Department of English

Spring 2005 High School Edition

Fluorescent Hope

Caitlin Vohs
Fiction (11th-12th)
Second Place
Canyon View High School
Teacher: Cody Christensen

This place was so gray. It was like old oatmeal. There was no variation of color or texture, no objects to be seen, no noise to be heard. The long walls of the corridor stretched out for an eternity, it seemed, until they came together in a point of dust at mid-air. Surely, there was no end to this hall.

Jonathon looked down at his feet. He could feel the discouraging length of the tunnel stretching out behind as it did before him, and did not wish to look over his shoulder and confirm that fear. Instead, he studied the snow boots he wore and wondered how he had come to be in such a place. He couldn’t remember. The last thing he could recall was loading Brian, his youngest son, onto the sleigh in front of him.

Now he was here.

John didn’t like that. What had happened to Brian? What had happened to the hill and the chilly air? What had happened to the cold feeling on the top of his nose? All were gone. Gone with the sun, so crisp in the winter, gone with his wife’s laugh as she made snow angels with their daughter a few yards away, gone with the feeling of contentment that had once been in his stomach. It was all gone, and he was alone.

He didn’t like that at all.

Without any premeditated notions of doing so, John began to walk. He wasn’t entirely sure what had pushed him into doing this, wasn’t sure if the idea had even come from his own mind or if it had been put there by another, he only knew that he suddenly had to move. He had to keep walking. His instincts were pushing him to reach the end of that foreboding path. Why? Was that even possible? Probably not, he reasoned, but it was better than standing still, waiting for something to happen.

He walked several paces, then stopped again to take measure of the situation. Something seemed wrong. What was it? He looked around and gave a little frown.

If he hadn’t known for a fact that he had been moving, if he hadn’t felt the air against his cheeks and the swinging of his arms and legs, John would have been convinced that he hadn’t gone anywhere at all. Standing still, everything looked exactly as it had before. The rock patterns in the walls even seemed to be the same… This didn’t feel right at all. But that wasn’t even the worst of it, re realized as he began to move again. The worst of it was that there was no sound. He could see his bulky snow clothes brushing against each other, could see his feet hitting the ground, but could not, for the life of him, hear their swish or thud. It was silent… completely silent. He wondered if he had gone deaf.

“Keep moving.” He whispered to himself. “Always keep moving. Don’t look back. Keep going forward and forward and forward. Don’t stop walking. Don’t look back…” The words flicked off his tongue and died against his lips. If he heard them at all, it was in the recesses of his own mind. And, worse, they didn’t even seem to be his own words. They felt foreign, alien to his mind. They felt like they belonged to another. The thought was not comforting.

Nor was the growing sensation of eyes on his back. Why did he suddenly feel as though he were being hunted? Or maybe not hunted… not yet. Maybe the eyes belonged only to a curious bystander. The thought made him laugh grimly, soundlessly. John told himself this, but he did not believe it. He could not be it with that cold fear in his stomach, that fear of looking back over his shoulders. That instinct was the strongest now, that fear the greatest, and he simply knew, without really knowing, that he must not turn back.

He walked a little faster. The urge to keep going was getting stronger, pressing more firmly against his belly and making his legs pump a little quicker. It was all he could do to stop himself from breaking into a jog.

A voice suddenly cut through the silence, a whisper loud enough to stop him in his tracks and make him cover his ears in pain.

“Daddy?” It asked timidly. John raised his head a little. He knew that voice. That was Kathy’s sweet murmur. The world held still as he waited. “Daddy? Aren’t you there?” Jonathon almost lost his control, almost spun around to see; only pure, primal fear kept his eyes forward. Dear God, but it sounded as though she were right behind him. “Can’t you hold me, Daddy? Oh… Daddy!” and now there was such a hurt in that voice, such feelings of neglect that he could hardly stand it.

“Honey, I’m right here! Daddy’s right here. But I can’t look that way, sweetheart, so why don’t you come where I can see you?” And he stepped aside to make room for her on the path, for it was very narrow.

“Daddy!”

“Kathy! Just step forward… please, sweet pea. Just come stand up here.”

“Oh, Daddy… I’m scared. Why won’t you hold me? Hug me!”

“Please, baby, please…”

“Can’t you hear me? Daddy! I love you… don’t you love me?” The question caught him off guard.

“Yes, baby. I love you. More than the world, I love you. But Daddy is scared too, right now. Why don’t you come stand by me so we can be together, huh? Honey?” But there was no response this time. If Kathy had been there at all, she was gone again. John closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his nerves. When he was sure his heart had not broken, he opened them again. Nothing had changed.

“What is this place?” He groaned. The words were not audible, even to his ears. He took a deep breath, then started to jog. He hadn’t been standing still for more than a few moments but already that instinct was driving him forward again, demanding he make up for lost time. He obeyed it without hesitation. It was the sort of feeling that usually kept one alive.

The eyes were on his back again, stronger now than they had been before; stronger, and more menacing. The predator was watching him closely now, was following his every move with its black stare. John shuddered. He picked up his pace.

Breathing was effortless, he realized. His throat was beginning to feel a little sore, but otherwise he felt he could run for days and not become winded. Why was that? A gloved finger went to his neck, ran along his jugular and over his Adams apple. Swollen? That couldn’t be right…

John tried to swallow and found it unbelievably difficult. No time to worry about that now, he remembered. Run on. Don’t think about it. Don’t look back… he was still breathing, wasn’t he? Then what did it matter?
It was impossible to determine the time or distance. One mile? One day? He couldn’t tell. He began to sweat from his excessive winter gear and at last could stand it no more. He struggled to stop his mechanically pumping feet and started to wrestle his arms from the padded jacket he wore. He was quickly, efficiently, feeling the predatory gaze on the back of his neck the entire time. He squeezed his eyes shut, ground his teeth, and tried to kick off his boots with blinded vision.

Another voice cut through the darkness, startling him to a halt. This one, too, came from just behind him and spoke in muted tones.

“John, baby?” It asked.

“Lauren? Oh, God, is that you?”

“Oh, honey, I want you back. Won’t you come back to us?” It pleaded. John didn’t open his eyes. He was trembling.

“Lauren, I’m here. I’m here… but I can’t go that way. You don’t understand, baby, there’s something back there. It’s after me… can’t you see it? Tell me if you see it, sweetie. Is it there?” And he freed his right foot.

“John… please come back. We need you. Please…” he could hear the pain in her voice, could feel the subtle pull as she tugged on the back of his shirt.

“Not that way, Hun. I can’t. Baby, come forward. Let me see you. I need to see your beautiful face.” He whimpered it to her, like a child. Tears were fighting out of his tightly shut eyes.

She began to sob, oblivious to his words, and fell against his back. “God, John! Don’t you leave me! Don’t you leave me here alone!”

His eyes snapped open. He could no longer feel her against him, could no longer hear her panting breath in his ear. “Lauren, baby?” he whispered. “Are you there?”

But she wasn’t. Neither was his voice. The sound had disappeared with his distraught wife.

That feeling of being stalked returned tenfold and John set out at a dead run. His heart was pounding as fast as his feet as he flew, with all possible speed, towards the end of that corridor. He thought he could see it not, just out of reach but getting closer with every step, with every painful, gulping breath. He was running so hard, moving so fast…

But whatever had been following him had taken chase and Jonathon could feel it just behind him, easily keeping pace. He ran harder, but to no avail. He could not outrun such a beast… It carried death on its claws and was reaching out towards him with long arms, eager to drag him under.

Salvation lay ahead, at the end of the tunnel.

John blinked back tears of frustration. He could see the end, almost, through the salty waves. It was right there! Not much further. It glowed with fluorescent intensity and beckoned him forward. He drew on hidden reserves of strength and set in his last burst of speed.

One hundred, eighty, fifty yards away and closing fast… He thought his legs might disintegrate beneath him even as he sprinted onwards, feared for his straining muscles and thundering heart. But still… he was almost there…

That thing behind him seemed to sense his hope. It surged forward with him, eating up ground faster than he could lay it between them and reaching out towards him with black fingers of hate. Jonathon could feel them there, hidden in his shadow.

Tears were streaming down his face now, mingling with his sweat and dripping down on his dry lips. Thirty yards not… twenty. He was so close…so close.

Another voice was screaming from behind him now, calling his name and pulling him back towards the emptiness.

John would not listen. He refused to feel the tug of those fingers, their stir of cold wind at the back of his neck. He would not let it get him… never.

He could hear Laure’ns voice now, too. What was she saying? Were those apologies spewing from her gorgeous lips? Where those sobs that broke her at every breath?

“Hold on, baby!” He screamed at the top of his silent lungs, “I’m coming! Oh, God! I’m coming, baby!”

And then it happened. His one advantage was torn away from him in an agonizing moment. His breathing, which had previously been effortless, suddenly consumed his concentration. His throat closed almost entirely and he gagged on the air that was now struggling to pass his convulsing esophagus. His lunges began to sting painfully, and blood flew from his mouth like air.

John stumbled.

He fell to his knees, almost collapsed entirely onto the cold earth beneath him. What was wrong with him? What was going on?

Terrified, he tried again to blunder forward, crawling on hands and knees that were suddenly shaking with exhaustion and tension.

“Lord! Let me go!” he cried, or tried to. The air left his mouth in a wet gush, mixed with the blood and saliva that now dotted his chin and hands.

The thing that had been behind him was now crawling above, waiting for the opportune moment to fall down and suck what life was left out of the man. John ignored its presence. His eyes were glued on the bar of blinding white light ahead of him where Lauren’s face seemed to swim in and out of view. Tears were falling from her eyes and Jonathon could have sworn he felt them landing gently against his cheek.

The world convulsed, suddenly, and he was racked with muscle spasms. He fell to his stomach, twisted in agony to his back, and screamed. His spine arched, pushing his shoulder blades into the ground and driving most of his lower half into the air, and he felt as though he could jump up with the force. Simultaneously, he felt stuck in place and time, glued to that hard floor beneath him. John didn’t understand. He didn’t need to understand. The sky above him was flashing bright green and blue, burning his retina and stinging his bare skin.

One last thought was cast back towards the stable, florescent light and then Jonathon simply ceased to be.

 

Kathy hugged her mother’s thigh, throwing terrified looks at the corpse of her father around the swishing fabric of the skirts she hid behind. They had told her, in soft tones, that his open eyes were normal, told her it was his body’s way of keeping things regular. They had told her, but it was still a little scary. The way they fixed so firmly on that overhead light was…well… eerie.

The man in the white coat had come back. He began pulling out wires and turning off machines that screamed of death. Kathy thought she would never again be able to hear that shrill note without thinking of this place. She frowned a little and watched the man close her fathers’ eyes.

Her mother sobbed when he did this, and a woman in green scrubs put an arm around her shoulders. “Miss,” the nurse said, “You had no choice. You did the right thing. Four days in and he wasn’t making any progress…” She trailed off and fixed her eyes on Kathy. The little girl could see the guilt in her face. She had been the one to remove the tube that had regulated her father’s breathing. She had been the one to start all his convulsions, it seemed. Kathy’s frown deepened, and she turned away.

Her eyes landed again on her father and she felt compelled to go to him. The doctor was a nice man, but he wouldn’t let her crawl up into the bed next to him, as she had the day before. He let her stand on the chair beside him instead, then led her mother from the room.

Kathy sighed a little girl sigh.

She didn’t fully understand what her mother had meant by him ‘never waking up,’ didn’t understand this ‘coma’ they spoke of. All she knew was that once he had lived, and now he did not. It made her sad.

“Daddy,” she whispered, “Take care of my goldfish Abby, please… just until I can get to where you are and do it myself. I promise I’ll clean her tank and everything, if you help… I’ll see you soon, Daddy. I love you… I miss you… sleep well.”