Night and day, p.1
Night & Day, page 1

Thank you for downloading this Simon & Schuster ebook.
Get a FREE ebook when you join our mailing list. Plus, get updates on new releases, deals, recommended reads, and more from Simon & Schuster. Click below to sign up and see terms and conditions.
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
Already a subscriber? Provide your email again so we can register this ebook and send you more of what you like to read. You will continue to receive exclusive offers in your inbox.
Contents
Preface
The Bright Day | PRIYA SHARMA
Faire | RACHEL HARRISON
Trick of the Light | BRIAN EVENSON
One Day | JEFFREY FORD
The Wanting | A. T. GREENBLATT
Hold Us in the Light | A. C. WISE
Dismaying Creatures | ROBERT SHEARMAN
Bitter Skin | KAARON WARREN
Cold Iron | SOPHIE WHITE
Preface
An interesting thing about horror that takes place during the day is that it upends our expectations. We’ve been led to believe that light is good and dark is evil, and violating that belief suggests that something has gone wrong with our understanding of the natural order.
In addition, sunlight gives us a false sense of security because with 100 percent visibility, we must be safe, right? Evil is banished in the light of the day, right? After all, vampires sleep during the day. We’re fooled into thinking nothing can harm us if we can see it. The dissonance is starkly revealed when horror takes place in the light and that light illuminates the ugliness and gore in shocking detail and clarity.
We’re used to seeing monsters come out at night, but what if there is something inherent in the day that brings those monsters out then, in full daylight?
THE BRIGHT DAY
PRIYA SHARMA
The air was still cool from the night but it wouldn’t last. Mel finished putting the chickens away in the shed and locked the door. When she turned, she saw the figures moving high on the slope beyond the electric fence.
“Andy!” She ran for the house, up the steps, and through the open door.
Andy heard the alarm in her voice and was already pulling on his boots. He took a rifle from the rack.
“What is it?”
“There are people out there. I think one of them is a child.”
Mel grabbed the goggles from the hook by the door. She’d need them when the sun came up.
There were three of them outside the perimeter. A man carrying a child and a woman who trailed after them. The wiry man eyed the fence. He put the limp boy, who must have been about ten, down at his feet. Then he picked up a stone and threw it at the fence. It sparked.
“Hey, mate,” the man called. “My name’s Eddie. We need your help. We’ve been walking all night.”
Andy didn’t move.
“A group of us camped out by the next town, back that way. Do you know it? We were attacked. We had to split up and run. My son was hurt.”
The boy groaned.
Mel looked to Andy. The nearest town was a long way off, a place where sand filled up the rooms. They must have walked all night.
“Please. You can’t leave us out here.” The man pointed to the sky. “The sun’s coming up.”
Mel put a hand on Andy’s arm. It had been such a long time since they’d seen a child. Another life, when she was a teacher. It had been a long time since they’d seen anyone at all, in fact. Andy tried to keep Mel away when people came, begging to be let in. He didn’t look at Mel, but he could still hear her crying.
He’d stopped clearing the sun-scorched bodies away at sunset, letting her see them. That would be us if we let everyone in. I’m only doing this to protect us.
This was different. There was a child.
“Andy.”
The man seized his name. “Andy, mate, come on. Please. Your wife, she’s kind. So are you. We won’t be any bother and we’ll leave at sunset. Please, Andy, for my boy. His name’s Josh.”
“Who attacked you?” Andy didn’t move.
The man looked up at the sky. They could see his features more clearly now in the grey dawn. The woman had come closer. She was tall and large-boned. Her dazed, blank face bore an old scar that ran down her left cheek to her chin. Her arms dangled uselessly by her sides.
“Sunbathers.” A comical name for the Sun Cultists who exposed themselves in brief bursts to their deity. They bore the stigmata of their worship. Leathered bronze skin, marked by tattoos and melanomas. “They took everything we had when they realised that none of us was their Messiah. They said if we converted, they’d let us live.”
The Messiah. A being who embodied the Sun itself.
“So why didn’t you?” Andy asked.
Sunlight was creeping down the dry, cracked earth of the slope. The scrub had burnt up long ago. The sand lizards would be out soon, their blood excited by the heat.
“Because this is Britain, and we are free.”
“This was Britain.”
“They’d make us slaves. You’ve got solar stills. I can see them. Just a little water and shade. That’s all we want.”
Andy started to walk back to the house.
“Please.” It was the woman. “Please. My son.”
“Andy.” Mel ran after him. “Please.”
They had rules. The rules were why they were still alive.
She gripped his forearm. He shoved her hard with a flat hand, high up on her chest, and she landed in the dust, shocked. His touch had never been anything but gentle before.
“He’s just a boy. He’ll die. They’ll all die.”
Mel couldn’t see the man she’d fallen in love with. His gentle expansiveness had died when he shot the dog. He was terrified. It had crystallised into something hard and cold. Mel couldn’t keep her fear of him from her face.
Andy put out a hand to help her up. She took it, not wanting to argue or cry while Eddie was watching them.
“Just until sunset. Then they’ll be on their way.”
* * *
Mel reactivated the fence once they were inside. Andy kept the rifle trained on the family as they walked up to the house.
“Thank you, mate. Thank you, Andy,” Eddie kept saying.
Andy motioned with the rifle for Eddie to sit in the corner. The boy, Josh, was on his knee. The woman stood apart from them. Something was wrong with her besides thirst and fatigue. Her eyes were glassy.
“You’re making me nervous, Andy, mate.”
“I’m not your mate.”
Mel filled a cup with water and slid it towards Eddie, stepping back out of his range. He gulped it down. Eddie put down the empty cup and pushed it back to Mel. Once refilled, he trickled some onto Josh’s lips. The child moaned and sat up. Mel filled another cup and passed it to the woman.
It would soon be time to lower the blinds. The light was rising. The woman’s face was slack, her lips dry and cracked.
“Could my son have a bed?” Eddie asked. “He needs to sleep. Maybe some food later. You have food. You look well-fed.”
“Shut up.” Andy kept the gun pointing at Eddie. “Put him on the table and then sit back down.”
The man complied.
“I’ll put him on the couch next door.” Mel picked him up. He was a feather in her arms. She turned to the woman. “Is that okay?”
The woman nodded and made to move but Andy said, “You stay right there.”
“He’ll be safe, I promise. He’ll just be in the next room.”
Mel took him through and covered him with a light blanket. Before she lowered the blackout blind to protect him, she saw the line of light hit the compound, a relentless tide.
She missed the temperate sun. They’d worked abroad in their younger years, Andy in engineering and her teaching, in Thailand, Hong Kong, and Japan. She missed children, humidity, and other people.
Mel went back to the kitchen. The woman had taken a seat beside Eddie. He’d finished another cup of water and was talking.
“Is it just the two of you here? It must be lonely.” He couldn’t keep the avarice from his voice.
“We like it.”
“That’s not very friendly, is it? You have an embarrassment of riches. You could spare some.”
“I’m not your friend.” Andy was impassive in a way that meant his hackles were up. Mel could tell that he was regretting letting them in. Better to leave them out to fry, or to the lizards.
The sun was hitting the windows, the glare unbearable. Mel turned on the lights and closed the kitchen blinds. “We should eat,” she said, to no one in particular.
“Feed them first. No cutlery. We’ll eat later.”
“Did you make this?” Eddie asked as she passed him a thick slice of bread and butter. He took a bite. “It’s good.”
“Would you like some?” Mel willed the woman to speak. She longed to hear another woman’s voice. “I’m Melanie.”
The woman held out her hand.
“What’s your name?” Melanie asked.
“Olwen.” It came out as a whisper.
“I’ll get you some.” Mel crossed the room, back towards the countertop by the door.
“You’re quite cosy here, aren’t you?” Eddie’s gaze landed on the closed blind, as if he could see through it.
Andy opened a slat to look out, the rifle still pointed towards the far corner where Eddie and Olwen sat. Then he darted across the room, ushering Mel out ahead of him. “Outside, now!” Then he backed out after her.
Andy dropped to one knee on the veranda and
aimed at Josh’s back, but it was too late. The boy was beyond the gun’s reach and had already thrown the switch for the fence and was letting the other men in.
* * *
There was no time. The baying men were closing the ground between them and the house. Mel could hear laughter from the kitchen. They ran, although they weren’t dressed for daytime. They ran, even though they had no water. The men shouted and whooped.
Andy ran fast, pulling her along. They paused between the small complex of outbuildings.
“I’ll draw them. Double back around the chicken shed and run up to the gate.”
And then?
“Not without you.”
“I have the rifle. Go!” He gave her a push. There was no time. Not for anything. “I’ll follow you.”
From the cover of the barn he picked off the man at the back. Then the one headed in their direction. He fired a few shots, trying to herd them towards the house, to give Mel a better chance.
“I’m staying.”
“They’ll kill me and they’ll rape you. They’ll never let you leave. Go!”
Mel ran uphill to the gate, not daring to look back. A dust cloud rose around her. One of the men turned and saw her. He gave chase, but Andy’s shot rang out. He dodged it by throwing himself to the ground. It was enough for Mel. The power to the fence was still off. She was through the gate and headed up the side of the hill. More shots rang out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to die together from old age in their sleep, holding hands.
* * *
It was over when Andy ran out of bullets. There were too many to fight off. When they finished giving him a beating they dragged him, wrists bound, onto the veranda. He sat quietly after that, gathering himself. The front door screen banged, followed by slow deliberate footsteps. Andy looked up.
“You.”
“Yes.” Olwen. She sat on her haunches before him. “Me.”
Olwen’s men stripped those that Andy had killed. There was a skirmish over a shirt. The two dead men lay naked in the dust. The boy, Josh, poked at their staring eyes with a fork until he was chased away. The ground was too hard for digging graves, so they were set on fire.
Olwen had found Andy’s wide-brimmed hat and had stuffed a large kitchen knife into her belt. It was a point of bright promise in the shade. She had grown in stature, transformed from the dull, cowed creature in the kitchen. Her gaze was as sharp as the knife.
“Andy, I’m going to take you out to where Mel can see you, and you’re going to shout to her. Tell her everything is going to be okay and that she needs to get out of the sun. She won’t have long out there. I reckon she’ll be dead by noon. You don’t want that now, do you?”
“She’s long gone. You won’t catch her. We’ve got gear hidden out there.”
Andy wished it were true. All his preparation, and he hadn’t prepared for this.
Olwen tilted her head. Close up, Andy could see the variegated moles on her face. It didn’t matter. Despite skin cancer, she’d still outlive Andy.
“That might well be true, but she’s tenderhearted, your wife. She’ll stay, as long as you’re alive.”
“You already have something more valuable than her.”
“What?”
“Look at this place. Solar panels, stills, hydroponic sheds. Chickens. Me. I maintain all this tech. It’ll keep you fed and watered all your life.”
“I would really like you to be one of my boys but I think you’ll be much more obliging with your wife tucked up here, all snug.” Olwen pulled the knife from her belt and started to clean her nails.
Then she got up and pulled Andy out into the sunshine and tied him to the post in the yard. She cut off his clothes with the kitchen knife. Andy’s skin was pale, unaccustomed to the light. Some of Olwen’s boys watched, sly looks passing between them. They had seen this before.
“This is your chance to save her. Go on, give her a shout.”
“No.”
Olwen went into the house and came out with a poker.
“I’m going to leave you out here to have a think about things.”
She wrote in large letters in the dirt: COME DOWN OR HE DIES. Then she went back into the shade.
Eddie came out and picked up the poker and turned it over in his hands, testing its weight. Then he prodded Andy with it.
“Stop it.”
Eddie ignored him. He hit Andy’s shins with it. An experimental blow, not hard enough to break bone. Pain shot up and down his legs and bright lights burst in his vision.
Eddie hadn’t finished. His gaze lingered on Andy. He used the tip of the poker to lift Andy’s genitals, inspecting them and letting them drop. Andy closed his eyes, humiliated.
“Hey, get out of the sun, you daft sod,” Olwen called.
Eddie, surprised as he’d not noticed Olwen on the veranda, dropped the poker as he darted away. It landed in the dust with a thud.
* * *
The rocks at the crest of the hill were bleached white as bone. They gave Mel cover from the house below, but not shade. She could see anyone coming after her and would have time to run. Not that there was anywhere to run to. Or that she’d be able to run for long in the heat. When she looked out, all she could see was the plateau of stones and skeletons.
She had one thing to be thankful for. She had left the goggles hanging around her neck. She put them on and switched them to day mode. It was nearly 8:00 a.m. and the sun was blazing.
Mel lay on her front. As a child she’d sunbathed, lying on a blanket beside her mother, both of them plastered in copious amounts of factor 50. The heat soaked her, and her stomach clenched with the pleasure of it. She remembered the long grass of the field. The green of her dreams. Or she thinks she remembers it. When does memory get mixed up with imagination? Sand and scavengers were all that remained of England.
* * *
Andy had been brought back to the safety of the porch. He was dumped before Olwen. His skin was red and sore. It hurt to move. After he vomited, Olwen gave him water. She helped him, holding the cup to his lips. He was grateful. It was pure and sweet.
“Can we kill some chickens?” Eddie asked Olwen.
“How many are there?”
“About twenty.”
“Only two then. But not the cockerel.”
He went to turn, but then stopped. “Which one is that?”
“The one with the flapping red thing on its head.”
“Okay.”
She sighed as he went off. “He’s keen but his education is sorely lacking.”
“Why do they follow you?”
She leant forward in the chair.
“Because I keep them alive. And I’ve picked my boys for a reason. You see, I was like you once. Before all this I had a husband and a son. A job. Then afterwards I was, what’s the right term? A sex slave.”
Andy’s skin was on fire. He wanted to writhe on the floor and rub it all off. He didn’t care about what happened to Olwen. There was a time when he would have, but not now. He tried to conjure that other Andy.
“I’m sorry, Olwen. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. How did you escape?”
“Divide and conquer, using everything I had. Sex, lies, manipulation. Eddie was one of my captors. You don’t have to wield the knife when the time comes. You just need to put it in the right hands and say the right words. Not that I haven’t killed lots of men myself. Anyone that I couldn’t bend to my will.”
“I can be useful to you. I can keep this place running.”
“What makes you think that we can’t? Shout to Mel. Tell her to come home.”
Andy would do anything to stay in the shade, but not that.
“She’s gone.”
“No, she’s somewhere around here. Close, but not close enough for us to find her in daylight. She won’t last long. Which is a shame because women are as precious as water.” She stood up. “I’m putting you back out. This is your last chance to save yourself. Remember, Andy, you’re just a man, and I have plenty of those.”
* * *
Mel wasn’t wearing a watch. Time escaped her. The only way she could mark it was from Andy’s lengthening shadow. She’d dialled up the tint on the goggles but by noon it would be too bright to see anything, even with them. Not that it mattered. She’d be dead by then.












