Darness Rising

PART I

"A story like this is, well, almost too unbelievable to be true.
Sometimes even I have difficulty believing it, yet I've seen it, I've
been a part of it and worst of all... I know."

The rain was
sputtering down, making the town dreary and miserable, as if it wasn't
already. The dim street lights barely penetrated the cold which seemed
to surround everything as if it were its own visible entity. Soon it
would be snow, but as if undetermined, the rain would bite into the
flesh, making every drop noticeable.

Mark Edwards, stood above
the limp, lifeless body of what was once Harold Crane. His jaw clenched
and the blood running down his forehead, Mark just stared, pondering
what to do next. He hadn't meant for this to happen, hell, he was
supposed to prevent this from ever happening. But Crane had known too
much, it had possessed him and driven him to the edge of sanity, before
sharply pulling him back, bringing him to where he was now - dead. Mark
looked up without moving his head, the wail of sirens in the distance.
Somebody must have heard that spine chilling scream, the one Crane had
let escape as his last breath on this fair earth.

Mark shoved his
hand into his left pocket and fumbled around, finding it at last. He
pulled out the rickety flip-phone with all the delicacy of a drunkard.
He flipped the phone open and then grabbing both ends, split the phone
in two. He dropped both pieces on the ground and drove his heel into
it, twisting and turning until all that was left was mechanical mess on
the cold and wet pavement. He took in a deep breath, ignoring the
splashing rain, dripping from his nose. He shoved both hands into his
pocket, hopelessly. He had forgotten about the dead weight in his right
pocket, it was a reminder, a reminder of the choice he now faced. He
pulled it out, staring at it coldly. One bullet was all that remained
in the case, he didn't have to check. He slowly, hesitantly cocked the
hammer and put the ice cold metal barrel to his temple. One bullet for
Crane, one for him, as he had been told.

In a sudden burst of
frustration, Mark threw the revolver to the ground. Everything had
happened perfectly, just as it had been told. It just wasn't right, who
were they to decide what would happen? Who were they to force him, to
kill this poor man? The price of knowledge is death and death is
defeat. He wasn't going to let them win. He couldn't, too much was at
stake for him to just throw his life away in a pitiful burst of
selfishness, for he was the only other living soul on the planet who had
any idea what was going to happen next.

The police arrived,
their blue and red lights illuminating the dark, wet alleyway. The
lieutenant stepped out of his car, shaking his head at the lifeless
corpse before him. He looked at the ground, at the broken cell phone
and revolver.

"Check for prints lieutenant?" one of the cops asked.
"Go
ahead, but I can already tell you did it," the lieutenant replied to
the quizzical cop. The lieutenant knelt down, inspecting the gun. "One
bullet." The lieutenant stood back up, slowly, rubbing his forehead.
"Take your photos and get this mess cleaned up," the lieutenant said,
climbing back into the car.

There were always two bodies, one gun and no bullets. Not this time.

PART II

“Mr Crane, I’d like you to meet Mark Edwards, our resident spy,”
Lieutenant Burns said, chuckling a little to himself as the tall, broad
man entered the room. Mark Edwards was just about six feet in height,
with a sharp jaw that looked as if it had seen many punches and cold
blue eyes, piercing and cautious by nature.

“Well, I don’t know
about spy,” Edwards said as he leaned against the edge of the reception
desk. Sitting across from him was another man, only about average in
height with dark hair that had some thin silver streaks beginning to run
through them. “Now what’s all this about anyways?” Mark asked,
wondering why he’d been disturbed from the nap in his office.

“Mr Crane here is a professor of, what was it again?”

“Metaphysics,” Crane interjected.

“Right,
right, metaphysics, he has some interesting theories on fortune
telling,” Burns snickered to himself. Mark raised an eyebrow, almost in
annoyance to Burns.
“Stop joking with me Burns, I’m not really in the mood,” Edwards said coldly. Crane snapped his head around, glaring at Burns.

“Yes, stop making a mockery of me! Now is this man going to take me seriously or not?” Crane demanded.

“Calm
down, calm down,” Mark said, looking to Crane. “Perhaps you tell me
these theories of yours then and I can figure out why the hell you
called me out here,” Edwards give a short, yet deathly glance to Burns.

“Well,
it starts with a short experiment I started about six months ago,
something to do with the passage of time, really unimportant, but was
the catalyst for the next set of ideas,” Crane started, suddenly
interrupted by Edwards holding up his hand.
“If it starts six months
ago, I better sit down!” Edwards said, grabbing a chair from the other
side of the counter and swinging it over the edge, finally resting
himself, leaning forward with the chair spun around. “Ok, continue.”

Crane
looking slightly annoyed, took in a breath before continuing.
“Anyways, as I said, I began by trying a simple experiment about the
relativity and fluidity of time and more specifically how we move
through it and to see if we could move in and out of it. Like I said,
none of that was really important, I suppose you’d call it time travel
but it was just a tinkering curiosity I had which didn’t really prove to
do anything other than waste my time.” Crane looked over at Burns, who
already had his chair pushed onto the rear legs and was fast asleep.
Crane looked back at Mark, irritation on his face. “I take this as a
sign to get to my point.”

“You could,” Mark casually replied.

“Right,
well, the experiment was the catalyst as I mentioned before. Now being
a professor of metaphysics, a certain amount of, shall I say,
spirituality becomes involved. Once called magic, now a form of
science, think of it what you will, but it’s a vital part of all this.”

Mark
glanced out the large glass windows that surrounded the station. The
bright noon sun seemed to quickly be disappearing and the room had a
certain chill about it. Mark caught Crane staring at it too, an almost
unnatural darkness. Mark looked at Crane who seemed lost in a trance.

“Mr Crane?”

“What’s that?” Crane said, jumping a little in his chair.

“You drifted off there, you were talking about magic.”

“Yes,
yes that’s right. So as I was saying, an element of the supernatural
becomes involved. I began mixing my experiment of time with black magic
of sorts. I don’t know why really, it seemed to draw me, almost
control me. But what I found... extraordinary.”

Mark glanced at
the window again, the darkness surrounding the building as if it were a
conscious entity. Mark crossed his arms, the room feeling cooler than
even a minute before. “So what was it?” Mark asked.

“I found a gateway, I caught a glimpse, a glimpse of the future Mr Edwards!”

Burns
jolted awake as his chair came crashing forwards. Mark jumped. He
quickly collected himself, only just becoming aware of how tense and
quiet everything had gotten.

“What I miss?” Burns asked, glancing back and forth at Crane and Edwards.

“Nothing
you’d be interested in,” Mark said coldly. Mark looked to Crane who
seemed pale all of a sudden. “So why did you think you had to come tell
us? What does this have to do with cops?”

Crane glanced around, suddenly anxious.

“It’s happening!” Crane said, barely audible.

“Mr Crane!” Mark snapped, becoming impatient. Crane looked over at him.

“Because
Mr Edwards, you were in it, you were in the future that I saw! One
bullet for me and another...another for you!” Crane raised his hand and
pointed a finger out the window. Mark spun around. Outside, it was
pitch black.

PART III

Mark Edwards burst out of the glass door, it swinging wildly on its
hinges. People were moving about the street as if nothing were
happening. Mark frantically looked around, his black jacket swinging
about in the breeze. Mark snapped his head up at where the sun would
be. It was there, but only as a black orb in the sky.

“You see it too,” Mr Crane said calmly, standing behind Edwards. Mark spun around, staring down Mr Crane.

“What is this? What sort of trick is this?!” Mark demanded angrily.

“What
the hell is going on out here?” Lieutenant Burns asked, genuinely
confused. “You look like you’re losing your mind there Mark!”

“You don’t see that?” Mark said, jabbing a figure up at the sky.

“I
suppose if I looked at it long enough I wouldn’t,” said Burns, “that
sun is pretty bright, you really shouldn’t stare at it, I hear people do
go blind from looking at it!”

“The darkness! You don’t see the Darkness?!”

Burns
glanced at Mr Crane, confused by Mark’s behaviour. “Maybe you should
come in and sit down Mark, you’re beginning to make a scene out here and
you know what happens when scenes occur outside of a police station,”
said Burns.

Mr Crane turned and looked at Burns. “What happens?”

Burns gave a quick annoyed glance at Crane. “The Press, of course.”

Crane understood and put a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “You should do as the lieutenant says.”

Burns,
Crane and Mark entered the station, Mark looking completely distraught.
He ran his hand through his hair, sweat beaded on his face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I reacted that way, that’s not like me,” Mark said apologetically.

“That is quite understandable,” replied Crane, “I didn’t react much better myself.”

Burns looked at the two of them, complete confusion written all over his face.
“I
honestly have no idea what the hell you two are going on about,” Burns
said. Crane give a small smile, before turning back to Mark.

“That is what we’re up against Mr Edwards, I hope you are ready!”