Midnight

By Kimball Francis

Midnight is a fast-paced thriller that has twists at every turn. It will take you on a furious ride filled with intrigue and drama. Two sisters take a long road trip to try and figure things out mysterious events occurring in their lives, only to find more danger along the way. They ultimately return to their childhood home in Steptoe, Nevada, to seek shelter with their maternal grandfather Joseph Wendel, the man who raised them from infancy. The terrifying question is whether the danger chasing them will find its way to their childhood home and the grandfather they love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: InfoSrch Publishing
• Release date: Mar 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215045374

Book preview

Chapter One

Amy slowly opened her eyes. Immediately, she knew something wasn't right as a rush of panic overcame her. Unable to see anything in the pitch-black room, she felt slippery vinyl or laminate biting her hands and knees beneath her and heard water running overhead. The sound confused her because she couldn’t recall turning on a faucet. A bathroom! She was in a bathroom, but she instinctively knew it wasn’t hers. Her bathroom floor is made of tile. Her window is in a different spot than this one and is made of clear glass. Even in the dead of night, she could clearly see the moonlight through her window but the frosted glass of this window cast nothing but a dim glow that added almost no light to the room. This has to be a dream , she thought. But she knew it wasn’t. It felt all too real to be a dream. 

Blinking against the blackness, she struggled to take in more of her surroundings. She tried to recognize something, anything, familiar that could clue her into where she had woken up. A drop of water slid down her cheek and rolled into the corner of her mouth, tasting salty and acidic. She was soaking wet. A cold sweat? she wondered as she felt how drenched her clothes were as they clung to her skin. Suddenly, she felt dirty and repulsive for some reason. It made her stomach turn and her skin crawl. The overwhelming sense of being unclean made her even more disoriented. Had she passed out while cleaning herself off at the sink? With every tick of the clock, her anxiety level crept up a notch. Then another. And, yet another.

Amy began to panic even more now. Her chest started heaving and her breathing became uneven. Something Amy rarely did was panic, no matter what kind of struggle life threw at her. Whatever the adversity, she’s always found a semblance of control to help pull her through. Right now though, she had zero control of her situation, and it was terrifying her worse than she’d ever been before. She tried to be calm and rational. But the harder she tried, the more fearful she became. Her head was swimming, and the room started spinning.

Amy finally convinced herself to get up off the floor. She reached out to steady herself against the wall. Her hand was shaking uncontrollably. Still, she stretched it out into the darkness and let her fingertips touch the wall, cautiously letting her hand embrace the unfamiliar surface as she struggled to find her equilibrium. She got to her feet and stood there a moment in an attempt to recoup herself while trying to clear her head. The liquid dripping from her hair stung her eyes and ran down the back of her neck, causing a chill that only made her shudder even worse. Her head was swimming even more now, and she feared she would pass out again. With her hand shivering worse than ever, Amy reached out into the darkness toward the sound of the water and found the valve. She slowly shut the faucet off. Then she listened for any sound, but only heard silence.

Amy struggled to remember the last thing she had done before blacking out. All she could remember was getting ready for bed and dozing off under her blankets. An urge to break down and cry overwhelmed her. A thought suddenly came to Amy: "There’s no time for weakness", she could clearly hear her sister, Annie, telling her this in her mind. Annie would never let something as silly as wet clothes and the darkness overpower her, not at her level of strength and maturity. Just get up and move, she thought to herself, I am strong. I will get myself out of this situation. Or, I’ll die trying.

Each movement felt like she was dragging her feet through wet cement as she tried to locate the door. She warily moved forward, creeping along the wall, fearful of knocking something over and causing a ruckus. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness a bit, but she still struggled to make out objects in the unfamiliar room. A thought came to her to use the flashlight on her cell phone to guide her, but she reached into her pocket and discovered her phone was not with her. Or her keys...or her jewelry...or her wallet. In fact, she realized that she didn’t even have any shoes on. How could this be happening to me? she thought as the unimaginable panic started to rise inside of her again. 

Careful not to make a sound, she moved along the wall until she located a door and the door knob. She lowered her head and paused for a moment. What if someone is waiting on the other side of this door? What if there’s a dead body out there? What if there was nothing, and I just fell off into outer space? She had no idea why that last unreasonable thought had come to mind. It was as if her head was trying to make light of the situation to ease the tension, but there was no easing this. She was well aware of the fact that it was real, and it was dangerous. Amy knew this wasn’t Wonderland. No white rabbit would lead her out the door and no talking doorknob would show her what was on the other side. Amy instinctively knew that her only two options were to either stay in this dark, unfamiliar bathroom or open the door and face whatever may be out there. Summoning up some courage, she reached out and grabbed the knob of the door once again.

She pulled it open and carefully stepped outside. It was dead silent, save for her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She was in the middle of a hallway. Up the hall to the right was a closed door, the light peering from beneath it was the only thing helping her to see. At first, she froze in her tracks because she was sure someone was behind that door. Amy wasn’t sure what to do. She couldn’t just stand there and wait for someone to come through the door and find her, but she certainly wasn’t going back into the darkened bathroom. Down on the left was another door and it was surrounded by windows that allowed the moonlight in. On this door, she noticed a finely detailed brass letter slot at its center. An outside door! Finally, she thought, a way out of this nightmare. 

Grateful for this revelation, she had to choke back tears of joy. She had no intention of going through the door at the other end of the hall, so she took a step toward the exit. She took a second step, then a third. But the moment she decided to walk a bit more boldly, her next step caused a floorboard to make a noise so loud it may as well have been a gunshot. Every muscle in her body froze. She listened intensely for any noise whatsoever, but silence was all she heard: silence and the sound of her voice screaming inside her head to run to the outside door.

She covered the remaining ground and thrust her hand out to grasp the knob, but the thought of a home security alarm abruptly stopped her again. Another ridiculous thought, she realized, just open the door and run away as quickly as you can! She swung the door open wide, ready to sprint. But as she put her foot out to step over the threshold she looked behind her to be sure she wasn’t being followed and the little light that lit the hall went dark. She stood still for a moment with the door handle in her hand and one foot out into the real world. She spun her head around and looked again at the door at the opposite end of the hall. No more light peered under the doorway. Amy had a sudden realization. She had to go back to that room and look inside. She had no idea why.

Don’t be stupid, Amy thought to herself. You found your way out. Don’t go back in there. But an odd sense of familiarity began to wash over her and draw her back in. It was almost as if she wasn’t scared anymore. She pulled her foot back inside and slowly closed the outside door. She felt much less afraid than she’d been, but she was still very cautious. Amy crossed to the other end of the hall and laid her hand on the door and it gave slightly. A swinging door, she realized. It must be a kitchen on the other side. Her fear, naturally, began to rise again. But she knew that until she’d looked inside this room and identified that strange sensation of familiarity, she would never be able to leave. Curiosity killed the cat, her brain argued. But satisfaction brought it back, she reasoned, as she gathered all of her courage and swung the door open.

The light switch was easy to find. The sudden flood of light stung her eyes as she flicked the lights back on. The tile on the floor was white, and the bright light was reflecting off it. She blinked several times to try and get her eyes to adjust to the brightness while she raised her head to survey the room. It was a huge kitchen filled with high-end appliances. The cabinets were plentiful and beautiful. To her left, the kitchen became a large formal dining room. A huge table surrounded by high-backed chairs and sparkling glassware at each setting distracted her for a short moment. She turned her head to the right and noticed a smaller, less formal dining area. She could see a fine, handcrafted breakfast table in this space.

It took longer than it should have for her to notice the man at the table staring at her.

His gaze captured her attention for what seemed like an eternity. Why is he just staring at me? she wondered, as she looked back into his eyes. Then she snapped out of it.

He wasn’t staring. He was dead.

The man lay on his back atop the table, head hanging backward off the end, arms outstretched to each side. His eyes and mouth were both wide open. Blood streamed down each side of his neck from a deep slit in his throat and it spilled out across the floor beneath him. Amy could not believe there was so much blood. Slowly her eyes came into focus on the wall behind the man and the table. The killer had written a word on the white wall with the man’s blood. MORONA

Amy couldn’t stop staring at the word. Morona is her mother’s name. Her dead mother’s name. She just stood there, fixated. She knew that she should run back to the outside door. She knew she should get as far away from this place as quickly as she possibly could. But she could not remove her eyes from her mother’s bloody name.

Something wet slid down the back of her neck causing a shiver and breaking her trance. For the first time since coming to, she looked at her soaked clothes in the light. She realized that they weren’t wet from the water in the sink. She was drenched in blood.

This time, Amy did faint.

Chapter Two

Steptoe, NV 1975

Joe and Helen Wendel lived in a spacious home in Steptoe, Nevada. Steptoe is a small mining town located in White Pine County, in the state's east-central region. The primary industry there was the Steptoe Mining Company, unearthing Nevada silver. At the time, the company was owned by one of the richest men in America. Joe worked there for much of his adult life, moving up the chain of command to become a shift supervisor in the machine shop. He and Helen had one child, a beautiful girl named Morona. Helen gave her the name, as it had belonged to her grandmother. She always admired it, mostly because it was so unusual. 

Morona was a stunning young woman. Even at a young age, all the boys would try to get her attention. She was undoubtedly the prettiest girl in school. It was all very flattering for a young girl. But, as she grew to be a young woman, all the attention started to become very annoying. Morona was lovely, just like Helen. Tall and thin. Beautiful, long blonde hair. Sapphire blue eyes. Flawless, fair skin. Perfect teeth and a fantastic smile. She was beautiful on the inside as well. For all her beauty, she was extremely humble. She never looked down on anyone, and she was always willing to help anyone in town.

But in most rural mining towns, there were always many more men than there were women. The pursuit of Morona’s hand by so many suitors was almost relentless, and she came to resent it terribly. She always had lots and lots of friends, but going out with them would inevitably mean admirers approaching her and intruding on their fun. As such, Morona found herself staying at home more and more often.

None of the men in town appealed to her, yet they were relentless in their pursuit of her. Morona wondered if she would need to go away to school to get away from Steptoe. She did not necessarily desire to go to college, even though she had always been an outstanding student, but it could be a way for her to leave town. Morona became convinced she would never find a suitable boyfriend in Steptoe. She just wanted to find a man she could love and settle down with and start a family.

One day Joe came home, and he saw Morona sitting alone outside in the grove behind their home. He wandered out and pulled up a chair to sit with her, asking if they could talk.

She smiled brightly. Of course, Daddy. I love to talk with you.

He slid into his seat and drew in a deep breath. It was an early summer day, and there was a cool breeze flowing about through the branches of the willows. He paused for a moment to enjoy the atmosphere, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Finally, Joe said, Morona, I have someone I’d like you to meet.

She looked at him. Who, Daddy? I thought I knew just about everyone in this town.

Joe had been looking down toward the ground. But now, he shifted his gaze toward his daughter without moving his head. He’s a young man named Fred Davis. He is a new man at the mine and I work with him in the machine shop.

Morona sighed, Daddy, you know how I feel about mining men.

Joe sat up. Hold on a minute, Morona. He’s new to this town, and he’s different. I’ve known him for a couple of months now and I’ve come to know him as an honest, kind, good man. As a machinist, I’ve worked with him quite a lot and I think you’ll really like him if you give him a chance.

Morona looked into her father’s eyes. He was acting very forthright. She knew he would never lead her astray since he was in complete agreement with her feelings on miners - meaning most were not very husband worthy, at least not for his daughter. She knew he always held her best interest at heart. Her fears subsided, she soon felt comfortable about her father’s suggestion. Daddy, if he’s good enough for you, then I most certainly should at least meet him.

Joe smiled brightly, knowing they would be an excellent match. Joe had grown very fond of Fred. He could not wait to introduce them to one another, and he devised a plan to make it happen.

They did meet, and of course, Joe was right. They were a perfect match. In no time at all, they fell in love, and they knew right away that they would marry. They spent every possible minute together throughout the entire summer, dreaming about their lives together and the children they would bring into this world.  Morona and Fred were married on an early fall day in the meadow near her father’s honor grove.

Chapter Three

Amy gasped and sat straight up in bed, frantically surveying the room. It was her home and her bed. It felt as though her heart would beat right out of her chest. She laid back down on the pillow to calm herself and clear her head. Amy thought back to the terrible dream she’d had the night before. What a terrible nightmare, she thought to herself. It was so real. The images were crystal clear and the colors perfectly vibrant. She could still taste the disgusting sweat, or blood as she’d later discovered, at the corner of her mouth. The overwhelming anxiety of the moment was so intense. She was sure it had actually happened. Yet, here she was, awake in her very own room. 

It was just so bizarre. Amy had never experienced a dream like that. Actually, Amy rarely dreamed at all. Occasionally, she would dream of her grandmother, and her parents as well. Even though she never saw a picture of her father, she’d dreamt up some image of him based on Annie’s features. Their grandfather said Annie looked just like her father. Her olive skin, wavy brown hair, and chocolatey brown eyes. Such a contrast to her and her mother’s fair skin and blue eyes. Amy would tell her sister about these dreams and Annie would tell her they were reaching out to her from beyond the grave. But Amy wasn’t so sure about that. She had no physical memory of them, and they never really revealed themselves to her in these dreams. All she could remember were whispers and shadows. Annie called it communing with family from the past. The thought of it strangely disturbed Amy.

She decided to put this bizarre situation behind her. Amy needed to get on