“Hey, baby,” the woman called as Ian entered the house.
“Hey,” he said, moving into the lounge where she sat and shrugging his coat onto a chair. He pecked her on the lips and sat down, sighing.
“Big day again?”
“What do you think?” he asked, massaging his brow.
“I was just asking,” she said.
“Well, you know what I’ve told you about stupid questions.”
Karen looked down to her arms, which were folded in her lap. “I - I’m sorry,” she said.
When she managed to look up again, he was silent. The gaze of his beady eyes didn’t waver. “Please,” she said. “Say something.”
He didn’t move; didn’t make a sound. “I’m going to go make some coffee,” she said, and stood. She walked quickly, and kept her hands clenched by her sides. When she went to the kitchen, she turned the kettle on. As she found a cup and began to gather things, she started to hum under her breath.
The kettle began to whistle and she took it off its stand. She poured water into the cup then moved to put it back. As she did, one of her fingers brushed the kettle’s side. “Bastard!” she said, and put the finger in her mouth. She ran her hand under cold water, letting her breath whistle out through gritted teeth.
When the pain subsided, she finished making the coffee and carried it to him. “Here you go,” she said.
He looked up and took the cup of coffee from her. Outside, birds chirped in the trees, even under the cover of darkness, and Karen shuddered. She could feel the beginnings of a migraine behind her eyes.
“You forgot the sugar.” His voice was flat.
“What?”
“You forgot the sugar.” Ian stood, and Karen took a corresponding step backwards.
“No, I can’t have. I’m sure I didn’t. I’ll go back and make you another cup, okay?”
He didn’t answer. “Ian, you’re scaring me.” She felt behind her for the door. With a violent jerk, he threw the cup at her.
It shot past and smashed on the wall. He stood and punched her. Screaming, she fell to the ground. He silenced her with a kick to the ribs. She began to gasp for air, and he lashed out once more. Once, her eyes fluttered open, but then she was still.
Ian knew that she was still breathing by the rise and fall of her chest. He bent down and dragged her to their room. Grunting, he hoisted her onto one side of the bed.
Now that’s sorted, he thought. A sudden weariness came over him, and his vision swam. He undressed, got into bed and drifted away.
When he woke, there was a slight pain in his chest. It didn’t hurt very much, but the throbbing had been enough to wake him. He looked over to the clock. 6:59, the flashing red light said.
Ian groaned. It was a Saturday, and he didn’t have work. He had been planning to sleep until at least ten. Oh well, he thought. If I’m gonna be awake the least she can do is get up as well.
He turned and groped for her shoulder. His hands caught nothing but air, and he sat up, reaching out. She wasn’t there.
Ian looked back to the clock. 6:60, it now read. A shiver ran down his spine. Someone was walking on his grave, as his mother would have said.
He got out of bed and hit the clock, making sure not to break it. Nothing happened. He rolled his eyes, and moved to turn the light on. It dazzled him for a few seconds, but he kept blinking until he could see, and walked back to the clock.
It didn’t look damaged. This thing’s only a couple of weeks old! he thought. Budget piece of shit.
He leaned down and turned the clock off at the wall. After waiting several seconds, he flicked the switch again.
When he looked back to the number, tendrils of fear began to caress his heart. Instead of resetting to 12:00 as it should have, the time had stayed almost the same. 6:61.
“Oh, God,” he said. “What’s happening?”
Karen, was the first thought that came to mind. Where is she? This must be her fault. I bet she’s watching me right now.
He cracked his knuckles. “Where are you, you bitch?”
He ran to the wardrobe and pulled the door open. There was nothing in there, but he thought he saw a slight movement. “It’s all right, just calm down. There’s nothing wrong. The clock’s probably just broken. Go back to sleep, and when you wake up, you can take it back. Then you can find Karen, okay? Sound good? Good. There’s nothing wrong. Just go to sleep.”
Ian turned the light off again, and got back under his duvet. He turned to one side so he couldn’t see the clock. Closing his eyes, he controlled his breathing, and tried to sleep again.
Just as he was starting to feel his eyelids droop, a huge crash shook the house. Reverberating echoes shook the room as ornaments fell from their shelves. “Shit,” he said, and stood once more.
6:63
She wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. Karen had left. And by the sounds of it, something was rattling against the outside windows. It sounded like scores of people tapping, all in unison, begging to be let in. The rattling had stopped, but the tapping was constant.
Ian moved into the kitchen, and froze in the doorway. The clock on the oven seemed to be broken as well.
6:64
As the clock changed, the tapping changed into a knock, and the moaning began. They were the moans of a multitude.
Against his own will, Ian moved to the window. He threw the curtains back, and screamed.
The outside world was almost obscured by a wall of faces. They were all a deathly grey colour, as if the life had been sucked from them. The one vivid colour was red; the red of blood. Liberal splashes of it covered them, and Ian could see why. The army were missing arms, legs, even heads.
Beyond the bodies, he could see flames. The horizon was burning, the neighbour’s houses were burning. The world was burning. Turning back to the kitchen, he saw the oven’s clock once more.
6:65
Another inarticulate scream escaped him. He pulled the curtains shut so he couldn’t see the people any more. Their moans were still an overwhelming chorus, and Ian joined his with theirs. Falling to the ground, he retched. His heart palpitated wildly.
The Day of Reckoning. The words ran through his head in an endless chant while he watched the clock, feeling the seconds drag by. Finally, it came.
6:66
At the second the minute changed, there was a knock at the front door. Ian heard it over all the other noise, and walked towards it. His head hung in resignation.
He opened the door. There was a pause, and then a sharp intake of breath. “Dad?” Ian smiled, and stepped out of the house.
The screams began a moment later.
Karen woke to light shining through the windows. She looked over to the other side of the bed to see Ian with his eyes wide open and staring. His hand was pressed against his chest.
She put a hand to her jaw and winced. Her ribs still throbbed, and it felt as if one might be broken.
She got out of bed and stood over him. After checking his pulse, she let the arm fall limply to his side. She spoke in a wheeze. “I won, you son of a bitch. I beat you. All it took was a sip of coffee. Who knew that one pill could be that strong? If I’d realised before, I’d have done it a long time ago.” She laughed. “But now you’re rotting in Hell.”
Karen gathered her things, and left.
