by J. Thorn
And they weren’t human cries.
“Screamers.”
With every second that passed, the piercing war cries grew louder. It sounded to Dax like a mob of the creatures—perhaps a dozen or more.
“We have to go,” Dax said. “Now!”
“I need my bag so I can—”
“Fuck your bag! Come on!”
Dax heard their feet slapping the concrete, and their screams intensified, with less echoing—they were getting closer.
The blind man finally took hold of his bag, but he then struggled to get into the other boat. From what the man had said, Dax guessed he hadn’t moved in days. He nearly fell over, but Dax managed to lean into the other boat and catch him. He lifted the old man up and into their small boat. The man groaned.
The cries came again, louder and sharper than before.
“Get us out of here!” Monica yelled.
Dax shuffled to the motor and went full throttle.
The engine revved, and then it died.
“Oh, shit.”
Howls pierced the air again.
“Hurry!” Darius cried.
Dax pulled the string. Nothing. He pulled again. The motor tried to turn but still didn’t crank.
The Screamers seemed to be directly above them.
Dax kept pulling. The muscles in his arm felt like they were on fire.
The kids cried as the Screamers looked down at the boat and howled.
Dax exhaled. “Come on, you son of a bitch!”
With another yell, Dax pulled the string again.
The motor turned over and roared to life.
“Go!” Monica said.
Dax turned the throttle again, pegging the motor at full. The boat pulled away from the dock as a Screamer leaped from the ruins of the bridge. Dax angled the vessel away from the shore, but the Screamer caught the side of the craft.
As the monster was dragged through the water, it screamed. The kids covered their ears, yelling.
Dax was about to let go of the throttle to fight off the creature when the old man stood.
With his cane in his hand, he moved to the front of the ten-foot fishing boat. The Screamer had climbed halfway into the boat when the blind man reared back with the cane and swung. He struck the Screamer in the head, and it was enough to disorient the creature. It let go of the boat.
The Screamer waved its arms as it cried out. Dax thought the thing might swim after them, but it didn’t. After a minute, it sank beneath the surface—silent except for a few gurgles.
The silhouettes of a dozen Screamers flickered on the Causeway. Dax exhaled.
That was close.
Knowing now that the Screamers apparently couldn’t swim, Dax eased the throttle back and put the boat in neutral. The boys hugged Dax’s legs while Monica flipped a middle finger at the creatures on the Causeway.
“It’s all right,” he said. “You guys are safe now.”
The old man started singing again. He sat on the boat’s edge, looking down into the water. He sang the same tune he’d been singing when they’d first found him. It now sounded more like a chant or a prayer than a song.
He then stopped, the man seemingly staring straight into Dax’s eyes.
“What’s your name, son?”
“I’m Dax. What about you?”
“Dax?” The man smiled. “Well, good to meet you, Dax. You can call me Papa Midnight.”
Chapter 3
Papa Midnight?
Dax could’ve sworn he’d heard the name before. The man started to sing again, and Dax recognized the dialect as Creole French—the language of voodoo priests.
Papa Midnight sure had the look of a voodoo priest with his thick dreads. Dax’s sister Gabby had read a lot about New Orleans culture and had been fascinated by the voodoo legends. To Dax, they were just that: legend. He’d heard at least a thousand different stories of people who’d claimed to have done all sorts of things—from raising the dead to cursing people with silly dolls. You couldn’t walk down any side street in New Orleans without seeing some slimy businessman running a “ghost tour” for a bunch of naive tourists.
“Dax?”
Kevin’s voice pulled Dax out of his thoughts. “Yeah?”
“He’s scaring me.”
Papa Midnight’s head tilted back slightly as he stared into the sky. He was chanting again in Creole French.
“He’s a crazy old man. Ignore him.”
“What’s he saying?” Darius asked.
“Quit being rude,” Monica said to the boy with a hiss. “He can hear you.”
“It is fine, sweet girl,” Papa Midnight said. “But it is not me who you need be afraid of.”
“Either way, you need to knock it off,” Dax said to Papa. “We’re almost back to the city. We gotta be quiet.”
Dax wished he had a set of oars. It was going to be hard sneaking through the city with the motor running. He just had to hope they could find a safe place to take refuge sooner rather than later.
Dax listened for Screamers as they entered the city, but he heard none. As he dropped the throttle on the boat’s motor, he heard nothing else, either—no yelling, no gunshots, nothing.
As he’d directed them, the three kids stayed flat in the boat, Monica with a boy on each side of her and her arms around them. Papa Midnight sat in the same spot he had been in since the beginning. And he hadn’t stopped speaking gibberish, but he was at least mumbling it to himself now. Dax ignored him and kept looking for Screamers and for a place to stay. He passed several streets as they cruised through the flooded French Quarter, but he was too nervous to turn down any of them. The old, narrow streets would make it difficult for them to escape if they encountered Screamers.
Finally, he turned down St. Louis Street. While the street was tight, the Creole-style buildings loomed above, each one with ornate second and third story balconies. They would be easier to reach with the rising floodwaters.
Dax used the pale moonlight to guide him through the shadows. Several times he considered the flashlight, but he didn’t want to attract the attention of Screamers or roaming street gangs.
“When are we going to stop?” Monica asked.
“I need to find the right place.”
He scanned each building as they passed, convinced he saw movements in the dark windows.
“I think I’ll wait and—”
Papa Midnight grabbed Dax’s arm. The man’s grip felt electric, and so Dax pulled away.
“What’s your problem, man?”
Papa Midnight placed his index finger over his lip.
Dax stopped and listened. He didn’t hear anything until he cut the motor.
At first, it sounded like nothing more than rats in the sewers fighting over a piece of rotting garbage—until he heard the scream.
“Dax!” Monica yelled.
He clicked on the flashlight and shined it up and down the street. He saw a white-shingled, three-story Creole townhouse on their right. The water had risen to halfway between the second and third floors. Dax cranked the motor and drove the boat beneath the third story balcony.
“Get up, kids. Now!”
The three children stood. Dax put his arms around Monica’s waist.
“I’m going to lift you up there first. Then you need to help Darius and Kevin. Once the three of you are up there, run inside. Do you understand me? Don’t wait for me.”
The girl nodded, and Dax picked her up.
He lifted her high enough to where she could grab onto the wrought-iron railing. Dax held her legs and then pushed the bottom of her feet as she pulled herself up and over the rail. When she had made it to her feet, she leaned over the rail and reached down.
“You’re next, Kevin.”
Dax lifted the six-year-old boy up and he grabbed onto the rails. Monica helped him over. Dax repeated the movement with Darius, who was also pulled onto the balcony by Monica.
Now Dax had to deal with the task of getting the old blind man out of
the boat. The screams were intensifying, and now Dax could see the shadows of Screamers as they leaped and jumped from one townhouse balcony to another.
Papa continued chanting until Dax lifted him up under the arms. The move seemed to pull the man out of his trance.
“I need you to listen to me or we’re both going to die,” Dax said. “I’m going to guide you to the railing above us. Once you grab on, I’ll push your feet and legs. But I need you to pull yourself up.”
Dax guided Papa Midnight to the edge of the boat and took him by the arms. He raised them up, and the blind man took hold of the wrought iron posts above.
A scream ricocheted off the townhouses. It had originated on this street.
Shit.
Dax grabbed Papa around the waist and lifted. The old man grunted as he tried to pull himself up. Dax kept lifting until he had the man’s ankles at eye-level. His muscles bulged as he pushed up.
“Pull yourself up!”
The old man grunted, but he couldn’t get over the railing. Dax pushed up with as much power as he could muster until he felt Papa’s weight shifting. The old man flipped over the railing, hitting the floor of the balcony with a thud.
The creatures screamed again.
Dax reached up and took hold of the railing.
“Don’t forget my bag and my cane.”
Fuck your bag and cane.
Still, Dax jumped back into the middle of the boat and retrieved the old man’s belongings. He looked up when he heard something from the house across the street. Dax flashed the light toward it in time to see a Screamer lunging from a nearby rooftop. The creature landed in the boat, knocking Dax over and causing him to drop the flashlight. Looking up, he saw the silhouette of the beast. It screamed.
“Get inside!” Dax yelled up to the balcony. “Now!”
As it lunged at him, Dax kicked the Screamer in the face, knocking it backward, dazing it, but not sending it out of the boat. Jumping to his feet, Dax reared back with the cane and swung. The blow hit the Screamer in the face, knocking it off balance. Dax ran forward then and threw his shoulder into the creature, sending it over the edge of the boat and into the water. The boat rocked, but Dax managed to stay upright and out of the river that was St. Louis Street.
More screams came, forcing Dax to momentarily put his hands over his ears.
He hurried to the edge of the boat. With the bag over his shoulder, he jammed the cane into his belt. He grabbed the wrought-iron boundary and pulled himself up. All the pull-ups he’d done in the prison yard had finally paid off as he flipped over the rail and landed on the balcony.
Papa Midnight stood in the middle of the balcony. The kids had heard Dax’s command to get inside, but they’d neglected to take the blind man with them.
Dax looked up when he heard a yell. He aimed the flashlight.
A Screamer stood on the other side of the balcony. It shielded its eyes and cried out again. Then it focused on Papa Midnight.
The Screamer lunged for the blind man.
Dax leaped forward and tackled the creature before it got to Papa. He pinned the Screamer to the ground, his hands around its throat. Dax looked back at the old man.
“Get inside! Now!”
The door opened, and Monica emerged. She walked onto the balcony far enough to take Papa Midnight’s hand and lead him inside.
Dax refocused his attention on the Screamer. It fought, snarling and spitting at him. The flashlight had hit the ground and the light shined on the thing’s face—eyes empty but bright.
“Dax!”
He looked over to see Monica poking her head out the door.
“Get back inside!”
“But I can’t leave you.”
“I said get back inside!”
Monica stomped her foot before ducking back inside the house and shutting the door.
More screams filled his ears—dozens, maybe more.
Turning his attention back to the Screamer, Dax reared back and punched the thing in the face with his right hand while holding it down with his left. He swung two more times before letting go of the creature’s throat and racing for the door.
He was almost there when a hand grabbed his ankle, tripping him up.
The Screamer stood and faced Dax.
Dax took a low, wide stance as the creature took a step closer. The door was only a few feet away, but he worried that, if he opened it, he wouldn’t be able to close it fast enough to keep the Screamer out.
His only choice was to fight off the monster.
He pulled the cane from his belt and held it up to his shoulder. The creature almost seemed to laugh. It faked a lunge forward, causing Dax to jump back. Dax raced forward and swung.
The Screamer caught the cane, tossing it aside and kicking Dax in the chest. He fell backward, sliding across the rain-soaked balcony. He quickly rose to his feet, though, and the Screamer was moving toward him now—slowly and methodically.
Dax retreated until his back was against the rail. With the Screamer coming toward him, there was nowhere else to go.
Fuck this.
He’d positioned himself to run toward the creature and tackle it again when the Screamer came at him instead. Its mouth wide and its arms out, the Screamer leaped at Dax.
Eyes wide, Dax did the only thing he could do—he ducked.
The momentum carried the Screamer overtop of both Dax and the railing. It cried out as it crashed into the water below.
Dax looked over the railing and watched as the creature’s head emerged from the water. It swung its arms frantically, fighting to stay above the surface.
Behind him, Dax heard feet hitting the balcony of the house next door.
The door opened again, and Monica was there.
“Come on!”
Dax first ran to retrieve the cane and the flashlight, diving inside of the room only as two Screamers landed on the balcony.
“Shut it!”
Monica slammed and locked the door, the two Screamers crying out and banging against it.
Darius and Kevin sat in the middle of the room, holding each other as they took deep breaths.
A bed sat in the middle of the room and Papa Midnight was perching on the edge of it, silent.
Dax picked up Kevin and grabbed Darius’ hand. He pointed to Papa Midnight and said to Monica, “Take his hand and lead him. We need to move to the center of the house.”
Chapter 4
Dax led the group to another bedroom which was centrally located on the house’s third floor. He set Kevin down on the bed just as Monica and Papa Midnight entered the room.
“You guys all right?”
Monica nodded. “We’re good.”
Kevin tucked his head between his legs and continued to cry. It was going to be hard to get the kids to calm down with Screamers banging on the outside of the house, but Dax was confident the creatures couldn’t get in. Unlike Serafino, these lowly creatures hadn’t shown signs of intelligence. They seemed to function at an animalistic level, incapable of the problem solving it would take to break into a locked house. However, if one of them were lucky enough to break the lock, he knew they’d swarm the house and slaughter everyone inside.
Monica went to the bed and sat down next to the boys. She took them in her arms and pulled them into her chest.
“Shh,” she said. “Everything’s going to be all right. You guys are going to be fine.”
After a few teary hiccups, the boys began to calm down.
Dax smiled. While he hadn’t known the children for long, he had quickly grown close to them. Young Monica was becoming a woman before his eyes. The way she cared for the two boys reminded him of Gabby and his nephews.
He wondered if he would ever see his family again. Eventually, he would try to find them. But for now, all he could do was try to keep these children safe and somehow find a way out of New Orleans—and away from the Screamers.
“This place is familiar.”
Papa Midnight’s strange observat
ion pulled Dax out of his thoughts. He clicked on the flashlight and shined it around the room.
The furniture looked regal, gold trim bordering red velvet. The bed had the width of a king size mattress but was shorter in length. Sheer, pink netting hung from the luxurious bedframe and enclosed the mattress, protecting the sleeper from pesky mosquitoes. Paintings on the wall depicted scenes of rich white people from the 1800s. A French word that Dax didn’t recognize had been delicately painted on an antique chest of drawers on the other side of the room.
What the hell is this place?
“Did you happen to see an address?” Papa Midnight asked.
“You think I had time to look? The whole damn street is flooded, and those monsters were coming right at me.”
The blind man laughed.
Dax bit his lip. “Go ahead and laugh. You ought to be thankful that I saved your ass and got you into this old house.”
Papa Midnight stared off into the corner of the room. “How old?”
Dax furrowed his brow. “What?”
“How old is this house?”
“I don’t know, man. It looks like it’s from the 1800s—some historic shit. Like some honky slave owners lived here or something.”
“Or like a brothel?” Papa Midnight asked.
Dax shined the light around the room. He saw a strange piece of furniture against the wall made of solid oak, and the only way to mount it would be on one’s knees. The perfect position for one to take a spanking.
Dax chuckled. “I think you right, old man.”
“This is the House of the Rising Sun.”
“Like from that old song?” Dax asked. “I thought that place was made up.”
“It is real, my friend. We are on St. Louis Street, are we not? Any act you could possibly imagine has taken place inside of this house. It is a temple of sexual dreams and fantasies. And it’s the perfect place for a vampire.”
Dax moved in next to the old man. “Hey. Let’s not talk about all this sexual stuff around—” He narrowed his eyes. “What did you just say?”
“A place with this much sexual energy is the perfect home for a vampire.”
“What’s he talking about, Dax?” Monica asked.
