When the Sky Goes Dark Read online

  “Oh, I’m doing just fine, thank you. Does anyone know where half the class is?” Professor Weiss said with a red-faced smile of concern.

  “Michelle has been sleeping all day,” a red-haired girl named Jamie Patton said from the back corner behind an empty desk. “She’s been really sick. She hasn’t gone to any of her classes this week.”

  “I think something is going around campus professor, all the guys from the radio club are out as well,” a bearded student named Damien Fulton chimed in.

  “Well hopefully, it’s not the flu going around. I saw on the news there are some cases sprouting up. I’m sure you all will inform your absent friends about today, right? Quite a touch of bad luck to have so many people out during our last time together as a class.”

  The students nodded as Professor Weiss pulled out a remote from the computer podium and pointed it at the projector that was installed snugly on the ceiling in the back of the room.

  Jon sat in the last seat in the first row of desks. His back was against the white bricked wall, the same type that was found in his dorm. He sat in the back of classes because he never had to pay all that much attention in school. The concepts weren’t all that hard for him to figure out and he thought the seats closer up should be used by the students who needed to listen to the lectures. Not to brag or anything.

  The projector lit up and displayed a PowerPoint presentation entitled PSYCH343 FINAL EXAM PAPER.

  “I’m sure you are all excited to hear about your final paper that’s due next Friday,” Professor Weiss said while clicking the mouse on the computer which brought up the next slides. Big bullet points appeared on the screen. “What I’d like you all to do is pick your favorite psychologist that we’ve studied this semester and write fifteen-hundred words on why you believe their theories and works are important and how they have shaped the field of psychology.”

  The students all looked and made faces at one another. “Fifteen-hundred words?” whispered throughout the room.

  Melissa gave Skylar a look of disapproval. Skylar gave one back.

  Professor Weiss took a sip of diet soda through the fat straw of his cup. “Now I understand there may be a few of you doing the same psychologist. That’s fine, I just don’t want everyone jumping on Sigmund Freud or B.F. Skinner. Keep in mind there are many different people we’ve covered in our textbook.” The PowerPoint jumped to a large list of names of dead psychologists.

  A hand rose.

  “Yes, Mike. Go ahead,” Professor Weiss said, pointing at the student.

  “Does it have to be exactly fifteen-hundred words? Is it ok if we’re close to it?”

  The rest of the class nodded their heads in support of Mike’s question as if to say hey yeah, does it really have to be that long?

  Professor Weiss chuckled and said, “Yes. If you get around the fifteen-hundred mark you will be ok.”

  There was a sigh of relief from the class. Melissa grabbed Skylar’s arm in relief and they both giggled.

  “Thank God, cuz you know I ain’t gettin’ all those words in,” a girl said, laughing to herself from the back corner near Jon. Others laughed with her.

  Professor Weiss took another sip from his soda. His hands extended out. “Here’s what I’m gonna do. I am gonna take the rest of class today to answer all questions about the final. Is that okay? Then if we’re done early you guys can get the word out and get started on your papers so they can be turned in on time next Friday. Do we have a deal? I’ll also send out an email to the class just in case.”

  A unanimous “yes” came from the students.

  Jon zoned out for the remainder of the class as the students each asked questions. What’s the format of the paper? How many sources are necessary? When’s it due again? He was thinking what if I asked Skylar who she was writing about for her paper? What if I could somehow help her write it? Then another voice in his head added, Just say hello you idiot.

  Before he knew it, class ended. The class would usually go until 10:50. It was only 10:30. Everyone jumped up from their seats and funneled to the door making the exiting process slow. There was still heavy chatter about all of the requirements for the paper. Fifteen-hundred words? That was the biggest problem for most of them it seemed. At this point in their college careers, you’d think they’d be accustomed to writing that many words, but it seemed a surprise every time.

  Jon got up from his seat in the back, grabbed his backpack from underneath, and placed it on the chair, throwing in his pen and notebook off the desk. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and attempted to pace his steps out of the door with Skylar’s in the hope of getting stuck in the funnel with her. Looking at his phone would slow his steps. Before he knew it, he was beside Skylar and Melissa in the small but clogged crowd by the door. They were standing beside him, still talking about the paper. Jon figured this was his moment to get himself involved in the conversation.

  But the nerves got to Jon and he froze up as they were still funneling out of the door. Jon’s phone was still in his hand. He looked down at it, not actually texting anyone or looking at any apps. Jon was just looking down at the home screen.

  He had to say something, anything. He couldn’t leave the last PSYCH 343 class without even saying hello. HELLO! That’s all he ever had to say to her for Christ’s sake. Say something Jon, say something!

  “After you,” Jon said with a shaky voice as he put his phone down and gestured his arm out to show them to go out the door before him. He tried to present himself as a real gentleman. Yuck.

  “Oh, uh, thank you,” Skylar said. Melissa just smiled. They both walked out of the class. Jon walked out directly behind them. His lips began to move as he went to chime in about the paper. Perhaps agree with how crazy the fifteen-hundred-word count is. Maybe ask who they were going to write about. You’re doing B.F. Skinner?? No way! So am I! Skylar wants to hang out at my dorm tonight? We can work on it together! Jon’s thoughts ran wild and yet nothing happened.

  “Hey ar-” Jon couldn’t even finish his question as Skylar and Melissa made a left and turned the corner down the hall to go into the lady’s room. Not that it mattered, he said it too quietly for anyone to hear. It didn’t help that everyone walking behind him was being loud. It was like he wasn’t even trying. He had issues asserting himself in these kinds of situations but was sort of proud of himself for at least saying a word to Skylar. Well, it was two. After. You.

  Great job Jon, you really put yourself out there, he thought to himself as he walked down the rest of the hall alone with his thoughts and the rest of the class still walking behind him in deep discussion about the paper. He pulled out his phone again and looked at it as he did in the classroom.

  We’ll get it right next semester, just not with Skylar.

  Next semester. That’s what it always seemed to be for Jon. Next semester. At some point, Jon won’t have any semesters left. He had to shape up. Or, in the words of his father, man up.

  How could he expect to be a therapist? Hearing tales of childhood traumas and adulthood anxieties from desperate people and Jon couldn’t even say hello to a cute girl. Well, he could and he had, but there was something about Skylar that was nothing like he had seen before. Perhaps it was perfected beauty. Or, it was just his obsessive thoughts keeping him from acting as they did. The swirling, never-ending questions he constantly asked to himself. The who, what, why, when, where, and how were relentless. Any idea planted in his mind would grow and grow until it came into full bloom, giving Jon a mental breakdown.

  He wanted out of his head.

  He wanted to get in with Skylar.

  Chapter FOUR

  Dancing in the Dark

  Just when Jon thought he had seen the first and last emergency during his time at White Haven with the girl named Jessie, something else came out of left field.

  He was walking out of Lecture Hall after his sociology course that ran three hours. Six to nine. A brutally long and somewhat boring class. He hadn’t eaten
since lunchtime and his stomach was groaning at him, begging him to put something, anything inside to fill it up. Luckily, the cafeteria across from Lecture Hall was open until ten.

  There were plenty of options for food during the day like pizza, subs, salads, and various fried things. All served by the students who worked there to get money off of their tuition payments. Seemed practical, although many of them would have preferred the cold, hard cash. Who wanted to worry about loans? It’s not like their little minimum wage positions put a dent in them. Might as well fork over the money so they can buy what they really want: alcohol. That’s what Jon thought all college kids wanted anyway.

  Jon pushed in the silver door to the eating area where a few students lingered. Some were in groups talking underneath the televisions while others were alone at the tables with their laptops open, lighting their faces in the darker corners. Things were winding down for the night. So much so that an Asian student was sound asleep on a couch that sat outside the lounge rooms at the end of the eating area.

  With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Jon walked down the wall of what remained of today’s food. Coming into the cafeteria during the last hour of it being open meant that you were more limited in freshness and selection. Even the students that prepared the food weren’t interested. If you came in with an order for a pepperoni pizza or a big sub sandwich, they’d roll their eyes and slap the dough with disinterest or slap down some lettuce on a six-inch bun. Anything else, sir?

  Jon went with the chicken tenders and fries that sat bathing beneath a hot, yellow bulb that kept everything in its rays warm throughout the day. Over twelve bucks it was. Are you kidding? Between the prices of tuition, room and board, and textbooks, where did White Haven get off charging ridiculous prices for only three fried tenders and a side of fries? Who knows and who cares? Everyone here was broke and in debt. Might as well go all in, right?

  He paid for his late-night dinner and brought the tray over toward an empty, circular table that looked out through glass to the light pole lit campus. It looked pretty at night with the orange lights shining over the concrete pathways. Except, when Jon sat down and looked out the window while shoving a ketchup-covered tender in his mouth, he saw that there was a group of people outside that appeared to not be enjoying the lights and sights of White Haven after-dark.

  For a moment, Jon thought the people outside were dancing. He hadn’t noticed them when he walked over. Their arms were being thrown in the air and feet were kicking and whipping around. A dance-off in the grass it looked to be. But soon Jon realized that they were fighting one another when he saw one of the guy’s fist connect with another’s face. A girl with a pigtail was trying to hold the punching man back, but she was failing. Then, as a total shock to Jon, the punching man turned and struck the girl square in the head, sending her down. Jon’s stomach twisted and he stood up from his chair.

  A Black student that stood by the group took off his backpack and started to swing it around like a lasso until it connected with another guy’s face. The punching man and the pigtailed girl were rolling around on the grass. Jon could only stand in silence in the cafeteria, frozen with his uncertainty of what to do. His appetite diminished and his mouth hung open at the scene.

  An acne-faced girl that worked behind the fried-food bar came rushing out. Her grey apron flailed as she flung the door open and went out into the night toward the fight. Jon could hear her screaming at the group, but no one seemed to notice her. At first. She pulled out her cell phone and started to dial what Jon assumed was 911 until the Black student with the rodeo backpack went toward her and knocked the phone to the ground with the light from the screen flying until it landed face down. Jon didn’t know what to do. His mind was saying help her, help her, help her but his body was saying stand still and keep watching. Don’t look away.

  “Dude, you gotta call the police!” a curly-haired, blonde guy said as he sprinted with a shorter guy in a grey tank top behind Jon and toward the door. The short guy was clutching a pool cue from one of the lounge rooms. Together, they ran into the fight and started pushing back the attackers. It was getting crowded out there and it looked to Jon like everyone was swinging punches and launching kicks at one another. The pool cue was smacking around, the wood jutting in and out between the faces.

  “Hello?” a female voice said near Jon. He turned and saw a pretty, tall, brown-haired girl with her phone up to her ear. “My name is Ashley Tolsen and I’m a student at White Haven College…” She told the operator that there was a fight that broke out on campus and gave the address. “Yes, I’ll stay on the line.”

  Jon was still frozen in his place. If Ashley hadn’t been there to call 911, would he have done it? Probably, but it wouldn’t have been as fast. He could barely take his eyes away from the fight. He had seen all kinds of videos on the internet. Street fights, videos of war, and even beheadings on some of the sketchier sites on the web that he’s afraid to admit. But to see something like this play out at his own college was a first. Not even in high school did he ever encounter a fight. He had heard about them, sure, but never was a spectator.

  What on earth are they fighting about? Why punch a girl?

  Jon was still stunned. His body couldn’t move, and his eyes couldn’t look away. He was in a trance watching the fight outside.

  Jon could see the blues and reds flashing off the side of the buildings. It seemed like a lifetime, really it was only a couple minutes, but the police finally showed up. In the darkness, Jon could see an officer’s bald head. A second one stood behind him. He thought that the presence of the police would be enough to get the students to calm down, but it did the opposite. Several of the students went after the officer.

  “Holy shit!” Ashley shouted. “Are you seeing this?” She was recording everything with the camera on her phone.

  Jon nodded without looking at her.

  There were shouts beyond the glass. Silhouettes of the bodies beneath the orange-colored lamps danced. Jon’s heart rate was rising. They’re gonna have to shoot them he thought. This is getting too out of control. I don’t know if I can see this. But the shots never came, at least in the sense of using bullets. Electricity, however, appeared to be more appropriate for this kind of situation.

  Jon couldn’t tell which one it was, maybe the Black student with the backpack, but one of the bodies screeched and squirmed under the light as one of the officer’s used his taser on him. A quick flash of blue lit up the electrode string that stuck into the chest of the student. His arms and legs shook like he was having a seizure. Another guy tried to stop the tasing officer, but more police were on the scene, holding the psychotic students down now. None of them appeared to be giving up their struggle.

  Heroin? No. Heroin doesn’t make you do this, Jon thought. Does it?

  Like a wrestling match, the police officers dove on the flailing students, whipping them around like they were ragdolls. They had no choice. They couldn’t straight up shoot the students, but they were doomed if they didn’t use force to keep them down. There were more shouts and commands coming through the window that Jon couldn’t decipher as the officers hauled the fighters away, including the grey-aproned girl who was only trying to break it up.

  Jon turned to Ashley, who was already looking back at him. They looked at each other with pale, frightened faces unsure of what to do or say. Then Jon broke the staring contest and looked back into the night and saw blood splattered on the concrete pathway under the light. The dark blood contrasted the white concrete beneath the light. He could tell it was wet. Fresh.

  “I’m afraid to go out there now. I’m afraid to go back to my dorm,” Ashley said, almost in a whisper. Her eyes darted around at the rest of the cafeteria where the remaining students all stood in equal shock, recording video and taking pictures.

  “So am I,” Jon replied. “What do we do?”

  “Would you walk with me?” she asked. “When it all dies down out there, would you mind going with me?”<
br />
  Jon couldn’t have thought of a better idea.

  Chapter FIVE

  Not Like Father, Not Like Son

  The only thing that Jon and his father had in common were their first names. Jonathon Albert Barnes: the father. Jonathon Edward Barnes: the son. To avoid confusion, Jon’s mother, Catherine Marie Barnes, would often refer to them as Jon and Jon Jr., or Big Jon and Little Jon.

  The dark-brown hair was now greyed atop a balding head, but the bushy mustache remained in full color. He used to tower over Little Jon but nowadays what Big Jon doesn’t have in height, is made up for in weight. Big Jon had a stomach. Years of drinking with his old high school and college buddies helped with that.

  Big Jon was a popular guy back in his school days. Not only was he named homecoming king and senior class president during his high school career, but Big Jon was also a star player on the Highland Hawks. Quarterback. His athletic ability on the field helped bring Highland to the state finals and gained him a full ride to Union University where an unfortunate knee injury caused him to sit out his first season and the rest of his football career. The scholarship still stood though. He studied business, which included a course on accounting. That’s where he met the beautiful Mrs. Barnes.

  Originally Catherine Marie Regan from Pittsburgh, the two of them married after graduation and found a nice little home in Springsdale, Pennsylvania. It wasn’t long after settling down that Little Jon was born. Big Jon made enough money selling health insurance that Jon’s mother was able to stay home and take care of him during the day. And she sure took care of him. Little Jon was pampered. Babied. Even until high school.

  “He’s gotta learn to do some things himself ya know,” Big Jon would say to her. “Someday he won’t have his mommy to take care of him.”

  “I know, I know,” Catherine would reply. But being one of four children, she always thought her mother never gave her much attention growing up. She wanted Little Jon to feel different toward his mother than she felt toward her mother. She wanted him to know she cared. That’s why he always had fresh, washed clothes and packed school lunches. Everything Little Jon needed, he had. Courtesy of Mrs. Barnes.