Don't Fear The Night

Recently I couldn't sleep at all. It was a calm night, the Moon was full and high in the sky, making it seem as though it was day.

I was in a small cabin in the forest, having gone for a weekend of Nature after harrowing hours in the hospital emergency room.

With the ongoing pandemic, I felt almost guilty to have taken two days off, but I was so close to losing all control I needed a break from people, from the fear, the oppressive atmosphere in the hospital, the growing desperation...

I feared I would become sick myself if I didn't take a breather away from it all.

I put on hiking boots and a jacket. There had been a light snow in the evening but the temperature wasn't very cold, so I decided to stuff my hands in my pockets and just walk it out, hoping sleep would come after.

The sights were magical, not a sound could be heard except the scrunching of my boots on the brush and light snow. Every flake reflected the light, making an enchanting decor, and yet, I could not feel any inner peace.

Everything was in turmoil, and how could it not be?

My life upside down, nothing made sense anymore.

I hate crying over the unfairness of things, nothing good ever came from tears. But after 12 years of marriage, you'd expect some kind of appreciation, a bond, a connection that went beyond arguments.

He had always said I was too old-fashioned for him,that I should have been born in the 1800s, a time where my values actually meant something.

Usually, we managed to find common ground again, push past those silly fights and remember the good times. But the pandemic had me working nonstop and he had begun complaining, and then... just not caring anymore.

Those hated tears threatened to come up; event this remote place carried too many memories.

Going for a hike five years ago, snuggling in a blanket ten years ago, we had so many pleasant memories here. But now I was all alone. And all alone I would remain.

A perfect night: born in the country I had not lost the habit, I wasn't a city slicker all the way to the core. I knew to be careful, but I felt no fear in the woods.

" Don't fear the night, " my father had always said. " Fear what hides in the night, " he would add with a wink.

So I felt no fear; yet, when I heard loud fluttering, I let out a sharp squeal and whirled around to see the culprit: a large barnyard owl, flying in the night.

Set against the full Moon, it was as beautiful an image as I had seen in a long while and I stood there (heart beating a bit too fast) until he disappeared from view completely.

I looked back on the ground, and suddenly all the beauty of the night had vanished. There was no magic anymore, only darkness and cold.

I shivered, feeling bothered, a little unsettled, as though something had changed, but I didn't know why. I started walking, trying to chase that impression away.

That all the beauty in the world was gone for good, and all was left was pain and suffering.

Of course as this was what had been preventing me from sleeping, I supposed I would not get an easy way out of it by taking a walk anymore.

I would have to face it, because the night had become dark, the Moon suddenly and inexplicably gone.

It was time for me to get back to the cabin.

In the sudden darkness, I had trouble seeing my own footsteps in the snow, I was beginning to think I was running in circles, because I should have gotten back minutes ago.

Instead of panicking some more, I stopped walking, took a few deep breaths to get my mind back together.

Trying to retrace my steps, go over the turns I had taken to know how to get back to my home before I froze to death.

Was it my imagination or had the temperature dropped sharply?

I didn't hear until it was too late. Suddenly I was thrust to the ground, gasping in fear as someone was grappling me and crushing me, trying to get off me from what I could feel while slipping and falling because of the snow and unbridled panic.

I could tell he was overwhelmed by fear but I wasn't in such a better state and finally I managed to push him off and get a good look at him in the poor light of the night.

Teenager, maybe 13, small and scrawny, with frostbites on his nose and cheeks, and eyes wide with terror.

" Who are you? " I spurted out, incapable of doing anything else as he gasped raspily in the snow.

He looked exhausted and on the verge of collapse, sweat on his forehead, panic in his red-rimmed blue eyes. But still he managed to jump on his feet, looking like a cornered animal.

" Don't let them take me, don't let them take me! " he sputtered, looking more dead than alive.

" Who? Who is after you, what is going on here? Who are you? " I demanded, going out of my mind.

Something was wrong with him: I could smell his breath from here and he was definitely sick, perhaps delusional.

Or so I thought until he looked beyond me and cringed in panic: I whipped around and saw a man running towards us.

He was dressed in rags that had been patched over so many times his coat looked like old-fashioned quilt work. The teenager whimpered and tried to bolt but he was too weak and swooned; I ended up catching him before he fell to the ground, all the while watching the man coming nearer with growing fear.

He had stopped running and was now approaching with one hand at mid-level, as though to reassure me.

It only made me even more nervous, as I had no idea what was happening or why.

The boy was still conscious, but slipping from my arms, as I had trouble supporting his weight. He muttered under his breath: " Don't let him take me, don't let him take me, "

" Give him to me, " the man said, stopping a good ten feet away from us to show his good intentions.

" He's sick, I replied, trying to be firm and authoritative. What happened here? "

" He's my boy, the man said, a hint of desperation in his tone. He's sick, he's infected, not in his right mind. Please! Let me help him! "

" Take him to the hospital, what are you waiting for? What happened to him? " I insisted, as the boy was still pleading in a broken, nearly inaudible voice to protect him from 'them'. I could only assume he meant the man, his alleged father.

" Only hospital is in the Zone, can't take him there. Please, please, he doesn't have much time left. Please. "

" He'll take my arm, please don't let him, " the boy muttered before passing out; he was too heavy for me and we both fell in the snow, the man using this to rush to us. Not that I could have done much to stop him, but at least I would have tried.

He grabbed the boy before I could do anything and set him on his shoulders. This was surreal, I didn't know what to think or do, but I had never been one to stay idle or let injustice happen if I could stop it. The boy was in pain and scared of his 'father', so I had to intervene.

I was standing in his way before he could take more than five steps with the boy on his shoulders.

" What is wrong with him? I'm a nurse, I can help him, but you need to take him to a hospital if he's infected! If you are his father, you must care about him, he is terrified of you! Why? "

The man looked terrified himself; I got a better look at him and there was no doubt he and the boy shared family traits. But fathers didn't always have the best interest of their child at heart, and I couldn't let it go.

" He's infected, he's got the fever, there's nothing else to do, " he said, looking as though he would have liked to bolt off and avoid me and my questions altogether.

But I wasn't going to let that happen.

" Take him to the hospital. Whatever's wrong with him, they are equipped to deal with it, " I argued.

" No hospital is safe for him, please... he looked at me pleadingly. Please let me pass, I must bring him to safety. "

" My cabin is a few paces away, I retorted. Let me have a look at him, then, see what's wrong with him. I'm a nurse, I can help. "

He hesitated while his boy moaned and whimpered on his shoulder. I could see the fight in his head, the need to flee and do what he wanted to do, was used to do, and the hope that something better could happen.

I couldn't understand why he was hesitating, what he was waiting for. Even with the pandemic, hospitals were safe, the hygienic measures very severe, and his son needed that level of care.

A fluttering in the distance made him jumpstart. I looked back, wondering if it was the owl again, and the man grabbed my arm, making me gasp in fear.

" You have shelter? We need to get to it now! "

I don't know why but his panic was contagious and I found myself running alongside him in the dark forest, pushed by this irrepressible need to feel and hide.

Suddenly, was it the fear helping? I was able to see markers I thought I recognized, although they seemed deformed and out of place, and we quickly spotted the cabin in the darkness of the forest.

" Where's my car? I muttered as we ran past the driveway where there was absolutely no trace of tire tracks or any proof that I had parked my SUV there in the morning.

The door was jammed tight and everything looked so dusty but the second he set the boy on the kitchen table, all my attention was absorbed by his ailment.

There was almost no light and I went to get candles, only to find the drawers half-destroyed, hanging open, the wood dusty and disintegrating under my touch.

This was so strange but I could not really focus on it, as the boy whimpered and coughed, a sure sign that he was getting worse.

" Do you have water on you? I asked. There should be water in the fridge, but - "

I looked at the fridge, which had been pristine white when I had left for my walk. Now yellowish, the door half unhinged, nothing made sense, was this a bad dream of some kind?

But dream or not I was pushed by my instinct , and the boy's health was my top concern.

" I have a canteen, the man said. What can you do for him? "

I spared him a look and saw the hope in his eyes, which reassured me about his intentions. The boy was half-crazed and in pain, so he was panicking, but the father wanted the best for his son. He just didn't know better.

" We'll see," I answered, removing the coat which was wet with blood and definitely smelled of infection.

The shoulder was swollen and red; I had found one candle, no flashlight, nothing was where it should have been. I always carry a first aid kit with me wherever I go and I could not find a trace of it.

" I'd need alcohol to disinfect, do you have a scalpel, knife, anything? "

He carried a small backpack, innocuous in his tattered clothes, and pulled out a few items while I gave some water to the boy to relieve his thirst.

" What's his name? " I asked as I went through the drawers again, trying to remember where Tom kept his "good stuff". He had a bottle hidden somewhere, but as much as I scoured my memory, I couldn't recall.

The man lit the candle and fished out a second one from his pack. He had a few knives, bullets, bits of cloths, odds and ends, the sort of survival kit you could expect from a woodsman living on the edge.

" Jack, his name is Jack. " he answered me.

By the poor light of the candles, I examined the wound after removing the soaked makeshift bandage that had been applied over it. Jagged, uneven, suppurating pus and fluids, it was not a pretty sight.

" I will have to open it up, I said, staring at the man. This would go much better in a hospital, where they have all the tools, do you understand that? "

" They will kill us in the Zone, we aren't allowed, " he answered.

I was out of my mind, but somehow his assurance infected me, I was almost ready to believe it was true.

" I would need some alcohol, something to disinfect. " I grunted in frustration.

" I don't have any, " he admitted.

" My husband used to keep a bottle but I don't know where, I said, examining the wound while chewing on my lower lip. I really need something to disinfect, vinegar, salt, anything! "

" I will find, " he promised, going to rummage through the collapsing closets.

I took a deep breath and chose one of the smaller knives, checking its edge to be sure it was sharp enough for the task I intended to do with it.

" Jack, listen to me, I said grabbing the boy's chin and looking him straight in the eyes. This is going to hurt but I need you to hold on, to not move. Do you understand? Do not move or there will be more pain. "

Feverish and dazed, he still nodded, clenching his teeth in anticipation, trusting me to do everything other than an amputation.

Which was exactly what I intended to do.

" I really need some disinfectant," I gritted. My hands, usually very steady, were trembling. I couldn't start if I couldn't start right.

" Found it! " the man said, thrusting the bottle of whiskey in my face.

Half full, exactly the way Tom had left it: I could have cried.

I poured some on the wound and of course Jack writhed in pain: his father held him down as gently as he could, tears brimming in his eyes. I doubted he ever could have hurt his boy now, even to save his life.

" Hold him, don't let him move... What's your name? "

" Derek, he said. Please help him, miss. "

" I will try, " I promised, put a little off-balance by the name, just because it was the same as my father's.

I started cutting after pouring some alcohol on the knife, making sure both sides of the blade had been doused.

The flesh was bloated and smelled rotten already, but I could tell the wound was recent. Tendrils of red spread from the epicenter of the wound, indicating some sort of poisoning, but I had to clean the wound first, see what I was up against.

Usually infection was caused by foreign material inserted in the flesh that prevented the normal healing of the body. Here I was seeing a rapid liquefaction of the tissues with a strong pungent smell, which was a novelty for me, but I kept digging and pushing away flesh, knowing I had not yet reached the end of the wound.

I used the whiskey from time to time to clean away the blood and pus and allow to see beyond, at what had to be hindering the healing.

Finally I spotted something, some kind of filament that wasn't at its place. Black and stringy, I had no clue what it was but I grabbed it with the pliers I had found in Derek's pack, although they were bulky and difficult to use in flesh.

I tugged gently at first, then harder as the filament actually seemed to resist the thrust, wanting to embed deeper in to the flesh. As I squeezed harder to keep my hold on it, I saw the flesh around it turn to gray.

What was it made of? I didn't know anything that was so toxic to human flesh, was it radioactive?

" Pour some alcohol on it,Derek, please, now! " I ordered, hoping it would help.

Luckily Jack had fallen unconscious when the filament had started pouring out its toxic emanation, and Derek could follow my order and pour the whiskey down the wound.

The moment I was waiting for, as the whiskey seemed to make the bruised flesh liquefy a bit more, allowing me to pull harder.

I was merciless and Jack cried out in pain, torn from limbo by what must have been an incredible amount of torture.

" OH MY GOD! " Derek spurted out as the filament was writhing in the pliers, it looked - it was- alive.

Acting on instinct, I threw it on the floor and stomped on it as hard as I could, half expecting it to slither away like some nightmare creature.

But when I was done crushing and stomping, there it was, fuming, the wood around it dissolving partially, letting out a potent reek.

I looked at Derek for some kind of explanation but he only had eyes for his son, who was coughing and whimpering.

But also looked much better. Bright blood was flowing from his wound now and I hurried to staunch the flow as best I could, cleaning the wound many times with alcohol to try and remove the toxicity away, if I could.

I was just acting on instinct as my mind could not process what I had just seen; within minutes I had stitched the wound and made a field dressing that would have made any army medic proud.

Jack's breathing had become regular and color had returned to his cheeks; I couldn't say he was out of the woods yet, but I had never seen such miraculous improvement.

" Thank you, Derek said with unbridled emotion. Thank you, I didn't know it was a parasite. "

" Parasite? What, what just happened? " I put to him, at a complete loss.

" We can't stay, he said, looking outside. They will find us if we stay. "

He gathered his objects quickly and moved to take his son on his shoulders again; he wasn't one to sit idle by.

" Wait, what just happened? What is going on? Tell me, please! No don't do that, don't move him! "

" Come with us, don't stay here, Derek said. If we stay here, they'll find us! "

" Who will find us, what? " I questioned, trying to keep up with him as he near ran out of the cabin.

" They will. They control the Zone. Come with us, we need people like you! " he urged.

I found myself falling in step, if only to know what was going on.

" What is going on? What is this?! "

" Shh, he said. They hear so well. You know my mother always said: " Don't fear the Night; fear what lives in the Night. " They live in the night, they own it. Shhh... "

I stumbled, feeling so eerie all of a sudden; I fell behind, not able to put one foot after the next anymore.

" She also always said: It's always darkest before the dawn. I never believed her until tonight, until I met you, " he added, his last sentence a barely audible whisper, as I was too far away.

I wanted to call him back, say something, a million questions in my head, but a flutter cut me in mid-sentence, and I whipped around in fear.

The large owl again, swinging by the setting moon, wings fully deployed...

And when it was gone, disappeared from view, the night was changed again.

Glittering...

And I could see no sign of Derek's footsteps anywhere.

I stood there for a long minute, trying to place the events in my mind, trying to understand what had just happened.

The fear was gone, the urgency, had it all been a lucid dream?

I found my way back to the cabin, there was my SUV, my first aid kit, water aplenty in the new fridge. Nothing changed, nothing disturbed, no trace that this had been real.

Maybe it had all been a dream, although it seemed so real.

I looked out the window, the Moon was huge and majestic, hanging over the horizon... and in the light I saw blood on my cuffs.

" Don't fear the night, I muttered slowly under my breath. Fear what lives in it. "

THE END