Looking For Help

  After an hour of preparing, I had to admit I felt rather silly. I was dressed in a large black overcoat to try and shield me from the unnatural cold had settled over the world, and I had donned a wide brimmed black hat to prevent me from accidentally looking up. I was fairly certain the moon was suspended in diagonally above the south of the sky, and I hoped the hat would prevent me from accidentally catching my last glimpse. Slowly, and with as much care as I could muster, I quietly pulled my backdoor open and stepped into my backyard, making sure to keep my eyes forward, and pointed slightly downwards. It was brighter than I would have assumed. The limited view of the world I could see was painted monochrome, all bathed in cool moonlight. Where it hit my skin the cold intensified, and I wished that I had brought gloves, but I knew that if I went back inside the safety of my house I might never work up the nerve to leave again. Indeed, merely standing outside under the watchful gaze of the moon caused my heart to pound and my mouth to dry. The air was frosty and parched, and I resolved to stay out here no longer than I had to. I turned left. The fence that joined my property and Dean’s stood taller than I’d have liked. It was made of old hard wood that scratched my hands as I worked my way over it. Grunting with exertion, I pulled myself over and carefully landed with bent knees. In traditional suburban fashion, Dean’s house was almost completely identical to mine, same design, same colour, with some variation in the outside furnishings. Ignoring the unnatural urge to look up at the moon, I crept to the back entrance. It was a glass sliding door, covered with curtains. That had to be a good sign right? Maybe he was normal after all. Steadying myself, I knocked twice on the backdoor, fast enough so that it would sound unique and, hopefully, human. The curtain split open a crack, and a suspicious green eye peeked through. Wanting to appear friendly, I gave him a little wave. The eye stared at me, then darted around to make sure I was alone. I heard multiple locks click and unlatch and the door slid open, creating a small gap. I hurried through and closed the door behind me. Sighing with relief now that I was somewhere safe, I turned around, only to find Dean standing a few feet away pointing an old shotgun at me. Despite how aged it looked, it was clearly well maintained and ready to fire. ‘Let me see your eyes properly.’ Dean said calmly. I opened my eyes as wide as they would go to give him a good look at my pupils. After a few moments of thorough inspection, he slowly pointed the gun down.

  ‘Why are you in my house and why the fuck are you dressed in that ridiculous getup?’ He asked quizzically.

  I looked down slightly with embarrassment. ‘Well you were always a prepper and a conspiracy nut, I thought you might have some idea what was going on.’

  ‘So you decide to sneak into my backyard and almost give an old man a heart attack?’ I looked down. Dean sighed, scowling at my description of him. ‘Come on, lets go into a room where I can turn the fucking lights on, My study doesn’t have any windows.’ Dean’s house was much warmer than outside, and as I followed him to the study I wondered if he had a generator for when the grid went down. Knowing him he probably did. As we passed the kitchen I saw that every pot, cup and bowl he had was filled up to the brim with water. Dean noticed me looking and grunted, ‘In a day or two the water’s going to turn off, and in a couple of hours the electricity is going to vanish, bet you don’t think I’m so crazy now huh?’ He chuckled as we stepped into the study.

  With a flick of a switch, the yellow ceiling lights turned on, and I squinted my eyes against the brightest light I had seen in days. The study was simply furnished, with a darkly varnished desk and old green armchair sitting in the corner of the room. The walls were covered in bookshelves with a small drinking cabinet and coat rack sitting in the corner. Dean sat in the armchair. He was a good deal older than I was, sitting around sixty, his skin was slightly wrinkled and he had a thin frame which belied the sinewy strength of his muscles. With short grey hair, and his traditional dark green cargo pants and t-shirt, he didn’t look much different from before everything had gone crazy.

  ‘So? What did you come here for kid? Quick chat and a cigarette?’ Dean asked wryly. I put my hat and overcoat on the coat rack and met his gaze.

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  ‘I didn’t want to die alone in my house and I thought you might have something to say about all this’ I said quietly. Dean grunted, and opened up his laptop. I stepped closer to look as I saw what he was trying to show me. Cameras, most of them inside but a few showed me a glimpse of outside the house. People walked soullessly up and down the streets, occasionally stopping to look up at the moon.

  ‘What’s wrong with that one? I asked, pointing to a blank feed called Camera_Outside_South. Dean looked up at me.

  ‘Have you seen their eyes?’ He asked gruffly. ‘Something similar happens to cameras that look at the moon, it burned out the sensor the moment this whole thing went down.’

  ‘How is that possible?’ I asked back, ‘what the hell is it, some kind of radiation?’

  Dean chuckled. ‘Radiation that affects you only when you look at it? No, as far as I can tell there’s something visual about the moon that’s driving everyone crazy. It’s like a piece of information, knowing it caused you mental and physical damage, like seeing the true form of God or finding out who really shot JFK.’ I was about to call him out on that when I heard a thump from inside the house, and the unmistakable creeping of a door swinging open. Dean paled, and met my gaze. I opened my mouth to speak when he held a finger up to his lips.

  ‘Put on your coat’ he said quietly, with such command in his voice that I didn’t hesitate. His face was stoic and serious as he opened a drawer on the desk and took out an old military combat knife. I walked slowly behind him, and as we exited the study I saw her. A woman, short and hunched. She was the same age as Dean, and on her finger she wore a silver band, the same type that Dean had on his right hand. I stood still as Dean slowly crept behind her. Then, a squeak. Dean’s heavy boots may have been practical, but there weren’t quiet, the woman turned instantly to face him and opened her mouth to scream. Her eyes, moon silvered and empty were open wide with alarm and a tireless fanaticism that only the insane possess. As she screeched, Dean raised the knife, but hesitated. The woman lunged at Dean, with a strength unbefitting of her age. She grabbed him in a bear hug and starting forcing him towards the door.

  ‘God is beautiful, you have to see! Everything else is dark and grimy in comparison, God is up there my love, pure and white as moonlight.’ She spoke quickly and urgently, with a hoarse voice. I charged over and jumped into the duo shoulder first, knocking them off balance and taking them to the floor. I wrapped my hands around the woman’s throat while Dean broke free of her grasp. She made no desperate gasps, and her expression was blank as she clawed at my shoulders and chest, unable to penetrate the thick fabric of my coat. After a few agonising moments, her eyes closed, and I stood up. I towered over Dean, who was sunken and miserable, weakly clutching onto the knife he couldn’t use.

  ‘I’m sorry’ he muttered. ‘I should have warned you. I was in my study when she saw it. She called for me to come up but my attention was elsewhere.’ Dean sat down and leant against the wall. Wordlessly, I joined him.

  ‘She came inside and stood at the doorway. Again, asking me to come outside and look, ‘There’s something I need to show you’, she said. I brushed her off again and she grabbed me. I managed to lock her in the bathroom in the commotion.’ Tears welled up in his eyes as he covered them with his hand. ‘Oh God Diane, what am I going to do?’ he choked out.

  ‘You cant leave her here.’ I whispered. ‘I know.’ He responded after a few moments. With all the grace and tenderness in the world, he lifted her up and walked to the front door.

  ‘Check the keyhole, is it clear out there?’ Dean told me. I stooped down and looked. There was no one passing by at the moment. I gave him a nod and, looking downwards, he quietly opened the door and placed Diane on the lawn. I saw his head twitch upwards as he walked back inside. He locked the door and we walked back to the study, where he grabbed another seat and we both sat down.

  ‘You look like the bloody visage of death, you know that? All pale and tall with that dark cloak. For a moment, when you were strangling my wife I almost tried to stab you. Part of me cant just realise that she’s gone now. The only thing left is a shell which wants to turn me crazy as well.’ Dean spoke softly. He opened the drinking cabinet and poured two small glasses halfway with amber liquid. He sighed as he handed one to me, and quickly drank the other.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I stated simply. Dean looked up from his glass and nodded.

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry about Tom, who knows what would’ve happened if you weren’t here. I’d have probably ended up dragged out on the street looking up at the moon. We sat silently for a while, as Diane pounded on the door, begging to be let in.