Caitlin Scarpa

The Day They Came

Short Story

Introduction

I will always remember the day They came.  The didn’t come without warning, that's for sure.  They made their arrival very clear.  Perhaps something even more terrifying were the days before they came, “The Days Without Mercy” as people have started calling them.  Five days.  Five days of anxiety, confusion, and panic; the feeling of helplessness.  It all started when our children stopped.

Day 1: The Message

It was Tuesday, March 25, 2015.   I was drinking my morning tea in the kitchen, looking out on the garden and the birds.  The tele was on in the living room, playing repeats of “Downton Abbey.”  My daughter, Mae, had just left for school with her girlfriend Emma, and Mikey was still upstairs getting ready.  My husband Sean had left for work early, he just got a promotion as the secretary for the new Chief of Defense, Joan Lozen. His new job requires more work hours, but he makes twice as much as he did before.  I was relaxing before I had to get ready for school.  I teach at my old University in Cardiff, and my first class was in three hours. I was dreading to spend this beautiful day in a cramped classroom.  

I rested my head against the warm window and listened to the soft murmur of the tele in the other room.  Mikey was taking longer than usual to get ready, but I didn’t mind.  He didn’t have to be at school until 12:00.  Without warning, the living room tele sounded a high pitched siren.  It sent an icy chill down my back.  I leaped to my feet and sped to the living room.  A news reporter was sitting on the screen, the look on his face didn’t help to reassure me.  The words “We interrupt this program for an important news report” were plastered on the top of the screen.  My my mind was swimming with questions.  The news reporter was frozen in fear or confusion, barely able to say what he was meant to.  

“P-people of Britain, our children have stopped,” he stuttered.  “All over the world at exactly 11:13, every child on this planet stopped.”  

“Stopped?” I whispered to myself. There were clips appearing on the screen of hundreds of children standing in a schoolyard.  All of them, looking straight forward, mouths wide open.  A shrill scream echoed from their mouths. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, it was right out of a horror movie.

“Everywhere, Britain, the U.S, Asia, Africa, everywhere!  Every single child! The children have stopped,” He repeated. “These are live clips of the children of earth, all over the world, frozen in a scream...”  

I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing, I almost didn’t believe it.  The screaming didn’t even sound human.  But then a sudden realization struck me; Mikey.  I bolted up the stairs.  I felt sick after what I had just seen.

“Mikey!  Michael!”  I screamed as I ran up the stairs and into his room.  As I reached the door I could hear a shrill scream.  My heart dropped and a spike of adrenaline shot through my veins.  I threw the door open and ran to my 6 year old son standing in the middle of his room, screaming.  The overwhelming feeling of panic flooded my system.

“Michael! Mikey? Can you hear me?  Mikey!”

I was shaking him fiercely, trying to get him to snap out of it.  After about thirty seconds the screaming stopped. But it was replaced by something even more chilling. Mikey still glared off into space, not moving, not blinking.

“ We. Are. Coming. We. Are. Coming. We. Are. Coming....”  These same three words repeated from Mikey's mouth for what seemed like an eternity.

“Who’s coming?  Mikey answer me!”  He wouldn’t snap out of this trance.  After I realized that shaking and screaming at him weren’t doing an good, I ran down to the tele.  Maybe the news had an answer.

As I reached the tele, there were already new clips of the children, all saying the same thing, “We. Are. Coming.”  

“Everywhere!  In every country, every child is repeating the same words ‘We. Are. Coming.’  The British government is trying to find an explanation...”  I couldn’t hear what he said after that.  All of my senses seemed to blur.  I made my way back to Mikey, hoping that he had finally stopped.  He hadn’t.  He looked like he was possessed.  I just sat on the floor, shaking with fear.  I looked down at my phone that I didn't hear ringing.  I had 17 missed calls, 16 from Sean, one from Mae.  I quickly called Sean back, barely able to get any words out.

“Sean!” I croaked. “Sean...Mikey!...Stopped...”

“Amy!  Calm down, is Mikey okay?  What about Mae?”

He seemed very clam, but I could tell by the shake in his voice that he was just as scared as I was.  I took in a deep breath.

“Mikey stopped.  He...he...looks possessed, saying ‘We are coming,’ just like the news said. And I don’t even know where Mae is, and...”

Before I could finish this thought the room suddenly got quieter.  I realized Mikey had stopped.  I threw the phone on the bed and swung my arm around him.  He was no longer staring at the ceiling, repeating the same three words.  He was Mikey again.  I started bawling my eyes out, relieved that my little boy was back.

 * * *

Sean was sent home early, along with the rest of Britain.  Everyone was home with their families, trying to understand what had just happened a few hours before.  Everything had calmed down for the most part, we were still a little bit shaken from the past events, but we were getting better.  Mae was sitting on the couch holding a cup of tea close to her chest, Mikey was sitting on my lap, and Sean was hunched over the computer, trying to find some answers.  We were all watching the news, which didn’t help much.  It was just a bunch of reporters repeating the stuff we already know.  

I went to Sean to see if he had found anything.

“Find anything helpful?” I asked.

“Yeah, actually.  Apparently, every child in the world had repeated those same words in unison, all in English.  Children in Taiwan, India, Spain, everywhere.  There are videos all over the internet.”

“Mum...” Mae was still in the living room with Mikey.  “Mum, it’s Mikey...he’s...”

Sean and I looked at each other and ran to the living room.  Mikey was doing it again, staring at the ceiling, not moving, not blinking.  Within a few seconds he started saying it again.  Sean and I fell to our knees trying to snap Mikey out of the trance.  

“We. Are Coming.  We. Are Coming.  We. Are Coming.”

His words echoed throughout the house, over and over again.  

“We. Are Coming.  We. Are Coming.  We. Are Coming . . . Back!”  And with that Mikey stopped.  

* * *

That night, Sean and I got no sleep, we stayed up all night watching Mae and Mikey, making sure nothing strange happens again.  We all "slept" in the living room, I wouldn’t let anyone out of my sight.

This whole thing made me feel so helpless.   I felt so vulnerable, like someone was watching me.  I just wanted peace; I just wanted my little boy back.

End of Day One

To Be Continued...

Inspired by the hit TV show, Torchwood.  This is a story retold in the perspective of a mother, with her family being in the heat of the matter.