it was only early evening.  Events had unfolded so quickly it seemed a lifetime of experiences had happened in a single 24-hour period.  Only six hours had passed since I first awoke in the sunroom after the first dream, the nightmare that scared me so completely.  It left me disoriented and confused.

Despite that, I had picked up and moved on with life.  If only I’d known then what I knew sitting there looking at the clock.

What a silly thought!  Did I really believe knowing what would happen over the next quarter day could have made a difference in the outcome?  Hardly.  I suspected nothing could have made a difference, at least if I was understanding a fraction of what had transpired in the latest dream.  I doubted anything could have made a difference.

“Are you okay, son?” my father asked.

I looked down and realized I lay on the old couch I’d thrown in the office.  I didn’t entertain in the room, but it wasn’t unusual for me to stretch out a bit while I worked.  Rather than discard it when I moved from Dallas and began purchasing new furniture, I’d thrown it somewhere it could be useful without being public.  It had nostalgic value I hadn’t wanted to part with … at least not yet.

As I looked at it in the dark, I assumed my father had laid me on it when he dragged me into the room.  Assuming that memory is even true, I thought.

“We’re in the office.  And out there …”  My voice trailed off with a nod toward the door.

“I assume it’s still out there.  We ain’t heard nothing.  Since we got no windows, we don’t really know anything other than what happened before we came in,” Dad explained.

Listening as he spoke, I continued looking down trying to gather myself.  With my head lolling, I became aware I didn’t have a shirt on.

How odd, I thought.  Wasn’t I wearing a tee shirt earlier?  I reached up and patted my chest and abs as I looked at myself.  It was if I thought the shirt was invisible and that I’d be able to feel it even if I couldn’t see it.

“We took it off you,” Dad offered.

My mom added, “It was covered in vomit.  We’re sorry.  You got pretty sick.  It’s over there.”  She pointed toward a corner of the room where I could just make out my shirt on the floor.

I thought I remembered vomiting as I watched Brogan’s violation and listened to Margaret’s body crackling and breaking as it was pulled up through the chimney.  I even thought I remembered having dry heaves.

I dropped my hands and let them rest on the couch next to my legs.  There was no use worrying about my state of undress.  Instead, I asked, “It got Margaret, right?  And it came in the door from the porch?  Am I remembering correctly?”

“That’s right.  We got the door shut as it was coming down the hall.  You said hit the panic button, so I did.  We’ve been in here ever since.  A couple hours.”

“I need to shut off some of these computers.  It might save us a little electricity.  If that emergency light is any indication, we don’t have much left.”  Again I was aware of the drain on power that was taking place.  I didn’t understand and, in the scheme of things, I realized it didn’t matter.

My father looked over his shoulder at the lights that dimly glowed near the ceiling.  There was a small red beacon flashing on the box that held the emergency bulbs.  He then turned back to me as I struggled to get off the couch.

I still didn’t feel sure I was in reality or that my body was working correctly.  I swung my legs off the sofa and turned to face the room.  A deep breath helped me collect myself.

Dad reached out and tried to hold my arm as I struggled to get up.  “You’ve been out for a couple hours.  Maybe you should take it easy for a minute.  You know, get your legs under you and all.”

“I’m okay.  Or I’ll be okay I guess.  How long as Helene been asleep?”

“A few hours.  Same as you,” my mother replied.

“Have you tried to wake her?”

“No.  We thought it best if she got some sleep.  She’s been through a lot.  Some rest should help her.”  But Mom had already picked up on the concern in my voice, so she asked, “Why?”

“Just curious.”  My wobbly legs finally lifted me from the couch and I stood.  Dad held his arms ready to catch me if I fell, but I was already feeling more stable.  “I’ll be alright,” I said as I touched his arm.  “Really, I’ll be okay.  Let me turn off some of this stuff.”

He watched as I turned off everything except the security computer.  It ran the emergency systems, including the lighting in the office.  I said as much to him as I worked but didn’t say anything about it also holding the door closed and keeping the vents sealed.

As a safe room designed to protect important equipment, the security system made the room as impenetrable as any human could design without building a bank vault.  It would by no means survive a nuclear attack or a direct hit from a bomb, but it would survive all but the most cataclysmic tornado strikes, floods, and even basic terrorist attacks like a biological or chemical strike.  The new world we’d been living in prior to the darkness had made those considerations essential.

I wasn’t sure what would happen if the controller failed.  The possibility of the door or vents opening was unimaginable even if I wasn’t certain either of those would happen.  But I did know a failure of the system would turn off the water in the small bathroom as well as all electricity.  Still, I was more concerned with the door and vents.

“It preserves,” dream-Beth had said.  More and more I thought I understood what that meant.  I also thought I was beginning to understand—already did understand what the darkness was about.  That’s why I’d asked about Helene.

“Do you still have your gun, Dad?”

“Uh, yes.  Why?”

“We might need it.  How many bullets are left?”

“Four.”

“Keep it close to you, huh?”

“Why, son?  What’s going on?”

“We’ll talk about it in a bit.  First, I need to get these systems shut off.”  I continued working and ignored his questioning stare that I could feel on the back of my head.  I didn’t want to voice my concerns, my assumptions.I didn’t want to share the horror I’d experienced or the truths I’d come back with, but I knew I would eventually.  I’d have to.

With all but the main security system powered down and my laptop still unplugged, I turned toward Mom and Helene and stepped over to the old recliner.  “So she’s doing okay?”

My mother peered at me through for a moment.  I suspected she was trying to read my face.  I was thankful for the dim lighting.  “I guess so,” she said, “but I’m not a doctor.  If she went into shock, I don’t know what that means for her.  She seems to be sleeping soundly now after a bit of a hiccup.”

“Hiccup?”  That remark chilled me.  “What do you mean?”

“After we the door closed and we got you two situated, I think she had a nightmare.  She squirmed and talked a little nonsense, even moaned and groaned a bit.  She quieted down though, and she’s been sleeping soundly ever since.  But who could blame her if she had a bad dream?  Look at what she’s been through.”

“You did the same thing shortly before you woke up,” my father added.

I looked at him closely through the twilight.  He was stating a matter of fact and not offering an explanation.  That was clear to me, yet I felt he knew I knew something more than I’d already said.  It worried him.

“You’re right.  The girl’s been through hell.  Who can blame her for a nightmare or two?”  I was intentionally flippant.  There was no reason to start blathering about my suspicions until I was ready to commit to what I thought—knew would be necessary afterward.

I glanced around the room in sudden confusion.  There was something necessary that had to be done when this room was in panic mode.  What was it …  “Oh shit,” I said as I walked to the bathroom.

“What?” Mom asked with newfound worry.

“Sorry.  Nothing critical, at least not yet,” I responded, “but this room seals when you hit the panic button.  It’s not supposed to get any air from the outside.  If we’ve been in here a couple of hours, I imagine we might need more breathing room so to speak.”

Carr Beholden was a work in progress.  There were a great many things I wanted to do with the place.  There were also a great many unrealized plans and incomplete additions I’d not had time to address.  I always thought I’d have more time …

One such item was the office.  If it was to be a safe room in case of a terrorist attack—as though Kingswell, Texas, would be a target, but you never knew where something might drift off to—the room needed its own air supply.  Luckily it had one.  Unfortunately, it hadn’t been installed and automated yet.

The tanks sat in the bathroom behind the door, disconnected and idle.  The idea was to have them controlled by the main system so they’d activate when the room sealed itself.  At least part of that process worked, but it was frightening to think it worked only in the worst way.  The room would certainly seal itself—in theory—yet it wouldn’t provide any refreshed air should someone be inside.  That was a later phase of work, a not yet complete phase.

I stepped into the bathroom and pulled the door away from the wall.  Three large green tanks sat silently in their place hidden away from most eyes.  They also sat unused.  There was nothing to release the air inside them.  There was nothing to keep the room breathable.

I turned one of the knobs and it squeaked as it rotated.  A rush of hissing gas began blowing out of the small nozzle.  I wasn’t certain how much it should release at any one time, so I opened it two turns and let it blow into the bathroom.  I didn’t want to pass out.  I suspected that was a very bad idea.  If we started feeling lightheaded, I’d know to open it further or open another one.  I also hoped it wasn’t too much, although I wasn’t at all sure why that would be a problem or how we’d know if it was.

With what I hoped was a reasonable amount of fresh breathing room for us, I turned and walked out of the bathroom into the office.  “I think that’ll do it.”

My father nodded in understanding as my mother turned her attention back to Helene.  The young girl’s breathing was normal and she sounded like a person in deep sleep.  For that reason alone, I was thankful for the dim light.  Mom knew enough to realize Brogan wasn’t normal when she’d looked at his eyes.  My suspicion was that Helene’s eyes would somehow be similar in a human way.  Mom would have noticed if she’d had enough light to look closely.

“Mom and Dad, listen to me.  I need to work on something for a bit.  I’m pretty sure we’re safe in here for now.”  Lying to my father for the second time in a day and to my mother for the first time during that same period was like an arrow to my own heart, but I knew an accounting of my sudden dishonesty was the least of our worries.  Instead of fretting about it, I added, “There are some snacks in the desk drawer.  I wish I had something more to offer than chips and candy bars and the like, but that’s all we have for right now.  If you’ll give me a bit, I’ll finish what I need to do.  After that, we need to talk.”

“Are you going to tell us why we’re not going to be okay?  That’s what you said when you woke up.”  His matter-of-fact approach hit me clearly.

“Yes.  We don’t need to talk about it now, but we will.  I need to do this first.  Please, it’s important.  Then we’ll talk.”

Neither of them responded aside from nodding.  They were very perceptive and I knew even then both of them were beginning to realize we were living our final hours.  There was no escape the way we came in.  There was no hope around the globe as far as we knew.  There was no promise of another tomorrow even if it were lived in the tiny space of my office.  Looking at them in the barely visible light that blanketed us, I didn’t need to see their faces clearly to know they were already facing the horrific truth.

I grabbed my laptop from the desk and sat back down on the couch.  I powered it up and began typing furiously.

[Introduction | Part 15 | Part 17]