Shadows

Morton was trapped. Lucid, but not quite conscious. Mentally, he was aware of what he was seeing; and it went on, one horrific nightmare at a time. He had tried to keep track, making rough estimations of the duration of each bit of his life that he watched, but it escaped him. He clung to his composure for as long as he was able, but the barrage of horror had proven to be to much. As the wheel of memories spun on, Morton found himself pleading for the end, his own voice echoing through his mind in this new plane of existence.

As the memories came and went, Morton began realizing that he was coming close to the end, as he watched fragments of his last case in Houston. A piece of chocolate cake, tear soaked as a child’s birthday was celebrated in the absence of her mother. The promise made. The insomnia. The endless weeks, punctuated by false hopes. A body found, mangled passed being identifiable. The waiting. The anxiety as the phone rang. The DNA results. The positive match.

And finally, Jen. The cycled repeated, decorated with insomnia, adorned with false hope. Anxiety set in, as he started to imagine what would follow. Was this the road to hell after all, and would he soon be arriving? Or, was this his own private hell, an infinite loop of personal horrors. He watched as his knuckles met the wooden desk, listened to himself shout at Brian in desperation. And then, black.

Morton’s eyes began to adjust, and the world around him was coming into focus. He found himself on his hands and knees, gripping at the cool dirt beneath him. As he looked up, he saw what used to be his shadow, as it slowly began to lay down , becoming a two dimensional silhouette once more, flattening itself in a position not synchronous with his own. As it retreated, he heard the cold whisper “Misery will not follow. Come now.”

Alas, silence. Morton stayed on his hands and knees, trembling as he tried to process what had occurred. The time, he thought, lifting his left hand to glimpse at his watch, the display mocked him. 4:02 A.M., January 23rd. He stared, as the second hand made it’s lap, 4:03 A.M. Tears swelled up in his eyes as they left the watch, and landed on the shadow, and the words echoed back Misery will not follow. Come now. Reality became mere fragments of a whole, as sanity escaped with his tears, dissolving into the earth as he crawled towards the shadow.

A feeling of salvation had overcome him. He couldn’t process the reasoning behind his own actions, but he drew closer. He tossed his phone, his watch, his cuffs and sidearm, as he rolled onto his back, and began positioning his body within his shadow. Tears rolling down his cheeks as he stretched his arms out, and brought his legs together in a straight, stiff manner. Salvation he thought again, as his body made the final positioning within his shadow, forming a cross on the cool, damp ground as he closed his eyes.

Time had passed. Morton released a long exhale, as if he had been holding his breath, as he regained consciousness. He tried to open his eyes, but they were heavy, and unacclimated as they tried to take in the bright light, the stinging quickly forcing them shut again. A slight delirium was still about him, as he made his way to his feet. His body cracked and creaked as he tried to stretch the exhaustion and stiffness out. He tried to tame his disheveled hair, pushing it back with his fingers as pieces of dirt, straw and grass fell to the ground. Quick successions of blinking, as he began to allow his eyes to adjust to the brightness, his surroundings slowly coming into focus.

His first coherent thought, What the fuck? As he took in the surroundings. Light streaming through the plank wooden walls and antiquated roof, the dirt under his feet, the wooden rung ladder leading to a small loft; a few bails of hay. A barn? Why am I in a Barn?he thought to himself, as lucidity finally began to scrub away the delirium. A sense of panic accompanied the initial shock of the unknowingness, as Morton struggled to recollect memories of where he was, or how he got there.

Instinctually, he began searching himself for his phone, his watch, his sidearm, all of which were gone. Stay calm, he told himself, as he made his way to the small man door on the opposite side of the structure. The knob turned, but the door refused to budge as he began pushing it. The panic started to magnify, as he jostled the door with intense aggression, but with no success.

“Please fucking work.” He whispered to the empty area, as he started to eye the large rolling door.

He grabbed the large brass handle, and gave a first pull, followed by a second, and then a third, trying to increase the effort with each succession. The door creaked and rattled, but wouldn’t move from it’s position. He positioned his feet agains the frame, and grabbed the handle as he lifted himself off of the ground, pulling and pushing with his legs. Morton let out a load scream, as he exerted every bit of strength at his disposal, pushing his body to it’s limits, in complete futility.

He was exhausted from the defeat, he leaned up against the barn door, and sunk to the ground, drawing his knees inward, resting his head on his hands as he began to mutter out loud.

“Alright, think Morton, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

He slowed his breathing, and concentrated in the silence as he began to grease the gears of his memories, attempting to recollect events prior. Jen, he thought, we were looking for Jen. Slowly, things began to come back to him, small fragments at a time at a time at first; minor details, and then a freight train, as memories began rushing back into his head. His mind flooded with images; the darkness of the barn, the shadow, he remembered himself weeping as he laid down inside of that shadow, his shadow.

His breathing became shallow and hasty. He knew what had happened, or at least, he remembered the events. However, there was a void in his understanding creating a vacuum of uncertainty, where he now existed. He grappled with his mind, barely being able to keep himself from coming unwound with questioning the meaning of the circumstances. Focus, he thought, focus on what’s in front of you. How do we get out of this barn?

He gave up his position against the door, and did exactly that. Morton went to work on a problem that he could approach from a more logical angle. The problem is obvious he thought, getting the fuck out of this barn. The solution is going to be a way out besides these goddamn doors. He began walking the perimeter, pushing firmly on all of the boards as he moved along, searching for one that would give way to egress, recollecting having been in the middle of this exact search, presumably just a few hours ago.

Morton was starting his way down the second wall, pushing, pulling and kicking boards as he went along the wall underneath of the loft landing. As he had finished his ritual inspection on a couple of boards, when a scuffing sound from directly above caught his attention.

“Is someone else in here?” He called out, sternness in his voice masking his anxiousness.

He waited for a reply, but received only silence. A few seconds passed by, he quietly began walking out from under the loft. Another light shuffling noise. He hurried out from under the loft, being quick to survey what he could see so as to not be ambushed. His scans didn’t reveal anything as he backed away to increase his vision of the landing above. Nothing up there, but the few old, dry bales of hay he had seen before. Certain of what he had heard, he called again.

“This is detective Morton Williams! Put both hands up where I can see them NOW!”

He waited patiently, maintaining a steady eye on the bales. Seconds ticked away slowly, exaggerating the tension placed on Morton’s nerves, and then he saw hands, shaky as they slowly stretched upward, small and feminine in nature. A voice from behind the bales followed, “Are you really a cop?” “Yes, I’m detective Morton Williams! Step up from behind the hay bales.” Hearing the trembling in the female’s voice, he forced a timidness on his voice.

Morton watched as a face, dirt covered and stricken with fear, emerged from behind the bales. Morton recognized the face almost instantaneously. “Jen? Jen Wright?”, doubtfulness ringing in his face.

“Yes, yes that’s me, Jennifer Wright!”

“Jesus Christ, I’ve been looking for you!”

The young girl quickly made her way to the ladder, a smile beaming from her face as she hastily climbed down, Morton reaching his hand out to help her down the last few rungs. The moment her feet hit the ground, she lunged at Morton in an embrace, hugging him tightly, repeating herself “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Morton stepped back, prying himself from her embrace. The desperation on Jen’s face was heartbreaking, as Morton searched for the words to say. She was wrecked, her long brown hair matted, tangled and dusty. Her green eyes a sharp contrast against the dirt that painted her face.

Jen didn’t waste time, pleading“Can we please go? Please, please, please can we go?”

In an attempt to try and appear optimistic, Morton finally replied, “As soon as we find a way out of here, the doors aren’t opening, but I’ve been looking for an alternative.”

“What?” Jen just stared as tears began to swell up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as she processed, “I don’t understand, how did you get in here then?”

“I really don’t know.”

Jen began tugging on the sleeves of Morton’s shirt, becoming frantic, unable to fully comprehend the situation, her pleading transforming into a babbling screaming as she begged, “We have to go, you have to get me out of here, please we have to fucking get out of here!”

Morton didn’t fully understand the circumstances himself. He tried to make sense of it behind her delirium, but found himself unable to concentrate as her incoherent screaming continued, finally he lost patience.

“Stop!” He yelled, “Just stop so I can fucking think!”

The sternness of his voice startled her, and the wailing ceased. Jen reduced to a steady stream of tears, and rapid, shallow breathing as she collapsed to the dirt, pulling her knees to her chest as she buried her head, muffling her crying.

Moments passed as Morton tried to wrap his own mind around the situation, fruitless in his attempt to make any sense of it, he decided to focus once again on the problem that he could see in front of him.

“Alright,” he said, “it’s going to be fine. I need you to try and stay calm though, we’re going to get out of here.”

Jen looked up, her eyes swollen and bloodshot, her voice devoid of hope, “I don’t think we can.”

“It’s a barn,” he said, “now, maybe someone has locked us in from the outside, I don’t know, but we’re going to find a way out of here, I’m going to need you to help me though.” He extended his hand out to Jen.

Jen stared at his extended hand, lost in contemplation. Moments passed before she finally placed her hand in his, allowing him to help lift her to her feet. She dried her eyes on the sleeve of her dirty jacket, and let out a sigh. “Ok, ok, so what do we do?”

“Help me keep checking for loose boards, push on every one of them has hard as you can. Kick them, shake them, anything you can do to try and loosen one. You start there,” he pointed to the wall adjacent to where he had started, and motioned the direction she should work in, “I’ll start back over here, and we’ll meet in the middle. Yell if you find one that’s loose.”

Without any further exchange of words, they went to work. The thudding from their efforts echoing through the barn, punctuated by brief moments of silence as they moved to a new group of boards in synchronization. Time passed as they both persistently worked their walls, anxiety growing in both as they neared each other on the final wall, until they finally met, with no promise of an exit.

Jen grew shaky, as the realization of her entrapment settled back in. Morton could see that she was on the verge of another breakdown, and took to being proactive in avoiding it.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Jen, this is what I do, I solve puzzles. I promise, we will figure it out.” Morton leaned against the wall, and slid down to the ground, resting his arms on his knees. “Come on, take a break.”

Jen accepted his invitation, and slid down to rest next to him.

“Alright Jen, as long as we’re here, why don’t you tell me what happened? How did you get here?”

“I had to have been drugged, or something,” Jen replied, “I mean, what I remember sounds insane, even to me.”

“Well, tell me what you remember, however insane it sounds. Start at the beginning, why did you come in here?”

Jen began to download her recollection, explaining everything to Morton. She described how she had come into the barn as a dare, she was supposed to run in, snap a selfie, and get right out. Hesitantly, she told Morton about how the light from her phone came on for the picture, and as she was looking at herself in the screen, she saw her shadow moving without her. She told him about she remembered turning around, and being grabbed by her shadow, how she had become trapped in some loop of her worst moments, and how she then woke up, still in this barn, with the doors locked.

“What about food and water?” Morton’s first thought.

“Someone shows up whenever I sleep, I tried to stay awake, to see who it was, but nobody ever comes in unless I’m asleep.” She said, “But whenever I wake up, there’s food, and there’s water up there.” Pointing to the loft landing. “What about you?”

“I’ve been looking for you,” he responded, “but how I wound up here, well, my story is very similar. The shadow, the memories, all of it.”

Jen didn’t respond for a few moments, shocked that her memories weren’t as insane as she had thought. The realization shuddered across her body. “What now?” Jen asked.

Morton didn’t respond immediately, moments of silence passed, before Morton voiced a realization that fell upon him.”Have you been in this barn the entire time?”

Jen stared at him, a look of slight confusion on her face, “Yes, why?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

Morton processed for a minute before revealing his logic, “Then it has to be a different barn. We have to be in a different barn then the one we were taken from.”

“It’s the same barn.” Jen replied, annoyance in her voice as she pointed to a carving on one of the beams, initials inside of a heart. “I’ve been in this barn before, lots of times, and that carving has always been here.”

Morton remembered the carving, and took a deep breath before beginning to explain, “Jen, I’ve been in the barn, every day for the last three days. More than once, from sunrise to sunset. We’ve searched every inch of this barn.”

Jen didn’t quite understand what he was saying. Morton picked up on the confusion, and tried to elaborate.

“What I’m saying, is that if it’s the same barn. And you’re certain that you’ve never been out of the barn, and I’ve been inside of the barn, every day, how would I not have seen you here? Do you understand?”

Jennifer sat quietly, processing the information.

Morton reiterated, “How, how can you and I be in the same place, at the same time, without ever seeing each other?”

Jennifer didn’t have an answer.