The Darkness Inside is a three part horror mystery. This is Part One. Parts Two and Three will be following in the coming weeks.
The Darkness Inside
By Jack Harvey
Barb Brown's motorcycle roared down the empty New England highway. To passers by they'd probably only see the purple blur of her leather jacket. As a representative of the FBI she'd be expected to adhere to the highest standards of safety, but time was of the essence when it came to this case. She disregarded the speed limit.
Her boss Roger Coleman sent her the file that morning. Somehow a report of several missing persons and a school full of trapped kids had taken a month for anyone to notice. Coleman was embarrassed, but was adamant that he hadn't seen the report until that very morning. It had been filed a month ago.
Either way, to avoid further embarrassment Barb was ordered to ride out from DC to up-state New York and find out exactly what was going on in Egmontstown.
****
The air was cool for the spring, and Barb was glad for her jacket. They sky was overcast and grey. After miles and miles of ploughed fields, the buildings finally came into view. As she rode onto the main street, Barb could see that there was something... off about Egmontstown.
The buildings were all stone, and three stories high. They had a very European style, and looked as though they had been there for a long time. The main road was also old, parts of it still had cobblestones and indentations that made it clear a tram system would have once ran through.
It was unlike any other town in this part of the country, and Barb had to wonder why she had never heard of Egmontstown before. At the very least it seemed like a place that would be rotten with tourists wanting to reconnect with their 'European roots.'
Barb turned her bike into the parking lot next to the police station. Like the rest of the town, it was an old building made of grey stone. She parked up her bike next to a squad car and pulled off her helmet, letting her red hair fall over her shoulders. She opened the back of the bike and popped out her fold up wheelchair. Using her upper body strength barb lifted herself from the back of the bike into the chair and wheeled herself into the station.
****
“We were starting to think ya'll had forgotten about us. I'll be honest.”
Captain Dennehy was a large, lumberjack looking fellow with a round face and noticeable beard. He spoke with a southern accent, but Barb deemed that there was no real time to query his background.
“Whole thing started about two months ago,” he said, tired, as the bags under his eyes came into sharp focus. “Couple of reports of missing townsfolk. Just fairly normal folks, not the kind to be involved in any trouble. Disappeared without a trace. We were on the verge of giving up, and that's when what happened with the kids happened.”
Barb was noting this all down on her personal tablet. “The kids?” she asked.
Dennehy shrugged, as though he was unsure how to explain it. “Teachers one day all disappeared. Mid day, don't know where they went. The way I hear it the parents went back to get their kids at the end of school and the kids... wouldn't leave.”
Barb raised an eyebrow.
“For those who made it back they said that the kids were frightened of something. A shadow they said. Wouldn't leave the school, said it wouldn't let them. When the parents tried to make them leave the darkness fell, as though it was... night time. That's what they said anyway, and the road back to town was blocked off with like... pitch blackness. So they took a cut across the nearby fields and that's...” Dennehy paused and swallowed. “That's when it happened.”
“What happened?” asked Barb.
“The missing persons,” he said, voice trembling. “They came out of the ground and started pulling the parents into the soil. Most didn't make it, and the kids ran back into the school.” Dennehy paused again, glancing over to a duty roster that had a lot of red marks on it. “That's when I sent my boys to investigate. Not many of them made it back either.” He shook his head.
Barb dropped the tablet to her lap. “What are you saying? That this is, like, the walking dead or something?”
“That would be the simple answer, but in the films, it just takes a shot to the head to take
them down. Whatever's happened to the missing parents, bullets don't do anything. We've tried a few more times, and lost a few more folks. That's why we sent to you for help.”
This was all starting to sound a bit far fetched to Barb, and she wondered if something else was really going on. At the same time, she couldn't really doubt Dennehy's testimony. It sounded at the very least he was telling the truth as he saw it.
“So how does the wider world not know about this?” Barb asked. “What about putting things up on the internet? What about national news? Surely you'd gone to them?”
“We did,” said Dennehy. “But like with yourselves it seemed to take some time to get noticed, and even when we did hear back most were sceptical about the whole thing. I tried getting the video of... whatever is under the soil, but we lost even more men after that.”
“What about friends and family in other towns? You can't be that isolated here?”
“It's strange,” Dennehy said. “Since this mess all started our phone coverage has been spotty. I've told my mother back down south with what's been happening but I don't know if she's told anyone else or what. Emails don't get replied to. Post, never followed up. It's like the outside world is ignoring us.”
“Well,” said Barb, putting away her tablet. “I honestly don't know what you expect the FBI to do. This sounds more like a job for the national guard.”
“Spent too much time watching The X-Files I guess,” Dennehy said.
Barb wheeled her way towards Dennehy's office door. “I'd like to talk to some of the children at the school first. Alone, if that's okay with you?”
Dennehy shot up out of his chair. “Are you crazy?” he said. “I've already told you that's practically a one way trip, and you're hardly...” Dennehy looked down at Barb's wheelchair, choosing his next words with care. “You're hardly equipped to move in a hurry.”
Barb pulled out a revolver. “I can handle myself.”
“I've already told you that won't do squat.”
“All the same,” Barb said. “I'd like to go alone.”
Dennehy sat back down in his chair, dejected. From the look on his face it looked as though he was watching his last hope get washed away. “Fine,” he said. “Go. I'll see what I can do from here.”
****
Any other case and Barb would have freely had Dennehy accompany her, but with children involved, especially children that are trying to stay away from adults, she would need to speak to them alone. Maybe there was a more understandable, darker reason they refused to leave the school. Barb couldn't risk an adult, any adult, colouring their testimony while being in their presence.
The school was a little way out of town, but not far enough that Barb needed to take her bike. It was about twenty minuets up a country lane, past a bunch of fields. Considering there was no sign of any farmers the land was all muddy, well ploughed and ready to go.
Unlike the rest of the town the school was a more modern building. It was painted a pleasant white and had a clean, fresh look about it. If it wasn't for the eerie silence, and the curtains already being drawn, it wouldn't have come across as a particularly unusual sight.
Barb entered the main hall. The door was unlocked and it led towards the reception area. There were no signs of life, and the half completed displays and notice boards caused a shiver to run down Barb's spine. She carried on deeper into the school.
The corridors were now all dark, illuminated only with blue security lights. Barb tried the switch by the door, but nothing happened, so she continued wheeling herself down the corridor past the rows of lockers.
She peered through the first classroom door. Empty. The next few were empty also so she continued round the corner.
It was darker now, and Barb was struggling to see. Glancing through the window, illuminated in low blue light, she could see what looked like a white sneaker.
As she reached for the door, Barb heard what sounded like a low wail, but no louder than a whisper. She looked down the corridor, and squinted at the darkness. It took her a moment, but she could make out what looked like a silhouette. It was too dark to see clearly, but it definitely wasn't a child.
Barb reached for her gun, and made ready to call out.
“You shouldn't be here,” came a voice ahead of her.
Barb nearly jumped out of her chair, and turned to see that a small girl, probably about eight or nine, had opened the classroom door. She had ruddy cheeks and red hair like Barb's own.
When Barb looked back down the corridor the silhouette had gone. Maybe it had never been there in the first place.
****
“We can't leave. The darkness won't let us.”
Barb had tried questioning the children, of whom there were at least twenty crammed into the classroom, sleeping under the tables. They were clearly traumatised, and getting answers was proving troublesome.
“What about your parents?” Barb asked. “Don't you want to be with them?”
“They're gone,” a boy from the back of the room said. “The darkness took them”
“Took them where?”
No answer.
“And what is this darkness?” she asked.
No answer.
“Why doesn't the darkness want you to leave?” she asked.
“We don't know,” the girl said. “We just can't.”
“How do you know it doesn't want you to leave? How did it tell you?”
No answer.
“Were any of your parents acting strange... before this started to happen?”
The children shook their heads.
“Was everything alright at home? You weren't experiencing any problems? Any troubles or arguments?”
They shook their heads again.
“Is there anyone in the town I should be wary of. Anyone you yourselves have had problems with? The police for example? Captain Dennehy?”
The children looked as though they didn't understand the question. Barb re-phrased it, but she couldn't get a straight answer out of any of them, and they wouldn't move. Barb couldn't force them to go with her even if she tried.
Barb wheeled herself back into the corridor. For now the best thing would be to report back to Dennehy and then call DC to send some child psychologists down. See if they can get some straight answers out of the kids. Clearly something had happened here. Though what it was was hard to say.
Barb looked down the corridor. She could swear it looked darker now than it had before, which was odd. Her eyes should have started to acclimatise.
Once Barb had made her way outside she looked up to the sky.
It was night.
Barb knew this was impossible. She'd arrived at mid day and had only been in the school an hour at most. She pulled out her cellphone to look at the clock.
She felt a knot in her stomach as she looked at the time. It was scrambled, like there was some kind of glitch or bug in the phone. Likewise, she could get no signal coverage.
Barb began to wheel herself back into town, but when she looked towards the lane, she couldn't see five feet in front of her.
It was hard to describe. The darkness in was... tangible, like a fog, but it was hard to see where it began and where it ended. It was just like the pure absence of light. A void.
Barb swallowed, and began to wheel herself down the lane.
Then she saw the darkness start to move. Start to approach her.
While all objective truth told Barb that the absence of light was harmless, that a dark country lane was just a dark country lane, her instincts as an FBI agent told her that going any further would be a bad idea.
Barb looked to her left, and saw a rickety fence leading to a nearby field. It would be hard going in her chair, but she judged she had no other option.
With all her might Barb began to wheel herself through the muddy field. Her arms tensed as each rotation moved her slowly, closer, back into town. After about twenty minutes she was halfway there, and at the other end of the field she could see the lane again, void free.
Seeing the lights of the town come into view spurned her second wind, and she pushed on.
But as she did, she could hear a squelching, bubbling sound.
She looked down, and out of the ground came a grey, mouldy hand, grabbing hold of one of her wheels.
Without thinking Barb pulled out her pistol and fired. Yet it was to no effect. The shot left no wound, no trace of the bullet.
Suddenly the hand was joined by others, all grabbing at the chair, pulling her down. She fired again, but it was futile. She tried striking at the hands with the butt of her pistol, but they almost caught her hand as she did, trying to wrench her from the chair.
Barb sank further into the muddy soil.
It was at this point Barb realised that she really was out of options. If she stayed in the chair, the creatures would pull her under the mud, to who knows what fate, but if she threw herself off, she'd be left to try and crawl across the dirt, even more vulnerable to whatever dwelt below.
In the end, it was a no-win scenario, but Barb knew all she could do was try to crawl. Maybe she'd get lucky and the creatures would be preoccupied with the chair. Maybe not, but it was the only hope she had.
Barb took a deep breath, and braced her hands on the chair's arm rest, ready to throw herself as far as she could reach.
“Watch out,” came a voice suddenly, before Barb could lift herself from the chair.
Out of the night came a man with a shotgun. That was about all Barb could make out as he aimed it had the hands. She leaned out of the way, while the night was illuminated by blasts that shattered fingers and bone. Unfortunately, it also shattered the wheels of Barb's chair.
Without warning, the man put his arm under Barb's own and lifted her from the chair. He wasn't particularly strong and struggled with her weight, but adrenalin was fuelling them both, and he did the best he could to to pull her across the field and back towards the safety of the road.
****
Daylight retuned by the time the man, or boy, which Barb felt was a more accurate description, had managed to carry her back into town. He can't have been any older than twenty, spoke with an some kind of British accent and wore a burgundy leather flying jacket that made him look bigger than he actually was.
They didn't speak until they got back to Dennehy's office.
“Agent Brown,” Dennehy gasped. “Holy fuck you're still alive.”
“I can see now you were telling the truth Captain,” she replied. “Whatever has happened here it's... beyond any foreseeable scenario.”
Brown wiped his brow. “I'm just happy to see you made it,” he said.
Barb glanced over at the young man with the shotgun who was standing there awkwardly.
“So who's this guy?”
“His passport says he's John Hartley, and that's... a little complicated.”
“I was in New York for a comic convention,” he said. “I blacked out. Next thing I know I'm propped up against a tree, with a shotgun in my hand and no idea how I got here.”
Barb raised her eyebrows and glanced back at Dennehy.
“Here's the weird part,” he said. “I was ready to book him. Guy had all the signs of being a vagrant, out of his mind, but we run his details though the database, and sure enough. He's who he says he is. The gun is even registered under his name.”
“How'd a kid from England get a gun licence in the states?” Barb asked.
“That's what we're trying to figure out, especially since he has no recollection of purchasing it, but I thought I'd keep him around. What with all the weirdness going on,” he smiled a little. “And get this. Wherever that gun came from, it works on those creatures.”
Barb nodded. “And is there any reason why you sent Mr Hartley to help me instead of coming yourself?”
Dennehy's face drooped a little. “Actually I didn't send him, he was just going for a walk. I thought you were long gone. Don't know how you made it.”
“I see. And why didn't you mention Mr Hartley before I went to check out the school? Sounds like it would have been useful information.”
John and Dennehy looked at one another, then back at Barb.
“Uhh,” Dennehy muttered. “John only turned up a couple days ago.”
Barb nodded, and waited for him to continue.
“Agent Brown,” he said, as though delivering grave news. “You've been missing for two weeks.”
Barb's brain went blank for a few moments. She's already experienced more than one unbelievable thing that day. She couldn't quite parse what Dennehy had said.
“What?”
“I haven't seen you since you went to the school. I sent another message to the FBI, but they didn't get back to me. I thought it was the last I'd see of you, but John asked to go for a stroll and I told him to stray just on the safe side of the field. See if he could find any trace of you.”
“That's when I heard the commotion and saw you being manhandled by those things,” John said.
“I don't know if it was chance or fate but I'm glad he was there.”
“It's...” Barb mumbled. “It's been no more than two hours.”
John put his face in his hands, Dennehy just gave a grim smile, as though more strangeness was becoming just a part of his day.
“I need to contact the FBI, now!”
****
Barb attempted to call every number she had to get through to Coleman, or any superior, really. All lines were on hold. Instead she filed a report by priority email, which they would have expected anyway. Barb found it surprising that nobody had emailed her back querying her whereabouts, but given how time seemed to be doing strange things, she guessed it has something to do with whatever was effecting Egmontstown.
Barb requested the child psychologists, along with an armed response unit equipped with the heaviest ordinance they had. Barb tried to write the email as rational sounding as possible. No doubt she would look crazy if she reiterated what was actually occurring, so she re-phrased the situation as a possible civic disturbance. Anything to get somebody down there.
After she had clicked 'send' Barb could almost predict that there would be no response. Against all hope she had to conclude that she was probably alone on this one, and would have to make do with what she had. She briefly considered driving back to DC and explaining it all to Coleman face to face, but with time acting in strange ways, anything could happen in the meantime. No, she decided, better to stick around, and try and glean more answers.
Barb shut down the station's crusty old computer and wheeled back towards Dennehy's office, where John Hartley was handing him a cup of tea.
Jack Harvey 2018
