Black Days

Black Days, Epilogue: “Thank You’s Aren’t Necessary”

“I’d knew you’d show up again. Just my damn luck.”

“Language, Abe, language.” Silas crossed the office and sat down. “A man your age should know better.”

Peter Abernathy harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest. His spectacles glinted as he looked at the young man. He was trying to evoke a commanding air. It wasn’t working. Silas could taste the old man’s apprehension. The detective also noticed the protective charm sticking out of Abernathy’s shirt. Silas smiled at the sleepiness nights he must have had worrying about the lich.

“What’s with the arm?” the old man asked. “You tried skateboarding again?”

“I’ll have you know, Poppin’ Fresh, I’m an excellent skater.”

“What do you want?”

“I come with good news,” Silas said. “You can unclench. The lich is dead.”
“So, you got it done. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was busy.”

“Are you absolutely certain he’s dead?” Abernathy asked.

“Yep,” Silas said. “Not something you can forget.”

“How were you able to kill him?” he asked.

“I’m not giving you a play-by-play,” Silas said. “Just know it wasn’t easy.” He tapped his cast.

Abernathy studied his face. After a moment, he relaxed.

“Fine.” He unclasped the talisman from around his neck and tossed it into a drawer.

“Is that all? I’m a busy man.”

“Your Monte Cristo can wait, Abe. I have more.”

With his good arm, Silas reached into his satchel. He retrieved a bundle roughly the size of a football, wrapped in newspaper. Unceremoniously, he dropped it onto the desk.

Abernathy gawked at the parcel. “What’s this?”

“What do you think?”

Adjusting his glasses, the old man scooted forward. Slowly, he peeled the paper away. His eyes bulged as he got a look at the thing. With both hands he picked up a seven-headed leopard made of black stone. Light refused to reflect off its surface. It seemed to suck it in like a black hole. Awe washed over the old man’s face. Silas thought he saw a tear trickle down his cheek.

“It’s more beautiful than I remembered,” Abernathy said.

“Beautiful? I can see why you never married.”

Anger flashed over the man’s face. “You said you didn’t have it.”

“Whaddaya know, I was wrong.”

“Are you really just giving it to me?” Abernathy asked.

“Come on, Abe,” Silas said. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I see,” the old man said. “You want money. That’s fine, it’s what I promised.” He took out his checkbook. “Will ten thousand be enough?”

“Yeah, ten’s good–no. No money,” Silas said. “Not everything’s about money.”

“Silas, I’ve known you your whole life,” Abernathy said. “You’re just like your father. And neither of you were generous.”

“Maybe you didn’t know Henry as well as you thought,” the detective said. “I said I’d get you the stone. Here it is.”

Abe nodded his approval.

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Black Days, Chapter 20: “Hannah Finishes the Story”

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Hannah was floating. Everything was black, save a trickle of light, far below her. Somewhere, far away, she heard a voice. Something else was in the darkness. She felt it try to touch her. Its anger was like a rolling tide. Rising higher and higher, she thought it was going to crash down on her. Instead, it shrank away. Hannah felt herself pulled back, out of the darkness. There was noise and blinding light.

The first thing she noticed was the bed. It was much too comfortable. Sitting up, she felt the world rock uneasily around her. Hannah squinted. Everything was blurry and white. A television was squawking in the corner. Computer monitors beeped by her head. There was a plastic clamp pinching her finger. Hannah pulled it off and threw it across the room.

“Ever the compliant patient.” A tall, attractive woman in scrubs appeared. She picked up the pulse oximeter and wagged it at her. “This isn’t a toy, Hannah.”

“Nice to see you too, Liz,” Hannah said.

“Give me your hand.”

“I feel fine,” she said. “I don’t want to wear that.”

“You’re in my hospital, you do as I say.”

“Oh, it’s your hospital, now? You’re going up in the world.”

“Hand.”

“When did I get here?” Hannah asked as she stuck out her hand.

“Two days ago,” Liz said. “They wanted to bring you to Maimonides. Like hell, they would.”

“Have I been out the whole time?”

“Yes,” her doctor said. “I’ve checked up on you as much as I could.”

“God, what’s wrong with me?” Hannah moved around a little. Her muscles were sore and she had a headache. But nothing felt broken or oozing.

Liz busied herself with the machines beside the bed. “Just a few bruised ribs. The rest is shock and exhaustion.”

“Oh,” Hannah said. “Well, that’s good.”

“Yep. Looks like we don’t need this anymore.” She ripped the IV from Hannah’s arm.”

“Ow! I guess you’re pissed.”

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Black Days, Chapter 19: “A Long-Awaited Story”

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“We’ve been that way already.”

“I know, I just wanted to look again,” Silas said.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Lang said. “Five more minutes and we’re pulling out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “The way back is probably closed.”

The steps leading from the park had spiraled down endlessly, until Silas and the police reached a network of tunnels. Burrows, the detective called them, as they looked like holes made by giant worms. All the passages ended at empty rooms. One had a few bones in the corner. Silas assured everyone they were too old to be anyone they knew.

For the fifth time, he passed an opening in the tunnel wall. It wasn’t a passage, more of a shoot large enough for a person to fit through. He had ignored it because of its small circumference and the fact it was most certainly one way. Eventually, he stopped and shone his light into it. He thought he saw something at the bottom, something more than gray dirt. Returning the flashlight to his bag, he started to climb in.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Lang asked.

“This is the only passage we haven’t checked,” Silas said.

“Where does it lead?”

“I dunno, but it’s better than standing around here with you.”

He dropped down the hole and was soon exploring the new room. It didn’t take long. Silas called up the shoot.

“You better come down here.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

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Black Days, Chapter 18: “Rabbit Hole”

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They rode without speaking, the garbled noise of the cabbie’s radio filling the silence. The map on the divider screen revealed they had reached the edge of Brooklyn. It was sad place. Buildings with boarded-up windows read “No Admittance.” Not a person, not even a car, was in sight. Silas told Hannah this was once the center of a booming steel industry. He was wrong. That was Pittsburgh.

The cab rolled up beside a graffiti-covered wall. Trees reached over it, dropping black leaves onto the sidewalk. From the car they could read the letters above a gate, “Grayfriar Field.”

“Charming,” Hannah said, not wanting to imagine what lied inside the gate. Silas shoved her out of the taxi as he paid the driver. The cabbie was glad to leave. As he sputtered away, Silas and Hannah approached the park gate. He stuck a finger in the keyhole of a padlock.

“How do we get around this?” he said.

Hannah examined the wall. Bricks jutted out at awkward angles. Putting a foot on the bottommost brick, she started to climb. She shouted at Silas to follow her, scrapping her fingernails against the old wall. Out of breath, she reached the top. Swinging her legs out, she searched for a way down. Staring up at her, on the other side of the wall, was Silas. He reached out a hand.

“Lemme help you down.”

“How did you get in?” she asked.

He held up the padlock. “Rusted. Came apart in my hands.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I wanted to see if you could make it,” he said. “Great job, Spider-girl.”

Hannah dropped onto Silas, boots first.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked as they got up.

“Yep.”

Shaking the leaves from their clothes, they looked around. They were under the shade of gloomy maple trees. Only a glimmer of streetlight made it over the wall. A stone path led from the gate into the heart of the park. They followed it and were quickly swallowed up by darkness.

“Flashlight?” Hannah asked.

“Lost it in the sewers,” Silas said.

“What did you bring?” she asked, poking his bag.

Silas laid a protective hand on it. “I brought the fetish, a few granola bars, and some light reading.”

“Why?”

“You can always use some extra energy,” he said.

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Black Days, Chapter 17: “Bullying With Friends”

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Hannah stood in front of Emily’s bed. The woman was motionless, the slow blips on her monitor the only sign she was alive. Hannah considered speaking. She wasn’t sure if it would do any good. There was so much she wanted to say, for the woman’s comfort and for hers. Hannah figured it would only make Emily feel worse. As if sensing Hannah’s indecision, she stirred.

“Emily?” Hannah said. “Emily, can you hear me?”

She stiffened at the sound of Hannah’s voice. Slowly, she motioned for Hannah to come closer.

“Are you in pain?”

Emily continued to beckon her.

“I didn’t say this before,” Hannah said. “But you’re right. He’s in my head too. How did you do it? How did you escape?”

Emily’s lips moved. Hannah leaned forward.

“What did you say?”

Emily squeezed Hannah’s throat. She stared at her with black eyes. Her voice was thunder.

“MY RETURN DRAWS NIGH.”

Hannah woke up with a gasp. She put a hand to her throat. For a minute, all she could do was breath. She was in a parked cab. It was night outside. Popping open the door, she climbed out. Eventually, she remembered what happened. After an all too short break, she and Silas took a cab to some corner of the city. She must’ve fallen asleep on the way.

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Black Days, Chapter 16: “Emily”

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“This is all your fault,” Hannah said.

“Me?” Silas said. “I’m hurt. Wounded, even.”

Hannah leaned over her chair toward Silas. It was difficult, given she was handcuffed to the armrest. “This is the second time I’ve been in handcuffs since I met you. Do you want to know how many times I’ve been handcuffed before this?”

“I wanna say three.”

“Zero!”

Silas tried to point at himself, forgetting he was also cuffed. “I didn’t slap them on you, Thelma. Thank Detective Hot Pants McGee.”

“She wouldn’t have had to, if you didn’t insist on riding in the ambulance,” Hannah said.

“They could’ve used my expertise,” he said.

“They’re paramedics, I think they had it covered.”

Silas blew a raspberry and slouched in his seat. He hated hospital waiting rooms. Not because of the proximity to germs or the overwhelming sense of sadness and loss. They were just so boring. A TV in the corner was blasting some sitcom they only air at three in the morning. The canned laughter grated against Silas’s spine. He scanned the room. A few orderlies mulled around a coffee maker. There was a nurse quietly filing away papers. The rings around her eyes were noticeable even from a distance.

Opposite him was a row of vending machines. Squinting, he tried to make out what was inside.

“Is that a Baby Ruth?” he asked Hannah.

“I dunno,” she said, not looking up.

“I think it is. You want something?”

She looked at him, then at the machine. “How are you going to get over there?”

“Watch and learn.” Silas yanked the armrest with both hands. With a pop, he dislodged it from the chair and slid his handcuff free.

“Cheap hospital chairs,” he said, tossing it to her.

“Why didn’t you do that earlier?” Hannah asked.

He shrugged. “Wasn’t hungry.”

Hannah pulled at her arm rest. “Help me do mine.”

Silas waved a hand. “Can’t. That chair looks new.”

He sauntered over to the vending machine, ignoring the stream of curses coming from his assistant. Hannah wrestled with her armrest. It gave, slightly. She struggled to push the handcuff through the small opening, pinching her fingers in the process. Keeping her back to the cops by the front desk, she walked over to the machines.

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