Dark Sight

By Christopher Alan Poe

As the only black student at an all-white school, Monique Robinson has always had to prove herself. When her best friend, Victoria is left brain dead, Monique fights to bring her back. But she soon realizes that blurring the lines between life and death comes with a price. Can Monique save her best friend before she heads down a path from which no one will return?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Opal Books
• Release date: Apr 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781626941120

Book preview

Kudos for Christopher Allan Poe

God, I love Christopher Allan Poe’s work. I read Dark Sight in a single obsessive night. That's kind of the way you have to read his stuff. At the heart of the story is the relationship of Victoria and Monique who could have been my sisters or my friends. He makes you like them the way that Stephen King or John Irving makes you like their characters, and then he has you. Get ready for a late night of reading and a rough day at work or school tomorrow. It's completely worth whatever future pain is coming your way. 

-John Brantingham, Director, San Gabriel Valley Lit Festival 

Watch out. This is a real page-turner. 

-Wendy Burch, KTLA Morning News. 

Christopher Allan Poe, the author of The Portal, scores big with another killer supernatural thriller. His young Monique is the picture of confidence and purpose, fighting to keep from faltering and being sidelined by guilt and doubt. He captures the frustrations and absurdity of high school as a backdrop to this fast-moving, and unpredictable thrill ride with a seemingly average young lady who turns out to be anything but. 

-Rik Bolman, WEBL/WUMY Memphis 

Larger-than life characters, vivid imagery and moderate gore makes The Portal a morbid read that will delight many a horror fan. Definitely a recommended read! 

-Not Now Mommy’s Reading. 

Prepare for a page-turner that will keep you reading long after you decided to go to bed. Poe is an author to watch. 

-Genreview.com 

I was hooked. Kenneth Weene, IT MATTERS Radio Show It doesn’t matter when you read this book, it will get to you. If it’s cold and snowy, you’ll be sweating. If the temperature is a-hundred-and-ugh, you’ll get chills. If it’s raining, your throat will be parched and dry. 

-Terrance V. McArthur, King’s River Life Magazine

Dark Sight

by

Christopher Allan Poe

PUBLISHED BY BLACK OPAL BOOKS

For Bonnie Hearn Hill

1

WHEN VICTORIA COVERED UP the picket sign that she’d made for her protest rally that afternoon, I worried the day would end badly. When she refused to tell me what we were protesting, I was convinced.

In my rearview mirror, I could see the thing sitting there on the backseat of the king cab next to my makeup bag. She’d hammered a wooden stake onto the frame of one of her stretched canvases and then hid the sign portion from me with a taut, plastic trash bag. The scent of acrylic paint filled the car. Not good. Ditching class today and driving with only a learner’s permit were bad enough, but this plan of hers must have been in the works for a while, and yet she had never mentioned it.

As usual, I sucked it up. Unpredictability was the price of being best friends with a savant. Her condition wasn’t debilitating. Far from it, but there was no denying that the artistic part of her brain had devoured the region that controlled her people skills. And then it snacked on her common sense for good measure. The beautiful chaos that resulted was Victoria.

Maybe that’s why I loved her so much. She could deflect insults with grace and win fistfights against boys, right before stepping absent-mindedly into oncoming traffic. That’s why she needed me. To pull her back to the curb sometimes. At the moment, I seriously considered yanking her elbow.

Monique, she said from the passenger seat. Snap out of it.

How much farther? I asked. My dad will kill me if he finds out we took his truck.

It’s going to be fine.

I’d like to see my sixteenth birthday I told her.

Relax. It’s up there.

Ahead, a procession of cars had parked along the shoulder of the highway, against a rock face of sheared black granite. I pulled to a stop behind them and got out. Victoria grabbed her sign from the backseat and tucked it under one arm.

We’re here now, I said. In the middle of BFE, so tell me. What are we doing?

Not yet. It’s a surprise.

A surprise protest. Be still my heart.

Ooh, it’s dark Monique, she said, as if I were starring in an old-time Vincent Price movie. Dreary Monique.

I’m not going to laugh, so you can quit it.

Will Monique the Sarcastic make an appearance too?

Screw you, Victoria Vinegar-head. I accidentally smiled. Great. That would only encourage her.

That’s better. She pulled out her lipstick from her black fitted cropped jacket and reapplied her red color. Only Victoria. Trying to look gloom-pretty at a protest.

Any time today, I said.

Hold up. She pulled open my gray pea coat, glanced at my favorite lint-balled black turtleneck, and huffed.

What? I asked.

If my girls were that big, I’d put a sign on a tent and charge admission.

I haven’t done laundry this week. Not all of us have maids.

Hey, you can be a knee-locked virgin forever if you want. She closed my jacket. Let’s go.

This better be good, I told her.

To the west, the last of the day’s sunlight peered over the rolling hills, melting the ice on the roadway to a trickle of gritty slush water. Down the embankment on the opposite side of the highway, a snow-covered trail led to a clearing in the dense forest, where dozens of people gathered.

At the bottom, we entered the clearing through the open chain link gate, which was lined with a slinky of razor wire. Inside, we scooted between several protester groups. Splotches of red snow crunched underfoot, which gave way to green, then purple and blue. The hiss of spray paint came from every direction.

Looks like Rainbow Brite exploded out here, I said.

The Jesus lovers are fighting against evil. She motioned to the sign that she’d brought. We are too.

We’re protesting with a church?

Not just any church. She pulled out wrinkled blue flier from her pocket and handed it to me. The Awakeners Church of Life.

Where did you even hear about this? My Spidey-sense wasn’t just tingling. It was having cramps. We don’t belong here.

Quit being such a clit, she said. These people are harmless.

Next to the gnarled roots of a dead olive tree, a gang of brightly clothed white folks hovered together, laughing and talking, swinging their signs. One guy lifted his proudly. God Hates Faggots, it read. He checked its heft, swung it around like a sword, and then set it to the side. Across from him, a woman held her own sign. The fetus depicted sat with a gun pointed at its head. The caption read, Mommy don’t kill me.

And they claim that I’m disturbed, I told her.

These people are freaking rad, Victoria said. What I want to know, is whose idea it was to bring the butcher’s blood.

I searched around. Behind us, a mother grabbed her daughter’s hand, dipped it in a bucket from Jackson’s Deli, and smeared a small red handprint across her sign. Jeez-us. The crimson mess that we had just stomped through wasn’t paint.

Ick. I wiped my riding boots in patches of untouched snow.

I know, right?

Victoria, we need to get out of here.

We have every right to protest too, she said. It’s our first amendment duty.

No, actually it’s not. I pointed to a NO TRESPASSING sign that was riddled with buckshot. This is private property. We can get in a lot of trouble. Or worse.

Promise? She grinned. Then she snatched the flier out of my hands and read it aloud, Do you feel lost? Overwhelmed? Come out and worship at the altar of truth. She glanced up at me. See, they specifically invited us here.

Of course, they did. What good are cult killers without their victims?

The forest of ancient fir trees seemed to agree. It bristled in the frigid wind. God, it had gotten dark too quickly. Around the perimeter of the clearing, parishioners began lighting a circle of torches. What kind of church held a protest in the middle of a forest? Stupid question. Time to go.

Victoria, listen to me. I don’t know where you got that flier, but if you value our friendship at all, we need to go. I’m scared.

Okay, calm down. She nodded. We can leave. That’s all you had to say.

Welcome to our camp. A man with hawkish features and a scraggly beard walked up to us, wearing a puffy snow camo jacket. His dark eyes and deep sockets seemed to hold me in place. I don’t remember seeing you out here before. Is this your first time?

Sorry, I told him. I think we’ve stumbled into the wrong place.

If you’ve got a sign, this is the right spot. Mind if I take a look?

Victoria beamed. Not at all. She pulled off the black plastic bag before I could stop her, and she held her sign up high.

We were so dead. It might’ve been her best painting yet. Surrounded by erupting volcanoes, Jesus lovingly cradled a baby dinosaur in his arms. The raptor-type reptile suckled on his breast.

Victoria. I grabbed her arm firmly and then said to the man, Sorry to intrude. We’re leaving.

I turned and yanked her back toward the gate.

Hold on, he yelled from behind.

All at once, everyone in the clearing quit what they were doing and stared at us. In my peripheral view, I could have sworn that they all had the exact same smile. I didn’t dare look. I just kept pulling her along. We made it through the gate alive, but we weren’t safe yet.

Hey, the man yelled again. From the sound of his voice, he was maybe fifty feet back. Then I heard crunching snow steps behind us. Lots of them. I began to run, pulling Victoria behind me.

We reached the roadway just as a vehicle sprayed by, and then we crossed the street. I glanced back. The cult people didn’t follow us. They just stopped by the edge of the road, as if an invisible barrier existed that they couldn’t penetrate. We got into the car.

What the hell was that? I tried to start the engine to my Dad’s truck, but it flooded.

I was going to ask you the same thing, she said. What were you thinking with that little scene?

Little scene? I couldn’t believe what I heard. Please start. The engine finally revved. We could’ve been killed.

They’re my friends, Monique.

Of course, the cult people are your friends. What was I thinking? I backed up. Headlights approached, so I had to wait. At least the car could be used as a weapon if needed. Quality people too. Fear mongering gay-bashers.

If you’re talking about that sign, she said. Justin is gay, dipshit.

Justin. I nodded. Now she was on a first name basis with them. Hold on. I couldn’t have heard her right. What did you say?

He’s one of the people who gave me the flier. Did you even read it?

How could I? You just threw me out there.

They’re protesting negative messages and all the hateful garbage that everyone spews online these days. Later tonight, they’re going to toss all of their signs into a giant bonfire to burn away the negativity. You just made me look like a complete ass.

Well, maybe if you would’ve warned me.

I wanted to surprise you with something cool for once, instead of the tired BS you deal with every day. Do you really think I’d put you in danger?

What could I say? I knew she wouldn’t intentionally try to hurt me, but that didn’t mean she always thought things through.

Across the street, the man in the snow camouflage jacket looked unsure of whether or not to approach us. He carried Victoria’s painting. In the confusion, I hadn’t even noticed that she had dropped it. Now, I really felt stupid.

I see how it is. Her voice shook as she opened her car door.

No, wait, I called out as she walked around the front of the vehicle. I rolled down my window and leaned out. Please get in the car, Victoria. I’m sorry.

Whatever. She glanced back at me. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. I’ll be fine.

The road began to brighten. Then I heard the roaring splash of tires.

Get out of the street, I shouted and wrestled with the car door.

She spun around and held up her hands. I stared helplessly as a blur of screeching tires and blinding headlights hit her. The sickening thump punched the air from my chest. My best friend crumpled beneath the car, which swerved and smashed through the guardrail and disappeared over the embankment beyond.

2

DOWN IN THE DRAINAGE ditch, I held Victoria’s head in my lap for what seemed like hours. Despite the cold darkness, I could see the confusion in her eyes, the blood on her broken teeth. I would have given anything right then, my life or my soul, for the power to freeze time. To snap my fingers and pause the flurry of snowflakes that scoured our cheeks.

I would have spent my days alone, leaving tunnels of emptiness in the snowstorm where I passed. I’d study the warm mannequins that used to be people. Even if the air molecules stopped moving too, then I would have gladly suffocated, if I just could have stopped time back in my truck, just before I said the wrong thing. When Victoria wasn’t dying in my lap.

I didn’t have that power though. Instead, she closed her eyes and stopped breathing. A hand shoved me aside, and several people grabbed her.

Somehow, I ended up in an El Camino with some guy I had never met. And then I was at Eden Springs ER, sitting next to him, drowning in white noise. My temples throbbed.

The guy mumbled something and stared at me with ice-blue eyes that seemed unnatural against his olive skin.

What? I asked.

My name is Ethan.

He might have been our age, but he looked a few years older. A senior, maybe? If so, I’d never seen him at school. None of that mattered. Judging from his survival clothing, I knew he was one of those cult people. I hated him for that.

I don’t know what to say to you, I told him.

I talked to the nurse. Victoria’s surgeon is one of the best in the country, and your friend is strong—

Don’t. I wanted to believe fairy tales too, but her dried blood still stained my cuticles. No one could live through that accident, and even if she did... Just don’t.

Really. I overheard the EMTs. They started her heart again in the ambulance.

To what end? I said too loudly. A hippie in John Lennon glasses with thinning brown hair gawked at us from the vending machine. Several other people did too. I quieted my voice. You wouldn’t understand.

I understand more than you think, he said. You can’t blame yourself for this. Accidents happen every day. It’s not for us to decide.

Here we go, I said. Next, you’re going preach about mysterious ways.

No, I wasn’t going to do that. He sat up and leaned forward. You, above all people, might want to think before dishing out stereotypes.

Why? Because I’m black, I have some bigger responsibility?

Not because of that, he said. You judged and executed the Awakeners the minute you stepped into the camp. I saw the whole thing go down. You were wrong about us.

Was I?

He pointed to the waiting room. Look around you.

The mother with the butcher’s blood from earlier smiled at me, as if to say that it would be okay. Her daughter had passed out, sucking her thumb in the seat next to her. In fact, I think everyone in the waiting room had been at the rally. Through the front sliding glass doors, the cult leader who had approached Victoria and me spoke to Sheriff Acosta. That’s when I noticed who wasn’t there. Victoria’s parents hadn’t arrived yet.

You may not understand why this happened, Ethan said. But it happened for a reason.

What reason? I asked him. She was going to change the world. It should’ve been me.

Yeah, he said. Maybe it should’ve.

Excuse me? Who the hell are you again?

Good. He nodded. It’s about time we broke up your pity party.

My friend is dying in there because of me.

Your friend just got hit by a truck, and she’s still fighting. If she hasn’t given up, what’s your excuse?

His words stopped me. He was right. If anyone could survive this, Victoria could. I wanted to believe it, but he hadn’t seen the tree branch stabbed through the side of her abdomen. Or the glass nuggets embedded in her cheeks.

I don’t know what I’d do without her, I said. He grabbed my hand, and I pulled away. I’m fine.

It may seem like no one understands, he said. But some of us do.

He reached inside the front of his green flannel shirt, pulled out a twine necklace, and took it off. The pendant was some kind of canine tooth, too big to be a wolf’s.

Some Native American tribes practice bear medicine. I could see the sadness in his smile. My mother wore this when she got sick a few years ago.

He took off the necklace and handed it to me. Feathers had been woven into the twine. An ivory circle surrounded the tooth. Latin words were etched around the perimeter.

Did this necklace help? I asked.

That depends on how you look at it. She lived years beyond any of her oncologist’s predictions. So yes, to a scared eight-year-old boy, it was magic. I started to hand it back to him. He reached out and closed my palm around it. I want you to have it.

I can’t take your mother’s necklace. You don’t even know me.

Give it back when your friend gets better. I want you to bring it to Victoria for me. He glanced around the ER. From us.

I realized that everyone had stopped what they were doing. They all watched Ethan and me. Many of them were crying, but it was really the sincerity on their faces that moved me. They were just a group of people who wanted my best friend to live. Yeah, they were weird, but seriously, who was I to judge normal? At this point, we needed all the help we could get.

Do you think it will work? I asked.

I’d put more faith in the doctors here and her will to live. I don’t know. Maybe my mother fought the breast cancer into remission on her own. Either way, it can’t hurt.

He was right, and it did make me feel better to hold something. I glanced down at it again. The tooth itself was still sharp. The inscription around the edge had worn down with time. Why would a Native American talisman have Latin on it?

Don’t do that, Monique.

Sure, these people were Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but they weren’t dangerous. Besides, even if they were demon-worshipping orgy freaks, I didn’t believe in that nonsense. I slipped the cold ivory around my neck, grateful for the gesture. Still, why would a Native American medallion have Latin written on it?

Here’s my phone number. Ethan wrote it down. If you ever need to talk, call me.

A doctor in surgery scrubs rushed down the hallway to the head nurse’s station. The woman behind the front desk pointed at me, and he walked over to us with a grim look on his face.

I need to speak with somebody from Victoria’s family, he said.

That’s me. I stood. Technically a lie, but so what? Her parents are on their way.

You may want to sit down, he said, and my heart caught in my throat.

3

THE DOCTOR’S WORDS RAINED like meteors on my small world, each impact crater more devastating than the last. Victoria had died for six minutes on the road before they restarted her heart. No one knew if she would ever wake again or how extensive her brain damage would be when she did.

I have to see her. I pushed my way past the doctor.

He yelled something from behind, but I didn’t care. After Dad’s surgery last spring, I could navigate the hospital’s rat maze blind. I reached the critical care section and hit the red button. Mechanized glass doors hissed open, and a burst of pressurized air seemed to freeze me in place.

I stared down the dark, lemon-scented corridor. At 2:00 am, all foot traffic had stopped on the high-gloss floors. The dimmed lights barely fought back the shadows.

I shivered. At the end of this hallway, lay a special place that I knew too well. Hidden away from the regular patients, with their broken fingers and tonsillitis, was a different realm, where the damned endured endless torment, wondering if their loved ones would survive the night.

I hurried down the hall and reached the head nurse’s station, which sat like an oasis of light in the center of the ICU’s octagon. Jeannette apparently still worked the night shift. Her red hair looked like flames under the warm lamps above. Her skin seemed to glow.

Monique. She pulled out a single iPod ear bud. Honey, I am so sorry.

Where is she? I demanded.

Just out of surgery, but it’s after hours. You know that only family can be back here now.

Victoria and I have been sisters since kindergarten. I glanced around. Two hospital rooms per side on the octagon. Sixteen total. I’d search every one of them if I had to, with or without her permission. I won’t let her be alone. Not in this place.

Monique, please don’t make me call security.

You don’t have to do that, I told her. You’ve broken the rules before.

Your father was a different story. He’s your blood.

The accident was my fault— I choked up, so I paused to compose myself. She glanced nervously down the hallway from which I’d come, so I added, It’s just us.

Fine, you can check on her from outside her room, but then you need to leave, Jeannette said, and I nodded. We have to keep her contained until she heals.

She stood, and I followed her over to room eight. Ethan’s talisman felt warm against my skin, so I pulled it above my shirt.

Where did you get that necklace? Jeanette asked me.

From a friend, I said.

There’s a lot of power there, she told me. Be careful.

What the heck did that mean?

A girl shrieked as if she were being stabbed. It sounded like Victoria! Jeannette raced forward and wrestled with the door handle. It didn’t budge. Another scream. This time, I knew it was her. I ran to the room’s front window.

Through the reinforced glass, I saw Victoria lying on a gurney with her head turned away. Cybernetic attachments surrounded her bed, which sat in the center of the room. Underneath the blanket that covered her body, she twitched. I grabbed a chair and smashed it against the glass, but it bounced off without leaving even a crack.

We have to get in there, I yelled at Jeannette.

It’s not time. Not yet.

I glanced back inside the room. Victoria’s bed sat empty. Next to my faint reflection in the window’s glass, something twitched. I spun around. She now stood inches away from me with her eyes closed, wearing only a hospital gown.

Help me. She mouthed the words, but only a metallic whisper came out.

Her eyes snapped open. They’d been carved hollow. Hundreds of spiders began crawling out of them. Several thick tarantula legs poked through her left eye and rested around her socket.

Victoria, I said. I’m so sorry.

Someone grabbed my arms. I struggled to break free. A flash of light stole my sight, and I screamed.

Honey, my dad said. Are you hurt?

Suddenly, I was sitting at Spic ‘n Micks. Everyone in the restaurant stared at me, and