Secrets in the Shadows

By Morgan J. Manns

You might be wondering why I’m in an alleyway holding a blowtorch, about to cut into this steel door. Perhaps I should take you back to the days spent amidst flickering fluorescent bulbs, drab gray uniforms, and one-room holding cells. And no, I’m not talking about my old high school.

The Overseers call it the Fortress, a secret underground city built to shield the remnants of humanity from the encroaching Darkness. I, however, refer to it as my personal nightmare.

It was within those walls that I came to realize evil lurked closer than I knew, hidden and insidious. It was there that I peered into the shadows, seeing our saviors for what they really were—liars.

***

One Year Ago

I sprawled on my cot, staring at the steel ceiling that enclosed our world. The crackling radio beside me spewed its grim regular end-of-the-world programming, reporting more deaths and fallen cities. It was background noise. A tiresome soundtrack to my bleak existence.

With nothing better to do, I created a new game for myself: counting the bolts in the ceiling. How hadn’t I thought of it before?

One, two, three…

My days always droned on like this. My parents and I would receive our assigned tasks by intercom, labor through our duties, and hope that our planet endured another day of invasion. Truly exhilarating.

Nineteen, twenty…

Today, I was burdened with the dreaded chore of washing uniforms for our section of the Fortress. Cleaning, drying, and folding hundreds of them.

The industrial-sized laundry room was located at the central hub, a half-hour’s walk through the labyrinth of tunnels. Returning to our tin-can home minutes ago, I now waited for my parents to finish their task of replacing burnt-out light bulbs. They should be here any minute.

Thirty-nine, forty…

Life hadn’t always been this dull. In our former above-ground existence, we had a real house surrounded by green grass and a white picket fence. I hadn’t truly appreciated it until we were brought underground in anticipation of the invasion, a supposedly temporary precaution… Yeah, right. It’s only a matter of time until death finds us.

Fifty…

The creatures had arrived from some distant planet. They literally oozed poison, destroying our atmosphere, shrouding us in their Darkness. A global war against these celestial invaders raged above us and our radio served as our sole connection to it. We were losing, though no one wanted to admit it.

Sixty-one, sixty-two…

I had long given up hope of feeling the sun’s warmth on my skin or a simple breeze through my hair. My only solace was a handful of art supplies I had managed to grab during our hurried evacuation. The authorities had urged us to take what we could carry. For me, it was charcoal and pens—my lifelines.

You wouldn’t believe how many pictures I’d drawn, most depicting how I imagined the creatures of darkness to look. Horrific scaled beasts with intelligent eyes—inspiration I’d taken from the radio’s descriptions.

Seventy-five—

My gaze froze upon the ceiling. Bolt seventy-six was missing.

I slowly rose from my cot, not daring to look away, fearing I might lose sight of it. My entire world shrank to that tiny spot.

“What the…”

Goosebumps prickled across my skin as a tiny lens stared back at me. A camera? The realization sent shivers through me.

I grabbed the pen from my nightstand. I should be terrified that someone was monitoring us, but all I could think was that something in my life was different.

A chuckle escaped me.

Flipping open my journal, I quickly scribbled a message.

I KNOW YOU’RE WATCHING.

Holding it up to the camera, I waited, my heart pounding, all while the radio droned on, announcing the fall of New York…

A knock on the door.

I jerked my head toward it, lowering the note. My parents didn’t knock.

“Who is it?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Evening meal, Miss Young,” a male voice responded.

I exhaled, my shoulders slumping. I’d forgotten how close it was to dinnertime. “Just a moment.”

Whatever the object in the ceiling was, it must serve a mundane purpose, just like everything else here. I crumpled the paper, along with my hope.

Upon opening the door, I gasped. This Overseer was different from the others. For one, he didn’t have a meal tray. Secondly, he had a gun and it was pointed at me.

My knees trembled, fear clouding my thoughts.

“We received your message,” he said. “You’re the first person to discover one of our cameras. Congratulations. Please come with me.”

With his gun pressed against my back, he led me silently through vacant tunnels, up various staircases. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

Minutes later he flashed his ID card, opening a steel door, and pushed me through, mumbling, “Thank you for your participation.”

I gasped, stumbling into… sunlight? The deafening roar of traffic surrounded me. I rubbed my eyes, turning toward the noise. There, a few steps away was the last thing I expected—a bustling city center.

Desperate for answers, I spun, but the man behind me was gone. I ran from the alley and stumbled into a businesswoman, clutching her hand. “The Darkness, where is it? Did humanity prevail?”

She snatched back her hand, her eyes flashing disgust. “You must be one of those test subjects.” She quickened her pace away from me.

Test subject?

Angry tears welled in my eyes as I absorbed her words. Where was the poisonous air? The winged beasts? And then, like plunging into cold water, it all became strikingly clear. I clenched my fists, finally understanding.

There weren’t any celestial invaders. The entire underground system was a bloody experiment.

***

Present Day

Now, on the anniversary of my freedom, I plan to infiltrate the Fortress. After I find my parents, we’ll expose the Overseers and gather a resistance. The shadows will hold us prisoner no longer.

So, if you’d excuse me, I have a door to torch.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Morgan J. Manns is a speculative fiction writer who firmly believes that the world needs more stories filled with magic and wonder. Captivated by the realm of intricate world-building since composing her first fantasy tale at the age of ten, she now ventures beneath the endless Canadian prairie sky with her supportive husband and two hobbit children, all while eagerly contemplating her next literary creation. While her current occupation is that of an elementary school teacher, her dream job will always be dragon rider, soaring through the skies of her imaginings.

---

More Stories | Instagram