"I just don't understand how you know all of this," Smith muttered.
"Close your eyes," Gray said sharply, holding out their arms to stop anyone from walking past them.
Directly in front of them, blocking off the entire road, chunks of meat illuminated only by the heavy flashlight Gray had nabbed from a hardware store: an entire pack of halved teenagers, bodies tangled together, suggesting they'd all pressed together in their final moments, a last feeling of closeness.
With the tip of their steel-toed boot, Gray carefully separated the bundle, nudging bodies to either side of the road. They sighed. Tragic waste of life—if only the city had listened to them.
"You can open your eyes now! Keep your attention right on the road. Don't look anywhere but straight ahead. You won't die if you do, but the things you see won't be all that pretty." Gray swept the flashlight's beam back and forth. "As for how I know "all of this," it was my field of study. My life's passion. My greatest academic pursuit! Did you know I helped design most of the standard Dark Day safety measures? Most of the research and study has been conducted with me at the forefront! I've been the one pushing to stop calling them "angels," since they are very much not angels. I used to track the coming Dark Days. I've got a notebook that lists out the date of every Dark Day that'll hit this town for the next three hundred years. I was a tenured professor—top of my field, the most respected person in this line of work. And then, just as I stumbled upon the specifics for what'll happen today—university shut down. Oh, surely just a coincidence, no matter that I'll never be able to find work anywhere else since what other town cares about Dark Days? They didn't want anyone to believe me."
Gray huffed. Celia rubbed their back soothingly.
"Okay, but who's this "they" you're talking about?" Smith asked.
"That's the part I don't know. I just know they exist, and they hate me, and they're behind all of this and wanted everyone to think I'm crazy. We can deal with them later on today. Right now we need to get the lights back on."
"Which is why, instead of trying to find somewhere safe, we're walking out in the open, trying to get to the power plant?"
The annoyance in Smith's voice was clear, but Gray chose to ignore it, instead offering a cheerful "Yep!" In response.
"Can I check on my family?" Leo asked quietly. "They never... they never picked me up. I think something bad happened to them."
Smith winced.
"No one's forcing you to be here," Gray replied, eyes glued to the road ahead, "But I'd strongly suggest you stay with us."
"Okay," came the quiet response.
Dread and anticipation formed a strangling coil in Gray's chest. Midnight to one AM would mark the initial purge, a slaughter that moved from block to block, picking out the weakest. Morbid as it was, Gray knew the trail of bodies they were following indicated a safe route—territory already touched by the things that were called angels but were not angels. From one o'clock onwards, though, there wasn't a corner of this city that could promise refuge.
"We should hurry," Gray urged, breaking the meek silence that had settled over the group.
It was easy enough to make their way to the power plant. The darkness wasn't a hindrance. Gray had—much to the confusion and amusement of passersby—walked the route blindfolded many times before, starting from all angles, taking all the roads they could. So knowing the way wasn't the problem. It was the bodies—so many of them, messy heaps of flesh and muscle and bone and soft tissue, viscera spilling out carelessly. They were the problem. Gray kept stumbling. The dead could stand to be a little more considerate.
When they did finally reach the plant, having encountered no disturbances except for a faint clicking in the distance and the occasional obnoxiously innocent-looking white feather, Gray was disappointed but not surprised by what they found. The lights would be on by now, after all, if everything was alright.
"Oh," Celia said softly, twining her fingers through Gray's
"Reckless," Gray frowned. The stack of clean-cut flesh cluttering the main entrance spoke of cowardice. The parking lot had been less bloodied than they thought it'd be. Turned out they'd all tried to get back into the building when it went dark.
They reached down and plucked a key card from the pocket of half a corpse, then swiped it through. An electric tension filled the air for a moment as the card reader didn't react, but it beeped and lit up green, and Gray breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Battery-powered." They were, as usual, right about the whole affair.
The door opened smoothly with a faint hiss. Emergency lights cast a shadowed, creeping glow across the gray corridors. Gray could smell death. Just before they stepped inside, they turned to look at the others, and fixed Smith in particular with a piercing look.
"You all can stay out here if you'd like," they offered. "Would be safer than coming with me."
"I'll stay here with Leo," Celia said quickly, setting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Good.
"And you, Officer?" Gray asked Smith with a grin. "You didn't strike me as the type to hide from monsters, but I wouldn't blame you."
A flash of indignation flickered across his features. "I'm going with you."
Even better.
"Lovely!" Gray beamed, grabbing him by the arm before he could change his mind.
"Hey—"
Gray tossed their flashlight to Celia, then swiped the keycard again the moment they both crossed the threshold. The door slid shut. The steady rumbling of the building's bones hummed behind concrete walls. Gray looked him up and down, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of their lips.
"Come along now!" They pivoted on their heel, starting down the corridor. "Lots to be done, not much time to do it all. We're about to do great things, Smith, very important things. We're about to change the world."
Heavy boots clomped on carpeted concrete as Smith hurried to catch up, but Gray was already ten steps ahead, and they never were one to slow down for others.
"Time?" Gray asked Smith once he'd finally fallen into step beside them.
"Uh... quarter to one." He glanced at his watch, squinting in the dim light. "Why?"
"I wanna be out by one. Things will get worse then. Would be nice if we could at least have some light." Gray smiled weakly.
They'd gone over the blueprints so many times they saw the outlines sometimes when they closed their eyes. It was a simple matter of getting to the emergency lights and turning on the Dark Day backups. The light would provide some shelter to them, at least. Maybe. Hopefully.
"Well, that sounds wonderful. Just... wonderful." Smith stuck his hands in his pockets. "Where is everyone?"
Gray hummed, eyeing the blood spatter occasionally streaking the walls, the odd half of a body. "Dead. Or down in the bunkers or basement, somewhere they think they're safe. Or tucked away in closets. On average, half the town's population leaves during Dark Days anyways, so it's not like it was going to be super busy here."
"How could this happen?" Smith asked quietly. "How could anyone..."
"If there is a God, he's a cruel motherfucker, and the governments we know to be true are even worse. There were signs. There were omens. I spotted them. Everyone else was so stupid, so oblivious—I saw all of this coming. Really, this could have been avoided." Gray stopped in front of a large door. "Terrible shame. This is it."
"Are you going to open it?" Smith eyed the door nervously.
Gray hesitated. "Just... give me a second." They closed their eyes and lowered their head. A quiet prayer passed their lips, barely more than a breath, intended not to reach any higher being for promise or fortune but to grant them just a moment of peace. "Don't..."
A single click—like a rattlesnake's warning rattle.
With their free hand, Gray covered Smith's mouth, hoping their frantic eyes could convey the message. They swiped the key card. The door slid open noiselessly.
Gray let go of Smith. Together, the two of them crept into the room.
It was bathed in dim red light, an already ghoulish backdrop that was only emphasized by the man's body cut in two, slumped over a control panel. A few others lay strewn about, killed so needlessly. They'd failed at their post.
Gray wasn't sure if they were imagining the beings, but they swore they could see them out of the corner of their eye—metallic rings and feathers and eyes, so many eyes. Their head swiveled back and forth, trying to look at one dead-on, but they couldn't seem to be able to. Angels. Not-angels. Along with the cold knowledge that they were in the proximity of creatures whose potential for danger was nearly infinite, there was a certain awe to it all. Gray's fingers itched to hold a pencil—to sketch out the sheen of those metal rings, the downy softness of what looked to be white peacock's feathers, the eyes that were almost human but were just a bit too wide and yellow and luminous. There. They'd seen angels before, but not with this strange lethal twist. This was something new.
Gray started a step towards the man's body, hoping to move him away from the control board so they could turn the lights on.
Another click.
Time passed like molasses. Gray wasn't sure how much time had passed before they dared to make another move.
Another click.
Fine.
Gray took Smith by the arm a final time. Soft. Gentle. Like touching a wounded animal. The angels not-angels didn't seem to protest this. They looked at him and prayed he could see the apology in their sad, sorry, wretched smile as they pulled him towards them, first, so they were parallel, facing each other, Smith's back to the dead man and his control station. Gray let go of his arm. A deep breath. A sigh. A numb acknowledgement of what they intended to do.
Gray figured Smith understood, because when they placed their hands square against his chest and shoved him backwards hard, he didn't try to stop them.
He stumbled backward, sense of betrayal wordless but tangible, and the back of his boot caught half of the man's body so he fell to the left, leaving the control station relatively open.
The angels were on him instantly.
Gray rushed back him, past the blood and the ringing metal and the screams that—well, here they were, here was the noise, that silence finally broken, and they killed him quickly but Gray had practiced for this so in the same amount of time it took him to die they'd managed to lock in protocols and codes and passwords and a turn of the key pulled from the dead man's belt did the trick.
Gray's breaths came as ragged and hoarse things. Hot thick blood splattered across them, a generous amount this time, not just a few specks and soggy knees. Bright, radiant, holy light poured into the room. The angels were gone—Gray could feel the moment they slipped away. They could picture, all across the city, streetlights turning back on, creating pockets of safety within the dark. It wasn't a fix. But it was something.
They heaved a great sigh of relief.
Smith's body hadn't been sliced only down the middle. He'd been nearly diced, neat crosshatches rendering what had once been a person into soft viscous mush and splintered bone, but his clothes provided silhouette enough that Gray could pick through the carnage and free the handgun he'd been carrying.
It wasn't much. It wouldn't do anything to protect against the forces behind the Dark Days.
But it was something.
Head spinning, gun in hand, Gray headed alone towards the exit.
Their wife was waiting for them, and they had a city to save.
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