Patient is the Night

The wind blew eerily through the skeletal trees as they lugged their packs through the empty field. The moon shone hazily amongst thin clouds, casting a milky light on the rocks which lay amongst the grass. Jonathan shivered. 

“Gettin’ cold out here, eh?” he said, trying to maintain levity despite their grim task.

“Shut up.”

“Oh c’mon, this wasn’t my-”

“I said shut up.” Michael spoke in urgent whispers, though the wind carried his words to the far reaches of the field, where a line of woods stood guard like petrified soldiers, frozen in solemn acknowledgement.

Jonathan jogged to catch up to his friend. “This was your idea, man… don’t get mad at me.” He tried to match his friend's tone, but he couldn’t keep the fear from edging out the anger.

“Yeah, and rule number one was ‘don’t make too much damn noise’, but here you are-”

“You don’t have to-”

“Just… shut up. If we’re gonna get away with this, we have to be silent.”

Jonathan gritted his teeth, knowing Michael was right but unwilling to admit it. The wind picked up again; it seemed like an ancient scream turned into a quiet murmur flying past his ear. He shivered again, finding it frightening if not somewhat seductive. Soon, he felt leaves under his feet again, and saw that they had come to a thin set of trees which marked the last stop of their journey before they reached their destination.

“You sure this is the only way to get in?” Jonathan had posed this question many times before, but perhaps Michael was getting nervous, because he answered it nonetheless.

“Yes. That old guy Jameson keeps it locked up everywhere - he’ll know if there’s kids trying to get in over the fence, especially tonight. I think he’s got some sort of sensor on it… But just on the other side of this wood there’s a gap in the fence where a tree is. We can climb up that tree, get down the other side, and make a break for the mausoleum before anyone’s the wiser.”

“Sounds good.”

They took a long draft of water - the hike from their meeting point - Jonathan’s house, to these woods had been nearly five miles. Why Jameson was so protective over this graveyard - the largest one in their hometown, no one knew, though it had certainly caused a lot of interesting speculation. In their seventeen years of living in Bildsworth, neither Jonathon nor Michael had heard of anyone successfully spending a night in the graveyard. They both hoped that would change on that Friday night.

“What time is it?” asked Michael, eyeing the other side of the trees.

“10:30.”

“Perfect, let’s go.”

They crept through the forest, trying to avoid crackling the leaves. Soon, they were on the other side, staring at the fence. The wind blew again, this time a low, monotonous howl; the pained sound of a long-tortured beast. Jonathan felt a flash of foreboding, but given that it was hardly his first, he shook his head and followed Michael to the fence, where there was indeed a tree splitting a section, and a wire over the spikes at the top, which was likely a touch sensor.

“Right,” whispered Michael, “I’ll go first, you follow, okay?” Jonathan nodded, watching his friend climb the tree lithely, dropping down on the other side with a little thud. He gestured Jonathan to come over, hardly containing his delight at having entered the graveyard undetected. Jonathan hesitated at first, but quickly climbed the tree himself, feeling a little jolt in his legs as he landed on the other side. The two boys grinned at each other, their teeth a harsh white in the moon’s shadowed rays. 

They bolted to the mausoleum, a building not too far from that side of the fence. Once they were well hidden near some bushes, they let out a few whispers of delight. 

“I can’t believe that worked!” said Jonathan.

“I know! I mean, of course it worked… it was my idea.”

They stifled their laughs and leaned back against the cold gray rock. Now all they had to do was keep an eye and ear out for the old man, and perhaps move to a new hiding spot every now and again. But at the moment, they allowed themselves to enjoy the night. It was Halloween, remembered Jonathan… this time last year he’d been at a party Michael threw at his place. This year all of their classmates were going to Ahmed’s party. He imagined himself there, in full costume, with every girl staring at him as though he were an alien. No, he much preferred the spectral tranquility this graveyard provided him. 

“Michael,” he whispered, “I’m glad we did this.”

“Me too, bro,” replied Michel, quietly opening his bag, “this is really like old times, eh?”

“Yeah…” When Jonathan and Michael were younger, they used to try and get into places they weren’t allowed all the time, from the teacher’s lounge in school, to the roof of the local college, where they thought about aiming rocks at passing cars, and now to this graveyard, where old Jameson hadn’t allowed anyone to stay the night in seventeen years. 

Michael was delicately unwrapping a Clif Bar so as to not attract any attention, and Jonathan decided it’d be a good idea to eat something as well - it was 11:00, and he’d had dinner at 8:30 with his family, who incidentally thought he was going to Ahmed’s party with Michael. 

They passed time like this, eating occasionally and trying not to fall asleep. At 11:30, the wind chilled even further, and they both put on their extra jackets. The clouds were thicker now, so it was hard for them to see more than ten feet on either side. 

“D’you think,” said Michael, leaning towards his friend, “that we should try and move somewhere? Like maybe another one of these mausoleums?”

“Why?”

Michael shrugged, “It might be good to get our blood moving, I guess… it’s freezing out here.”

That it was, but Jonathan felt quite comfortable in the pillars and shade provided by their current hideout. If they made a move for another one, which was beyond eyesight, they ran the risk of running into Jameson. “I think we should lay low here… at least until midnight. Then we can find another one. I also wanna check out those gravestones on the north side… that’s the oldest part of the cemetery.”

“Yeah, sounds cool… alright then, we’ll stay here a little longer.” 

At 11:45, they felt the first nods of sleep wavering their spirit. It was odd - they’d both downed an energy drink before they came here, and their nerves should have been plenty to keep them alert, but Jonathan found his eyes closing for longer and longer periods of time. Just as he was about to tell Michael they should move away from this mausoleum, he heard a faint humming in the distance. 

“Michael,” he whispered urgently, “D’you hear that?”

His friend nodded, holding up a hand for silence. “Over there,” he said eventually.

Jonathan saw a dim light in the distance - probably Jameson’s lantern. There was movement as well, but his eyes couldn’t discern what was happening. The humming continued, increasing in volume though the light remained in the same spot. 

“I think we should move,” muttered Jonathan, his throat tight. He didn’t know why, but the pale yellow light of the lantern coupled with the humming - which he could no longer place near the brightness, was unnerving.

“Agreed. Grab you-”

“What’re you boys doing here!” shouted a voice from their left.

They screamed, all pride forgotten, before the sight of the old man Jameson, who was in front of them with a flashlight which cast their faces in an old orange light. For a terrible moment, they were frozen before the wrinkled, scarred, and wild visage of the caretaker. His mop of thin gray hair flew about in the wind, and though his face was otherwise ancient, his eyes remained sharp in the light of the moon.

“Jonathan, run!” cried Michael. 

They ran as fast as they could, adrenaline pumping through their veins, allowing them to hurdle unseen obstacles and gravestones. Finally, they came to rest near a large gravestone behind which they could both hide. 

“Did… we… lose him?” gasped Jonathan as he clutched the stitch in his chest. 

“Think so…” wheezed Michael. Neither of them would dare to peek over the gravestone, but they soon heard a voice floating on the wind - clearly Jameson’s.

“Game’s over boys… it’s almost midnight. Don’t make me come and get you…” His voice, already tremulous from his many years on Earth, sounded almost playful. 

“Maybe we should-” 

“No,” said Michael firmly, “We’ve been planning this for months… we can’t let this old man just ruin it like that! Besides,” he added, “Wasn’t that fun? I mean c’mon, we knew we might have to make a run for it at some point.”

“I guess… d’you even know where we are?”

They looked around, but the moon was now behind a thick cloud, and the only light came from a few stars scattered in the night. 

“I can’t tell… hold on,” Michael pulled out a compass from his bag, “Well… we came from that way, which is south… so I guess we’re in the north part of the graveyard now!”

“Well that’s lucky, I guess.” Jonathan let out a little laugh, but was quickly quelled by his friend.

“Shh, we gotta keep an ear out for Jameson.”

“Right.”

And so they did. For about an hour, while the adrenaline was still fresh in their veins, they kept a watchful ear on the wind for any sound of the old man returning. How he had snuck up on them so silently was beyond either of their knowledge, but they were determined to not let it happen again. Occasionally, they would hear a soft voice on the wind, never quite able to place it, and every now and again there would be a light, always pale yellow, which flickered on to the south. They shivered at the sight of it, as they subconsciously knew it was not Jameson with his orange flashlight. 

“Hey, I think we should keep moving… last time the old man only caught us because we were getting tired. I think I can see another mausoleum over there,” Michael gestured to the darkness further north. 

“Alright.”

They carefully picked up their bags and kept low as they traversed the weathered gravestones, many of which were crumbled with faded letters. A voice on the wind made them freeze about halfway to the mausoleum.

“Boys… don’t be fools… you’re almost out of time. You shouldn’t have stayed after midnight… but you could… still get out if you-” the rest of the message was lost as the wind gave a tormented howl. 

“What does he mean ‘get out’?” asked Jonathan, “And why’s he saying we’re almost out of time?”

Michael shrugged, “I don’t know… but we should get to that mausoleum if we want to keep him from finding us. We’re sitting ducks in these old gravestones.”

When they got under the shade of the large tomb, Jonathan pulled out a granola bar and took a bite as he asked, “What time is it?”

“1:30.”

“Wow, time really flew after we - what was that?” he added in a yelp.

“What?” cried Michael with a start.

“I saw something move over there!” Jonathan pointed to their left, where there was a small gathering of moderately sized pine trees. 

Michael stared at them for several seconds, after which he let out a long sigh and whispered, “Keep your voice down, Jonathan… there’s nothing there.”

“No, I’m serious bro… there’s something over there!” Jonathan shivered and realized his finger was trembling. He lowered it to avoid looking jumpy.

“Shut up,” hissed Michael, “There’s enough to worry about with Jameson running around here… you probably just saw… the wind move those trees.”

Michael paused as he said it because he realized that, for the first time that night, the wind was utterly quiet. They stared at the pine grove for some time, until they heard the voice of Jameson once more.

“Come out, boys… it doesn’t have to be this way… you still have a chance… I’m warning you.” The voice seemed closer now.

“C’mon… we should move somewhere else.” Michael grabbed his bag before Jonathan could concur, so the latter was left to play catchup as they bolted for the next large gravestone, this time towards the east. 

“2:00, boys,” called the voice on the wind, “I’m not going to hurt you… but I can’t-” Once again, a screaming gust cut off Jameson’s words. The boys paid no heed to it - they had found another large gravestone, this one with a cracked cross on top. 

“When’s the old man gonna give up?” breathed Jonathan.

“I don’t know… but we need to keep an eye out for that flashlight. I’m not sure where we are anymore… I think we went east, but… it’s so dark I can’t see past the next row of gravestones.”

And dark it was - the moon might have disappeared from the sky, and there were no longer any stars. The clouds rolled along, but appeared endless. They decided subconsciously to lay low at the gravestone. Jonathan tried to eat something but found his stomach was in a knot. Michael tried to hide it, but his quick movements and frequent glances at his watch spoke volumes about his nervousness. 

“Hey man… are you… sure about this?” asked Jonathan after some time had passed. 

“Of course,” replied Michael, not sounding sure in the least. “It’s 2:50… in a few hours the sun’ll be coming up, and then we can find our way out of here.”

“Alright…” Jonathan tried to take comfort in his friend’s words, but their anxious tone did nothing to quell his own nerves.

“Boys!” cried the voice on the wind, surprisingly loud, “Please, listen to me! There isn’t much time before-” 

“That was close!” whispered Michael, peeking his head above the gravestone, “He’s over there!”

“What?” Jonathan looked around the side and saw Jameson not thirty feet away, his flashlight sweeping the area to the boys’ left in frantic movements. As the boys’ breath quickened pace, they did not hear a rustling in the brush behind them. 

“Listen to me!” cried Jameson, sounding panicked now, “Come out now! There’s only a few minutes left before… before it’s too late!”

“What’s he talking about, Michael?”

“Shh… it’s probably… probably just a scare-tactic he uses to try and get the kids that slip past him the first time.” Michael did not sound convinced himself. 

“What time is it?”

“2:56… Remember, just a few more-”

“What was that?” yelped Jonathan in a choked voice.

“Shut up,” whispered Michael, “There’s nothing out there.” But this time he had seen it too. In the north there had been a large, crooked shadow darting from behind a gravestone. Its head looked too big for its body, and for a moment it had been caught in the corona of Jameson’s flashlight, and the boys had seen its long, hooked fingers, each ending with a sharp, black talon. They rubbed their eyes, hoping against all hope they’d imagined it. When things quieted down, and Jameson had stopped yelling for a couple minutes, they were almost convinced they had imagined it, but Jonathan kept his wide eyes on the spot he last saw the ghastly thing.

“Just a trick of the light…” muttered Michael, well aware there was no light where they had seen that thing… that it had been darker than the night itself. 

“Bro… I really think… I think we should just go home,” said Jonathan in a breathless whisper. “This place is-”

“There you are!” cried a voice on their right. Jameson’s flashlight almost blinded them, though it was in reality quite dim. 

“Sir, please… we don’t want any trouble, we just-” Michael was cut off by church bells in the distance, which rang deep three times, their sound reverberating through the wind, which had picked up again.

Jameson’s grimace turned into a wry smile. “I’m sorry, boys… there’s nothing I can do for you now… you’ll be spending the night.”

“Wait, what? You’ll let us-” Michael seemed oddly titillated, but Jonathon cut him off.

“No thanks, sir… we just wanna leave.” He shot his friend an assertive look - one he should’ve had on earlier in the night. 

“Shoulda thought of that ’fore you ran away from me,” Jameson’s voice was calmer now… he closed his eyes for several seconds and sighed. “You aren’t my business anymore.”

“What d’you mean? Who else-” Michael screamed mid-sentence. 

“What the hell?” Jonathan looked and saw his friend had two gray hands with spider-like digits curled around his shoulders. As Michael tried to beat them off to no avail, Jonathan felt a similar set of hands on his back. He screamed and clawed at their scabby gray flesh, but their iron grip only got tighter. He became aware of a putrid smell about the place, and saw movement all around him. Michael screamed again, as another pair of hands grabbed his feet, and Jonathan felt a few fingers curl around his waist from below… a hand was flailing out of the ground!

“The night is patient, boys,” said Jameson with a shake of his head, “But it cannot be stifled forever… especially not this time of year.” Jonathan saw two specters walk by him on either side, absorbing the light from his flashlight so as to remain unseen. 

There were some guttural growls coming from their feet, and black shapes flew past the dark silver clouds. He felt his friend being dragged away, and tried calling for him before he too was being pulled across the dirt, his last scream dying in his throat.