I have always thought of darkness as a place – one where you are alone and defenceless. For as long as I can remember it has been my biggest fear. People mostly grow out of it, but I never did. And then I found a reason to be afraid. They came for me, the creatures that live and hunt in the dark. The ones I would come to know as the Umbra.
* * *
In the freezing darkness of the winter night, my day began. I jostled for position on platform 2 for the 8:08pm train heading west. I watched the black circle of the tunnel for the headlights and listened for the unmistakable rumble of the train. I bounced on my feet against the cold. Of the dozens of people on the platform, there are none I know.
The train screeched to a halt and mechanical doors slid open and a few got off and more got on. There was an empty seat but in a flash it was taken. No mind, my feet were getting used to bearing my full weight for the whole night.
At the next stop an elderly man exited trailing his briefcase in one hand. The door was too quick and closed on his wrist leaving his body outside the train and his hand and briefcase inside. A bunch of people stared, but not one moved to help. The sensor identified an obstruction and the alarm blared. The doors opened and the man pulled his hand clear and shuffled silently down the platform.
To get to the warehouse I had to change trains in the city. A wave of people sweep daily through the cavernous hall, most wearing black or grey coats, and all with their eyes forward and heads down. No one needs to look at the signs anymore. We are trained rats running a familiar maze.
Despite two lost minutes due to a delay of the second train, I was not late. This is important because more than a few minutes late and it is one of your three strikes. The meaning of ’a few minutes’ is left ambiguous to give management wriggle room if they want to fire you. I once worked for a company that had ’assumed overtime ’ written into the contract without defining what it meant. In practice what it meant was a lot of unpaid hours. One disgruntled worker calculated his portion at more than 35% on top of his scheduled hours. He used the calculation to ask for a pay rise and we never saw him again. It’s best not to complain.
Keith was at the door, as always, when we walked onto the warehouse floor. He wore a blue tag pinned to his shirt that read ’manager’. I’ve never seen him without it. I’ve also never seen him smile. He has what I describe as a resting glum face. His eyelids droop and his mouth turns down ever so slightly at the corners. Above his top lip is a dark shadow destined to never become a moustache because he shaves it every day at the exact same time. Keith is the sort of guy you hate to have a beer with because he has nothing interesting to say. But in the warehouse, where he has his tablet and his rule book and an unquenchable desire to tick boxes, he is King.
We each picked up a small beeper like device from the rack on the inside wall. This device is to be on your person at all times and tracks our movements throughout the shift. Keep your toilet stops short and stick to scheduled break times and you won’t end up with a strike. Some companies have an app for your phone that does all this, but management wisely surmised that if it was app based they might be liable to contribute to employee’s phone plans. And so the beeper was born.
Graveyard shift runs from 9:00pm to 5:30am. Most of the year this means you go to work in the dark and you get off work in the dark. The lights in the warehouse are bright and light up the concrete floor as if under sunlight. It messes with the natural rhythm of the body, but on the plus side the pay is lousy.
The work is straight forward. Fill 25 boxes per hour, every hour. 26 is ok. 24 is a warning from Keith. The job interview lasts one hour and involves filling 25 boxes. It is a simple pass or fail. The initial excitement I had from reaching the target had long since faded. Now my nightmares revolved around missing the box count and bottomless boxes that won’t fill no matter how much you put in them.
It was a Wednesday when she first came and worked beside me. The warehouse floor is enormous. If you were to venture from one corner to the other you’d be advised to pack a lunch. Therefore, you only get to know the people who work near you. For me it was Alister, a skinny teenager who didn’t say much. But Alister was gone and in his place was the black haired girl with the big eyes. I’d seen her in the break room but I’d never spoken to her.
“Where is Alister?” I said.
“I don’t know.”
“Is he sick?”
“I don’t know.” Her answer was monotone, telegraphing annoyance.
“My name is James.”
“That’s a bit generic don’t you think?”
I couldn’t tell if she was joking. Her eyes were on her box, the first of the evening. I read her name tag. Merry. Strange name. She looked up and caught me in thought.
“Christmas,” I said.
“What?”
“Merry Christmas.”
She rolled her eyes and went back to her box. What the fuck did I just say? Merry Christmas? It was probably a nickname, or a shortened version of something. Merilyn maybe. I screamed inside my head.
“You had better start filling boxes.” She flicked her eyes to the left. I turned and there was Keith and he was leering in my direction. I surmised it was because I wasn’t moving and if I’m not moving I’m not filling boxes. I started filling a box.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. We have to look out for each other.”
The advice seemed logical but didn’t ring true. One time this poor freckle-faced bastard took a personal call on the floor. If I remember it right his girlfriend or somebody was sick. This time it wasn’t just Keith on the floor. There were four higher ups all roaming, waiting to pounce. If someone had just nudged young freckle-face and told him to pocket the phone he might have survived. But the four circled and surrounded him and made an exception – giving him all three strikes on the spot. The rest of us stood back thanking the stars it was him and not us.
At the end of the shift we put our beepers back up on the rack and spilled out into the cold early morning air. It was raining and I pulled up my hood over my head. Everyone went their own separate ways. Some skipped across the square to the stop to wait for the night bus. Others thrust their hands into their pockets and walked south to the underground station and the train at 5:45am.
Through the haze of rain I spotted Merry. She stood on the footpath watching oncoming traffic. A huge knitted scarf wrapped tight up under her chin and a red beanie that bore the worst of the rain. Headlights from vehicles lit up her face before passing and leaving it once more in darkness.
I had to walk by her to get to the underground station and I went to her and tapped her on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry about what I said.”
“What?”
“The Merry Christmas thing. I didn’t mean anything by it. I like the name.” I didn’t need to add that last bit.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Her big brown eyes moved from me back to the road. I turned to follow her gaze. A bus swung around and its headlights forced me to squint. When it passed the road was empty and illuminated only by the street lights. The footpath was only partially lit and beyond it was darkness. She stared into the impenetrable black as if she expected someone to come.
“I’ll be on my way then,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait. Do you want to go and get some pancakes?”
“Pancakes?”
“Yeah, you know, breakfast.”
“Uh, I guess so.”
I didn’t want to. Work sucked my energy and extending my day further was a hassle I could do without. I don’t know why I agreed. But I had.
“Come.”
She nodded her head to the side and skipped to the bus still waiting by the stop. I followed and we climbed to the top tier and took a seat near the back. Aside from the two of us seated side by side, the top section of the bus was empty.
“Where are we going?”
“It isn’t far.”
I rubbed my legs above the knees trying to relieve some of the stress built up from an 8 hour shift on my feet. I closed my eyes. I was tired. In my mind’s eye all I saw were boxes.
The engine revved and the bus accelerated and jolted sideways and out onto the road. Why had she asked me to go for pancakes? We had barely spoken at all during our shift even though we were next to each other the entire time. I got the impression she had sized me up and passed judgement and it was all negative.
The bus drove away from the city. The faint outline of abandoned warehouses partially lit by the streetlights went by the window. At the next stop the bus waited but no one came. Merry put her hand to the window to block the reflection of the light and seemed to be looking for something. The doors closed and we lurched back into traffic.
Out in the darkness a series of spotlights shone on an old building and a low rhythmic thud of heavy base vibrated loud enough we could hear it over the engine.
“What is going on in there?” I said.
“It’s a party. It happens every night.”
“It’s almost 6am and it’s a weeknight.”
“Sometimes people work strange hours and party strange hours.”
At the second stop Merry pushed the button and stood and we climbed down the stairs and off the bus. She led me down the hill we turned into a main street lined with shops and cafes. We cut down a narrow, poorly lit alley. All the shop fronts were dark. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. I tread carefully on the large black cobblestones worn smooth and now wet and slippery. Merry turned back to me.
“Come on,” she said.
“Is anything even going to be open?”
“There’s always something open.”
We came out of the alley and into a side street. Part way along was a bright sign that read ’Rogerios’. Under the sign a set of stone steps led down below street level. We shuffled down the street as the night’s rain collected in the gutters beside us and sloshed into the storm water drain cut into the footpath at the low point.
“This is it,” she said.
Merry stood at the top of the stairs and removed her gloves and her beanie. She smoothed her hair and looked each way down the street as if she were about to cross the road and was looking out for oncoming traffic. The street, even at this hour, was not empty. A woman skipped across the road in high heels and below an umbrella. Outside a store front a figure waited, hands in pockets, head hidden below a wide-brimmed hat that wouldn’t have been out of place in a black and white movie. A delivery truck indicated and turned down the alley we had come from. Merry stuffed her beanie into her jacket pocket and went down the steps.
Rogerios is an enclosed space with no windows. There is a bar in one corner and booths lined against the walls. In the middle of the room a collection of small round tables and plastic chairs stand close together. The place wasn’t full, but a few of the tables were occupied. We took a booth.
“I’m surprised it’s so busy,” I said.
“People work strange hours and party strange hours and eat strange hours.”
“I guess so.”
“What do you normally do after work?”
“I grab a bag of chips and play video games until I fall asleep. If I do this night shift work much longer I’ll get fat and have a heart attack.”
“I prefer working nights.”
“You do? Why?”
“I’d rather be awake when it’s dark and asleep when it’s light.”
It was the same for me. I can’t sleep in a room where there is no light at all. My mind fills in the black and creates monsters that I know for almost certain aren’t there, but the small sliver of chance something is standing over me in my bed is enough to make my heart thunder in my chest. The only cure is to turn on the light. Or sleep during the day.
When I began working nights I discovered the added benefit of rarely being in my room when it was dark outside. Now I could sleep with the light of day streaming in at the edges of the cheap fabric curtain not quite big enough for the window. The deep and dark night was spent under lights on the factory floor and it kept the monsters at bay. Maybe it was the same for her.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” I said.
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were on the menu. “We have to order at the bar, what do you want?”
I scanned the menu. Breakfast was served all day. Half a dozen omelette options. Half a dozen pancake options. Half a dozen variations of a big breakfast, the deluxe option included hash browns.
“You promised me pancakes so I’ll take the pancakes with maple syrup.”
She slapped her palms on the table and stood and went to the bar. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to give myself something to do while she was gone. I didn’t look at my screen but watched her wait in line. I was confused. Was this supposed to be some sort of a date? Did she have some phobia of eating at a restaurant alone and needed a stooge for company? I couldn’t get a read on her.
She returned with a tray and lifted a teapot and two cups and a single set of cutlery wrapped in a napkin from the tray. “I hope tea is ok. I forgot to ask.”
“Tea is fine.”
She placed a cup in front of me and filled it and placed the cutlery next to the cup. She poured tea into her own cup and placed the pot in the centre of the table. She sipped and wrapped her hands around the cup.
“You look tired,” I said.
“I am tired. I feel like I have no energy lately. I wake up sometimes and I can barely move.”
“Night shit will do that to you.”
“I suppose. It never used to, but now it feels like I wake up more drained than when I went to sleep.”
“Are you on tomorrow?”
“I’m working the rest of the week.”
“Well, we’ll eat and get out of here and you can get some sleep.”
A waiter came with a plate of pancakes. Merry pointed to me and the waiter sat them down. A stack of five with a white jar of syrup on the side. I hadn’t felt like pancakes when Merry suggested it, but they looked amazing.
“Don’t let them get cold,” Merry said.
“I’ll wait for your food to come. It shouldn’t be too long.”
“I’m not eating. I’m not hungry.”
I lifted my eyebrows and unwrapped the cutlery. “You can try some if you like.”
“No thanks. I actually feel a little sick.”
I sliced into the pancakes and shovelled large chunks into my mouth. I had decided that whatever this was, a date or company or whatever, I wanted it to end. I cleared my plate in about 2 minutes flat and pushed it to the centre of the table. I downed the dregs of the tea.
“Do you want some more tea?”
“No thanks. I’d rather not stay up too long, I’m working the rest of the week too.” I wiped my mouth with the napkin. “I’ll get the bill,” I added before she had a chance to protest. I stood and went to the bar and paid. On the way back I grabbed our coats from the rack. She stood reluctantly and we walked up the stairs and back out on the street.
It was still dark. The sun would not be up for a couple of hours. I had to get back to the underground station to get home and I retraced the route in my head. I found the alley we had come down and spotted the man in the coat and hat still standing where he had been when we walked in.
I turned to leave and she grabbed me by the elbow. “Will you stay with me?”
“What?”
Merry looked across the road to the man in the hat and then back at me. “I don’t want this to be weird and its going to sound weird. Will you come back to my place to sleep? And I mean sleep, just that and nothing else. I don’t want to be alone.”
I didn’t know what to say. She pleaded with her eyes. I wanted to say no, but the way she pressed my arm told me she meant it. Something was bothering her. I thought back to freckle-face who got his three strikes on the warehouse floor while we all watched on. Maybe this was one of those times where I couldn’t or shouldn’t walk away. A long dormant slice of humanity woke inside me and my resolve to walk away escaped like air from a balloon.
“I mean.. where do you live?” And with that I knew it was done. I could have said a hard no and managed to get out of there. But then I would wonder what it was that had her so rattled and chastise myself because I didn’t help. Merry was the first person outside of Keith and Alister and my housemates I’d spoken to in weeks. I’d have felt terrible turning her away.
“It’s not far. It’s a couple of blocks actually.”
“It’s a bit weird.”
“I know how this sounds. You only have to stay for a while. Just a couple of hours.” She nodded and tugged at my arm.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Ok, I guess.”
We walked through the streets in silence, Merry always half a step ahead. We took a left and entered a street lined with terraced houses. Light shone from windows along the street as people working regular hours were waking up and getting themselves ready. At the third house on the left Merry opened the gate and went down the side. A sensor clicked and a light flicked on.
Merry fumbled with her keys and looked back behind her. She looked first down one way and then the other like she had done at Rogerios. She opened the door. Inside opened onto a staircase leading up. We climbed to the landing on the first floor and Merry put a key in the lock and went inside. I hesitated a moment and followed.
The apartment was tiny. The door opened into a small living room with a couch pressed against one wall and a cabinet and television on the other. If you sat on the couch and stretched out your legs you could almost kick the tv over. Joining onto the living room was a small kitchen with a two burner stovetop and a bar fridge and washing machine nestled amongst the cabinets.
Merry shook off her coat and hung it on a hook behind the swing of the door. She held out her hand and I gave her my coat.
“It’s nice,” I said.
Merry shushed me. “Fay is asleep.” Merry pointed to a closed door at the beginning of the hall. “She’ll be up and leave in about half an hour. We hardly see each other during the week.”
“Ships passing through the night. I live with an Italian couple and we barely see each other either. They work regular hours and when we are home together they lock themselves in the lounge room and I feel awkward going in there, so I just stay in my room instead.”
“The bathroom is here and my room is through there. Use the bathroom if you want and then come in.” Merry opened the door to her room and swung it back leaving it slightly ajar.
I stayed in the bathroom a few minutes, most of it spent looking at myself in the mirror and whispering to myself. I talked myself into casually going into Merry’s room and then talked myself into leaving and dealing with the consequences later. What’s the worst that could happen? She’d stop talking to me at work and that wouldn’t be a loss because we’d never spoken before today. I shook my head. I’d told her I would stay.
Merry was already in bed facing away from the door. The bed was pushed up against one wall and a tiny window about the size of a hardback book was clasped shut. Stray clothes hung from half opened drawers. A lamp sat on a wooden bedside table and it shone bright and cast shadows on the walls.
“If you wouldn’t mind lay down on top of the covers. You can use the blanket.” There was a folded blanket at the foot of the bed. I kicked off my shoes and lay on the bed as instructed. I took the blanket and pulled it up over my shoulders. The room was cold, the radiator was locked in the off position. I turned off the lamp.
“Please leave the light on.”
I clicked the lamp back on and turned my back to Merry. I closed my eyes but the light of the lamp turned the inside of my eyelids a bright red. I pulled the blanket up over my eyes and exposed my feet. It was a good thing I left my socks on.
Merry lay still. The bed was big enough that I didn’t feel her back, but I could feel the upturning of the quilt that wrapped her. Her breathing was shallow and then rhythmic indicating she had fallen asleep. It hadn’t taken long. I lay awake under the blanket and tried to silence my mind so I could sleep, but it was no use. I’d always had problems sleeping in new places. Add to that this new place was a shared bed with a virtual stranger.
Soon I heard movement in the apartment. It must be Fay. A door opened and closed. The sink ran and the toilet flushed. There were a few various clatters I could not place and then another door shut. The apartment was silent. Fay had left.
I pulled the blanket back from my head. The bedroom door was shut and I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. The room retained some of the old moulded trim around the edges, but it did not extend neatly around all four corners. One wall was new, put in to create a new bedroom on a part floor of what had once been a single family home. The bathroom I’d been in probably used to be a closet. A black modern style lamp hung from the middle of the ceiling. It was out of place.
I listened to Merry. Her breathing rhythmic and shallow. She was still asleep. I envied her. She would wake fresh and rested. I, on the other hand, would lay here awake for the next few hours before I mustered the courage to leave and then it was an hour home and even if I went straight to bed it would take another few hours to process whatever the fuck this situation was before I’d manage to get to sleep. If I did at all. Then I’d be faced with a night shift on little to no sleep. The work isn’t mentally difficult so I’d get through it, but it was going to be a shit day.
My envy of Merry turned to annoyance. I was doing her a favour and I don’t mind doing people good turns, but what would she ever do for me in return? Tell me my surname is as generic as my first name and then not talk to me for the rest of the shift? Nuts to that.
I lifted myself slowly from the bed, listening for any changes in Merry’s breathing. I put my feet on the floor and I relieved the bed of my weight. So far so good. I crept to the door, retrieving my shoes on the way. The door was new so I hoped it would be silent. It was. I slipped out of the room.
The sun had not yet risen and I had to feel my way through the apartment. I crept across the living room and to the door. I put my hand on the lock and hesitated. In my mind I saw Merry’s big brown eyes pleading with me to stay. Just for a few hours. I just don’t want to be alone. “Damn it,” I whispered. I couldn’t do it. The easy decision was to leave but I couldn’t make myself open the door. She had asked me to stay and I’d said I would. I didn’t want to go back to the bedroom and so I pulled my jacket off the hook and laid down on the couch using the jacket as a blanket.
I woke with a start and sat bolt upright. Pre dawn light filtered thinly through the kitchen window. The window was open and a light breeze rustled the curtains. Footsteps in the apartment. Merry must be awake.
In the dull light from the window a silhouette appeared and then was gone. Not Merry, not a roommate named Faye, butsomeone in a thick coat and an old-style hat. The man from the street. He was in the apartment. I drew in a sharp breath and the figure stopped. Fuck, he had heard me. Terror gripped me and I made myself as small as possible on the couch, willing myself to stay silent.
Then, among the shadows, the silhouette disappeared. I heard a dull thud from the street. I waited a beat and with my heart still racing, went to the window and looked out. The narrow path on the side of the house was empty.
The sensor light at the front of the property clicked and turned on. I pushed my head out the window and watched the street. There was no one there. The figure wearing the coat and the hat that belonged in the old time Hollywood movie was gone.
I looked down at the side of the house. A vertical and smooth brick wall. There was no way to climb down or up. It would be a big jump.
I turned back to the apartment. The door to Merry’s room was ajar. Had I closed it? I was sure I had. And I had left the lamp on, but the bright light was gone. He had been in there.
I stood in the kitchen for a minute and then crept to Merry’s door. I listened and heard nothing. I inched open the door and tilted my head to look inside. Merry was no longer tucked neatly on the edge of her bed facing the wall, but instead was on her back, one arm hung limply over her forehead and the other twisted awkwardly beneath her torso. Her face was a stark pale. Her arm was a subtle and strange shade of purple.
“Are you awake?” I said.
Merry stirred and turned and pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. She opened a single eyelid half way and closed it again.
“What are you doing?”
“Were you awake just now? Was someone here?”
“What? What are you talking about?” She let her arm slip down so it covered her eyes.
“Are you alright? I think someone was here.”
“Where were you?”
I didn’t answer.
“I need to get some sleep. I’m so tired.”
She raised her arm and looked to the small window above the bed. The window was ringed with light around the curtain. The sun was rising.
“You can go home now if you want James.”
“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re not hurt?”
“I’m not hurt. I’m tired.”
Merry turned her back to me. I backed out of the room and closed the door. I picked up my jacket from the couch and took one last look out the kitchen window and left the apartment.
The day was still dull enough that the sensor light clicked on when I reached the gate. The sound of the light stopped me as if it were an alarm. I looked down the street on both sides looking for the figure in the coat and the hat but it was not there. Whoever that was didn’t dawdle as they were leaving.
I rode the train back out to my apartment. The sun was fully above the horizon when I turned the key. I went to bed hoping for sleep but knowing I would lay awake. Crazy thoughts bounced around in my head. Who was the person in the jacket and the hat? Why had they sneaked into the apartment? Merry hadn’t woken. Merry hadn’t screamed. What did they want? What had they done? And had they seen me? Or, had it all been a dream? I lingered on that last thought and convinced myself it was true.
I pulled the blankets over my head to block out the light of the day. I shouldn’t have gone for pancakes. I should have come home and played video games until I fell asleep.
That night I made it to work early despite my fatigue. It promised to be a long shift coming in off so little sleep. I went onto the floor, I nodded to Keith and took my beeper and went to my station. I watched for Merry but she was nowhere to be seen. In the place where Merry had been the night before, and Alister the night before that, was a young man named Shaun with a patchy, flesh-coloured beard. He didn’t seem interested in conversation and I was happy to oblige with silence and we went about filling our 25 boxes per hour.
At break time I scanned the room for Merry. She wasn’t there. Keith stood in the corner sipping coffee from a plastic cup. He tipped his head forward each time he took a sip but always kept his eyes on us. His hand brushed over his tie to check he hadn’t spilled.
“Where is Merry?” I said.
“She didn’t come in. Tried to call and she didn’t pick up. Strike three.”
“You fired her?”
“Strike three is strike three. Everyone knows the rules.”
First hour after the break I failed to make the 25 boxes for only the second time since I’d started. Keith, ever eagle eyed, tapped me and gave me a warning. Lift the pace or it will be a strike.
I tried to push Merry from my mind, but it was no use. First she had been worried enough about something to invite a stranger to her house. Then someone had been sneaking around in her apartment. And now she didn’t show for work. If only I had stayed in her room like she’d asked. If only I had looked out for her.
After the shift I turned my collar up and made for the platform and the 5:45am train. At the entrance to the underground I stopped and turned. A stream of colleagues from the warehouse floor brushed past and started down the stairs and to the escalators. The same bus I had taken the night before with Merry swung around and idled at the stop. Something moved in the shadows behind the bus. The silhouette of a man in a coat and a hat that belonged in an old Hollywood movie. And then it disappeared into the darkness.