Since Last Tuesday
Today is Tuesday. Last Tuesday was my town’s last day.
It was a trinket I picked up somewhere — a garage sale, maybe — sometime in the foggy past. The small, smooth obsidian sphere captured my attention from the moment I first saw it. I think I might have paid a dollar or two to the old woman who seemed very happy to see it go.
I should have known something was wrong — but, really, how could I know the orb would destroy everything I knew and rain terror on my small West Virginia town? Besides — it looked good on top of my dresser in my otherwise spartan bedroom.
It all started last Tuesday. I arrived home late. Heavy banks of fog enveloped the surrounding mountains, making the darkness feel like a lead blanket. A rolling brownout dimmed the mercury vapor street lights, causing them to give off an eerie blue glow that illuminated nothing.
I stumbled through the dark and wet to my front door, my numb fingers fumbling in my pockets for the jangling bundle of too many keys. Feeling around the door, my hand closed on the knob. I tried two or three keys, fitting at last the one to my own door, and sighed with relief.
I pushed open the door and flipped the light-switch. Nothing. I began feeling my way along the wall in my pitch-black house. My eyes straining in the darkness could tell me nothing, but my fingers on the wall did.
The wall was pulsing — vibrating with rhythmic waves like a heartbeat. As I inched along in the darkness, the pulsating beat grew stronger — both beckoning and sinister at the same time. Like a fool, I continued forward, curious about this aberration.
I reached my bedroom door. It rattled in its frame as the strongest pulses yet shook it like a jackhammer. My heart raced. Cold sweat stood on my forehead and meandered into my blind eyes. Panic welled up within, like bile rising into my throat. I wanted to scream and run — but I was afraid that whatever the rattling was would hear me.
In the darkness I waited, trembling before my own door — too afraid to leave, too afraid to stay.
The decision was made for me. The vibrating door began to melt before me — becoming by degrees more and more transparent while a blue light from behind grew stronger. I turned and ran, stumbling over sofa and chairs, and smashing my knee against a lamp. Chaos erupted. Behind me a brilliant blue light lit up the room, shadows shifting as something moved in the bedroom.
I scrambled to my feet and out the door. The blue light moved into the living room, towards me. I slid and slipped down the walkway to my still-warm car, slamming the door closed and feeling around for my keys.
My pocket was empty!
My fingers flew over the seats and dashboard, and my thoughts screamed loud incoherent babbling. The thought flashed across my mind that the keys must still be in the house where I fell.
I looked up towards the house. In the doorway, a blue orb glowed, hovering at shoulder level. I felt like my heart stopped as the thought suddenly hit me — it was the decor piece from my bedroom. It pulsed in intensity, like a patrolman’s lights. I threw open the door and sprinted for the road. All around me the fog glowed like high noon in Summertime.
The sickly blue streetlights flickered. The blue light wavered but did not stop. I glanced behind me into the fog — between me and my now invisible house the orb pulsed and advanced. I felt a tugging at my mind, like a voice lower than hearing. I turned and ran toward town as fast as I could.
I made it perhaps half a mile before I had to stop and gasp for breath. My shelf-stocking job was not designed to build endurance for long races. I looked over my shoulder. Behind me a light was approaching fast in the fog. I shrieked and began running again.
The lights were almost on top of me before I realized they were yellow, not blue. The calmer side of my mind announced that there was not one but two, and of course they must be headlights. I stumbled onto the shoulder of the road and pivoted, shading my eyes with my hand.
They were indeed headlights. A pickup truck rolled to a stop beside me, and a window came down.
“Everythin’ alright?”
I shook my head. “No — It’s after me.” I gasped between sucking big breaths of air.
“What’s after you?”
I began to answer, then thought — “He’ll just think I’m crazy.”
“I’d rather not say,” I replied, “I just need to get to the police station as soon as possible.”
“Well get on in.” The door swung open.
I crawled into the cab and held on tight as he took off down the road.
We pulled into the police station a little past midnight.
“Here ya’ go mister.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it. Just walk right in that door.” He pointed to the well-lit main entrance.
I got out of the truck and forced myself to walk with a slow, deliberate stride. Satisfied, my ride pulled back onto the road and was swallowed by the fog.
I pulled at the door handle. It stuck. I peered through the glass panels. No one was in sight, but everything seemed lit up. I knocked once, twice on the glass. As I waited with my heart pounding, I realized that it was quiet. Dead quiet. No night-birds, no vehicle traffic, no wind.
I knocked again and started mumbling under my breath, hoping the sound of my voice would bring comfort. Still no answer. I walked around the building, looking for any signs of human activity.
There was a running squad car, but no officer. I peeked through the windows into well lit offices and hallways, but there was not a sign of a single person anywhere in sight.
I went over to the car, opened the door, turned off the ignition, and pocketed the key, hoping to do a favor for the one officer that must be on duty but hadn’t answered the door.
I trotted back to the building and knocked a third time — loud and assertive. Still I waited. Although there was no wind, a chill draft seemed to be moving through the valley. I shivered and crossed my clammy arms, hoping to conserve some warmth.
I turned and looked around. All the streetlights were out. The light grew dimmer. I glanced around and saw that lights were beginning to go out all around the police station — some inside and others out.
I stepped away from the building, back towards the car. The back of my neck began to tingle. My hair stood up on end. I resisted the urge to panic and run away. Lights continued being extinguished, and the darkness seemed to engulf the building.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door, feeling in my pocket to verify that I had the key. Inside the building the last light went dark, then the whole compound was baptized in blackness.
Or very nearly so. From somewhere deep inside the station, a blue light shifted and pulsed. It was moving towards the glass doors where I had been knocking moments ago.
I crouched down inside the car, hoping to hide myself from the awful orb. A sensation of fear shivered through me. The blue light grew, casting moving shadows all around me. I ducked and hugged my knees, closed my eyes, and began to pray.
After some time I felt I must look. I opened my eyes and raised my head a few inches until I could see out the window of the car. All was dark. The building was invisible to me now — swallowed by mist and darkness. The blue orb was nowhere to be seen. I breathed a deep sigh of relief and sank down into the seat.
I woke with a start to the bright sunlight illuminating the fog like an unreal world of fire. The clock in the car read 8:17 AM. The police station stood quiet, not twenty feet away from where I sat. I rubbed my sore neck, opened the door, and stretched. Had it all been a nightmare? Yet here I was, in a police car, and at the police station. I decided I should get out of the car before someone found me and explanations became more difficult.
I walked up to the main door of the station again. To my surprise, the door was entirely gone without a trace. I walked into the station, noting that there were no lights on inside — the only light coming from the windows all around the building.
I looked through every office, calling out, looking for someone — anyone. The building was silent as a catacomb. Day-old coffee stood half-drunk in mugs. Partly-done reports and half-signed papers littered desks. In one office bullet casings were scattered around the room, and holes adorned the walls around the doorway — but not one person, or even remains, appeared.
I helped myself to a pot of cold coffee in the lobby as I pondered the situation, talking aloud.
“The blue orb was here last night. It must have gotten here ahead of me, though I don’t know how.” Whatever the thing did, it was clear that no one had stayed around.
I decided to head all the way into town. It was no more than a half-mile from where I was. I walked outside and slid into the driver’s seat of the patrol car. I turned the key. There was no response — not a click, not a hum — nothing. I thought it was odd, but I can’t fix cars, so I just got out and started walking down the road.
The fog still lay thick in the valley. Businesses and residences appeared along both sides at sporadic intervals. All were as still as stone. Not a bird sang. Not a voice spoke. No engines roared. The town seemed transformed into a vast cemetery, buildings standing in for tombstones and mausoleums.
I passed Smith’s Bakery — hoping for the customary smell of fresh baked goods — but the windows were dark, and no scent — desirable or otherwise — escaped its mute form.
The other homes and businesses, as I approached downtown, were no better. I came to old Tom’s house, where the ageless retiree held impromptu town meetings on his front porch while he smoked a pipe and rocked in his rocking chair. The usually busy porch was vacant — the rocking chair in its place, but unoccupied.
As I came to the town center, I became aware of a small black object lying in the middle of the road. I shuddered and darted behind the nearest building. The orb seemed dormant — perhaps it was only dangerous at night? But still, I had no desire to go anywhere near it, let alone touch it. I dodged into the alley and circled around to the other side of the square.
I peeked around the corner to get a better look at the orb, when a sudden movement caught my peripheral vision. My head jerked up, and I caught sight of a person disappearing into the town courthouse down the street. I glanced back at the orb for a moment, then sprinted toward the courthouse.
The doors swung open easily, but the interior was dark compared to the sun-lit fog. As my eyes adjusted, I realized I was looking down the barrel of a shotgun.
“Who’re you and what’ya doin’ out here today?” demanded a gruff voice.
“I work at Mac’s General Store. I’ve been trying to find someone, anyone in this town.”
“Well, you found us. What’ya goin’ ta do about it?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve been looking for help since late last night. Went to the police station, but it was empty.”
“Hold on,” another, familiar voice spoke up, “Ain’t you the guy I picked up near midnight last night?”
I nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“You can put away that gun Raz,” my acquaintance said, “This guy’s from this town.” Someone turned on a light. Through my squinting eyes, I saw two individuals — a middle-aged man in overalls with several days of scruff, and a girl in flannel and jeans. A shotgun rested under her arm.
“We weren’t properly introduced last night, mister. My name’s Bill Stevens. I’m from up near Morgantown. Moved here about a month ago. This here is Raspberry Smith, a local. We and the other survivors holed up here in the early morning hours to escape that blue light. I reckon that that’s what you was trying to tell me about last night.”
I nodded. “So there are more survivors,” I asked.
“Maybe two dozen — none more that I’m aware of, except you.”
I thought about that for a moment — maybe only two dozen survivors? Sure, our town wasn’t big — but only two dozen? I had to ask:
“Bill — what does it do? I mean, what does that blue light do to people?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. All we know is that people started disappearing wherever that blue light went. Vehicles quit running. Animals too — they’ve either skedaddled or disappeared too.”
So we were yet none the wiser.
“What do you intend to do?” I asked.
“Hold the fort,” he replied. “We’ve got enough supplies and weapons here to last several weeks. We’re gonna take that cussed blue light down and rebuild this town.”
My heart sank. In my mind, I saw no hope at all — certainly none in battling an entity of which we knew nothing. I decided to make a suggestion.
“Wouldn’t it be better to gather the survivors and get as far away as we can? I know its a long way to the next town, but I don’t think we can fight that thing.”
Bill looked at me like I was crazy, and Raspberry huffed and turned away.
“That’s the most cowardly talk I ever heard mister. Why, leave town while its bein’ overrun by some blue light creature and taken our people — you gotta be jokin’”
I wasn’t. But there was no point trying to convince them. Their minds were made up. “Well, it might be true that I’m a coward — and if I am, I know you wouldn’t want me to have your back. I’ll just try my luck and try to get to the next town.”
Bill grunted. “Be my guest. Get lost.”
I turned and walked out the door. I took my bearings. The main street ran roughly north to south. To my right, the orb sat black and silent in the middle of the road. I turned left. It would be nearly fifty miles on foot, with nothing but some cold coffee to go on — but I wanted to live.
By sunset I could look down the mountain slopes into the heart of my hometown. As the last rays of orange light disappeared from view, a flash of blue rippled in the center of town. The orb was on the move. I shivered, and kept on walking.
I’ve been through three small towns now — walked a hundred miles and eaten scavenged scraps from homes along the route. I’ve barely slept. The orb seems to know my plans. Each town I’ve come to has already received the visitation. The empty, silent streets speak with loud voices in my head. “I own you.”
Today is Tuesday. Last Tuesday was my town’s last day.
