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NIGHTFALL

  E.L. Middleton

  Copyright 2012 by E.L. Middleton

  PROLOGUE

  He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten there, but somehow Ewen had managed to make his way to the Willowbrook Mall. He made his way past the stores and the many kiosks along the way with bizarre wonder. He had seen these stores and this very mall so many times before. It was the only form of shopping escapism that a small town like Mountain Valley had. If you hadn’t been to the mall in this town, then you probably hadn’t been to this town—or at least had stayed within the confines of your home your entire life.

  Another thing seemed slightly odd to him. The mall itself was almost empty. Sure, there were people shopping but they were sporadic at best. This place was usually filled with hurried consumers at any given point during the day. Suddenly, it occurred to him that no one seemed in much of a hurry either. Not that it should be so strange to him that folks would take their time, but something was wrong here. It was almost as if everyone was moving in slow motion.

  He saw a sign for the restroom and decided to head that way. He thought that maybe splashing some water on his face would help him shake the fact that everything seemed so surreal; of course, ever since he had moved to Mountain Valley and started college most everything in his life now seemed somewhat surreal.

  He hung a right and passed through a set of metal doors, entering into a long corridor. Fluorescent lights hummed as they cast purplish beams of light against the speckled-white tiles leading to the end of the hall. Ewen began his descent, his tennis shoes squeaking just slightly and his footsteps echoing down the abandoned hallway.

  About halfway down the corridor Ewen heard something else join the sounds of his footsteps. He stopped and stared at the end of the hall, listening carefully. At first he could only hear the sound of his heart thumping in his chest and thought that he might be losing his mind, but then he heard it again. Something was making its way toward him from the other side of the corridor.

  He tried to tell himself that it was someone simply exiting the restroom and making their way back out toward the stores, but the more he listened the less he believed himself. His next inclination was to turn around and run back out into the mall. If he was wrong and it really had been only a shopper making their way back out into the mall then he would look like a fool. He decided rather quickly that he could live with that; after all, he was eighteen and had just graduated from high school where fool seemed to be his middle name. At this point though, none of it mattered because his legs felt like stone. He tried to move but his body didn’t even seem to react. He was entirely transfixed on what was coming around the corner.

  The sound grew louder and closer to him and he found himself desperately wishing he had never entered the corridor at all. It sounds like someone walking through a rain puddle, he thought. Only Ewen wasn’t quite convinced it was water. It sounded more dense than that to him. As he stood there, frozen with a kind of sick anticipation, he saw what it was.

  Blood crept across the tiles from around the corner like some kind of oozing overflow. Then he heard the footsteps again, and this time they sounded nothing like that of his own. It sounded as if something heavy was being dragged across the floor. With each footstep he noticed ripples running in the pool of blood, which had now reached the cinder block wall and was beginning to push its way toward him.

  From around the corner a guttural moan echoed, sending chills through his entire body. The moan seemed to die off for a second and then another, more powerful one, followed. Something appeared at the corner of the corridor, moving slowly and unsure at first. It was wearing a muddy pair of blue jeans, torn to shreds around the edges of the legs. The strings of denim rubbed back and forth across a hideous pair of feet with each step the creature made. A t-shirt that had most likely been white at some point in time, was now covered in brown sludge. Its eyes rolled slowly around to view the rest of the corridor and suddenly locked on Ewen. As they did they widened, a sort of primordial excitement coursing through them, and the creature’s arms—or what was left of them—reached out for him. Ewen tried again to move his legs and this time, much to his surprise, found himself backing away from the creature and to the entrance of the corridor.

  The creature began to move toward him, its arms still stretched out, only this time when it moved it picked up speed. Ewen turned around and immediately headed for the double doors, running as fast as he could. He could hear the creature’s heavy, wet breathing approaching behind him and he wondered for just a moment whether he was really running at all. Seconds later he was pushing through the double doors and standing in the middle of the mall. He opened his mouth to scream for help and then something more terrifying than anything he could ever have imagined happened. He found himself surrounded by more creatures, their hideous faces watching him. They reached out for him, and as they did he fell hard on the mall’s tile floor.

  That was when he woke up.

  CHAPTER 1

  Ewen was still screaming when he woke up that morning. He sat straight up in his bed, gasping for air and soaked in sweat. He looked around his dorm room from his top bunk and saw that everything was still as it had been before his very vivid dream. He swallowed hard, soothing his dry and irritated throat, and threw the covers off of him.

  He was alone, as he had been most of the time he had spent at Mountain Valley University—or MVU as the students called it. He had been taking classes for two semesters and was now beginning his sophomore year, although he still felt like a freshman and was often mistaken for one because no one knew who he was.

  It was a different college than most in that it was a Christian campus. Classes still went on during the day and at night and campus life was fairly similar to what it would be on any other secular campus—at least at a glance—but upon further inspection you would see that students were required to regularly attend church services both on campus and off. The students may have appeared to some to simply be dressing professionally and taking their preparation for the outside world seriously until you read the college handbook of rules and regulations.

  Dressing professionally was actually a rule and not simply something seen as a way to prepare for a productive future. Left to their own devices, most of the students would have went to classes in beat-up blue jeans and a ripped t-shirt. Of course, at MVU, one could get quite a few demerits and fines for doing something like that.

  Ewen couldn’t complain. Not that he wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to actually wear clothing that most other college students at other schools were wearing to class, he just had no real right. He had been well aware of the rules and regulations before signing up to attend classes here. He had come from a private high school and had had some experience with what his superiors called “professional dress” for several years. It hadn’t been quite this bad back home but he figured college girls were different and probably liked a sharp dressed man better than Mr. T-shirt and Jeans. If for nothing else, he wanted to look good for the girls he would meet. The dean of the school, as well as both of his resident assistants, would assure him that God would want him professionally dressed and that Ewen was actually dressing up for Him and not for classes. Ewen could tell right away that the higher-ups at the school had a completely different perspective on God than he did.

  His roommate, Jim, seemed to live on a completely different schedule. He took all of his classes at night and worked a job locally during the day. That pretty much left Ewen with the dorm room to himself, which would have been fun had the room actually had space to do something in. The day he moved in he had felt as if he was downsizing. He was an only child and had his own room back home but now he was staring at a bunk bed that looked like it had been purchased in the late seventies and a room
that wasn’t much larger than a small storage unit. In fact, that’s what he felt like most of the time here; a student being stored for later use.

  He climbed out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cheap, carpeted floor, and pulled open the shades. He fully expected to be blinded by sunlight but as the windows were revealed he simply stood in front of another overcast day at MVU. He grabbed a small, plastic basket that held his soap and shampoo and walked out of his dorm room, taking a clean towel on his way.

  Robert Donovan, a thin and wiry eighteen year old, had been dreaming of this day for what seemed like forever. He was making his way through the courtyard—a beautiful area in the heart of the campus—with his trademarked book bag covered in band stickers slung over one shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile as the autumn wind pushed toward him.

  The courtyard was where most of the students came to socialize between classes. It was dead in the middle of the academic buildings and a small water fountain, complete with several bowled tiers that got larger as they descended, sat nearby with benches and tall bushes for shade. It was like Alice’s Wonderland right in the middle of cinder block and concrete.

  More important than that though was where Robert was headed today. The campus radio station was run by and for the students that attended the university. It sat within the courtyard and most of the students sat nearby between classes, hoping to hear their favorite song before they had to head back inside for more lectures and notes.

  Since high school Robert had been doing a mock radio show on CD for his buddies. He would poke fun at the teachers, play a few rebellious rock songs and give them a funny top ten list and some skits to enjoy. By the time he had graduated most everyone in the senior class knew of him and had at least a couple of CD’s of his show. He had fallen in love with radio and dreamed of getting a good start in the business. He knew that there wasn’t much money involved in it and that while his friends were probably going to end up rolling in the dough as doctors, lawyers and the like he would be struggling to make ends meet sitting behind a microphone and a sound board. He didn’t mind though. It was what he loved to do and although he was just as prone to wanting every new gadget and the latest form of entertainment the stores put on the shelves he also knew that doing something he truly enjoyed for the rest of his life would far outweigh any of it.

  His Father had asked him a couple of years ago what he thought he wanted to do with his life. After a lecture on how DJ’s made very little money and a question or two relating to how he intended to start or support a family on that kind of income Robert had looked his Dad in the eyes with as much confidence as he could muster and said, “You know, I think God will take care of that.”

  His Dad smiled, proud of his son’s faith but secretly still wondering about the worldly logistics of Robert’s intended career path. That was when Robert first began to think that God’s power was too easily forgotten. All his life he had heard his pastor speak about the power of God. God had moved mountains, caused buildings to crumble, parted the sea and yet somehow, every time someone wondered how they were going to get through something as simple as a traffic jam everyone forgot all about those mountains moving and those buildings crumbling. That was just the start of Robert’s faith maturing, and one of the main reasons he wanted to attend a Christian university. He wanted the opportunity to be around other Christians that could lift him up when he felt like doubting and never let him forget the power of God.

  Still trying to suppress his smile and contain his excitement Robert opened the tinted glass door to the campus radio station and went inside. Walls filled with posters of Christian bands immediately greeted him. He looked to his right and noticed a large pane of glass. Behind it was a short and chubby guy behind a microphone. He was furiously searching for another CD to pop into the player as he adjusted one of the faders on the audio board in front of him.

  As he continued to watch the short DJ behind the glass a tall young man wearing a suit approached Robert. He had a smile that was blatantly forced and his tie needed severe straightening. He was obviously older than Robert, which threatened to intimidate him a little, but he looked like a student and that made him just comfortable enough.

  “Hey! What can I help you with today?” the young man asked.

  “I’m Robert Donovan. I’m a freshman here at Mountain Valley this year,” Robert said, extending his hand. The young man met it halfway and gave it a good shake before he pulled it back into his comfort zone.

  “Terry Lubscomb. I’m the station manager,” he said, nodding when he was finished as if still trying to convince himself he was really in charge.

  “I’ve heard a lot about this station and I was wondering how students can get involved,” Robert said.

  Terry suddenly looked a little uneasy and slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

  “You’re a freshman, huh?” Terry asked.

  “Yeah. I’ve had some radio experience before. I had my own show back in high school that circulated every other month on CD.”

  As soon as the words came out of his mouth he felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Moments ago he never would have let something enter his mind to make him doubt his experiences, but standing in front of Terry Lubscomb suddenly made him think about how small-time the guy probably thought his experience was. He had walked into the station not more than three minutes ago with a smile he couldn’t contain and now he was talking to a fellow student trying to convince him he actually had talent. He didn’t know if he was going to be given a chance yet or not, but he certainly didn’t feel quite as confident or excited as he had three minutes ago. A lot changes in three minutes, he thought, forcing a smile.

  “You did a show on CD, you say?” Terry asked, his smile long since faded.

  “Yeah. I know it’s not live but it’s a start, right?”

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Bob—“

  Robert felt his face flush red as his anger welled up inside of him.

  “It’s Robert,” he said.

  “Right. Well, unfortunately we don’t let anyone on campus DJ here unless they’re seniors.”

  “Seniors?”

  “I’d love to give you a chance. I’m sure you did great with your little show in high school and all but that’s the station’s rule.”

  Robert felt rage surge through his body. Who does this guy think he is? he thought. He’s probably about as good at entertaining folks on the radio as he is at putting on that ridiculous tie of his.

  Robert shifted his stance as if preparing for a fight and then it happened. Several times in his life, when things had gotten particularly frustrating or when other’s,

  not unlike this Terry Lubscomb fellow, began to belittle him or verbally attack him with a grin, he lost control of whatever portion of his brain that controlled the feed of thought through the throat and had let loose. Now was one of those times.

  “So, you mean to tell me you won’t even give me a chance or see what I’m capable of because I’m a freshman?” Robert said, his voice shaking a little with anger.

  Terry was far too absorbed in himself to notice how visibly upset Robert was becoming.

  “Unfortunately, that’s the rule. If I were to let you get in here and start working behind the board I’d have to change the rules all across the board,” Terry said, forcing another smile. “But you’re welcome to stop by anytime and watch the DJ who is on shift. We’ll even leave a chair out here in the hallway so you can have a place to sit.”

  Robert balled up a fist as he looked at the miserable plastic chair that was sitting in the corner. Right, he thought I’ll just drop by and sit in that plastic chair for hours and look like a complete moron. You’d like that wouldn’t you, Terry?

  “You understand, don’t you Bob?” Terry asked, his smile never looking more condescending than now.

  Robert took a deep breath and tried again, desperately wanting to hit home with this guy, to appeal to his good nature.

&n
bsp; “Look, Terry. I know I don’t have all the experience in the world but that’s what I’m here for. I came to college to experience another side of life and I came to this station to experience a little bit of what it’s like to be a professional DJ. Are you honestly going to turn down someone who would be willing to work as hard as they could just to get some time to learn the booth?”

  Terry thought for a second as Robert stood there, knowing that he couldn’t have explained his cause any better than that. Finally, after a few seconds Terry shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, Bob. There’s not much I can do for you. I wish I could, I really do. I just can’t break the rules.”

  Robert held back his tears of disappointment as he stared at Terry, confused at how someone could completely ignore what he had just said because of a stupid rule. He knew that Terry believed him. Terry had to. Heck, Terry probably even had to be smart enough to at least realize that he could use Robert to clean the toilets around the station for just five minutes in the booth. But because of a rule of seniority Robert was being forced out of his chances at his dream. It wasn’t fair.

  “You know what though? We could use a good salesman like you. We’re trying to sell some spots to earn revenue for the station, you know, to get some new equipment. I’ll bet you’d be dynamite at sales. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow and we’ll talk about it?” Terry said, his smile looking genuine for perhaps the first time that afternoon.