by T. J. Hunter
Chapter 10
Manhattan is no different than any other large metropolitan city. It has a large population, people ridding subways to and from work, and at the end of each day its city dwellers went home or clubbing. Then there were the not so visible city dwellers who for whatever misfortune came their way, have no jobs, homes, or family. Many of these unfortunate souls find abandoned buildings, out of the way alleys, or corners behind commercial trash containers to call home.
Some of the more physically fit homeless find their way each night to an overpass connecting to Interstate 95 off the Housatonic River. Heat generated from passing motorist made living under the overpass more hospitable. The local homeless called this place ‘OZ’ because its long time resident Lou told everyone his tent was protected by a good witch from the north. No one actually believed anything Lou said, but his story about his tent falling from the sky on top of an evil witch never seemed to get old among the transient homeless.
Lou’s makeshift tent was littered with what one might expect to see: needles, syringes, and empty whiskey bottles. Large cardboard boxes provided shelter to several neighbors who went unnoticed except for the occasional grunt or series of snores. Lou, once a proud navy seal serving his country, was like many other vets returning home to find no job or place to live. He had no family, no money, and no one who cared if he even existed.
OZ was Lou’s home for the past five years, and while not much, it was his home. While only thirty years old, he looked much older from living on the streets, at least twice his real age. He was tall and thin with grey hair and a grey beard. His skin was riddled with deep wrinkles and leathery in appearance from exposure to year round weather. On most days, when he was not passed out from alcohol or drugs, Lou was a friendly man who had not let his soul become hardened by bad luck. He would pass people on the street and smile saying hello, even though most people ignored him.
As part of Lou’s daily routine, he collected empty cans and bottles to cash in for deposit refunds. Today was a particularly good day because he collected enough cans and bottles earning him nearly fifteen dollars. He looked into his large plastic bag as if it were a pot of gold and smiled.
“Today was a great day. Yesiree, it was a great day indeed. There is enough here for a hot coffee and sandwich and I’ll still have money left over. It doesn’t get any better than this – hot coffee and a sandwich.”
After receiving his deposit refund from a local store, Lou hurried to a nearby delicatessen.
“Please good sir, a roast beef sandwich with all the dressings and a cup of hot coffee.”
The server behind the counter looked at Lou’s clothes, eyeing him up and down, and asked, “Do you have money?”
A big smile came to Lou’s face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fist full of dollar bills.
“Yes sir, today I have money, and I can’t wait to taste your wonderful roast beef sandwich and hot coffee.”
The server grinned and said, “Roast beef with everything and a hot coffee coming right up.”
Lou’s eyes opened wide as he watched his sandwich being made, and the smell of coffee drew his attention to several pots simmering near the cash register. Finally, the person manning the register handed Lou his order and change.
Lou smiled. “Have yourself a very good evening young lady.”
The cashier smiled and replied, “You too, and enjoy your food.”
Lou paused outside the delicatessen to take a sip of coffee and closed his eyes. His stomach growled with hunger as he smacked his lips savoring the sweet taste of sugar and cream.
“Yes sir, nothing like a good cup of hot coffee to brighten up the day.”
It didn’t take long for Lou to finish his meal and head back to OZ. It was getting dark, but the moon providing light and made the walk home more interesting than usual. Lou always enjoyed seeing moonlight reflect off the rippling water. It was soothing and the lapping water always washed away his troubles.
Most days, any number of people traveled this route, and the absence of people caught Lou’s attention. “It’s odd that no one has come along this way,” he muttered.
As Lou got closer to OZ, he smelt the familiar scent of wood burning and could see ambers shooting up into the night sky from a rusted steel drum. He squinted his eyes to see who might be standing near the fire, but no one was in sight.
It was too quiet. Lou cautiously entered the camp and an eerily chill came over him. When he got closer to the fire, Lou froze in terror.
“Oh no, what … what happened here?” he said, grimacing at an horrific sight.
Still frozen and unable to move, Lou’s eyes scanned the camp and saw pools of blood with body parts strewn about everywhere. Several bodies had only torsos with big chunks missing as if something had eaten them and his tent was shredded. Lou took several steps back and tears filled his eyes.
“My home … my friends … no, please no,” he said, his voice trembling with fear.
Lou froze again and his knees began shaking. A low growl then sounded from above and he looked up toward the steel beams of the overpass. He saw two yellow dots shinning in the dark that blinked. A second growl, this time much louder, sent chills down Lou’s back. There in the shadows, the yellow dots get bigger and began to move.
“Those are eyes … not human … not human eyes,” Lou muttered, his own eyes bulging as his knees almost gave in from shaking.
Another loud growl erupted and two more sets of eyes appeared. Lou turned and ran screaming, “No … no … please no, please no.”
Several thumps sounded from behind Lou. He knew whatever was hiding in the darkness under the overpass had jumped down and was now chasing him, and he knew whatever it was, it killed everyone in the camp. Run, run, run, is all he could think as angry growls raced toward him
“No, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me,” he shouted, then tripped over an abandoned tire and fell into the river. The splash surprised him and he thrashed his arms and feet in confusion. A few moments later, Lou realized that he was in shallow water and still alive.
“I’m alive,” he said.
Lou regained his footing and was standing chest deep in the river 10 feet away from shore. He rubbed the water from his eyes and heard more growling behind him. Lou quickly turned and saw the silhouettes of three large creatures with yellow eyes pacing back and forth, watching him, their teeth dripping with drool and blood. He rubbed his eyes again, not sure if what he saw was real or a hallucination. The creatures had long teeth and hands with long black nails. He rubbed his eyes a third time, hoping he was just seeing things, but the creatures were still there watching him.
“Werewolves … they’re werewolves,” he muttered.
One werewolf looked down at the edge of the water and back at Lou. It howled, pointing its nose up to the sky, and the other two werewolves joined in making long bloodcurdling howls. The werewolves kept looking down at the water, then back at Lou, but would not enter it. After a few minutes the werewolves fell to the ground on all fours like a dog and disappeared into the darkness. Lou stayed in the water. Hours passed while he shook from the cold and remained motionless from fear.
Meanwhile, Alura and I transported to a ground floor office with an apartment in the textile district of Manhattan. Evidently, my little sister used chalk to make a temporary pentagram, and the sneak never told me. Instead, she told me that we were going on a training mission. Now that we were standing in a city apartment, my suspicious nature kicked in.
“What kind of training is this?” I asked. “Are we going to untangle paperclips and sharpen pencils?”
Alura smirked. “Go ahead, knock yourself out.”
Typically, the textile district saw a lot of hustle and bustle from commercial activity during the day. Night time, on the other hand, was always quiet and almost desolate except for a few homeless people and occasional drug activity.
“Like it?” Alura asked.
“Sure, whose place is
this?”
Alura smiled. “It’s yours big brother. Welcome to your other home.”
“Other home? Wow, I guess some perks come with being a wizard. How many homes do I have?”
“Don’t get too greedy brother. This one and the one on Keob are yours officially, but ZWC does have offices and apartments all over the world should we need one.”
As an added bonus, the apartment is conveniently located a few blocks away from shops and restaurants making for easy city living. It included a front office, nicely balanced with new and older architectural features. Large wood beams ran across the ceiling complementing brick walls and a Persian rug stretched across wide plank floorboards. A comfortably sized office desk and leather chair was unobtrusively placed along one wall. As an additional bonus, a large bay window and painted bench and coffee table offered a decent view of the neighborhood.
To make the place homey, a large solid mahogany half wall separated the office from the living area. The apartment was also nicely decorated in a masculine style, but nothing overpowering like a man cave. Best of all, the refrigerator and pantry were stocked with all kinds of goodies, and most importantly, it was stocked with plenty of beer. All in all, my New York apartment is a great place to call home, or my home away from home if taking into consideration the one on Keob.
“Alura, this place is amazing. Is it really my apartment or are you playing a cruel joke on me?”
“It’s all yours brother. Try not to burn it down with your magic newbie,” she said while walking to the door.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“I’ve got an apartment too and it’s much less cluttered than yours. It’s simple, just the way I like it. I’ll come back tomorrow and check up on you.”
For the first time in several weeks, I found myself alone and it felt strangely weird. Things just seemed a little out of place not having Alura around to keep me on my toes. We make a good team on the battlefield and have a chemistry that only family could have. Still, having a place completely to myself might be good for lowering my stress level. Fighting lycanthropes halfway across the world does take a toll on the old nervous system, so I’m good with having some downtime.
Before Alura left, she told me my apartment is protected by magic called wards. Only the two of us can pass through the wards without being harmed, but she didn’t get into any details. Apparently, the wards glowed around the door and window frames when they armed and disarmed. Having a security system is a good idea, especially when living alone in a new neighborhood.
My first morning started out as usual with a couple eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. It was my first day as a New Yorker and having an empty stomach simply would not do. Smelling the bacon cooking reminded me of what Francis Bacon once said: ‘A bachelor's life is a fine breakfast, a flat lunch, and a miserable dinner’. True enough. No matter what, I just have to start each day with a great breakfast.
I never felt comfortable when visiting Manhattan in the past. Boston was smaller and always felt more manageable. Large cities seemed to swallow me up, but here I am. I guess an adjustment period is to be expected, which shouldn’t take too long having a great apartment.
I had only eaten half of my breakfast when someone knocked on my back door facing the alley.
“Wake and shine brother,” Alura said. “There is no time to be a bag of lazy bones,” she added and again banged on the door. “Are you going to open up or should I let myself in?”
I opened the door and welcomed her inside. The door and window frames glowed with a blue-white color and then dimmed, just as Alura said they would. The same thing happened when I closed and locked the door. Cool security indeed, I thought as I watched the light show. While I was momentarily distracted, Alura darted to the kitchen table and began eating my toast.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished with that.”
Alura laughed. “Snooze and you lose buster,” she said while licking her fingers. “So, how was your first night in your new city home?”
“Not bad at all. First quiet night I had for … say, how long has it been exactly since Azul came into the picture and turned my life upside down?”
Alura tossed a newspaper that she brought with her and told me take a look. I checked the date.
“Not too bad. Just a few of weeks have passed like I guessed.”
The front page headline stated that a Daniel Zane was appointed Chief Field Reporter of Zane Worldwide Communications.
“Lucky guy. Do you know this Zane?”
“Sure do, he’s you,” Alura said.
“Yea, I wish. He must be loaded with money as the top field reporter. Seriously, do you know him?”
Alura grinned. “He’s you Azul. Daniel Zane is your new identity and you are now the top reporter at Zane Worldwide Communications. Everyone calls the company ZWC, it’s much easier to say and you are top dog there.”
A new identity makes sense since Jonathan Willington died in a plane crash. At least that’s what everyone thought. Daniel sounded good for a first name, but Zane reminded me of some cowboy riding off into the sunset in an old western movie.
“Not sure if I like the name Zane. Can I change it?”
Alura rolled her eyes. “Daniel Zane is the grandson of Peter Zane founder of ZWC, who is now officially your grandfather, at least on paper. By the way, we own the majority of ZWC common stock, so technically you are a very man rich even though we never see actually see paper money.”
Alura explained how having credentials as a reporter from ZWC has a lot a clout. No one, not even the police, can keep a reporter like that away from anything he or she might wish to poke their nose into. Private property, well, not so much clout there, but most people know ZWC and would rather talk than become a byline in a newspaper or cable news.
“Chief Field Reporter. Huh … I guess that makes me your boss.”
Alura smirked. “Keep wishing hot shot. Step out of line and I’ll teach you what a Zeshtune warrior can really do when angry.”
I smiled at the thought, but then again, Alura could kick some serious butt. It was better to never find out.
“Okay then, what’s on the agenda for …”
Before I finished my sentence, both our cell phones rang and the ID screen displayed Sarila. We answered the call making it a three way conversation.
“Good morning children,” Sarila said. “We have a possible situation for you to investigate. I am sending you both the GPS coordinates now.”
Apparently those folks back at the Batcave don’t sleep after all. I still had sleepy sand in my eyes and Sarila sounded exactly as she did the last time I saw her – all bright eyed and bushy tailed. She expressed concern for an increase in ‘unnatural chats’ with cell phones in the city. Apparently, there has been talk about animals roaming the riverbanks and screams near the Interstate. Obviously, Sarila and company had some serious eavesdropping technology, which is good to know for when I use my own phone.
“Okay, we’re on it,” Alura said.
We put our phones away and Alura headed out the door ahead of me. I quickly changed my staff into a coin and placed it in my pocket. While I was putting on my shoes and stumbling out the door, Alura had already started her car and had the passenger door open.
“You have a Porsche? Your day job must pay well.”
I slid into the front seat barely getting my legs in with my knees tightly pressing against the dash. I was still trying to buckle up when Alura took off like a rocket, pushing my head back against the seat. My eyes widened, my mouth dropped open, and my knuckles turned white from squeezing the door handle tight.
“Darn it Alura. Let’s try to get where we going in one piece.”
“Relax. We’ll be there in a few minutes, and I’ll have you know brother that I’ve never been in an accident.”
“Yea, but how many have you caused?”
Alura smirked. “Would you like to walk?”
“I might if I knew where we we’re going. You do know w
here we’re going, right? I don’t think I can tolerate your driving much longer, so let’s not get lost.”
Alura looked at me and arched her eyebrow and scowled at me.
“Keep your eyes on the road, please,” I said, which only made her drive faster and smirk more.
“We’re going to a homeless camp under an Interstate overpass,” Alura said. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
The police radio in Alura’s car sounded out a call for any nearby patrol officers to check out complaints at the OZ camp.
“The OZ camp … like in the Wizard of OZ?” I asked as Alura made a sharp turn, nearly scaring the you know what out of me.
“Similar to the Wizard of OZ, but it has a history all its own,” she said. “I’ll explain later.”
Alura was now driving between cement columns. I looked up to the highway from the windshield and wondered how many deadly tons of asphalt and steel might squish us like bugs. The excessive speed became more tolerable once I closed my eyes. Childish perhaps, but it helped to keep my white knuckles from splitting out of my skin. A few minutes later her car came to a screeching halt and nearly ran into a New York police car.
“Don’t worry, I know this cop,” Alura said, then she and the police officer exited their cars. The officer placed his hands on his hips and shook his head.
“A little early to be chasing fires, don’t you think Alura?”
“Hey Pauly, how’s it going?”
“Well, up to this moment not too bad, but the day is young.”
I was still in the car trying to pry my white knuckled hand free of the door when Alura look over at me and grinned.
“Daniel, come on out and meet the best cook in the city who also happens to be one of our finest officers.”
At first I just sat in the car, then realized she was calling me by my new alias. Pauly smiled and tipped his hat as I stepped outside. I nodded and smiled back to make a good first impression, trying real hard not to lose my breakfast from Alura’s daredevil ride.
“What do you think all the hoopla is about?” Pauly asked.
“Perhaps the locals partied too much last night,” Alura answered, but knew that would be the best and most unlikely case.
The officer nodded in agreement. It wouldn’t be the first time parties were broken up down here, mostly at night. If there was a crazy party last night, this would be the first time Pauly investigated it during daylight.
The three of us began walking toward the riverbank. It was 8:20 AM, so most of the partied out homeless would still be sleeping. As we got closer, there was a distinct smell of something rotten, like bad chicken kept too long in a refrigerator. Alura looked at me and frowned from recognizing the smell. We covered our noses and mouths as we came around a corner to an opening, then froze staring at body parts and pools of blood.
“What the hell happened here?” Pauly asked, and then picked up the mic hanging from his shoulder and called in the scene. “Central, we have a 187 down at OZ. Multiple casualties.”
“Roger that 21. Patrol officers in the vicinity of Interstate 95 near the river, officer reports 187 under overpass at OZ. Report locations.”
Several patrol officers reported they were on their way to assist Pauly. Seconds later the good officer’s face turned pale as he bent over throwing up.
“Come on, let’s check it out,” Alura said.
I followed her while we both still held our hands over our noses and mouths. The smell was horrible. I never smelt anything like it before.
Pauly looked up and said in an officer’s voice, “Hey, make sure you two don’t touch anything. This is crime scene, so be careful not to get anywhere near those bodies, or whatever is left of them.”
“Sure Pauly, I know the routine,” Alura said.
It seems Alura’s press clearance sure did have clout, at least with Pauly. Wasting no time, we walked along the edge of the river front and Alura noticed large animal footprints. We stopped walking when we saw a man standing in the water, which even for New York, seemed a bit weird.
“Wait here Azul,” she said and waded into the water. “Hey, are you alright?”
The man didn’t respond. When she got closer, she asked again.
“Mister, are you okay? What are you doing in the water?”
Again there was no response. The man stood motionless with his eyes staring towards shore.
“Alura, are you sure you shouldn’t wait for the police to handle this?”
“Something is wrong here Azul, and this man knows what that something is.”
Alura gently took hold of the man’s arm and began leading him to shore, then she jumped and pulled her hand back.
“What’s wrong,” I asked.
“This man … he’s a Zeshtunian. He’s one of us.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Our amulets glow and give us a sensation when coming in physical contact with Zeshtunians.”
I looked at my amulet which wasn’t glowing, but I hadn’t touched the man. Alura grabbed the man’s arm again and her amulet glowed even brighter than the first time. Moments later she had him safely ashore, but the poor guy looked like he was in some sort of zombie trance. He stared without blinking and didn’t make a sound. Not surprising given at all the bloodied bodies laying around.
“Wait here and I’ll get the car,” Alura said.
“You’re going to leave me here alone with this strange and scary man?”
Alura frowned. “He’s not a stranger. He’s Zeshtunian,” she said in a scolding tone and sprinted to her car.
“Okay then, I’ll stay here then with our scary new friend. Hurry back.”
I asked the man if he was alright. He looked at me and I noticed his blue eyes. Yup, probably a Zeshtunian. The man grabbed my arm without saying a word. Suddenly, I was in some sort of a vision and could not move or speak. Images began to flow in my mind and I was once again back on Zeshtune in battle. Just like I experienced in my first vision, I was the old version of me when first seeing Kyiel.
I saw myself on the ground facing up towards an ape like creature that was wearing armor. It had a gigantic ax raised above its head ready to drop on me, and right before the ax dropped, a blue-white light glowed through the middle of the ape’s chest and stuck out about 12 inches. The ape gasped, tilted its head back and rolled his eyes, then fell to ground barely missing me. A tall muscular man with long white hair and beard stood in front of me with blood dripping from his claymore sword. He also had the same Zeshtunian blue eyes.
“Wizard, good thing for you I was near, yes?”
It was Thyzil, one of the elite Zeshtune warriors who had saved my butt by shish-kabobing the ape. I grabbed his hand and he pulled me up and laughed.
“Indeed my old friend,” I said. “Your timing is impeccable, as always Thyzil.”
We embraced each other as Zeshtune warriors do after killing monsters in battle. Thyzil was six inches taller and 100 pounds heavier than me, so when he put his arms around me in an embrace, it felt like my body would break.
“Makes 83 for me wizard. How many you destroyed?”
I laughed. “Lost count my friend. Plenty I suppose, but not as many as you.”
“Come wizard, we fight more. No time to babysit,” he said, lifting his claymore above his head and ready to charge into the battlefield.
“Babysit you say. Well, let us see who destroys more enemies this day old friend,” I said and we ran to where the main battle was being fought.
In a flash I was back under the overpass in Manhattan. The man smiled at me and spoke.
“You’re the Wizard of OZ,” he said, his voice coarse and barely audible.
“Wizard of OZ … hey, is your name Lou?”
For a brief moment the man appeared lucid, but then his eyes clouded up again with confusion and he turned away staring at the river. In a quieter voice, but still audible, he managed to again say, “You are the wizard,” and then passed out in my arms.
My amulet was glowing as bright as Alura’s, who sped around the corner and jumped out of the Porsche.
“Hurry Azul. We have to get him out of here before the other police show up.”
“What about Pauly?” I asked,
“He’s busy wiping sweat from his brow and still throwing up. The rest of the police will be here in minutes. Hurry, let’s get him in the back seat.”
You call that a seat?
Porsches are not really designed for carrying a third passenger. This is especially true for a tall man who has passed out and had to be stuffed inside. Even so, we managed to get him in the back and Alura sped off kicking dirt and pebbles into the air.
“We’ll have to take him to your place for the time being,” Alura said.
“Sure. Will he be alright?”
“I don’t know. I’ll take a closer look when we get him out of the car.”
“I think he may be connected to a Zeshtune named Thyzil.”
Alura looked surprised. “Thyzil … are you sure?”
“I think so. He grabbed my arm and put me in some sort of mind blowing Zeshtune battle vision. But, the man in my vision had long white hair and a beard, and he was extraordinarily large as in Schwarzenegger large, only bigger. This puny guy can’t be the same warrior I saw, so I figure he might know this Thyzil guy.”
