Midnight Forever

Chapter 1

December 28th, 1996

On the fifth anniversary of what was almost the most catastrophic event in western history, a mall janitor worked, broom in hand, cleaning the floors early in the morning before it was to open. His nametag read “Thomas Wood”, and he was as typical as janitors come. A veteran in his late 60s who lived his life normally and liked his coffee black. Just before the clock struck eight, he and all the other janitors had finished. Every surface cleaned, every floor swept. They were done, and it was time to go home before opening time. The day crew would keep it tidy until tomorrow morning. Thomas’ car was just as plain as him, painted tan and with few notable features worth talking about. When he clicked the radio on, the voice of a news broadcaster slowly faded in as he tuned the radio. “… the morning of the fifth anniversary of what is, by all accounts, one of the most shocking events in US history. Only half a decade ago, the then presidents of the US and Russia were killed with only four minutes between their deaths. Both countries were ready to fire nuclear warheads at each other before the absurdity of the circumstances were considered and both sides were found innocent. A third party was found guilty of plotting the assassinations, and extremist group known as-“ -click- He had heard this all before. Extremist group, nukes, it wasn’t exactly news to anyone in the country. The relationship between the US and Russia was rocky before, but it had disappeared after that day. Neither side trusted each other and neither did their people. Being Russian in the US was as close to being an outcast as you could get, and vice versa. Back home, it was quiet. Thomas liked the quiet, it let him get lost in the pages of his books. He read a new one every few weeks, it was one of the few things he did to pass the time. The bookshelf in his living room stood tall, lined with literature and poetry. -Ding Dong- Someone at the door? He stood and walked to the front door. When it opened, a blonde-haired woman greeted him.

“Good morning, are you Mr. Wood?” He nodded. “Hi, I’m Jane, I live just a few doors down. Are you aware that there are criminals living in this neighborhood?” Thomas’ eyes narrowed slightly. “No, I didn’t.” Jane pointed at a house at the end of the cul-de-sac. “Just down there, it’s a drug den, I’m telling you.” The accused house certainly looked the part, with boarded up windows and rotting stairs among other things. “So why don’t you call the police?” Thomas asked bluntly. “We have, and they haven’t done a thing. But there’s this horrible smell coming from it, and odd smoke coming from the chimney some times. Don’t you think that the people ought to do what’s right when the police won’t? To take up their arms and ward off evil?” Thonas sighed and looked again at the house down the road. “If the police haven’t done anything about it, it’s probably because they haven’t found any evidence of anything happening. It's probably just kids going over there to smoke or something.” With that, Thomas closed the door. Later that evening while Thomas was preparing dinner for himself, he heard something fall through the mail slot in the front door. It was a single piece of paper, not placed in an envelope, and signed by nobody. “Search the house. This is not a request.” Threatening, to say the least, and terribly unnerving to the old man. He ignored it though, tossing the paper scrap in the garbage and preparing the rest of his supper. He would be arriving at the mall early the next morning to do his job over again. He fell asleep that night, not having forgotten the daunting note.

December 29th, 1996

Thomas awoke at 5:30 exactly to his alarm. He had a strict daily routine; Shower, brush teeth, then dressed and out the door to drive to the mall and do his job with the rest of the morning team. It wasn’t anything interesting, just a lot of brooms, mops, and window wipers for two hours until the mall opened at eight. The rest of the day was like clockwork. Breakfast at home, a few hours of reading and listening to the radio, and then making dinner. And then it happened again, something fell through the mail slot. Another note, without an envelope and with no signature. “Last chance. We know you saw the other one.” Needless to say, this scared Thomas. Who was ‘we’? Who was writing these notes? Were they spying on him? He considered calling the police, but… something told him that was a bad idea. If the mystery people were indeed spying on him, who knows what might happen if he did that. So, he just did it. He grabbed his coat, flashlight, and his old handgun that hadn’t been taken out of the closet more than five times since he was discharged from the military.