Come the Dark – A Dystopian Story

September 1, 2023

A Lone Survivor Story with a Dystopian Twist

*Disclaimer: This is a draft of a story posted here as a proof of concept, meaning it is incomplete and contains errors in grammar, punctuation, and writing mechanics. You might even notice notes I’ve written to myself. Whether this story every moves beyond the proof of concept phase is to be determined. This version is placed here for your enjoyment. Due to graphic descriptions, strong language, and sensitive subject matter, this story is intended only for mature readers.

Come the Dark (working title)

The food was gone, and so were the last of Noah’s excuses. His futile protest twenty cycles ago assured him he could survive for a cycle and a half without food, but that was before the water reclaimer broke and the last of the medical supplies had also run out. A flickering light overhead drove the point home. He shook his head and sighed.

A squeaking sound behind him drew his attention away from the gray oxygen suit mounted on the display mannequin. He turned toward the sound and allowed himself a half-hearted smile. Chester, his arthritic Jack Russel Terrier, bit lazily into the last of the toys Father had left him. Noah’s smile disappeared when he took too long of a look at Chester’s emaciated body. Most of Chester’s teeth were missing, and the dog’s fur was matted and knotted.

Noah squatted down and rubbed behind Chester’s ear. “You’re leaving me soon too, aren’t you, buddy?” The light flickered again, staying off longer this time. Chester fell asleep, which never would have happened in the first few cycles. Noah sighed and stood, scrunching his nose to ward off the pungent odor coming from Chester and the broken incinerator.

“If this incinerator goes down, you’ll be dealing with toxic gasses in under two cycles.”

Every broken item brought Father’s voice from the back of Noah’s mind. Every busted pipe. Every depleted resource. They all served as constant reminders that Noah was nothing like his father, but Edwin Trace had never accepted that excuse from Noah. In fact, Noah’s father had never accepted any excuse. Well, with the exception of one, an excuse reserved for himself less than three cycles after they’d sealed the hatch and it had become clear the rations were insufficient for two survivors.

Noah turned his head, despite himself, and glanced at the dark stain on the concrete floor. The blood had long since been cleaned up, scrubbed away by the the delicate hands and salty tears of an eight year old boy robbed of his naivety of the world’s cruelty.

There was a long but weak exhaling sound at his feet. Noah looked down and immediately knew Chester had taken his last breath of artificial air in the ark. Just a puppy the day Father sealed the hatch, Chester had lived thirteen cycles longer than the expected one hundred and sixty-five Father had promised. Noah tightened his jaw, resisting the tears rimming his eyes, as he clenched his teeth.

“I didn’t mean right this minute, you stupid mutt.” Noah chuckled, softly at first, until his shoulders trembled. His laughter morphed into sobs, and he fell to his knees. He bent over and pressed his forehead against Chester’s. Above him, the light buzzed and flickered before burning out.

Three days without water. Noah licked his cracked lips as he stared at the generator gauges. The black and white counter on the smaller gauge flipped from twenty-three to twenty-four. To the right, a larger gauge flipped from twenty-seven to twenty-eight. Noah reached up and used a tiny piece of chalk to scratch a number onto the concrete wall beside the gauges.

One hundred and seventy-eight cycles. Noah let the chalk fall from his greasy fingers. He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. The effort almost choked him, and he was forced to take a deep breath. The rotten fumes of the ark made him instantly regret that deep breath, and he had to fight back a wave of nausea.

“If you ever get dehydrated, do your best not to throw up.”

Noah pressed the back of his wrist to his nose and turned away from the generator. Guided only by the dim red glow of the emergency lights, he stumbled his way to the other side of the ark where he almost fell into the water reclamator. Noah dry heaved, unable to bear the rancid smell any longer. He placed his fingers beneath the reclamator’s tap. Bone dry.

He slammed his palm against the rusted reclamator and turned away, catching a glimpse of the bundled blanket on top of the incinerator. It had taken him nearly a day to muster the courage to wrap Chester’s body in the blanket. Even then, he’d sat on the floor for several hours, rocking back and forth with the dog cradled to his chest. Now, a week later, Chester was nothing more than a rancid smell and a painful memory.

Noah ran to his cot, dropped to his knees, and pulled a trunk from beneath it. He ripped it open and quickly yanked out an old shirt. With tears in his eyes, he wrapped the shirt around his face and tied it around his neck. The makeshift mask did little to block out the smell, but it was enough for him to breathe without gagging. He left the trunk open and sat on the cot. Elbows on his thighs, he covered his face with his hands. He stayed that way, no longer reisisting the tears.

“Sitting there crying isn’t going to fix the problem.”

Noah lifted his head and lowered his arms. For the first time in his life, his father’s voice didn’t comfort him. His lip curled beneath his t-shirt mask, and Noah stood. He clenched his fists at his sides and shouted. He kicked the trunk, sending it flying across the floor. That brought a small sense of relief but not enough. Noah turned and flipped over his cot, then picked it up and threw it.

“Have you lost your mind, boy?”

Noah stood in the middle of the ark, chest heaving. Slowly, he unclenched his fists and turned. His father stood in front of the generator. Noah knew it was a hallucination brought on by hunger and dehydration, but it still startled him. He stumbled back a few steps, shaking his head.

“You’re not here. You’re not real.”

Edwin chuckled. “No, I’m not, but I think you could use my help.”

Noah pulled his mask down under his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Your help?” He laughed. “Your help? Oh now I need your help?”

Edwin held up his hands, palms facing out. “Noah, listen to me.”

“I had to burn your body!” Noah screamed.

Edwin patted the air. “Noah, please.”

“Fuck you!” Noah grabbed a book off the shelf behind him and hurled it at his father.

The book sailed across the ark, and the corner of the spine hit the generator. The bigger gauge cracked, and the book fell to the floor, a torn page falling away. His father was gone. Noah gasped.

“No.” He brought his hand to his mouth and covered it. “No,” he whispered. “Come back. Please come back.”

The emergency lights flickered, and Noah collapsed.

Noah stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the sealed hatch. He hadn’t moved in nearly an hour. His neck muscles throbbed, and his legs were cramped—both from a lack of water and standing motionless for so long. The straps of the pack he wore on his back dug into his shoulders, and his mind begged him to adjust them, but he couldn’t move.

He took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out slowly.

Finally, he stepped back and turned away from the hatch. “It’s time, Noah. Come on.” He took another deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Pause and breathe. Most of the problems we face get worse when we forget to pause and breathe, Noah.”

Noah opened his eyes and looked around the dimly lit ark. The green glow of half a dozen chemical lights scattered on the floor kept him from being swallowed by the impenetrable darkness he’d experienced while stumbling around once the emergency lights had burned out. The whole time he groped through the darkness in search of the box of checmical lights, his father’s voice had haunted him.

“A place for everything, and everything in its place.”

It wasn’t that Noah didn’t know where everything was. He’d lived in a twenty-four by twenty-four foot box most of his life. He knew exactly where everything was and how much of everything there was. It was the weight of the darkness that had gotten to him. Almost instantly, panic had set in. Father always told him that when once sense is taken away, the other senses are heightened to compensate. Father must have left out the sheer terror of being alone, hundreds of feet below the surface, trapped in a concrete box without light.

It was almost tangible, as if Noah could’ve reached out and grabbed the darkness. Only, it was the other way around, as if the darkness lingered just beyond him, ready to devour him. And it was cold. Whether real or conjured by his increasing paranoia, Noah couldn’t be sure, but the absolute blackness of it all felt cold. And alive. The darkness was his enemy.

Noah clenched his jaw and pounded his fist into his leg. “Stop it.” He inhaled slowly, through his nose, then paused, counted to five, and slowly exhaled through his mouth. A few more breaths like that, and his heart stopped racing. “You found the lights. You’re fine.”

But he wasn’t fine, and he knew it. Days without water. A week without food. No real sleep in days. Toxic fumes keeping him awake and nausious. He was anything but fine. He might die on the surface—if there was still a surface up there—but he most certainly would die in the ark if he stayed. There were no more choices to debate.

“The day will come when you will need to open the hatch and leave the ark.”

Noah tried to ignore the voice as he walked to his cot and picked up his helmet. He knew it was ready to go; he’d inspected every piece of the oxygen suit.

“Just like I taught you.”

Noah closed his eyes. “You’re not real.” He slowly opened his eyes and turned around.

Edwin stood at the bottom of the ladder. “Now remember, once you unseal the hatch, whatever atmosphere is up there will breach the ark, so make sure you’re wearing your suit and you’ve ran all the checks first.”

Noah nodded. “I know, Father. You told me dozens of times.”

Edwin nodded and folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah. Well, I guess you’re ready, then.”

Noah laughed. “Ready? Ready for what? I have no idea what it’s like up there.” He pointed at the hatch. “I don’t even know if there is a there up there!”

Edwin started to speak but stopped himself and lowered his eyes.

Noah shook his head. “Just go.” He looked down at his helmet. He could just barely make out his reflection in the face shield.

“Noah, please listen—”

“I said go.” Noah snapped his head up, and found himself alone again. Not again, he thought. Always alone. Never not alone.

He put his helmet on, checked that the clasps were secure, and took his first step toward the ladder.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

Noah repeated the mantra in his head as he stood, frozen on the ladder. He thought the paralyzing anxiety of opening the hatch for the first time in nearly two hundred cycles was bad, but now, a hundred feet up on a rusted ladder two hundred feet below the surface, he rethought his definition of paralyzing.

He clenched his teeth and exhaled, blasting air into his already fogged up face shield. His arms gripped a rung of the ladder, wrapped around it like it was a person attacking him and he’d managed to get a hold of its neck. Perched on the ladder, his legs shook, and his feet felt heavy from pooling blood. If he didn’t move soon, simple physics would solve his fear problem for him.

“Never slack up on your exercises.”

Noah groaned. “Not now, old man.” Father’s voice had been haunting him the entire climb. As he’d stood, staring up into the cavern above the ark, the voice had told him to get moving.

“You only have a few hours of oxygen in the suit, so make the climb as quickly as possible.”

Noah clenched his jaw and willed one hand up. He tentatively gripped the next rung and pulled himself up. Why the suit only had a few hours of oxygen was a question that nagged at his conscious. That question, and the reminder to himself not to look down, dominated his thoughts as he resumed the climb. He kept other thoughts—the images of Chester, the bloodstain, a cracked gauge—and questions at bay the best he could. Questions like: Why did everything in the ark seem designed to only last a set amount of time? and why did his father insist on Noah reading all those books about the before times?

Something crawled onto his hand, and Noah instinctively jerked it away. With only one hand on the ladder, he slipped and lost his footing. He heard the squeaking of a rat and saw the creature’s long teeth just before it fell into the empty space of the cavern. Noah screamed as his arm jerked from the sudden weight of his body, but he held onto the ladder. Years of repairing things by hand had strengthened his grip. That did little to comfort him, however, because his feet were dangling over the blackness of the cavern. Gritting his teeth, he reached out with his free hand. The sudden motion made his body sway, and he missed the ladder on the first try but got it on the seond attempt. He quickly stepped back onto the ladder, his foot slipping once.

He wrapped his arms around the ladder and pulled his body against it, chest heaving. Don’t look down.

It didn’t make sense.

Noah craned his neck and stared up at the hatch. It had taken nearly two hours, but he’d reached the top of the ladder. His arms ached and his legs felt like a hundred pounds. He wanted nothing more than to thrust the hatch open and climb out of the tunnel. Toxic air or not, hostiles waiting to gun him down or take him hostage; Noah didn’t care.

“Take the time to calculate your moves. Don’t let your emotions guide you into rash decisions.”

“Well that’s hypocritical, coming from you.” Noah looked down, shaking his head and scolding himself. Focus, Noah.

He looked up again and examined the hatch. The design made no sense. It was circular and wide enough for someone twice his size to fit through easily, but that also meant it was heavy. It appeared to take three steps to open it. First, he would have to turn the wheel bolted to the center of the hatch. Noah assumed that relieved the pressure. Next, he would have to unbuckle the large clasps on the left and right that secured the hatch to the tunnel’s ceiling. The final step would be to pull the lever behind the wheel and push the hatch open. The steps sounded simple enough, but Noah coud barely move his arms.

Why would they make it so complicated after such a tough climb?

He pulled himself against the ladder, draped one arm through a rung, and pressed his helmet against it. He didn’t need time to think. The answers to his questions were irrelevant. No one was up there to explain it to him. And, he supposed it ultimately made sense. A simpler hatch could’ve been breached. It needed to be secure and air tight. He would just have to rest for a while and let his arms recover.

The earth rumbled below him, so sudden and powerful that it shook the ladder. Noah gasped as his foot slipped, but he caught himself with the arm he’d draped over one of the ladder’s rungs. He tightened his grip with his other hand and squeezed his draped arm as tight as he could as he scrambled to regain his footing. The rumbling increased, and heat rose in the cavern.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

He looked down.

The atmosphere below him shimmered, reminding him of the time he’d spilled oil for the generator . It was as if the air beneath him had oil floating in it. Noah narrowed his eyes, his mind running through possible scenarios to explain this new phenomenon. The realization hit him just before the shimmering air was replaced by a bright orange glow.

“Gas!” Noah turned back to the hatch and reached for the wheel. He almost lost his footing again but wrapped his fingers around the wheel and held on tight. It was too heavy to turn with one hand. Noah reached up with his other hand and tried to turn the wheel. It didn’t budge. Heat rose through the cavern; he could feel it in the soles of his boots. His heart pumped hard. Fighting to keep himself from hyperventilating, Noah clenched his jaw and jerked on the wheel. The rumbling grew louder, rising like a crescendo.

Then it stopped. Everything stopped. It was as if time froze and the air had been sucked out of the cavern. The ark exploded, rocking the cavern. The ladder shook so hard that Noah slipped off it completely. One hand slipped from the wheel, and he dangled above the two hundred foot drop, staring down at a rising fireball. He shouted and threw his other arm back up. He missed the first time but caught hold of the wheel on the second attempt. The momentum was enough to nudge the wheel a tiny bit. Noah kicked out and hooked his toe under a rung of the ladder. He pulled himself in and secured his footing, then pulled with all his strength.

The wheel finally gave in. The sudden change in momentum almost made him stumble, but he held on out of sheer desparation. He cranked the wheel, hand over hand, until it finally spun freely. Noah stepped up on the ladder and unbuckled the clasps. The fireball reached him, blinding him, and he yelled as his boots caught on fire. The fire wasted no time, instantly licking its way up his boots, up the pants of the oxygen suit until his whole suit was on fire.

“The suits are designed to withstand harsh environments. They’re resistant to chemicals and flame retardant.”

It was a lie. Father had lied to him. Noah resisted the thought, trying to rationalize it even as the flames engulfed him. His hand, gripping the ladder, caught fire. Noah threw his head back and wailed. All thoughts vanished except one: open the hatch. He reached up and yanked the lever down. A rush of cold air swept over him, temporarily asuaging the flames, and he pushed up on the hatch. As the hatch opened upward, the flames took on new life and shot through the opening. His suit nearly burned completely off, Noah climbed up and threw himself out of the hole.

Blasts of powdery air covered him from multiple directions. A cloud of the powder engulfed him, and the flames died. Slowly, the air cleared, powder falling all around him. Noah’s head swooned, and his vision darkened. Dark figures stood over him. One of them leaned down, penetrating the dust cloud so that her face became clear. She smiled and spoke.

“Hello, Noah.”

Noah’s world went dark.

Fire! I’m on fire!

The flames shot through the hatch like one of the volcanoes from the books about the before times. Noah threw his arms over his eyes. He screamed as the plastic face shield of his oxygen helmet melted away, and the fire licked its way in. Far away, someone shouted his name over and over again, but all he could do was flail back and forth as the flames engulfed him.

Something grabbed his arm, and he shot up. He was instantly thrown back by a powerful, unseen force around his upper body and wrists. His chest burned, and he snapped his eyes open. Brilliant white light flooded his senses, and he turned his head, eyes squeezed shut. The fire was gone, but he could still feel the heat crawling over his body. Finally, he forced his eyes open and looked down at his chest.

A leather strap held him down to a bed. His wrists were also secured with leather straps. Someone had dressed him in a thin, robe and wrapped parts of his body in bandages. Metal rails lined the side of the bed. Noah fought to control his breathing as he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a brightly lit room. So bright he had to squint because he’d been living in dim lights most of his life. The walls were white. And clean. Noah gasped at how clean the walls were. He craned his neck to stare up at the ceiling but had to immediately look away, nearly blinded by row after row of hot, white lights.

“Hello?” His voice bounced off the walls, and he looked around, surprised by the echo. He cleared his throat and called out again, softer this time.

A voice came from somewhere he couldn’t see. “Hello, Noah.” A woman’s voice.

Noah looked left and right, heart pounding rapidly. “Who said that?”

“Try to stay calm, Noah.” The voice was soft. It might have been comforting if not for the fact that Noah was strapped to a bed in a place that wasn’t supposed to exist with an invisible person talking to him.

“There is no one left, Noah. You must stay alive. You are the the last surviving human, and it will be up to you to restore what’s left up there.”

Liar.

Noah struggled against the straps around his wrists. “Let me out! I want out of here now!”

“Please calm down, Noah.”

Noah snorted. Like hell I will. He jerked his wrists back and forth, then balled his fists and pulled as hard as he could. The veins stood out on his arms, but it was useless. He shouted and relaxed his arms, plopping his head back on the bed. There must have been a pillow behind him because it was soft and cool.

“Who are you?” He didn’t try to restrain the anger in his voice.

“We’re here to help you, Noah.”

“You’re not supposed to be here. He told me everyone’s dead. How are you alive?”

“Please calm down, and we’ll explain everything.”

Noah leaned forward, jaw tight, seething. Then he heard voices. And were they arguing? He turned his head and strained to hear, even though he had no real concept of which direction—if any—the voices were coming from.

“It’s a bad idea,” the woman whispered. Her voice had turned harsh.

“Do you actually think there’s a scenario where he doesn’t freak out?” a man asked. Noah went cold at the sound of the voice.

“Edwin, don’t you dare open that damn door,” the woman said.

“Time to rip off the bandaid,” the man said.

Across from Noah, a door opened, and a man stepped into the room. He was older than he remembered, wearing a long white coat instead of greasy overalls, but Noah knew the face all too well. Had seen it, blood-stained, in his dreams and waking nightmares for hundreds of cycles.

“Father?”

The man put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Hello, Noah.”

Father is alive?

Noah tried to speak, but all that came out were noises that might have been the beginning of words. He suddenly felt the pain of the burns covering his body, and he felt nauseous.

Edwin took his hands off his hips and walked forward. “I know this is all very unsettling, but please let me explain, Noah.”

Noah wanted to scream, “Okay. How about you start by explaining how you’re alive when I found you dead and burned your body?” That’s what he wanted to say. What came out of his mouth was an incoherent croak.

Edwin stopped beside the bed, towering above Noah. “You’re probably wondering how I’m alive. After all, you did find my body. Disposed of it as well.” He offered a sheepish smile. “Am I close?”

Noah swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded.

Edwin nodded in response. “There’s no easy way to say this, Noah. I’m not your father. Not in the traditional sense. That wasn’t me you cremated in the incinerator.”

Noah finally managed to talk. “I don’t understand. What’s happening?”

Edwin turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. “The thing is, you weren’t supposed to survive the fire. None of you ever survive the fire.”

Noah thought his heart stopped for a moment. His eyes couldn’t have opened wider if he’d tried. “What?” he stammered.

Edwin snatched his hand from his neck and spun back to Noah. “How the hell did you get that damn hatch open?” His face contorted, full of anger and turning red. “That climb is two hundred feet with minimum oxygen. You shouldn’t have been able to grab that wheel, let alone actually turn it. How did you do it?” He rushed toward Noah and grabbed his robe in his fists. He pulled Noah up as far as the restraints would allow and brought his face within inches. “Answer me!”

Blood pounded in Noah’s temples, and his breaths came out in shallow bursts. The door flew open, and three large men wearing all black rushed in. They ran to Edwin and pulled him away from Noah. Behind them, a woman walked through the doorway. She was young, maybe thirty or forty cycles older than Noah. She wore glasses and walked toward him casually, as if nothing was happening.

“Take Dr. Trace to his quarters,” she said. “Don’t let him leave without my authorization.”

One of the black clad men said “yes ma’am” as the three men pushed and pulled Edwin toward the door. He resisted them, trying to plant his feet to stop their momentum and shouting curses at them. When they got him tot he door, he yelled over his shoulder, “he shouldn’t be here!” Two of the men got him through the door, and the third shut it behind them.

The woman had been watching them. Once the door was closed, she turned back to Noah and smiled. “My apologies for Dr. Trace’s behavior. You have to understand this is all quite unprecedented for us.”

Noah leaned as far forward as he could. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on? How is my father alive? What is this place? How are all of you alive, and how are we breathing without oxygen suits?”

The woman came closer, patting her hands in the air. “Slow down, Noah. I’m going to answer all of your questions, but I need you to calm down.”

“Calm down? Would you be calm if you were me?”

She stopped at the foot of the bed and smiled. “No. I suppose not.”

“Well then stop telling me to calm down, and start telling me what’s happening. And let me out of these restraints!”

She nodded. “Of course.” She came to the right side of the bed and reached for the restraint on his wrist, then paused with her hands above it. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

“I just want answers.”

She smiled again and removed the strap. Noah could smell her as she reached across to unbuckle his other wrist, then leaned toward him to remove the restraint from around his chest. She smelled clean and—he didn’t know. The fragrance was pleasant, but the only smells he recognized were the greasy, stale odors of the ark.

When she was done, the woman stood up straight and placed her hands, one on top of the other, in front of her waist. “There you go. Would you like to sit up?” Noah nodded. She lowered the rail, then reached out to help him, but he held up his hand. She pulled her hand away and put it back on top of the other.

Noah swung his legs over the side and sat up on the edge of the bed. The metal rail was cold against his bandages, and it stung the burns on his legs.

“My name is Dr. Bessel, but please call me Elise. I’m absolutely thrilled to meet you, Noah. Now, are you hungry?” she asked. “It’s been a while since you’ve eaten, and I know you must be thirsty.”

As if her words triggered it, Noah’s mouth suddenly felt dry. His lips were cracked, and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. He glared at her. She offered a thin-lipped smile in return. Finally, he asked, “do you have water?”

Surrounded by the black clad guards, Elise led Noah from the bright room into an equally bright hallway. They rode in a moving closet. Elise called it an elevator and told him they were going to the ground level.

“There’s something I want you to see.” She smiled as the elevator jolted.

Noah instinctively reached for the wall and felt his stomach lurch. Elise touched his shoulder gently, and he relaxed. As the elevator came to a stop, it occured to Noah that he was riding in an automated mechanism that quickly ascended and descended a shaft. Whoever these people were, they possessed this level of technology but had still made him climb that ladder.

“That climb is two hundred feet with limited oxygen.”

“Noah?”

He blinked several times and turned toward Elise. “Huh?”

Elise swept her hand toward the open doors of the elevator. “Shall we?”

He licked his lips. “Okay.”

He followed her out of the elevator, and as he heard the doors close behind him, he froze. They were in an impossibly large room with hundreds of people. Instead of walls, there were tall windows through which he could see—

“Are those?” Noah paused, suddenly out of breath. “Are those t-t-trees?”

Elise smiled. “Yes, Noah. Those are trees. And mountains. Just on the other side of that mountain is a river with the clearest water in the world.” She pointed to a massive rock formation. It was just like the mountains in the books he’d read inside the ark.

Mouth agape, Noah stared at the mountain. Then something else caught his attention. He scanned the room, eyes moving slowly from left to right. Several dozen round tables filled the space. Two people sat at each table. Noah blinked. Squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them.

It can’t be.

“Noah?” Elise called his name.

He shook his head. “It’s not possible.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in. Let’s get you some food, and I’ll explain. You’re very important to us, Noah. The first to survive the experiment. It’s very exciting.”

Noah took a step back. “Experiment?”

Elise chuckled. “Well of course.” She swept her hand toward the tables. “Don’t you remember sitting in this room before you went into the ark?”

Noah looked away, back to the tables. His eyes darted back and forth, and he willed them to see soemthing else. Anything else. Elise was calling his name, but she sounded far away. At every table, he saw himself. Saw his father. But they were different versions of him. Many cycles younger. They all ate while the fathers talked.

“I’ve never been here before,” he whispered.

“We use memory blockers,” Elise said. “Since you’re the first to return to this room, I wanted to know if they still work or if being here would trigger dormant memories.”

The room was closing in on him. Noah’s heart felt like it would burst from his chest from pounding so hard. Blood pumped in his temples, and every breath became shallower than the last. He panted and turned back to face Elise. She was stoic. Unmoved by his alarm.

“This is very fascinating.” Again she smiled. Thin lipped. Her eyes soft. “We’re going to learn so much from you.”

Noah backed away, hands out in front of him. Elise said his name, her voice rising like it was a question. Everyone in the room—every young Noah, every Not Father—turned their heads and stared at him. Elise’s eyes widened, and she rushed forward. Noah bumped into someone. A hand clasped his mouth and yanked him back tight against the person’s chest. He felt hot, angry breath on his cheek as his assailant whispered into his ear.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Father?

Noah felt a pinch, then something heavier, like a punch, against his neck. The sound of air being pushed through a tight cylinder. Elise ran toward him. The black clad men encircled him. The hand let go of his mouth, then the man pushed him. Father pushed him. The room got suddenly darker, and Noah fell forward. Elise caught him, but he nearly knocked her over.

“Noah?” She was shouting then. Not at him. Someone else. Maybe Father. “What have you done?”

“He wasn’t supposed to survive the fire.”

Noah felt himself being lowered to the ground, but he couldn’t see anything. The world was dark and spinning. A voice shouted for someone to get help. Another voice grunted, then shouted. Then it was quiet. Peaceful. One last shout broke through the sweet quiet. Noah ignored it. He wanted the darkness.

Note to the reader:

This is a proof of concept story, which means I haven’t decided if I will revise and finalize this story, develop it into a longer work, or abandon it for worthier projects. So, if you enjoyed Come the Dark, please share what you liked about it in a comment. If you didn’t enjoy it, please share your reasons why in a comment. Remember, this HAS NOT been revised or edited. I am aware that I’ll need to address errors, repetition, plot holes, etc. Please don’t brow beat me over commas or how many times a character sighs.