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The black night sky blankets over the earth, with not a star in sight. The wind blows outside, not harshly, yet not gently. Teasingly, tauntingly, volatile in the sense it could switch to either side swiftly and without warning. Snowflakes softly glided down from the heavens to kiss the pale ground that was coated in them, like a thick layer of icing sugar on freshly baked shortbread. Sarah Heathcliff gazed out the window from the third story of her apartment complex, watching the town below her. Not that there was much to see, nobody ever went outside nowdays, and a good portion of Mandela County residents had already met their fates. With children being taken, infants being snatched out of their cribs, and alarmingly high suicide rates, the population was dropping rapidly. She reminisced of when she was a child. Winter used to be joyous, children were outside making angels in the snow, but now the streets are silent. People used to decorate their homes with bright flashing lights, but now they’d been replaced with wooden boards across doors and windows.
Everything seems to be in greyscale, although Sarah could have sworn that the houses and cars used to be colourful and full of life. She felt like a character from a 1930s movie. She feared that soon she would be the only one left in a hollow husk of her hometown. Not a real human voice to comfort her, not a real human face to smile at her. She glances across her shitty apartment room to the framed photo of her brother on the wall. A sorrowful sigh escapes from her lips. She misses Mark. Every single day. He’s the first thing she thinks of in the morning and the last at night. Yet, she feels somewhat thankful that he had been killed at the beginning of the alternate crisis. God had spared him from watching the town crumble, and from watching everybody he loves suffer and die at the hands of a threat which nobody understood. She tried not to think about it too much. No, she needed to get outside. She couldn't hide in fear anymore. Cabin fever would kill her before any alternate could.
Sarah stood by the door of her apartment, and paused for a moment before putting on her warmest jacket. She’d already put on some fluffy pants and ugg boots earlier. She felt bland, she felt dull, but it’s not like anybody was going to see her. She was about to be the first human to set foot outside for a non-essential reason in a long, long, time. The hinges on the door groaned in protest as she pushed it open, as if they were warning her that she’s better off staying indoors. But still, out the door and down the flights of stairs she went, the lights emitting their yellowish tint and buzzing evermore. Sarah waited at the exit door of the apartment building, staring at the snowfall outside. The building was completely dead, not a sound could be heard save for the wind whistling away beyond the glass doors, the word “PULL” printed on the handle staring at her, the bright red text a jarring contrast from the silver handle and grey interior. She inhaled and shut her eyes as she pulled the door open, her nose scrunching at the sudden hit of cold air that greeted her, like an excited puppy whose owner just returned from work.
Sarah took the first step outside, despite rugging up the cold still nipped at her skin, and she shivered under her coat. She began to walk, the winter wind running its fingers through her brown hair as she progressed. She followed the streetlights illuminating the white snow, the only source of light outside besides the full moon perched in the sky. There were no lights switched on inside any of the houses. Sarah hoped it was because the occupants were asleep, and not because they were all empty. She looked down at her feet leaving small footprints in the pure white snow. The sight of boarded up houses depressed her too much to look at them. What on earth had happened? Why her? Why Mandela County? It felt as if she had woken up one morning and the town was in shambles. She hadn’t been very old when the first broadcast aired. It was the clearest thing in her memory despite the fact she was barely two years old.
It was an afternoon in the summer of 81’, she was watching cartoons on the television with 4-year-old Mark. Her brother's face had turned from smiling to confusion when the broadcast was interrupted by a dull background, with words that were too big for either of them to read. But they listened as best they could to the automated voice. The sudden change in sound prompted their mother to enter the living room to see what the fuss was about.The two children began to worry upon seeing her face slowly, almost painfully change, the dread start to shine through her eyes as she watched. Mark was the first to speak.
“Momma, what’s-”
She hushed him. “I’m listening, dear.”
They understood the pictures better. Sarah at first thought they were twins, two ladies and two men who looked identical. The next two, a woman missing her face and a man who was nothing but a shadow with eyes. She screamed. She had screamed so loud and it caught her mothers attention, and she would then hurry them to their rooms and tell them not to move. She had not slept a wink that night and she was sure her brother hadn’t either. From then on they stopped attending school. Their mother stopped bringing them out to buy groceries, instead she went alone. Sarah barely understood what was happening.
All she knew was that the monsters under her bed weren't imaginary after all.
It was only a few months later Mark had come to her bedroom at midnight, sobbing and praying the man in his closet would leave him be.
Sarah shook the memory. It gave her a chill that she knew wasn’t from the cold. Her eyes welled with tears. Things have changed alot since then. Mark was gone. Her parents were gone. Cesar was gone. All her friends were gone. And now, Jonah is gone too. Nobody was left. Only Adam Murray. That insufferable piece of shit, leaving Jonah to rot. Forcing her to stand and watch film the very beings who had taken everything from her all for their stupid youtube channel that no one cared about anyway. She never wanted to see him again. Her tears began to delicately roll down her cheeks as she began to sob out of frustration. Out of desperation. She truly was alone. The streets were empty, the town was empty, she was empty. She choked on her breath and began to sob louder. Nobody was around to hear it anyway. Why her? Why was she the only one spared? She wondered if her time would ever come. There was no one left for her, no one left to save her, no one left to comfort her.
Sarah looked up from the ground. She had reached the end of the street. She glanced to her left. More darkness illuminated in patches by street lamps. But it was also the way to Mandela County Cemetery. She paused for a moment, debating if she should risk visiting, but decided her brother's presence, even if he was in the ground, would be comforting right now. Sarah’s eyes fell to her feet again. It was almost unbearable. Rows and rows of dead houses, the grass under the snow was dead, and she felt dead too. She didn’t even bother holding back her tears. Her dignity did not matter anymore. The streetlamps flickered as if they too were barely holding onto their lives, and the white snow was almost glowing under the moonlight. The moon watched over her from the sky, and Sarah could not tell if it was protecting her or leading her to the end of the line. She didn’t particularly care which it was.
The cemetery gates squeaked open as she forced them open. They too warned her, just like her apartment door. A feeling of dread clung to her as she gazed inside. It was even darker than the streets, only tiny lamps emitted light. Tall trees stood stiff and strong from the earth all around, and angel statues almost looked like they were weeping. She entered the cemetery, and headed towards Mark’s grave. She didn’t need the directory; she visited it so often it was practically muscle memory. The sense of dread clung to her like dandelion seeds the closer she got, but she brushed it away. She recognized the shape of her brother’s grave in the dark and stood at the base, not even needing to read the words to know it was his. Her heart was racing yet she felt calmer than she had in weeks. She gazed at the thick stone slab rutting out from the ground.
She felt fingertips flutter over her back.
She whipped her head around, only to be met with nothing. She knew she wasn’t alone. The sense of dread was not meaningless. She flipped her head back around to the headstone. Pale hands from behind gripped the top of it. Her knees buckled and she fell in pure terror, watching it stand up completely. Sarah tried to scream but it was as if it had stolen her voice.
It-, no, he- was an angel. At least, that's what she would have thought if she didn’t know better. He stood behind the headstone at about nine feet tall, his skin as pale as snow and his hair the colour of purple moonlight. White feathered wings rested at his back. He grinned at her, fangs glinting in the moonlight.
“So, you’re the second Heathcliff.”
Sarah could hardly breathe. His presence suffocated her, his voice made her ears ring and her head throb, like knives stabbing her in the temple. “Who- What are you? What do you want from me?”
He stepped out from behind Mark’s tombstone, and Sarah scrambled to move further away.
“Ease,” he told her. “I do not harm thee.”
“I don’t trust you.”
He grinned. “Smart girl.”
Sarah inhaled deeply, trying to get a hold of her breath. “I have nothing you want beyond my life. My friends are dead, my family is dead, my-”
“Do you wish to join them?” he interrupted.
The silence was deafening. It felt like a whole day had passed before Sarah answered him. One word only, but she figured it would be easier to get this done quickly. Dying beside Mark didn’t seem so bad.
“Yes.”
It’s not like she had anything left. All he did was laugh at her response. How pitiful.
“How pathetic,” he told her. “You mortals are no fun. You give in so easily.”
Sarah knew she was playing with fire, but she didn’t care what happened to her at this point.
“Go on then. Kill me.”
The “angel” straightened his posture and folded his arms across his chest. “Why should I?”
Sarah turned red with embarrassment, not answering the question.
“It’s no fun when you give in. Your time will come eventually.” he said, slipping behind a tree. “Watch your back, Heathcliff. I’d go home before something less forgiving smells you.”
He vanished, disappeared as suddenly as he appeared. Gone into the night, she’d never see him again. She caught her breath finally and rose to her knees, gazing up at the full moon. It glimmered in her eye, the brightest thing she’d seen all night.
Why me?