The Endless Night

Chapter 28

I shift uncomfortably. I still have no idea what the heck is going on. I can't see Nessie anymore but I can feel her beside me, and I can hear her. I can catch little snippets of what the alleged shadow man is saying but I still can't wrap my mind around it. I almost want to go home, but I belong in this fight, and  anyway, I can't imagine leaving at this point. I have to stick with my best friend until the end.

I'm looking around nervously because I can't really see anybody. A sharp glint catches my eye. I stop and slowly bring my eyes back around to it. I see it again; whatever it is shining as though it were in the sun, but I can tell that it is the darkest thing here. All voices, all the forest sounds, even my own breathing die away. This is one of those moments where you see a really big fish in the shadowy river; you see its scales glinting in the light but it's so big you don't want to get close to it. It scares you with its beauty. There is only one difference here: whatever is making those flashes not far in front of me is definitely no fish, and it isn't glimmering because of the sun—the darkness makes it brighter for there is darkness inside of it; it is within itself—darkness.
I can't physically tear my eyes away. I can sort of make out a chain that's attached to the dark object. Not any ordinary necklace-like chain but the kind of chain that would connect the handcuffs on a law-breaker, that would shackle the wrists and ankles of a prisoner together as he trudged to his execution, the kind of chain with links so thick that they were used to haul stinking, barnacle-covered anchors out of the sea. Oh, no—this is no ordinary chain.

Suddenly, I have a strong urge to see what shines at the end of that chain. I have to know. I can't know about the chain without knowing about the charm at the end. Charm seems too loose a term for this terrifyingly beautiful fish that is swimming back and forth before my eyes.

Unable to restrain myself I leave Nessie and all that I was holding onto behind me and take a step toward the chain...

And another...

And another...

 And another…


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I gasp as Skylar suddenly vanishes from beside me. I could feel myself weakening from having been standing so long. Not that she's gone I have nothing to hold on to. Collapsing to the ground, I cry out as I—of course—land on my bad ankle. I may as well cut it off and be done with the wretched thing... I half grimace, half smile at the thought. What would be the difference? I would be in just as much pain either way.

I look up to see Mr. Marsh lying ten feet in front of me. He is slowly regaining consciousness. He opens his mouth to say something when he recognizes me. I shake my head with the tiniest motion. He understands. I feel silly trying to confront the  shadow man in my torn and dirty pajamas, my hair a total rat's nest, and completely unable to even sit up. Somehow I manage to raise the front half of my body up partially onto my forearms.

“Ohhh, Nesszzzzssie... You realleeezz thinkz that youz can stopz mez in yourz condisssshhhhion? Oh, noooo... Youz can'tz!”

My lip twitches into a snarl. “Listen here, slappy!” I could almost laugh at myself. I nearly do. “Just because I've got a little cut and a little bruise doesn't me—” I try again: “—doesn't mean—” I can't take it. I'm going hysterical now.

Mr. Marsh's face starts twitching. Behind me Jason covers his mouth with his hand. I can hear a giggle from inside the house—probably Annie. I grin foolishly. I can't help it. I can't make it stop. One laugh escapes me. Just one laugh. No matter how wrong it feels I will never understand the good it has done. Mr. Marsh laughs a good, rolling laugh. Jason chuckles in his weird, boyish, little laugh. Annie giggles louder. We don't exactly know why. Maybe because it has been so long. Maybe because we are tired of the struggle, but whatever the reason it feels good, so we do it.  No one else gets it. We do. And we know it. So we laugh harder. Somewhere deep inside me I’m thinking I hope this is some kind of sorcery and we’re not really this crazy...

The sound of Jason's silly laugh drives me hysterical. I roll onto my back and laugh until tears gather at the corners of my eyes. Of course they burn but I can't do a thing about it, so I laugh harder to make them come. Our sides are heaving and we're running out of breath.

The shadow man is probably so confused. But I can't help it; and neither can they.


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The first laugh stops me. I think it saves me. Somewhere deep inside I know it. I don't get it at the time, I just know it. Everything starts spinning around me a little, gets a somewhat disoriented, changes. I stagger backwards until I bump into the front porch railing. I can still hear them laughing. The rest of Nessie's family is up inside the foyer just staring around, confused. I'm not sure if they can hear it or not.

One of the laughing voices starts to die away, and Jason starts to come slowly into view. He looks at me and, acting as though this is the first time he's seen me since all this

started, exclaims, “Skylar! What are you doing here? I-I-Um...”

I kneel down next to him and put my hand on his arm where the red rash mark has spread larger and larger. My brow furrows as I see it has spread to his shoulder and past his elbow. “Don't worry. We'll save you and Nessie and Annie and everyone.”

“No, you will.” His voice takes on a different tone that doesn't belong to him. “I don't know how or why really, but you, Skylar, will save us all.” He sounds really prophetic right now. As I'm pondering what to say to this remark his face changes again and he looks at me in confusion. Shrugging of my hand he says, “Who are...?” Jason's voice cuts off as he fades before my eyes. All that's left is a shimmering outline.
“Jason! No!” Frustration boils up in me at this failure. Somehow it feels like I could have done more. Like I could have kept him visible and with me. I slap the bottom step with my hand and stand up, palm stinging and red.

I can't recall the exact words that Jason spoke to me, and soon all recollection of them fades. I just have a deep-set gut feeling that I am to do something and that this isn't over yet. It has gone on far too long, and it will have an end. His words are gone from existence, but their purpose remains in me. It stirs all through me until a plan brews in my mind. It is confusing and not logical at first, but then it takes shape and form and stature and rears like a roaring tiger about to terminate its worst enemy in my mind. And I spring into action.