Darkness Before Midnight

Arlington, VA. 1997.

     Clank is the sound of metal, often heard and goes unnoticed. We assume they're old pipes, an old home with older issues, or perhaps it's construction, someone fixing something somewhere. But "Clank" in the stillness of the night and "Clank" again several times harder. Suddenly, it becomes disconcerting.

The night shift was typically quiet in these parts of Virginia, primarily neighborhoods comprising middle-class families and elderly residents. A shift that began just as the majority of civilians were ending their day.

Marked by consistent monotony and solitary boredom, Officer Davis, who had worked the same shift for many years, found it cathartic. Driving alone with his thoughts, without intrusion, in the comfort of his routine, he was the only Police Officer who was quite fond of it.

Officer Davis started his day like any other: with a quick coffee refill, a donut nibble, and a patrol around his neighborhood. It wouldn't be until much later in his shift that he would soon learn that sometimes... tragedies often happen on a day like any other.

Halfway through his shift, Officer Davis parks on the side of the road and opens a letter. An old colleague had offered him a job, a security position in the private sector. It was a reasonable offer: more money, regular hours, with a perfect house in another state. However, it was a lot to consider, especially for a man who disliked change. But for his wife, this was an ideal opportunity. She had always wanted children, but not with a husband who was never around.

"Davis, you there?" The woman from dispatch asked. "We need you to assist with a noise complaint."

Shoving his letter poorly in his pocket, "Copy that," he replies.

Moments later, Officer Davis arrives and parks next to another police vehicle. He notices Officer Johnson engaged in a conversation.

"There's loud banging from that house, Officer." A witness recounts.

"I don't hear anything," Officer Johnson replies. "Are you sure?"

"YES!!!"

"Officer Johnson. What's the situation?"

"Hello, Sir." Officer Johnson clears his throat. "He claims there's a loud banging from the house behind me."

"Why would I lie?" The man grunts. "It's the middle of the night!"

"Okay, sir." Officer Davis said with a smile. "We'll go see."

The man walks back to the crowd, disgruntled but satisfied. Officer Davis cheerfully smiles while nudging Officer Johnson to the side.

"Johnson. I know you're new. But we gotta follow up." He said with a sigh. "If not for them...at least to cover OUR asses."

"But, sir—"

"There's a whole spectacle of spectators here," Officer Davis points with a slight chuckle. "Every busybody and looky-loo is here...these folks got nothing better to do than to make our lives harder, if we piss them off."

Officer Johnson glances anxiously at the onlookers.

"Don't worry..." Officer Davis reassuringly smiles, "I've got your back, partner."

"Yes, sir!" Officer Johnson enthusiastically replies.

The walk up to the house was short but felt heavy. Officer Johnson could sense the weight of a hundred stares upon him, reminiscent of his days as a college basketball player. Back then, he believed he was destined to be a rookie athlete, not a rookie police officer. The pressure overwhelmed him, ultimately costing him his career and the life he had envisioned.

"Johnson! Get your head in the game!"

"Sorry, sir."

"Ring the DAMN bell."

Officer Johnson wipes the sweat from his brow, firmly pressing the doorbell. Silence. The lack of a chime or sound bewilders Officer Davis.

Officer Johnson shrugs. "Should I try—"

Clank

The crowd gasped.

Clank

The noise grew louder.

Clank

The door suddenly crept open, as though it had never been locked. The return of the loud sound escalates the crowd, shouting for the officers to take action. The pressure becomes too much for Officer Johnson, who recklessly charges in on his own.

"Johnson, get back here!"

Clank

"Dammit!"

Officer Davis begrudgingly enters.

Clank.

"Johnson!" Officer Davis softly yelled as he fiddled with his flashlight. "John...son."

When the light finally flickered steadily, it revealed a typical suburban household. A home no different than any other. Pictures of three loving children adorned the walls. Decorated with modest, yet well-kept furnishings.

Clank

Soaked in sweat, Officer Davis repeatedly called for the rookie. His voice cracked and slowly weakened.

"Johnson. Johnson...John—"

Thud

Officer Davis finds himself on the ground, covered in drywall dust. The walls around him have been torn down. Suddenly, he hears a tight scream. Fearing the worst, he instinctively sprints toward the sound. Tiny cracks of light seep through the spaces of a door. With his gun drawn, he pauses for a moment before entering.

Clank

Shortly after entering the house alone, Officer Johnson found himself lost. With his flashlight dead, his radio in his car, and the light switch unresponsive, he had no other choice but to continue.

Clank

Using his hands for guidance, Officer Johnson moved closer to the source of the sound. The walls around him began to feel rough and cold, as though they were crumbling. But he persists. Moving each inch with every touch. Until he felt a shift in the wall. A door, he thought. Gently peaking, he sees a glimpse of a faint light.

Clank

Cautiously entering the room, Officer Johnson's eyes slowly adjust to the brightness. And as his vision clears, he sees the cause of the disturbance. The "Clank" came from a young, pale woman in a black veil, striking a wall with a pipe.

"Ma'am?"

Clank

"Everything, okay?"

Clank

Being mindful of her swings, Officer Johnson steps close.

Clank

"Excuse me..."

Clank

"Ma'am?"

Thud

The wall collapses, revealing a black garbage bag. Something was wrapped inside it. It was then that Officer Johnson noticed the young woman glaring at him.

"W-what..." He said, panting. "...is that?"

Thump

Falling out of the wall and rolling across the kitchen, something hits Officer Johnson's foot. He falls backward, landing on a shelf and spilling its contents all over the floor.

"Ohhh, god..." Officer Johnson cries. "No! No! No!"

Officer Davis kicks the door open and swiftly enters. "Arlington County Police!" He sees Officer Johnson crouching beside him. "Johnson!"

Shivering in a fetal position, Officer Johnson points behind Officer Davis. It was supposed to be a day like any other, and suddenly, just like that, it became disconcerting.

Staring up from behind him was a severed head. Eyes wide open. Blood dripping. Ripped and torn. Both Officers froze. And in their brief hesitation, the young woman screams.

Clank

The young woman who seemed devoid of emotion screamed to her heart's content, mourning the head of an old African American man.

"Get on the floor!" Officer Davis demanded. "Johnson, get a hold of yourself and cuff her!"

Officer Johnson had never seen a dead body, let alone a severed head. Paralyzed, dazed, and confused, he lay against the door helplessly.

"Johnson. Pull yourself together!"

The young woman slowly crawled towards the head, gently closing his eyes with an apathetic expression and a whispered sigh, "Knott..."

Having realized the woman had moved, Officer Davis yells for her to stay back, quickly pushing her flat on her stomach. "You're under arrest!"

In the middle of putting his handcuff on the young woman, her eyes suddenly widened, "Watch out!" she yells.

Two large arms reach out from the door, pulling Officer Johnson into the next room.

Bang

Officer Davies impulsively shoots. "Fuck! The bullet ricochets and misses. "Johnson!"

Thrown back into darkness, Officer Davis chases the tips of his partner's boots as they drag away. His pursuit stalls when his flashlight dims. He anxiously shakes it on. But it was too late. His partner was gone.

"Johnson!?"

Thud

Thud

Thud

Moving his flashlight sporadically, Officer Johnson catches a glimpse of a basement door. Blood trails beneath it. Shining his light in front of him, he cautiously takes one step after another. The sound of churning slowly surrounds him. Then, from between the spaces of the staircase, several arms emerge.

"Holyshit!"

Officer Davis stomps and kicks the arms away in panic.

"Get the fuck away!"

He trips and rolls to the bottom, losing his flashlight in the process. As the light spins directly across from him, it briefly captures something fleeing. Many somethings.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Officer Davis quickly fires his gun fearfully. The bullet hits a nearby pipe. This was the second time he'd ever used his gun, and he was unfamiliar with the rush of adrenaline. His head began to throb, and his heart raced.

"Johnson!" He said, out of breath. "I'm coming..."

Further into the basement, he finds a collapsed wall with an old oak door. The homeowner must've stumbled upon it during renovation, he assumed, after seeing scattered tools. The door abruptly sprang open, knocking him down. And standing before him was a deformed man.

"...with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint," he mumbled to himself.

Although he grew up in a devout household, Officer Johnson was not a religious man. Only in moments of duress would he recite Isaiah 40:31, either out of habit or reflex. In his lifetime, there were only three instances where he did this: his father's funeral, his niece's surgery, and before his proposal.

Covered in cuts with sewn eyes and mouth, and no clothing other than a chastity belt, the man swings his arms around. Several large nails were driven through the man's palms, protruding like the claws of an animal.

Bang

"Stay back!"

Bang

"What the..."

Bang

"...fuck!?"

The first shot misses. But the second and third both pierce the neck. Unfazed by the injury, the deformed man convulses, flailing his arms around. Kicking into the air to fend off the attack, Officer Davis is stabbed in the feet by the protruding nails.

Bang

"Fuck!"

A shot to the head. The deformed man collapses. Tilting his head upward, Officer Davis sees the young woman from before with a shotgun. He quickly sits up, drawing his gun as he shouts, "Put the gun down!" The young woman casually walks past him, crouching over to check on the dead man.

"I'm serious. I'll shoot!"

"I've seen you shoot," the young woman replies unbothered. However, irritated with the gun in her face, she pulls out a badge. "Special Agent Ansa Leary from the D.A.R.K."

"You're a fed?" Officer Davis doubtfully shook his head. "What are you, like sixteen?"

"Eighteen. And, yes, I am..."

"D.A.R.K.? Never heard of it."

"I doubt you would..." Ansa scoffs, "The Department Against Ritualistic Killings—or Ritual Knowledge, it's a working name..."

Cutting the threading from the man's eyes and mouth, she finds a severed black finger and zombie-like eyes. "As I suspected, he's already turned. I was right to shoot."

"You mean you weren't before!?"

Ansa examines the finger, just as it spontaneously dissolves.

"Fuck, that's gross."

Ansa explains that the man was part of a ritual to invoke a pagan god. Ten severed fingers placed in ten sewn mouths.

"Bullshit! That's crazy."

"Believe what you believe..." Ansa rummages through her bag. "You can either stay here or help me stop it..." She hands Officer Davis a tourniquet. "But you need to decide now."

"We need to call for backup."

Ansa takes out a grimoire and flips to a page. "This here is what they're invoking."

Officer Davis glances at the open page and sees a sketch of a creature, composed of two large webbed hands and a demonic head.

"The fuck is that?"

"Uhrmal the Influencer, said to have stirred the darkness in men."

"You mean to say we'll be facing THAT if we don't hurry?"

"Yes. And also, I assume your friend was taken because of the ritual." She stated, before looking over her shoulder, to point. "Probably as a substitute for that guy."

Officer Davis responds with a frustrating groan.

Traversing deep on the other side of the door, Ansa inquired about the reason the two officers had come to the house.

Officer Davis annoyingly glances over to Ansa, "...because of a noise complaint."

Ansa shrugs. "Honestly. It wasn't THAT loud..." She then pauses, "Regrettably. My emotions got the better of me and got you involved."

And that would be the closest Officer Davis would ever get to an apology.

"What about you?" Officer Davis asks. "Did you already know about all this?"

There was a slight hesitation. Then Ansa revealed it was out of concern for her boss. They had been assigned a missing person's case, the mysterious disappearance of the Miller family from their home. The investigation branched into two leads. Ansa's boss investigated the history behind the house, uncovering occultism, while Ansa caught the trail of the Tell-Tale Killer.

"That was you!?"

The Tell-Tale Killer was an infamous and elusive serial killer, and his apprehension has been the subject of discussion nationwide.

"Is he part of this?"

"No..." Ansa said regretfully. "He was... a coincidence."

Officer Davis concludes his inquiry, having guessed who the man upstairs could be. His opinion of Ansa changed, gaining a bit more insight into her.

They eventually arrive at an open door with an altar. Men in robes gathered, chanting while hanging people upside down on crosses made of human bone.

Officer Davis sees the rookie, just about to get his mouth sewn shut. He quickly charges at the cultist, using his baton to bash his head.

"Johnson!"

The cultist screamed as he died, alerting the others to their presence.

"Superb planning..." Ansa sarcastically noted while shooting. "Hurry!"

After being freed, Officer Johnson immediately runs to a nearby room. There, he unlocks the cages of two toddlers and a teenage girl. These were the children of the missing Miller family. Officer Davis soon arrives, shocked to see survivors.

While the officers exit the room, Ansa quickly steals a canister of pepper spray from each of them.

"Sir?"

"She's...backup," Officer Davis informs. "It's time we go!"

Ansa tosses the canisters into the air and shoots. Dispersing thick red mist into the room. Both Officers and the children made it out in time, with Ansa shortly behind. They close the doors shut, using their batons to jam the hinges. Ansa coughs and rubs her eyes.

"You okay!?"

"There's no time..." Ansa told Officer Davis. "We need to hurry!"

According to the grimoire, the door would lock at sunrise.

Clank

Desperately running towards the exit, the sounds of metal clanking reverberated. The cultists were using any means to free themselves.

Boom

Heavy footsteps soon replaced the sound of metal clanking. The cultists had freed themselves. But in the distance, a glimmer of a green glow appeared. It was a marker left behind by Ansa earlier, who had the foresight to leave a chemlight.

"There!" Ansa pointed. "We're close!"

The door swung open, banging forcefully against the wall. Officer Johnson helps the children out, while Officer Davis uses a metal shelf as a barricade. The door violently shakes but remains closed.

"Johnson!" Officer Davis yells for the rookie's help. "Ansa, get those kids outta here!"

With a toddler in each arm, Ansa runs upstairs alongside the teenage girl. Leaving the officers with the duty of keeping the doors shut. However, the officers could feel themselves weakening.

"Shit..." Officer Davis leans against the shelf to ready his gun. "They're about to come through!"

Officer Johnson takes a deep breath, "I've got this."

Suddenly, a monstrous sound roared like strong gusts of wind, bleeding their ears. The door stood still, and an eerie silence settled. Confused by what had transpired, the doors burst open. The body parts of dead cultists rain down on them.

"W-what is that?"

Officer Davis wipes the blood from his eyes, "Uhrmal, the Influencer..."

Uhrmal growled menacingly, covered in blood, bone, and organs. The cultists must've offered themselves to the ritual, Officer Davis surmised. Although too massive to enter through the doors, Uhrmal attempts to force its way through.

Bang

Bang

Officer Johnson uses Ansa's shotgun, firing shot after shot with disregard for himself.

"Get out of here, Sir!"

"Johnson, no!"

The decayed skeletal head began to glow red. Officer Johnson's eyes whitened, and he soon became paralyzed and gasping for air.

Thud

Thud

Thud

A red trunk slides down the stairs. Ansa kicks it open, pulling out an M79 grenade launcher. "Get down!" She shouts, "This one's for Knott, arsehole!"

Boom

The blast sends both Ansa and Uhrmal flying back in opposite directions. A curtain falls nearby, revealing a small window. The orange hues in the clouds indicated the approaching dawn. Officer Davis quickly sprints to close the door. While Officer Johnson, limping and using the last bit of his strength, also lends a hand.

"How much longer?" Officer Davis shouts.

Bleeding from the head, Ansa replies, "Shortly!"

Ansa anxiously stares out the window, seeing the tips of the sun rising. Then a loud click resounds. And the door mysteriously petrifies. What was once a door had now become the etchings on a wall.

Upon leaving the house, dozens of law enforcement and federal agents arrive. Officer Johnson is seen escorting the children to a nearby ambulance before being commended for a job well done. Officer Davis takes out a lighter, along with his crumpled letter.

Ansa approaches him. "How was your report?"

Officer Davis shrugs. "Couldn't say much, you know?"

"Some things are best kept in the D.A.R.K."

Office Davis lights his cigarette. "So what happens when the door unlocks?"

"The bureau will keep an eye on it."

"Mhmm, I see."

"And I suppose you'll do the same?"

"Perhaps," Officer Davis replies half heartedly.

Ansa nods understandingly, grabbing her trunk as she leaves.

The Medical Examiner rushes outside. "Does anyone know if there's a head to that body in the kitchen?!"

Officer Davis then notices tiny specs of blood on the ground, a trail leading in Ansa's direction. With the sun in his face, Officer Davis felt that it was time for a change. He then uncrumpled his letter.