We were never outright told to not tell anyone, but it was heavily implied. A sort of silent agreement that this stays within the confines of our little village of Pendletown. But it’s too good a story not to tell.

I was young when I first witnessed one. About 3 years old. All I remember is the bustle of the village as we all entered an underground lock-in. Despite how thick the walls and doors were, we could all still hear it faintly. The blaring of the klaxons echoed around the village.

Growing up, I’d see them. Tall poles with conical shapes on the end, facing various directions. There were no visible wires, which made you assume they were hidden inside. But there was also no opening for maintenance. Despite this, they functioned perfectly every time they went off. There was no department for them. No one knows what grid they are wired to. They’re just there, and they exist. It was just a fact that everyone accepted. Though, what wasn’t accepted, was a common consensus for why.

For the next 20 years, I’d occasionally bring it up. And what people felt and knew drastically shifted from person to person.

When I started high school I’d walk to school every day. Driving wasn’t and still isn’t a common commodity in the area. Pendletown was small enough for driving to be more of a flex than a necessity. So a regular routine for many kids was to meet up with others on the same route and the group built up as we neared the school.

By the time they reached my house, there’d usually be 4 to 5 kids already built up, ready for me to add to the number.

For the most part, the route was always the same. But due to the swings in weather, it was sometimes better to go down alternate paths. The tighter alleyways would provide cover from particularly harsh winds that plagued the winter months. And when we went this way, we’d sometimes see the Church of Many.

This wasn’t some grand cathedral. It was a function room where many middle-aged men would meet for a few beers. Drinking early in the day is universally seen as inappropriate, but they always argued it was for religious reasons, and somehow they always got away with it.

We’d sometimes peek through the windows out of curiosity. We’d only heard rumors about the place, so we knew very little. However, we knew that the whole organization was based on the Alarm, which sounded every 20 years. They were known for holding public events around the village. It honestly felt more like a themed community center than a religion. Something that gave our little area an identity. But you could never say this to them. If you bring up their so-called relaxed worship, they’d argue you out the room about the importance of the organization. They would even go as far as to make you thank them for saving the town every 20 years; claiming that it was their doing that things weren’t worse when the Alarms went off.

As you can imagine, it’s nigh impossible to prove their claim, but equally impossible to prove otherwise.

Quite honestly, the whole thing would be forgotten about for long periods. Something that happens every 20 years doesn’t exactly bring about a sense of urgency. But sometimes, in school, a kid would bring it up, and talks would start all over again. There’d be a new theory thrown in and jokes around the room each time.

But this is where Isaac always stood out.

If you ever brought up the Alarm with him around, he’d say the same thing. The Alarm is a hoax.

Something to understand; our town isn’t exactly 100% on the grid. It’s known about by the government but so disregarded that we’ve managed to uphold a sort of autonomous zone. Separate from outside influence. Because of this, we still have some kind of royal family, but to actually call them that is an overstatement. They’re just the lineage of the founders that have passed down power through each generation.

They claim they know the secrets of the Alarm but say it’s kept from the public for the village’s safety. This is another point of contention, but we’ll save it for now. Just know that this family has a lot of power in this village, but for the most part, they’re well-liked since they’re very involved with the growth and development of the land.

This doesn’t stop the rumors, though.

Isaac had one thought when it came to the Alarm. A hoax. His theory goes that it’s done to subjugate the population. Every 20 years, they assert their dominance by sounding the alarms and seeing who obeys. A simple routine that lets everyone know who’s in charge.

You see, anyone who doesn’t seek shelter in the town’s bunker is never seen again.

During my later years in school, I met a girl called Edna. She was sweet. The village was small, so meeting new people was rare after a certain point. People exaggerate when they say a place is so small that everyone knows each other, but some of the more busy people might literally have done that.

I met her during a school outing. The years in school were split. She was in the year below, and this particular trip was mixed with a few years.

By the end, we were inseparable, and this carried on after the trip ended.

I very quickly met her family, and we all got on well. But one moment really stood out to me, and that’s when the Alarm was brought up.

I only brought it up off-handedly at the dinner table. I mentioned that someone at school was talking about the Church of Many being caught being drunk and disorderly again and started raving about the Alarm like it was urgent, and the table sort grew somber.

Her parents didn’t seem to want to say anything, but Edna put the silence out its misery by explaining their side of things.

Apparently, she had an older brother, James. James had heard a rumor about the Alarm that was still around. The idea was this; if you stayed out during the Alarm, you were met by the spirits of the village. If you went to them with a wish in your heart so strong, it’d be granted.

James had a wish. Something he never shared with his family.

Well, James snuck away when the evacuations were happening. Edna’s family couldn’t find him, but it was too late to go searching. So they had to hope James was okay when the Alarms were going off.

They searched and searched afterwards; the whole town had gotten involved. But James was nowhere to be found.

The idea of something supernatural happening during the Alarms wasn’t a foreign idea to people. But Edna’s family had their thoughts. James would never have wished to be away for his family. So if he stayed out to make a wish, and was gone. The spirits could never be good. They were evil and had to be hidden from.

I once talked to my dad about the Alarms. My dad was a run of the mill handyman. If you needed something done, he’d either be able to do it, or figure out how. He was able to figure out any practical issue if you gave him enough time.

My dad was sometimes sought for his advice. His practical thinking translated well to other areas, and he became a sort of councillor for some. No one had degrees in the village. Knowledge was brought in from outside sources, but no one really left Pendletown for qualifications. Besides, there would be no need. Around there, qualification came from already being able to do the job, or apprenticing with someone until you could.

This is to say, he isn’t stupid. You can imagine education in a place like this isn’t of the highest caliber, but he had a head on his shoulders.

When I was younger, he’d tell me the same thing. Every 20 years, there was a monster that would emerge and gobble up any kids who wondered out while the Alarms went off.

This was a common story told to kids to keep them in check. A lot of people in my school were told that. And I imagine my parents were told that when they were kids, and so on.

Even when I hit high school, he persisted with this story, but with some added details. I imagine that the gruesome notes were to keep me in check when the childish version lost its lustre.

A fear some parents had was if the Alarms went off when teens were in the woods drinking. If they were too far out, they’d never make it back in time. This isn’t to say they were strict to a harsh degree. But they were often overbearing when nearing the due date.

This was because there was no set day. Sure it was known to happen every 20 years. But there was a wide variance of possible days.

People tried lining up the dates to old calendars. Ancient time measuring devices. Even alternate religious texts. But nothing could predict the exact time and date. So often, we all became especially cautious when we knew the days as coming up.

I was nearly 23 and was a few years into my career when we were nearing the date for the next Alarm. By village standard, I was considered a man. So I faintly confronted my dad to tell me what he thought the Alarm was.

He told me what he thought. It’s a monster.

I resigned myself to hearing the same story again. But this time, he went into much more detail than before.

He explained that every 20 years, a monster came through and ate any who is found. This was much of what I’d heard before. But he went on to tell me of some of the things he’d heard. Claw marks on doors where pets were left. Giant footprints on the outskirts. He said that you’d just get laughed out when these things were brought up. But a small group of people were really invested in this theory.

The final point he had was about all the rumors. He brought up one I’d heard before. That wishes were granted to anyone who went out into the Alarm. My dad said that the head family knew of the secret, and had started the rumors. He proposed this. Ideas of wishes, power, and new life. All designed to get you outside during the ominous day.

He had a simple answer when I asked why they’d do this. Every 20 years- ‘it’ becomes hungry, and needs to eat.

I mentioned the pundits that have casual meetups and run community events. But during the year leading up to the big day, the members of the Church of Many go into full force. The nice family-friendly events either wind down or are tricks to preach their word. It’s almost like the cliche of a timeshare getaway.

I was looking for a nice day out with my girlfriend of 3 years. Though we went to the same school, we met a few years after. Things were well, so I wanted to splash out on something nice.

Our usual nice day out was to go to the steakhouse and get something fancy from the evening menu. The guy running the place was really nice, and if he knew it was a special day, he’d treat you right. He made a lot of business from being known as the place to go during a special day.

Though you should never lie to him. If he found out you lied about your birthday or anniversary just to get some preferential treatment, you’d never get that privilege again. Like I said, everyone knew everyone, and if word traveled enough, you could have a rough time in the village for a few years until you got your reputation back.

Wendy and I were up for the same routine, but I saw a poster on the village board about a pop-up food place on my way to work. It promised foreign food and foreign entertainment. I’m sure it’s normal for you to treat yourself to a Chinese at the end of a night of drinking, but here, that was a luxury. To have tasted outside food was something you could talk about for many years with the heated interest of many. You’d have people lying about trying things just to gain a foothold on the social ladder. So when word of a travelling Vietnamese diner was put up, I immediately put in for it.

Not many people got in, but I aggressively brought up my special day and just about squeezed in.

It was the talk of the town, and I found out a lot of people that I knew were going. All seemed to be about my age.

Even though I wanted this to be about Wendy, I asked my parents if they wanted to go too. But it was strange. Even though they were on the camp of always wanting to try something foreign, they quickly refused. Wendy’s parents did the same.

We should have picked up on how strange this was, but we couldn’t piece together a good reason.

The day came, and everyone was tense. We were seated in a small auditorium with tables and chairs arranged so that you could see the stage. We all assumed this was to see the entertainment, which we awaited eagerly.

The lights dropped, and spots were shone on the stage. We were introduced to the head chef. A man with a complexion that was unlike anything we’d ever seen. A very distinct eye shape. And jet black hair. He was the real deal. But then he was joined with others, and it was clear what we’d fallen for.

Beside him were two pundits from the Church of Many. They introduced the chef and the itinerary of the evening. Some people were looking around, seeing if they could get out in time, but it was too late.

The lights came on, and around us were the other members of the church. They were dressed in flares of abnormal red clothes. Their faces were rubbed with a tinge of yellowed powder, and they had taped their eyes on the sides to be more narrow. A caricature of the man on the stage. The head chef seemed very displeased at this but must have been heavily compensated to put up with our small village shenanigans.

The chef was led to the back, and the evening commenced.

The heavy propaganda that ran the whole night drowned out smells of exciting spices. Members of the Church came up and had many segments throughout the night.

Throughout the years, they ran many festivals that celebrated local culture. One segment was about their contributions to the growth of the town. Raising a family here was very prospective due to the many great events they organized. This appealed to the family-oriented people of the crowd.

They also ran events highlighting local made produce that praised local craftsmen. Furniture, artisan alcohols, fresh foods. It was common to have a personal skill on top of your primary career. So to be part of that growth really appealed to the hard workers.

If you ever needed help, the Church of Many were there. One woman had an accident in which a heavy piece of furniture was dropped and crushed her leg. Her career died on that day, along with her dreams of dancing. So the Church ran a fundraiser for her to receive outside help, and with the help of a hospital many miles away, she managed to regain some of her leg function. To this day, she still leads a healthy life.

They hit all the checkboxes. Despite the deceptive nature of the event, they didn’t sound too bad.

Then they had a segment appealing to the less active people of the crowd. You can drink in the morning during the ‘meetings’ three days a week if you join. It was allowed on workdays due to religious reasons as sanctioned by the head family. The rule of thumb was to not get belligerent, but anything before that is open game.

Again, this turned some heads. It had people thinking maybe it’s not as bad as some said.

Fear of the unknown is big and circulates predominantly in talkative circles. The Church of Many always had an odd reputation where you never knew where their true intentions lay. Their nature was very relaxed, but they had some serious and unknown religious practises. It seemed you only got full details if you were in, and even then, you had to be a long time member before you got any critical information. This caused a lot of distrust from some of the more opposed members of the public.

The food came out, and it was divine. I don’t even remember what it was called, nor do I fully remember even what meat it was. It was a blast of spices and sauces mixed in a way utterly alien to our meat and potatoes culture. The reaction was visceral at how shocking it was. Some people cried tears of joy at having had such an experience.

But after this, it was only downhill from there.

They had more segments on stage. We were receptive to such a fantastic meal and very persuasive points. But this is where it started to get a bit crazy.

They raved about the truth of it all. How we could be free from our mental prisons. They put down the common man as being ignorant to higher truths. Simple salvation could be had if you joined.

The eldest of the group came out. Old man Ezekiel. He had lived through four Alarms. The most out of anyone in the village. His beard hung low, giving him a sage appearance. He wore garb far outdated to the modern times of our province.

Old man Ezekiel went on to come out with something that divided the room. He claimed he survived being outside during an Alarm. He explained it was when he was but 4 years old, having been left by his mother by accident. Ezekiel claimed what he saw led him to revolutionizing the inner circle of the Church of Many. But these secrets were too much for someone uninitiated. The only way to receive the blessed knowledge was to pledge your life to the Church. Work hard, and earn the highest of trust.

This immediately had the room in whispers. Some had family taken because of the Alarm, while others had their biases and theories challenged by the notion of someone surviving. He was heckled with questions. If he survived one, why had he hidden for the others? Was anyone around who could challenge such a claim? If he had this knowledge, why hasn’t he tried to stop it? He simple stood there with an all-knowing expression. And only when the commotion died down did he simply walk off stage. We received no more words. The ball was in our court.

By the end, some left in a huff, having felt insulted by the ridiculous claim. Others were already fanatical about the cause, already trying to garner more interest in the divided members of the crowd. In the end, Wendy and I left. We weren’t 100% opposed to the Church, but we hadn’t had the drive to seek more direct answers.

When we got home, my dad was there to greet me. He asked me how the food was, but I knew he knew what it was about. He explained what the whole thing was. Every 20 years, they did something like this. They’d run a highly desirable event that garners vast amounts of interest. And it’s all to push for new members. Those who went to a previous one, or knew about it, were forbidden to ‘warn’ the newer generation. And so he had to sit there and let us ago, along with others who we told.

Nearing the coming day, you can feel it coming. There’s electricity in the air. Less and less events happen the longer the 20th year goes on. People know to keep their schedules open in case they’re caught unaware. Even the Church quietens down their excursions in fear of accidentally getting people trapped outside when it happens. But even still, there are the parties.

Some parties and meetups happen close to the bunker during the coming months. These events have strict rules to keep running. It sounds weird, but it’s encouraged by the head family. I reckon it’s to keep our small economy stimulated. If not enough people spend, money gets held up and bottlenecked.

There can be music, and musicians are hired, but it can’t be too loud. You can drink but no hard liquor, and there’s an unwritten rule to never get belligerently drunk. In the past, there have been those reported to have drunkenly slept through an Alarm and went missing from not getting in the bunker.

Though there’s a somber air to these meetups, it’s still a much needed social energy. It can feel like months of waiting, so going that long without any stimulation can drive one stir crazy.

It’s normal to keep your circle of friends from school well after school has ended, which was the case for me. Every time I went to one of these events, I’d see familiar faces. Edna, who I mentioned before, Kyle, who was in my form, Watson, who was often on my walk to school, and Steg, whom I’d known since kindergarten. Up until then, talk about the Alarm had dried up. Everyone had said their piece many times, and there was never any new information to spark more ideas. But when we knew the day was coming, it’d creep back into conversation like old times.

Being more mature, our conversations dropped from the wild notions to more talking about getting past it. We knew the consequences of not following the rules. Other than Ezekiel, no one has ever survived being outside during the Alarm. And even then, his claim was heavily scrutinized.

We all agreed to just behave until then. Keep a low profile, and get past it. Simple, right?

It turns out Kyle had other ideas. When the date was getting close, he started bringing up some of the old theories from school. He’d bring up a few but always circle back to one. That you could make a wish if you survived.

Edna immediately flipped out about this. By then, it was known what had happened to James. So it was already a bad move to bring up the Alarm, but bringing up the rumour that got him killed was not cool.

One time Steg went off on him for always bringing it up. We couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Kyle would try to soothe the idea that it was worth a shot. That he wanted it to be true. But Steg would have none of it. It was during one of his put-downs that Kyle spoke up. He screamed so loud the pub briefly quietened down. All he said was- “But it could bring her back…”

We all knew what this meant.

When Kyle was 8, his mother fell ill. It wasn’t immediate, so for three years, he’d rush home from school every day to be with her. They were really close, so losing her really took a part of him with her. So the idea of a way to bring her back, no matter how obscene, was romanticized to him.

Even though we all felt for him, we took an opposing stance. We knew it was a bad idea.

To Kyle, though, the prospect of the Alarm only coming every 20 years meant it was now or never. So looking back, I think there was no talking him out of it.

He only told me. I was often the one to talk to him afterwards and empathize with his situation. I did this to make him feel better after a harsh berated from Steg. So I think this made me his confidant. So one day, after a late-night gathering, he took me somewhere. A small reinforced hut near the outskirts of the village.

Over the years, he built it. He’d apprenticed as a builder after finishing school. So to think he chose that career just for this was an absurd idea to me. But at this point I wouldn’t put it past him. I never said anything. I just listened.

He went on to explain the rigidity of the thing. It was strong enough to withstand a bomb. The only opening was small enough to keep up the strength of the structure, and on it was a small porthole to look outside. His thinking was that he had to see and talk to whatever came to make the wish.

Inside was some food and water, but not too much since it’d only need to last for one night. By his design, it couldn’t be locked from the outside. This is to allow fast access when the time comes. Trust was common in the village, so locks were often not needed. However, it could be locked from the inside. And it was a rigid lock. He let me test it, and when it was bolted, my full force barely shook the thing.

To say it was solid was an understatement.

Then the day came.

When it was time, you knew. The Alarms made a winding-up sound like they were warming up. This was your cue to get to the bunker as soon as possible. I saw everyone moving in unison. All making their way calmly but hastily to the one place drilled into us from birth.

But while making my way there, I noticed him. And only because I knew to look out for him. But there he was, Kyle, slinking away in the opposite direction. I knew where he was going, and looking back, I could have stopped. Sure, he could have still escaped if we went after him. But he trusted me when he confided in me his idea. To break that would have challenged my honour of being a friend. Something a lot of people took seriously. So I just gave him a subtle nod and wished him Godspeed.

The mood in the bunker is something you can’t explain. Only when you experience it, does it fully sink in what’s truly happening. An Alarm is going off, while the whole population is hunkered together. But something they never tell you about is the commotions that inevitably start.

A couple started raving that they had left their pet. They were causing a commotion by the door, begging to be let out while the Alarms were still just winding. But they were obviously refused exit.

Then a woman started screaming. She met up with the kids brought in from the school but couldn’t find her son. The teacher explained that he had just slipped away from the class. It was protocol to not go back. There were too many examples of losing a teacher long with a kid when this happened. So it was drilled into them to never go back. This sounds pragmatic on paper, but seeing the pain from a screaming parent berate them will forever stay with me.

At first, when I saw the burly crew that operated the doors, I was intimidated by their presence. They were the leading team of the local police force. Crime wasn’t a common thing in the village, and when there was an incident, it was often just a civil case that was resolved with words, not action. So when you had a small team constantly trained in physical combat, it was rumoured that it was just for this instance. The manning of the door during the alarm.

It’s easy to think it just a precaution. But witnessing it in person, I was thankful for the time they put into sculpting their life for this very moment. Holding down one or two people is easy for someone strong. But when the parents corralled other parents into their cause to get out and rescue their kid, to see the efficiency of the coup being put down was like a well oiled machine.

You’d think they’d be at their limit when it was nearly 2 on 1 per bouncer. But the number grew when another incident happened that they never warned you about. The knocks.

The Alarms started, and they were loud. You had to talk just below a shout to be heard. So when you heard faint knocking from the door, you knew they were hitting hard. Only when you listened closely could you hear them. People left outside, having not made it in time, just outside the door.

Though you couldn’t hear the words, you could hear to the pleading in their voice. Begging to be let in. Terms of desperation screamed as loud as they could. Obviously, the humanitarian of the bunch raised a commotion about this. They yelled at the bouncers to quickly open the door and let them in. It’d only be for a few seconds if they were fast. Still subjugating the rioting parents, it was amazing to see how they could still overpower this new group causing an uprising.

All the while, seeing how serious they were taking things in the bunker, all I could think of was Kyle.

At first, I didn’t realize it, but eventually the screaming and bashing outside stopped. Not just petered off. It just stopped. Yet the Alarms still rang.

They rang for a solid hour before slowing down back into its wind up sound, then died down entirely. We all stood there in silence for a moment, taking everything in. Almost in disbelief that it was over. 20 years of build-up, just for that one hour. But there’d be no reports in the past of a false end, or a double Alarm, so not long after, the doors were opened, and we were free to leave.

The held down and rambunctious lot were let go with no warning or punishment. It seemed understandable that it was to happen, almost inevitable. A high point of emotion, but not held against them. Though scratched up and bruised, they left without a whisper.

Elders from the Church of Many loudly raved celebratory words of another successful Alarm, though they were largely ignored.

Most went back into their daily routine, but I slipped away with one place in mind.

I got to Kyle’s bunker and knocked as much as I could. I berated with questions. If he was in there if he was okay. To just make a sound. Anything. But I heard nothing.

I peeked inside through the tiny porthole to try to see him. The porthole offered a wide few of the small room. If he was in there, I’d see him.

Then I tried the last thing I could do. I pushed the door to open it, and it was locked.