by J. Thorn
“What are you thinking about, Dax?”
Dax looked down at the boy and shook his head.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Let's go check this place out.”
The dock ended at a screened-in patio that had provided outside seating for patrons dining at the seafood restaurant. Dax pushed down on the handle, and the door opened. Chairs lined the tables on the patio neatly, giving him reason to believe the restaurant hadn’t been raided.
We have to find something to eat here. I can’t go any longer without giving these kids food.
Windows allowed sunlight into the building, so Dax doubted there would be Screamers hiding inside. He was more fearful of desperate, starving humans. And maybe whatever food was left here had already spoiled in the oppressive heat and humidity of the Mississippi Delta? He pushed on the door leading into the restaurant, and like the door to the patio, it swung open.
The stench of rotten fish almost knocked him over. Dax coughed, slamming the door shut and running back out to the dock. Darius followed him, gagging and then vomiting into the water. Somehow, Dax did not get sick, although his dry throat and grumbling stomach reminded him of how desperately he needed food and water.
“What was that smell?” Darius asked.
“Seriously, little man? That’s the smell of stupidity—two dudes going into a seafood restaurant after an extended power outage.”
The boy smiled, though Dax wasn’t sure if he got the joke.
“That hurt my throat. It’s really sore. And my belly is emptier now than it was before.”
“I’d like to check the store room where they keep the dry goods. We might find some pasta or rice inside.”
Darius scoffed. “You got to be crazy if you think I’m going back in there.”
“You’re not. But I am.”
“I don’t want you to leave me alone out here, Dax.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. You can stay here on the covered patio. Remember, the Screamers won’t come out in the sun. And I doubt that we’ll run into any people out here. You got a clear view of your surroundings. If you see anything strange, anything at all, you yell for me. I can get here in a split second.”
Darius nodded as he bit his lip and followed Dax to one of the tables on the patio.
“Stay low. No one walking by here is going to see you. And like I said, if you see something or you’re in danger, yell. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dax smiled at the boy and then went to the door. Taking off his shirt, he tied it around his face. It wouldn’t be easy to breathe, but covering up his nose would be better than having to deal with the odors inside of the seafood restaurant.
Here goes nothing.
Dax opened the door and then stepped back inside the restaurant. The smell seeped through his shirt, and Dax breathed through his mouth while pinching his nose. He walked to the kitchen on the other side of the room.
Dax pushed through the double doors, and the odor intensified despite everything he was trying to do to keep from getting sick. He coughed as he searched for the pantry. At least the door to the walk-in refrigerator was closed, and Dax made a mental note to not go any closer to it.
He found the door to the pantry, though, and entered.
Three mice squealed and ran over his feet. Bags of sugar and corn lay on the ground, torn open and half empty along with soggy boxes of uncooked pasta. Dax smiled as he scanned the shelves.
Canned foods filled the shelves—offering a wide variety of beans and vegetables.
Jackpot.
Dax’s stomach growled. He let his shirt fall from his face, not caring about the smell anymore. The ordeal had been worth it. He grabbed as many of the cans as he could, hardly paying attention to what he was taking. It might take several trips, but Dax was going to get them all.
When he had as much as he could handle on the first trip out, he left the kitchen.
A strange noise that he couldn’t identify came from outside.
And then he heard the first scream.
“Dax!”
He ran through the restaurant, dropping the cans. He kicked through the back door then, and his eyes went wide.
“Jesus Christ.”
Chapter 25
At least four hooded figures had converged on the boat.
One stood up top at the wheelhouse, while the other three banged on the cabin.
Monica.
Darius had started for the patio door, but Dax grabbed onto him.
“No! Stay here.”
“But Dax, I—”
“You’ll stay here and hide in the corner. Do you understand me? Now, lock the door when I leave.”
Dax pushed through the door and ran down the dock. He could hear Monica from inside the cabin, crying out for help and screaming his name. The hooded figures continued to bang on the sides and front of the cabin, scrambling to find a way inside.
Dax leaped over the side of the boat and onto the deck. One of the figures turned.
“What the fuck?”
The Screamer snarled at him. Dax couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How were they moving around in the daylight?
The creature screamed before running hard at Dax. He stepped to the side and then spun around, pushing the Screamer in the back and sending it sliding across the deck. He scanned the floor, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. A snarl came from behind him then and he looked back just in time to see another Screamer coming at him. It was faster than the other one and had grabbed Dax’s shoulders. They locked grips on each other, grappling like professional wrestlers.
Dax got his first close look at the Screamer as they stared into each other’s eyes, fighting for leverage. The creature had wrapped a black cloth around its head, covering its nose and mouth. Even so, Dax could tell that it was a different breed of vampire from any he had seen before. While it had the same orange glow in its eyes, the Screamer’s skin looked gray, with veins bulging out around its eyes and on its cheeks. It looked more monster than human. The hooded robe it wore made the Screamer look like a druid, and the creature also wore gloves, minimizing the amount of skin it exposed to the sunlight.
The vampire screamed. Even though it was muffled by the bandana, the shrill cry burrowed into Dax’s ears. He stumbled, his equilibrium thrown by the piercing noise, but Dax regained his balance as he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He pushed his assailant away, then turned and kicked the oncoming creature in the gut. With the vampire doubled over, Dax drove his knee up into the thing’s face. As it stood back up, the hood over its head fell off. The sun sizzled its bald head, but otherwise had no effect on the vampire. Dax saw veins popping on the top of the thing’s gray head, though.
These monsters appeared to be a different breed than any he’d seen before, he thought again, and he’d have to ask Papa Midnight about them—assuming he didn’t die in the fight.
Dax grabbed the dazed vampire by its cloak and ran towards the side of the boat, tossing it over the side. The thing screamed as it fell into the water, arms flailing as it sank below the surface.
“Dax!”
The sound of breaking glass turned his attention to where one of the vampires had made it inside the cabin. The fourth had opened the wheelhouse above, and Papa Midnight was fighting it off with his cane. The blind man could fight and had a weapon. Monica had nothing.
The creature Dax had kicked stumbled to its feet. Dax knocked it over again as he sprinted to the cabin where he had last seen Monica. He burst through the door and saw Monica cowering in the corner, one of the hooded vampires stalking her.
“Hey! She’s a kid. How about you try that shit with me?”
The vampire turned and snarled at Dax. Before it could attack, Dax charged, grabbing it by its cloak and tossing the monster into the closed door. The other creature that had been recovering on the deck joined his companion near the door of the cabin. Above, Papa Midnight continued to fight the third creature.
Witho
ut a weapon, Dax stepped in front of Monica. The two Screamers stood side-by-side, patiently waiting for his next move.
Dax scanned the room, looking for a weapon, but saw nothing he could use. From above, Papa Midnight let out a cry. Dax heard a splash and then something crashing onto the floor of the wheelhouse.
Shit.
The two Screamers snarled. Dax flinched a couple of times, hoping to throw the creatures off balance, but they stood their ground.
Then one of them came at him.
It reached out with a gloved hand, trying to grab Dax by the throat. He caught the vampire under the arms and spun towards a nearby window. Dax attempted to throw the thing through it, but the creature held on—and momentum carried them through the window in an explosion of glass.
They stood up simultaneously, and Dax punched the vampire in the face. Unfazed by the blow, the vampire came forward with a forearm to Dax’s head, flipping him over the side of the boat and dropping him belly-first into the water. He had enough awareness to keep his eyes and his mouth shut as he sank beneath the surface of the toxic floodwaters, but as he waved his hands and looked for daylight, a hand pushed his head down. Dax wanted to open his eyes, but he resisted the urge, knowing the water could blind him. Being in it was bad enough, but that hadn’t been his choice.
The hand moved from his head to one of his shoulders, and another hand landed on his opposite shoulder. Dax grabbed onto the hands, feeling the leather gloves.
The vampire moved his hands from Dax’s shoulders to his throat, trying to choke the life out of him while Dax tried desperately to get to the surface. But the creature held him down, attempting to drown him in the river.
Dax shifted his weight and spun his body then, trying to break free of the Screamer’s grip, but the vampire had all the leverage. With no new air to fill his lungs, Dax became lightheaded. His chest felt like it was on fire and he knew he only had a few more seconds before he’d have to either take a breath or let his lungs fill with water.
The vampires couldn’t swim, though. If he could only break free of its grasp…
Dax grabbed hold of the vampire’s arms and pulled them down. Even in the water, his two-hundred-and-twenty-pound frame was too much for the vampire to fight off. Dax’s sheer weight and powerful arms broke the Screamer’s grip, and he was able to get his hands on top of the creature’s head and push it down while propelling his body toward the surface.
The vampire unleashed a scream, and even under the water, it was loud. Dax kicked and pushed to the surface as he became dizzy.
When he emerged from the water, Dax gasped for air immediately. A hand grabbed onto Dax’s ankle, and he kicked to get the creature off of him. Pushing off from it, he swam back to the boat, leaving the vampire to its watery grave.
“Dax! Help!”
Monica.
“Dax!”
Darius?
Dax grabbed hold of the side of the boat and pulled himself up. He went over the side, landing on the deck on his back. Monica was yelling, but it was no longer coming from inside of the cabin—the sounds came from the middle of the boat.
The vampire stood on the deck, outside of the cabin. He had both Monica and Darius in his arms.
Still struggling to get enough air, Dax stumbled to his feet. Dizziness knocked him off balance and he grabbed the wall to stay upright.
“Let them go.”
“I’m so sorry, Dax,” Darius said. “I had to try and help.”
“It’s okay, buddy. Everything is going to be fine.”
The vampire stared back at Dax, and then it screamed. Both children closed their eyes and shook their heads. Their arms had been pinned, preventing them from covering their ears.
Having now caught his breath, Dax let go of the wall and started toward the vampire. But in a flash, the Screamer bent at the knees and sprang from the boat. The creature soared through the air. It had no wings, but it had jumped nearly thirty feet straight up. The Screamer leaped over the water, landing on a rooftop some fifty yards from the boat.
“No!” Dax cried.
The vampire jumped again, and vanished from sight.
Chapter 26
Hurricane Katrina
New Orleans, LA
2005
Vondell Stokes wasn’t going to leave his home.
He had lived in the same house for thirty-six years. He and his late wife, Ezra—God bless her soul—had bought the place only a couple of months after getting married. Every memory Vondell cherished had been created in this house.
“You sure it’s a good idea to stay here?” Omar Stokes asked. Omar, Vondell’s brother, lived only a few blocks away.
“How they going to preach some sort of ‘mandatory evacuation’ to us? They can’t make me leave here.”
“No, they can’t. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing to do.”
Vondell walked to the window and pointed across the street. “Sherry over there is in a wheelchair. She ain’t even leaving. Neither is Gary next door or Janice next to him. Now you can leave if you want, but I ain’t leaving my house here for some damn looters or somethin’ to come through and trash the place.”
“I ain’t leaving if you ain’t,” Omar said. “You’re my brother, man. I’m staying with you.”
“Good. Then quit your cryin’.”
Vondell leaned on the windowsill. The rain had been coming down consistently since early morning, and the wind had been intensifying throughout the day. All the reports on the radio told residents of New Orleans to get out of the city. They warned of a dangerous storm, poised to be more devastating than anything the Gulf Coast had ever seen. Vondell had been around long enough to have heard the same threats dozens of times, though. Never had they turned out to be true. The city wasn’t going to flood. Everything would be fine. Because even if he did leave, he wouldn’t be able to take every picture, piece of furniture, the clothing he had left in her closet… everything that reminded him of his dear wife. It wasn’t worth the risk.
Omar put his hand on Vondell’s shoulder.
“I’m gonna see if I can—”
The lights in the house flickered. Thunder boomed outside, and lightning struck nearby. The power flashed back on for only a moment before it shut off.
“Son of a bitch,” Vondell said.
“Told you we should’ve left,” Omar said. “Now we gonna be stuck here with no A/C in the middle of August.”
“They’ll get the power back on. The city isn’t going to leave us here with no power.”
“You keep telling yourself that. Those honkeys downtown are halfway to Memphis by now, like we should be. You think they gonna give a shit about a bunch of black folks stuck in this part of town with no power?”
Ignoring his brother, Vondell walked to the other side of the living room.
“Where you going?” Omar asked.
“I’ll be right back.”
Omar mumbled under his breath, but Vondell ignored it. His brother could be mad all he wanted. He’d get over it.
On the far end of the house were two bedrooms—one a guest bedroom, and the other a space that Vondell supposedly used as an office. Only it wasn’t that at all. Vondell had been lying to his brother and other family members about what he’d been keeping behind that door.
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a cluster of keys. He found the one to the door and stuck it into the keyhole. Before opening it, he looked over his shoulder to make sure Omar wasn’t there. When he saw that he wasn’t, Vondell opened the door and walked inside.
Blackout curtains kept sunlight from coming in through the room’s single window. Vondell flipped the light switch, then scoffed at himself for forgetting that the power had gone out. He shut and locked the door, then went to the table sitting against the wall where he had several candles. He picked up his Saints lighter and lit five of them.
The candle illuminated his altar. On top of the table, he had several ritualistic items—including a chalice, a
goblet, several different powders, bowls, a small collection of bones, and a human skull.
Vondell had begun practicing voodoo only months after Ezra had passed. He’d had a falling out with God, and begun studying the local lore as more of an escape from the norm of Christianity rather than anything else. But with his tender heart still aching from the loss of his soulmate and one true love, it hadn’t taken long for him to fall head first into the world of black magic. He’d even begun studying necromancy, in hopes that he could hone his powers enough to where he might be able to resurrect his wife from the dead. He’d talked to voodoo doctors in town who’d led him to believe it was possible, and once had even heard about an organization in Cleveland, Ohio—Orion’s Order, secret warriors who tried to prevent resurrections. But Vondell didn’t care about any of that—he only cared about his Ezra.
He couldn’t leave the altar behind now. He needed to be here so that he could try using his magic to keep the house safe and, maybe someday, bring his love home.
He picked up the skull and brought the forehead to his lips, kissing the old bone. Vondell then set the skull down and was about to work up a concoction with his powders when he heard a scream come from the street in front of the house. He arrived in the living room just as his brother raced out of the bathroom, his pants still at his knees.
“What was that?” Omar asked.
Ignoring his brother, Vondell rushed out the front door.
The rain was relentless now. The wind pulled the tops of the trees toward the ground, threatening to snap trunks that had grown to ten or fifteen feet in diameter. Across the street, the handicapped woman, Sherry, had rolled her wheelchair out onto the front porch. She was looking to her right and yelling.
“Get your ass back here, girl!”
Vondell followed the old woman’s gaze.
