Night Shot 14: Home

While some may believe that real stories never end, the time has come now for this story to end. The story started back in March as a random post about cameras. It continued through the surprise visit of Captain Nwin and Jerry's subsequent efforts to catch the mysterious Shadow. I hope you have enjoyed the chase! If you choose to wonder how it might continue, so be it. But now, for this blog, and for Jerry, this is the final episode of Night Shot, in which…

#####

In the east, a gold haze spread across the sky. The light gleamed along thin, bright wisps of cloud and shimmered on the dark silhouettes of the pines. Jerry sat and watched it for a long time—longer than he quite remembered.

At last, though, he shook himself and looked around.

Captain Nwin sat next to him, leaning against one of the platform posts of the old train station, watching the dawn. Silas slumped next to her, his head nodding forward.

Carefully, Jerry raised his camera and slid back until he could get a clear shot of Captain Nwin looking away from him, facing the sunrise. He held his breath as the camera clicked, and then sat back to look at the photo on the display panel.

The captain turned around. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him with the camera, but she only smiled. “Would you believe it?” she said. “I’ve never seen a meteor shower before. I’m glad Silas told us about this one.”

“No?” Jerry grinned sheepishly. Setting the camera down, he slid forward and sat beside her on the edge of the platform, his back resting against the wall. “I haven’t either, at least not since I was a kid.”

“Will you have a busy day today?”

Jerry considered. “Not really. Normal projects, that’s all. What about you?”

“It’ll be kind of busy,” Captain Nwin admitted. “I’ve been on assignment with the local force here, but that ended yesterday—a big raid on a smuggling ring. Or it was supposed to be, but things got a little mixed up.”

“Drugs?”

She shook her head. “Old furniture, actually. That's part of the mix-up. We’ll have lots of paperwork today to sort it out, and then I’ll have to fly out this afternoon. Minnesota—to follow some connections up there.”

“Oh.” Jerry didn't know what to say. “Isn’t it still snowing up there, or something?”

The captain laughed. “Not when I checked last. I grew up there, and we did get summer, you know.” She studied him. “So what do you do? Where you do you work?”

“I work long-distance for a tech company. Mostly writing patches for software, but sometimes I get to test security for their clients.” Jerry hesitated, before he added, “I’ve been trying to start my own photography business.”

“How’s it working?”

“Not very well,” Jerry admitted. “Though someone actually bought a couple prints yesterday, and asked about a photo shoot. First time, so—” he hesitated. “I wondered if you wouldn’t like to—if you would want to go out sometime. Celebrate, I guess?”

“I don’t know—” Captain Nwin seemed about to shake her head. Then she smiled. “Maybe when I get back?”

Jerry nodded. They were looking at each other, but Jerry glanced away quickly and stared out at the sunlight as it spreading across the dark trees. His fingers itched to hold his camera, to capture the pink flush of the clouds and the pale purple-blue above them. He leaned back, though, and left the camera where it was.

...

Beside them, Silas stirred and sat up with a grunt. “What time is it?” he asked.

Jerry pulled out his phone and checked. “Six-forty,” he said.

Captain Nwin scrambled to her feet. Jerry got up also and stretched, but the captain was already heading toward the road. “Phone call at seven,” she explained over her shoulder. “And at seven-thirty, and at eight. I’m going to need so much coffee this morning. Sorry! I’ll call you guys when I get home next week.”

Jerry helped pull Silas to his feet. As Silas shook himself, stretching stiffly, Jerry grabbed his camera bag and camera.

They were nearly to the road, about twenty feet behind the captain when Silas stopped abruptly and gave a curious, shrill whistle. Jerry looked around, surprised, but Silas was chuckling. “There she is—silly kitty,” he told Jerry. “I told you we would find her around here.”

Jerry looked and saw Silas’s gray cat sitting bolt upright, as cats would, in the grass by the ditch. Silas clucked to the cat, and she uncurled herself and came forward, picking her way over the damp grass.

Silas bent and picked her up, rubbing her chin. “Good kitty,” he crooned. “Let’s go find something to eat, shall we?”

Captain Nwin had heard Silas’s whistle and turned back briefly. When she saw the cat, she laughed and waved to them, before hurrying on.

…

About twenty minutes later, Jerry pulled up in front of his house just as his neighbor came down the front walk. They passed each other and nodded briefly. Jerry caught his neighbor’s curious glance, but neither of them spoke. Then the neighbor got in his own car and started the engine, while Jerry strolled up the walk and let himself into his side of the duplex.

As he closed the door behind himself and set his camera bag down on the counter, he realized suddenly that he wasn’t particularly tired—not yet, anyway.

He went into the kitchen and poked about for a minute before he washed off a plate and a coffee mug from the stack in the sink. He got the pancake mix down from its box on the top shelf above the stove, but he had to hunt about a few minutes longer before he found a skillet and set it on the stovetop to heat. Slowly, carefully, Jerry made himself breakfast, ate it, washed his dishes, and even wiped down the counters. Finally, he finished and pulled out his laptop to boot it.

As he sat down to work, though, he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that he was forgetting something.

Night Shot 13: Again at Night

In which—the penultimate episode of Night Shot—Jerry sees a shadow in front of him and hears sudden noises in the dark…

#####

“Hands up.”

Jerry froze. Then he recognized the voice. “Captain Nwin?”

A flashlight shone in his eyes, and he blinked. Next minute Captain Nwin lowered the beam. “You? What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Come on,” Silas urged. His voice cracked with impatience, and he grabbed Jerry’s arm, dragging him toward the parking lot. “I saw it—there—no, there—no, where did it go?”

The captain swung around. For an instant, the long beam of her flashlight cut across the dark trees. Then it faded into the orange glow from the platform light. Jerry caught a brief glint of light near the platform, low against the ground.

“There,” he cried, pointing, but the light flickered and vanished.

They ran forward together. A gust of wind met them as they left the pines. Jerry stumbled on the gravel and the rocks slid underfoot, but he caught himself. He ran on, clutching his camera under his arm and trying to swing his camera bag across his shoulder, out of his way.

Jerry was yelling as he reached the platform. With a bound, he cleared the corner and rushed on into the shadows.

He was past the station and into the darkness beyond it before he came to himself and stopped. The wind blew against his face, and he shivered as he stared into the night around him, but he could see nothing. Impulsively, he raised his camera and fumbled to adjust its settings. For a moment, he stared through the viewfinder. And slowly he realized it was ridiculous. He couldn’t see, the camera couldn’t work in that darkness, and—just as Jerry was straightening up to look around—his battery warning began to flash at him. In disgust, he turned the camera off and slung the strap over his neck.

Taking a deep breath, Jerry stood and looked around at the darkness. He still could see nothing. He could hear nothing, only his own breath as he let it out again. “Don’t be silly,” he told himself. “There is nothing to hear. Of course.” He took a cautious step forward, trying to feel whether he was on the gravel or the grass.

Then Captain Nwin spoke beside him, and he almost jumped. “Along the tracks? Where did it go? Did you see it?” She turned and moved toward the railroad tracks, running her flashlight beam along the grassy bank beyond the station.

But Jerry stopped, shaking his head. “No,” he said out loud. “It’s probably gone. If it was anything. At least, it wouldn’t still be here if it was—we’ve scared it off by now.”

“Where’s Silas?” Captain Nwin asked.

Jerry hesitated and stared around. His skin prickled uneasily.

When he looked over his shoulder, he could see the outline of the train station, faint against the dim glow. Captain Nwin was already jogging toward it. Jerry sprinted after her, following the beam of her flashlight as it bobbed and wavered along the ground.

In another minute, they reached the platform and hurried back along it, calling to Silas, but the wind carried their voices away. At their feet, the beam of Captain Nwin’s flashlight blinked unsteadily.

They had just reached the far edge of the platform when Captain Nwin stopped. “Oh, drat,” she whispered, just loud enough for Jerry to hear her. She shook the flashlight and smacked it against her palm. “It’s dead. Where’s Silas—do you see him?”

Before he could answer, a blue spark snapped above the platform, and they stood together in the darkness.

( Read the final episode in Night Shot 14!)

Night Shot 12: In the Shadows

In which, following Silas’s explanation for the shadow, however vague, it is once more night…

#####

The sky was changing between evening and sunset as Jerry pulled up in front of Silas’s shop. The garage was dark, but a light still shone through the office window.

As Jerry parked the Honda against the curb, he saw the office light switch off and Silas came out. The old man wore a thick coat and brown fisherman’s hat. As Silas turned to lock his office, Jerry noticed that he was carrying a large flashlight in one hand and small package folded under his arm.

Jerry got out and leaned against the car, waiting.

Silas shuffled down the path. He grinned as he noticed Jerry and waved. “I hope you remembered your camera.”

Jerry held up his camera bag in answer. “Were you planning to drive down?” he asked.

Silas shook his head. “It’s not so far,” he said.

Jerry shrugged and zipped his coat. “This is ridiculous—absolutely, totally ridiculous. Maybe the shadow is related to that psychologist.”

…

It was nearly dark before they reached the station. Silas walked with a sort of shuffling trot, glancing from side to side and sniffing the wind. Jerry trailed after him reluctantly, clutching the strap on his camera bag and trying to remember not to bite his nails as he imagined all the things that might make a shadow. “So Silas thought it was time-travelers—wouldn’t it just a likely be ghosts or monsters of some kind? The type with big glowing eyes and no faces, or holes where their faces should be? Or not anything at all—just an empty nothing that could pull you away to a place…somewhere…”

“There is it!” Silas said happily. “What do you think—should we stay by the parking lot?”

Jerry caught up with him and stared at the tall gray building. In the dusk it looked like any other abandoned train station—one or two windows boarded over, the others peeking out through dusty panes.

“You were by the parking lot last night, right?” Silas asked.

Jerry mumbled something and nodded.

“Then we’ll stay here.”

He went on, skirting the row of pines along the parking lot, and finally ducking behind them. Jerry pushed after him and found him in a narrow hollow between the trees. “Great place to watch from,” Silas decided. “We can watch the station, and no one would see us here unless we jumped on them.”

Jerry looked around dismally. Pine needles covered the ground, and grass grew in sparse patches between the trees, but the ground was still soaked from last night’s rain. “Yeah, I knew it was a bad idea, at the time. A really bad idea. So why did I do it?”

Silas, however, was already unfolding the package he had brought. It looked to Jerry like a piece of stiff cloth, but he helped Silas shake it out over the ground.

Silas carefully lowered himself onto it. “Waterproof,” he explained, not waiting for Jerry’s question. “But it’s canvass, so it should be quieter than a regular tarp. I thought it out several years ago.”

Then there was quietness and darkness for a long time. Dusk passed, night came, and nothing changed.

Jerry got his camera out and fiddled with the settings, “So it would be ready if…” But he didn’t finish that thought. The wind began to blow—even in the pines Jerry shivered and huddled into his coat. He couldn’t see Silas, but he could feel the old man beside him, still craning and stretching to see through the pine branches. Jerry wondered if it might rain.

The sky stayed clear, though, and the platform light glowed across the parking lot. The moon rose slowly above them.

After a long time, Jerry picked up his camera and leaned back. He almost had the focus right, but the wind set the branches swaying and he had to wait for them to still.

“Where were you the other nights?” Silas asked abruptly.

Jerry almost jumped at the sound, but he held the camera frozen in place. “Hunh—what?” he mumbled, sliding the zoom out slightly.

“The first couple times you saw the shadow—when you got the photos.”

“What—oh, that,” Jerry straightened and studied the photos blinking past on his display before they vanished into blankness like the night around him. “I don’t know—over on the edge of town, I guess. One was by the factories, but the other one I just found this place where the street lights look like they’re playing tic-tac-toe, and with the bushes behind them…”

It was too dark to see anything in the pines, but Jerry felt Silas’s start. The old man leaned toward him and pointed toward the east corner of the building. “What’s that? Did you see it?” he whispered.

“What? Where?” Jerry whispered back.

Silas was already scrambling up and Jerry started to follow. They edged their way forward, but before they could reach the gravel, the shadow moved in front of them, heavy and solid against the platform light.

(The story is almost over—coming next is Night Shot 13! I will post the final installment on June 8th.)

Night Shot 11: Silas's Story

In which, after a brief interruption, Silas actually gets a chance to explain…

#####

Jerry glanced at Silas and Captain Nwin. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Giving the others an apologetic shrug, he backed away and hurried into the kitchen with the cellphone.

“Hello? Jerry?”

He closed the door part way, but he could hear the captain’s voice behind him. “At the train station? The train station?” Then, automatically, he answered the voice on his phone. “Hey, Evie—yeah—yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

He cringed even before he heard her response. “I know—I’m sorry, but it was after midnight—and we’re three hours later out here, and—”

Part of Jerry’s mind listened and replied to the conversation. Another part heard the footsteps as someone crossed the living room. His front door opened and closed.

“Now what?” Jerry started to wonder as he peered out the window, trying to see who had left. “What in the world is—” Jerry caught himself in time. “No, it’s okay. It’s—ah, it’s sort of a—I've got sort of a business meeting right now, okay? Can we talk this afternoon maybe? Everything’s okay with mom, right?”

“Last I heard,” Evie assured him. “Alright. Bye!”

Jerry told her goodbye, closed his phone, and sighed. He could hear a car engine starting outside.

For a moment, he stood in the kitchen, shaking his head. At last, though, he opened the door and went back to the living room. Silas was still waiting there, his back to Jerry as he stared out the back window at the narrow strip of lawn and Jerry’s scraggly row of arbor vitae.

“Not much of a view?” Jerry said.

Silas turned around, smiling just a little.

“My sister,” Jerry explained. He glanced around awkwardly. “So where’d Captain Nwin go?”

“She said she had to get back to work—since nothing had happened to you, I guess.” Silas shrugged. “Actually, she is a police investigator, and she’s trained to like normal explanations for things.”

“And—?” Jerry paused.

“And I don’t?” Silas guessed. He sat down on the couch, and Jerry sat down on the coffee table, across from him. “No—but that’s because the normal explanations don't always fit.”

“Explanations for what?” Jerry demanded.

“For what people remember—or don’t,” Silas said. “Sometimes it’s normal—people do just forget—but then there are times when something strange happens. I’ve heard a lot, everyone trying to explain why it happens. That they saw something, but can’t remember what it was because—well, it must have been just a bird, or maybe an optical delusion. Isn’t that like what you remember?”

Jerry stared at him incredulously. “Honestly? I don’t remember. And that means that I don’t remember anything like this, just that—” Jerry stopped.

“That a couple police officers showed up asking about this photo—or something like it?” Silas asked. He grinned and opened his notebook for Jerry to see.


Jerry studied the photo pasted onto the notebook page with a string of numbers scrawled below it. It was just the corner of a building, trees, shadows— “The Shadow,” Jerry said. “That’s like one of the photos I took, only—”

“That is one of the photos you took,” the old man replied. “It’s the one you gave to Captain Nwin last week. She loaned me a copy of it.”

“And why don’t—didn’t—I remember it?”

“That’s one of the problems I’ve been trying to solve. It’s a little unnatural, if you ask me.”

“Like ghosts?” Jerry asked. “So you’re saying I was seeing a ghost?”

Silas chuckled, rubbing his palms together. “Ghosts or aliens—that’s what everyone says first. No—people like to think that. It’s sort of mysterious and fantastic—if it could be—but then it’s so unlikely that they don’t have to worry about it.”

“You mean—” Jerry asked slowly, “it’s like they can believe in ghosts or aliens without actually having to believe in them?

Silas flipped a couple pages back and handed the notebook to Jerry. “I used to think it was time travelers, actually. I mean, if someone in the future had figured out how to travel back in time, they wouldn’t want people to see them do it—and so they’d have to figure out a way to keep people from seeing it—or else to forget that they had seen it if they had.”

Jerry was staring at the notebook pages. They were full of small scrawls—a few words here and there, but mostly numbers. Row after row of numbers, jostling together on the narrow page. After a moment, though, they slid into order. Jerry looked up. “You were trying to keep track of where they happened—to find out if there was a pattern?”

“That’s right. Only there were too many of them—I realized it couldn’t be time-travelers, not unless there are a great deal more of them in the future than anyone expects. Though there could be. There certainly could be.”

“So what is it?”

Silas rubbed his hands again, thoughtfully, in silence. “I don’t know. But whatever it actually is—well, it must have figured out time travel and teleporting and every other secret of motion man has tried to discover. The thing is—” he paused and glanced at Jerry sharply. “I’ve never heard of a case less than week after it happened. There almost always seems to be a small burst of activity after the first incident. I’ve wanted to try and find out what goes on, but I’m always just a little too late. This would be the first time—the day after…”

He stopped again, and Jerry shifted uncomfortably.

“You want to come along?” Silas asked.

Jerry shook his head, hard. “No—no—why would I? That’s ridiculous.”

(The story continues in Night Shot 12.)

Night Shot 10: Interruption

In which Silas tries to explain what happened last night…

#####

Jerry and Captain Nwin stared at Silas.

Silas grinned at them sheepishly, but Jerry noticed that the old man was gripping a thin notebook, his hands shaking with excitement as he shook his head. “No,” Silas went on. “I really don’t think Jerry would remember seeing this. Not if the stories I’ve heard have any truth.”

“What stories?” Captain Nwin demanded. “Not those stories again.”

Jerry just looked from one to the other, wishing one of them would explain what they thought he’d been doing—“Or why they cared what he’d doing—or even why he wasn’t supposed to remember what he’d been doing, if he’d been doing it instead of not doing it?”

Silas wrinkled one eyebrow, and Captain Nwin frowned at him. “This isn’t going to work,” she said. “I want to know how and why Jerry was wandering around the train station last night, and you want to talk about ghost stories again.”

“I wasn’t at the train station,” Jerry protested. “At least—I don’t remember going to a train station.”

“Isn’t that how it works, though?” Silas asked eagerly. “Isn’t that how it always works? That—”

He broke off, and Jerry heard a phone beeping faintly. Instinctively, he reached for his pocket, but his phone wasn’t there. Then he saw Captain Nwin pull a phone out and turn away to answer it. “Same model as mine,” Jerry thought, before he remembered not to stare at the captain. He turned away, trying to pretend he wasn’t listening.

“Hello?” Captain Nwin said. Her voice changed slightly. “I’m sorry—yes—yes, he’s here—here he is.”

Jerry heard her hiss at him. “Jerry.” He turned back, and she shoved the phone toward him. “It’s yours,” she whispered. He stared at her, and she pushed the phone into his hand. “Your phone,” she insisted. “You lost it, and one of the officers picked it up this morning—at the train station.”

Dazed, Jerry took the phone and answered it. “At the train station? How had it gotten there? Unless he—”

“Jerry—Jerry—are you there? Are you alright? What’s going on?”

(And the story continues—in Night Shot 11.)

Night Shot 9: Morning

In which, at long last, after leaving Jerry in darkness, the story returns to him…

#####

A long time passed, and the rain had almost trickled to a stop.

Then Jerry began to stir. Slowly, he got to his feet and checked his camera. He couldn’t think what time it was, all he could see was the faint light bobbing above the train station and darkness all around. After a moment, he felt around in his pockets, wondering what he was missing.

Jerry tucked his camera under his coat and trudged back toward the road. The darkness wheeled and rippled around him, so that he had to feel his way along the edge of the pavement, stumbling in the dark. After about ten minutes, he reached the first streetlight. It seemed an age, though, before he finally reached his car.

When he got home, Jerry carried his laptop and his camera inside. The house was dark, and Jerry went into the kitchen, flicking the light on and setting his laptop on the counter. He felt too tired to think straight, but he mechanically dried his camera, took a hot shower, and at last went to bed.

…

About nine o’clock next morning, Jerry was barely awake, staring at the dishes in his sink and wondering what he should do for breakfast, when the knock came.

When he reached the door and opened it, he stared blankly for a moment before he recognized Captain Nwin—and Silas.

Jerry mumbled a good morning and stepped back to let them in. Closing the door behind Silas, he followed them into the living room and waited, looking from Silas to Captain Nwin.

The captain spoke first. “So what happened last night?” she asked, tilting her head back and frowning at Jerry.

He shook his head, confused.

“Last night—what were you doing last night?” Captain Nwin repeated.

“I don’t know—took some pictures I guess, and went to bed.” Jerry answered.

Captain Nwin exploded. “You’re not doing that again—you absolutely are not—” Jerry gaped at her. “I won't take it again—and you're going to tell me exactly what you think you’re up to—whatever is was you thought you were doing at the train station and whatever it was that—that—whatever it was that you saw or did or heard.”

She stepped toward Jerry. “Why were you even at the train station? How did you know to go there? What did you see there?”

Jerry shifted uneasily, but Captain Nwin stood glowering at him. “I don’t know,” he insisted. “What about the train station? I don’t even remember being there.”

Captain Nwin’s jaw tightened, but Silas stopped her before she could retort.

They both looked at him, and he shook his head, smiling. “I don’t think Jerry would remember—not if he’d really seen something,” he said softly. “Let’s start with what we do have and see if that helps.”

(What does Silas know? Keep reading with Night Shot 10 to find out!)

Night Shot 8: Captain Nwin Again

In which (okay, we’ll come back to Jerry later)…

#####

Captain Nwin was waiting for her coffee maker to finish perking when the call came.

She answered and listened for a moment, frowning. “You what? How do you know that? He…” Captain Nwin glanced at her watch. “Yeah—on my way.”

The captain set the phone down and sighed. “That idiot.”

…

About half an hour later, a gray SUV pulled up beside the two police cruisers, and Captain Nwin got out. She glanced at the train station.

The rain had stopped, but puddles ran across the gravel lot, and more water dripped from the trees along its edge. Captain Nwin could see the tops of the factory towers beyond the trees, but nothing else around the old train station—only the woods, the twin tracks, and the gray walls of the station.

The three troopers were combing the area around the platform. With a sigh, Captain started toward them. They got up as the captain approached, and one of them handed her a flashlight and a cellphone.

Captain Nwin examined them briefly, and then looked around. “What else have you found?”

“Nothing,” one of the troopers answered. “Absolutely nothing,”

“You have footprints, don’t you?” Captain Nwin demanded.

He grimaced. “Sure—one pair of footprints. An average-sized man, came around the train station on that side, got up on the platform, got down on this side. We can’t track much on the gravel, but there seemed to be a struggle or something over here. Except that we’ve only got one pair of footprints coming or going. We only noticed them because Mike found the phone when we stopped by on our rounds.”

“No car?”

“No—nothing like that.”

“So you know Jerry was here last night, but you’ve no idea of what he was doing or where he went?”

All three troopers shook their heads.

“Any idea where Jerry is now?”

“Dispatch asked for a report on that address,” one of the troopers offered. “I think the patrol unit said it was normal—car with his license plate in front, a light on in one of the rooms.”

“What is this?” another trooper asked. “Not that new case you got a couple weeks ago?”

Captain Nwin didn’t answer. Slipping the flashlight and phone into her pocket, she stepped carefully around the yellow flag that marked a footprint and bent to study the ground.

They had just spread out across the parking lot when one of the troopers called the others’ attention to an old man walking toward the station. The captain straightened up to look. Then she got up, wiped off her hands, and hurried forward. “Silas!” she called.

The old man waved to her and came on. “I heard you had something happen last night,” he said as he reached her.

The captain smiled wryly.

“Another incident?” Silas asked.

“Sort of,” Captain Nwin answered. “It’s ridiculous—telling the police to investigate something that doesn’t exist.”

Doesn’t it?” Silas asked.

She shrugged and showed him the flashlight. “We find clues that something happened, and then no one remembers what it is.” She paused and Silas was silent. “Guess I’ll have to check it out anyway,” Captain Nwin finished. “Want to come along?”

(Next post—Night Shot 9: Morning.)

Night Shot 7: Poll

…then the shadow swept across him, and darkness fell. Jerry lay silent, motionless, as the rain fell pattering around him. The station light flickered dimly in the wind.


#####

Was Jerry dead?

No.

But will he survive? That you must decide.

I’ve posted a poll in the sidebar, and this is your chance to contribute to the story. Vote or leave a comment—what do you think should happen next? Does Jerry die, the story end, and everyone else go on as before? Or does Jerry survive and the story continue for a few more twists and turns? If you need to review the story, feel free to start back at Night Shot 1: The Beginning and follow it through.

Why am I doing this? When I started writing Night Shot, I expected to hear at least occasional feedback from you. Since I haven't heard anything, I'm quite willing to assume that you are bored by the story and want it to go away. So, now you have full license to explain what you think ought to happen to Jerry or any of the other characters. Tell me if you want the story to end, or else persuade me to keep it going.

The poll closes at midnight, Thursday, April 26th. I will post either the continuing episode or the farewell episode on that Friday, based on your response.

The fate of the story is in your hands. Choose wisely!

(P. S. I promise to heed the majority’s voice in regards to all the general details, though I claim full license in regards to the particulars.)

Night Shot 6: Darkness

In which Jerry realizes what time it is…

#####

Jerry gripped his camera and turned slowly. He scanned the darkness, trying to locate the sound, but it remained—darkness.

“Just a truck,” Jerry told himself. “Just a truck.”

He caught himself shivering and forced himself to shake it off. “Just a truck.” He paused, fumbling with the light meter, but he found he was still holding the flashlight. Annoyed, he flicked it off and shoved it in his pocket. As he bent forward, trying to focus, the wind gusted across the parking lot. It shook the light above the platform, and the shadows ran trembling around him.

Jerry moved closer, grumbling, as he waited for the wind to settle.

The shutter whirred—click—click—click—click.

He moved forward again and refocused. No, that still didn’t look right.

Jerry backed sideways and picked his way around the dull gleam of a puddle. He was about to kneel, when he realized he was standing in a small rivulet. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he gave up and knelt anyway, steadying the camera and focusing on the dim silhouette of the platform.

Something began beeping in his pocket—Jerry almost jumped, before he realized it was his phone.

Jerry checked his settings hastily and pushed the shutter release. His phone was still beeping loudly, like an impatient horn, but Jerry waited until the camera had finished whirring. The instant it ended, he snatched for his phone.

It snagged in his coat pocket, and when he pulled it free, he felt his flashlight fall out of his pocket and heard it bounce on the gravel. Jerry ignored it. With a quick swipe, he unlocked his phone’s screen and hit the silence button. Then he looked at the screen—as the number flashed and disappeared, he recognized it and cringed.

That was going to be big trouble—if he wasn’t already in such big trouble.

He was about to put his phone back in his pocket when he noticed the time—just past midnight. That meant it was Friday already—Friday the 13th…

He hit the power button until his phone blanked out, and then shoved it back in his pocket.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. “Except maybe go home. Maybe he should. As if he was going to find anything out by standing in the rain by the tracks. As if there was anything to find out.”

Absently, he hit display on the camera and scrolled back through his photos.

He stopped, staring at one of them. Then he tilted the camera, trying to see the display better. That might just work—that might…

Forgetting everything else, he dashed back to his original position. “Right here—no, left, left, just a little more to the left. There—a little more tilt, not too much.” Jerry pressed the shutter and sat back to study the photo. “That almost did it—now if he could get the colors right.”

Jerry played with his settings, studying the train station. He had almost got the white balance right, when a sudden doubt flashed through his mind. He hit display once more and scrolled back until he found the photo again.

It was hard to see on the narrow display screen, but it was there—the dark, oblong shadow in the lower corner. The Shadow.

Jerry sprang up and stared around.

He could see nothing. Only the darkness around him, and the orange, bobbing light above the empty wall of the train station.

Out of the darkness, a shadow began to move.

Jerry turned to run, but he tripped and fell, trying to cradle his camera under his arm as he rolled on the wet gravel. The gravel cut into his free hand, but he scrambled forward in desperation, blind, gasping, slithering on the loose stones.

Then the shadow swept across him, and darkness fell…

(In Night Shot 7, readers determined what happened the following week in Night Shot 8. To go back to the beginning of the story,  see Night Shot 1.)

Night Shot 5: Shadow Chase

…in which Jerry finds himself down a back alley with a camera and a half-dead flashlight, and he decides that his decision in the previous installment (Night Shot 4: Silas's Shop) may have been a bad idea.

#####

The darkness closed around Jerry. The rain seemed to increase as he groped his way forward, around the corner of the building. He could still see the glow of streetlight behind him, a red glare against night.

He tried to take a few more steps, remembered his flashlight, and flicked it on.

The beam wavered and nearly went out. Jerry shook it, then looped his camera strap over his neck and banged the flashlight with his free hand. It brightened briefly, and he trudged forward, squinting into the dark curtain of rain.

After a few minutes, he noticed a faint row of lights ahead of him. He realized it was the train station. He veered toward it, swinging his light back and forth until it caught on the dim gleam of the tracks.

The rain drummed on his jacket. He’d forgotten his hat, and the water was already trickling down his neck, but he hunched forward and kept on.

When he reached the station, the rain was gushing off the roof. It splashed around the building, jumping and rushing in streams beside the platform. Jerry sloshed through the puddles and climbed onto the platform. It was a little drier, though a thin current of air swept the rain back under the roof. Jerry huddled as far back as he could, trying to shake the water off, as he checked his camera.

“Okay, now what?” Jerry mumbled to himself.

He looked around.

“If he were smart, he’d have a plan. A plan for what? For finding the Shadow—how had he found it before?” Jerry grimaced, remembering that he hadn’t found the Shadow before. “So I start taking photos and—what? It just shows up again?”

He looked around and found the best light—a lamp hanging from the side of the train station. It bobbed faintly in the wind, and its light flickered over the gravel parking lot.

Jerry leaned forward, trying to keep out of the rain as he focused his camera on the patch of light. “No—that doesn’t work.”

Steadying the camera, he squirmed along the side of the building. For a moment he studied the image on his narrow screen, but it still didn’t work—he couldn’t get it to look right.

Then he realized what was wrong. In his other photos, the building had been behind the light, not in front of it.

With a sigh, Jerry tucked his camera under his jacket and started out into the rain.

He thought he’d missed the puddle this time, but he landed in the last three inches of it and splashing his pant legs with cold water. “Of course—it would do that—what else? He’d known this was a bad idea when he set out.” But he kept on.

About a dozen yards off, on the edge of the parking lot, he turned and tried again, inching forward until he could frame the gray-white side of the train station and the platform.

Now the focus was wrong. Jerry hunched forward again, trying to keep the pelting rain off his camera as he adjusted its lens. Then he paused, staring around, wondering what it was.

Next minute, he was on his feet. Something rumbled through the darkness beside him...

(Continued on Friday, April 13th, Night Shot 6: Darkness)

Night Shot 4: Silas's Shop

...in which Jerry now realizes just how long he’s spent working on the computer in the previous installment (Night Shot 3).

When I first posted about Jerry (Night Shot 1), I had not intended to make a story of him. However, in conducting a semi-random survey, I discovered that all (2) of my respondents wanted to know what was going on. So, now, after resolving to find out what is going on, Jerry finds things a little more difficult than he expected. I will continue the installments from now until I get tired of the story or find that you, my readers, are tired of Jerry. That might mean next week, or it might mean next year, though I doubt it will be either.

#####

Sure now that Silas could help him, Jerry grabbed his keys and his laptop case. In his hurry, he almost knocked over his coffee cup—still half full of his morning’s vanilla latte mix—but he caught the cup in time, dropping his keys instead, set the cup in the sink on a stack of plates, snatched up his keys, and bolted for the door.

When he opened it and stepped out onto the front walk, though, he found it was night. The dark glow of the city reflected across the sky, and Jerry could see rain falling in the glow from the streets lights.

His neighbor’s car was pulled up close behind his Honda at the curb, and the light shone from the kitchen window in the other half of his duplex. Jerry wondered when the family had gotten home—he certainly hadn’t heard them. He stopped stared around, chagrined.

And now how was he going to find Silas? “He wouldn’t still be working, would he? I could try the auto shop first, and then…why didn’t I get his phone number before?”

Jerry shook his head and started across the wet grass toward his car.

As he fumbled with the keys, trying to unlock the Honda, a pickup turned onto the street. Jerry turned uneasily to watch it cruise past him. Its red tail lights disappeared into the cold mist.

“Knock it off,” Jerry told himself. “Just relax. You don’t think a shadow is going to jump out and get you—do you? Or, maybe I do. At least…I do hope Silas is still at the shop.”

He got in, dropping his laptop case onto the passenger's seat.

…

It was usually a ten minute trip through downtown, across to the old railroad tracks, where Silas worked at his one garage auto shop. In rush hour, it could stretch to twenty, but Jerry made it in eight.

As he half expected, the shop was dark. Jerry pulled over, turned off the car, and sat staring at the light splashing along the garage door, the dark, cracked rows of windows.

Jerry got out and trudged up the sidewalk to the narrow door beside the big garage door. Only the street lights shone—no light above the front door, no exit lights gleaming inside, no night lights, nothing. He rattled the doorknob. Still nothing. Of course it would be nothing. Just like the silly Shadow in his photographs.

“Now what?” he wondered. He glanced up at the dripping gutters and caught sight of the small plastic sign tacked above the door. The bottom corner had broken off in the middle of a letter. “Silas Hunter Auto –epair. Isn’t that what everyone does—in the movies—stare at shop signs when they can’t think of something better to do?”

Jerry stepped backwards to get a better view and almost fell off the low front step.

In disgust, he turned away and splashed back toward his car.

He was opening the door, just about to get in, when he turned around suddenly. There was something—no, yes, there is was again—a flicker across the shop, a shadow passing.

Jerry yanked the car door open and reached for the glove compartment. He was still staring at the shop, hands shaking as he reached for the flashlight and the Canon he kept there. He could hardly get the lens cap off, but he was out again in a second, shoving the car door shut as he fumbled to adjust the aperture. He was across the small lawn, nearly out of the faint circle of street lights, before he realized he had no idea where he was headed.

For a moment, he hesitated and glanced back at the car. He wondered what they would do in the movies.  “Keep on,  of course. They'd plunge straight into the darkness,” he told himself. “Not even stopping to think.”

So he plunged...

(Continued in Night Shot 5: Shadow Chase)

Night Shot 3: Shadows

“A Shadow?” Jerry wondered

He stood his living room a moment longer, studying the photo, hardly noticing the car engine start outside and pull away. The noise faded into the slow hum of traffic, but Jerry still stood and stared at the photo. He rubbed at the gray smudge in the corner. He caught himself hoping it would fade, disintegrate, grow an orange caption, anything—but it was still there. “Now how could he find anything about a Shadow?”

Google it, of course.

Jerry rushed to his kitchen and pulled his laptop from under the pile of other mail. Pushing the open packet of photos to one side, and the stack of bills into their corner of the counter, he opened his laptop and started typing.
…

“Shadow”—“Shadow crisis”— “Shadow catastrophe”—“Shadow end of the world?”

…

After the first half hour, Jerry changed modes and created a search bot to sort the links for him. Then he created another search bot, and another.

After about six hours, Jerry leaned back from his laptop and rubbed his forehead. “Okay—not working. Not working at all.”

One of his bots began flashing at him, but Jerry hit “suspend search” and minimized the window.

In frustration, he opened another search page typed and typed in “Shadow,” but he sat frowning at the screen. “Of course the search hadn’t changed. He had 607,000,000 hits for ‘Shadow,’ and all he knew was it couldn’t be Jungian psychology, a quirky cartoon hedgehog, or any of the other top hits. ‘Shadow aliens’ seemed the best option so far, but when did the police department begin investigating the appearance of ghosts?”

Jerry ran his finger over the touchpad and watched the cursor jump across the screen—“Wait.” He scanned the list of Google searches: images, maps, videos, news, shopping, books, more. Maps? Jerry clicked the link.

Shadow Lane, Shadow Ridge, Shadowdale…

Shadow on…“What, ten minutes away—just past the railroad tracks? How did that happen?” Jerry leaned back, tapping his fingers on the desk as he thought. Who would know something about that? Who did he know—?

Silas! Of course—Silas would know. Rapidly, Jerry flipped the laptop lid down and reached for its case. The stack of envelops and bills slid over the table, but Jerry shoved them back into place and stood up. Silas was always talking about odd stories like ghosts and shadows and that sort of craziness.

He felt sure Silas would know something.

Probably Silas could tell him exactly why Captain Nwin wanted to know about Shadows. And then Jerry could explain why he didn’t know anything about a Shadow, and Captain Nwin would have to leave him alone.

(Continued in Night Shot 4: Silas's Shop)

Night Shot 2: Captain Nwin

Jerry was still standing in his living room, looking at the second photo, when someone knocked on his front door. Jerry jumped and looked around uneasily, before he set the photo on the coffee table and went to open the door.

He rather expected it to be Captain Nwin, the local police investigator, and it was—alone this time, waiting stiffly in a dark blue uniform.

Jerry stood back from the door.

Without even looking at Jerry, the captain stalked in, crossed over to the table and picked up the photo. “So—now will you explain this?”

Jerry shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I thought I explained it last time.”

“But it showed up again—how did it happen?”

“I told you last time,” Jerry protested. “I didn’t notice anything.”

“But what happened? What did you see? You must have seen something?” The captain waited. “You really don’t know anything? You really mean to say that you took this photo—actually pointed the camera at this thing, looking straight at this, and took the photo without noticing it?"

"I wasn't taking a photo of it," Jerry protested. "I was trying to get the splay patterns from the street lights. See, with the trees back here—”

Captain Nwin held the photo out of his reach. “And you really didn’t notice anything?”

Jerry shook his head.

“You idiot,” Captain Nwin said.

Jerry reached for the photo again. This time, the captain tossed it to him and marched to the door. “You’d better call me if you find you do know something—at once.”

As the door banged behind the captain, Jerry picked up the photo and looked at it again. He wondered vaguely what Captain Nwin thought this thing was. It seemed so ridiculous to get worried about a silly shadow, when all it did was get into people’s photographs.

Then Jerry frowned, studying the small gray streak in the lower corner of the picture. Come to think of it, the Shadow itself was more annoying even than the captain—at least the captain didn’t try to jump into photographs without permission. He was going to have to do something about this Shadow...

(Continued in Night Shot 3: Shadows)

Night Shot 1: The Beginning

It was a dark and snowy night…

Suddenly, a camera shutter clicked.

Since getting my new camera in January, I haven’t had a lot of time to take photos, and last week, I started to gripe about the camera. Sure, it takes good photos, and it’s got a color-selection feature which my old camera lacked, plus a wider range of scene settings. It wasn’t the same, though. It just wasn’t the same, and it doesn't even let me turn picture review off. Maybe I now need to focus on getting two or three good photos, rather than clicking through a dozen at a time?

Then I found that the new camera, while it may not give me as much control as my old one, does indeed have a separate night landscape function. It doesn’t exactly work for taking pictures while driving—my sister taking the photos while I drove, that is—but it does work quite well in low-light situations, something I never quite managed with my old camera.

“Tuesday evening, Jerry took the photo. He was busy that week, and he sent the photo off to be developed until Wednesday morning the following week. That afternoon, the detective showed up at his home to ask about the odd Shadow in the lower corner of Jerry’s photo. Jerry hadn’t noticed it before. He couldn’t explain how it got there.

“After two weeks, Jerry believed he had, finally, convinced the police that he didn’t know anything beyond what he had told them already. Then the Shadow appeared in another of his photos…”

(Continued in Night Shot 2: Captain Nwin)