by J. Thorn
Dax balled his fists, breathing heavily with his eyes locked on Chloe’s.
“I know that’s not really you,” Dax mumbled. “I’ll make Serafino pay.”
A gust of wind came down the middle of the street, strong enough to knock Dax back and into the side of the building.
When he turned around, Serafino was gone. But the street was not empty.
Two blocks away, a massive wall of water was coming at him—taller than the surrounding buildings, burying them.
Dax turned and ran. Behind him, he heard a laugh—a familiar one.
Serafino’s.
Dax struggled to breathe. Both of his legs cramped.
He turned around.
The wave towered above him now, and in the middle of the wall of water was Serafino’s face.
The vampire screamed, and the water crashed down on Dax.
Chapter 29
A scream shook Dax from his nightmare. He spasmed, sitting straight up in the bed. Darkness enveloped the room, and two candles provided the only light. Dax gasped, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
“It’s all right, son,” Papa Midnight said.
Dax looked over to see the voodoo priest sitting in the captain’s chair in the wheelhouse. Dax put both his hands on the mattress to steady himself.
“Lie back down.”
Feeling a bit light in the head, Dax heeded the old man’s advice. He fell backward, the back of his head hitting the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he felt his head clear.
“That’s it. Relax.”
“How long was I out?”
“Hours. I lost track.”
Dax looked at the blind man. “How did you get me to the bed?”
“You fell right next to it. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I was standing near the door, and then I blacked out.”
“Yeah, well, your mind might have left, but your body didn’t immediately follow. You hit the wall and then toppled over next to the bed. At least that’s what I heard. When I felt around and found you, you were slumped against the bed. I’m stronger than I look. I managed to lift you up and onto the mattress.”
Closing his eyes, Dax massaged his forehead. The dizziness had faded, but he felt the beginnings of a killer headache blossoming behind his eyes.
“What happened to you, son?”
In his mind, Dax saw the images again—the vision of his loved ones hanging from the Romeo spikes. Of Chloe laying her hands on him and then shoving Monica’s lifeless body onto the spike, mounting her to the wall.
He opened his eyes to escape the images.
“I had a nightmare.”
“It was Serafino, wasn’t it? He came to you.”
“I told you—just a bad dream.”
“People don’t pass out in the middle of a sentence. Especially not men built like you, Dax. What did you see in this dream?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“But was he there?”
Dax hesitated, then nodded. Though the old man couldn’t see the gesture, he must have been able to find Dax’s answer in the silence.
“What if I told you I might be starting to believe you?” Dax asked. “Like maybe I’m starting to be convinced that it’s not some kind of virus that’s doing this to people.”
“Then I would tell you that you still have a lot to learn if you want to defeat these things.”
Dax thought about the blind man’s words for a moment, considering everything the voodoo priest had been trying to tell him since they’d met. While he still was hesitant to believe he was the ‘chosen one,’ there was no way of getting away from the vampires.
“What do you have to teach me?”
A smile stretched from ear to ear on Papa Midnight’s face.
“More than you ever learned in school.”
They stood in the center of the deck, facing each other like two characters about to start a match of Mortal Kombat. Dax held the oar in his hands while Papa Midnight readied his cane as a weapon.
“You have done well so far,” Papa Midnight said. “You’ve shown much resilience. But the challenges to come will prove more difficult. Serafino’s army will grow stronger, both in numbers and sheer physicality. They will mature and become smarter.”
“I’ve done a pretty good job so far against these things,” Dax said. “What can you show me that will help?”
Papa Midnight swung his cane. It caught Dax off guard, but he still managed to block the strike with the oar. Then Papa Midnight pulled away and swung again. He continued, attempting successive blows. But Dax put his oar in the way of each.
“Good.” The voodoo priest smiled. “Your reflexes are fast. Although… I am an old blind dude. You should be able to kick my ass.”
“I don’t know. You move pretty quick for an old blind dude.”
“Yes, well, you will not have that advantage against Serafino’s army.”
“I know they’ll be quicker than you. But I’ll be ready.”
Papa Midnight laughed. Shaking his head, he reached inside of his trench coat and withdrew a bandana. He tossed it to Dax.
“Put this over your eyes.”
“What? How am I supposed to fight if I can’t see?”
“You have been lucky so far, Jackson. You have been fortunate to take on the vampires where there is at least some light. But to defeat Serafino’s soldiers, you will have to do much of your fighting during the night. To do that, you must learn to see with your mind. Your eyes will do you little good in the darkness.”
Dax hesitated. This man was crazy, and he’d known it from the minute he’d first seen him beneath the bridge. Even at night, Dax would at least be able to see some—especially with those orange eyes illuminating the Screamers’ faces. He shook his head and shrugged, placing the bandana over his eyes and tying it around the back of his head.
“Do not cheat,” Papa Midnight said. “Be sure it is tight, and that you cannot see a thing.”
Dax rolled his eyes. He pulled the bandana a little tighter, grunting as the knot pressed into the back of his head. He then pulled it down lower so that he could see nothing.
“Good,” Papa Midnight said. “Now, assume your fighting stance.”
Dax bent at the knees slightly and raised the oar. He waited for the voodoo priest to give the signal that he was ready.
Papa Midnight grunted. His cane connected with Dax’s ribs.
“Ouch,” Dax said. “What the—”
The cane hit him again, this time in the knee. Dax gritted his teeth and reached down to grab his leg.
“Shit, man. Stop—”
The cane struck him on the knuckles, and Dax dropped the oar. He stepped back before ripping off the blindfold.
“What was that? You didn't even give me a warning.”
Papa Midnight crossed his legs, leaning forward onto his cane. “Do you think the vampires are going to extend you the courtesy of letting you know that it’s time to fight?”
“Come on, man. This ain’t the same thing. This is supposed to be training.”
“Yes, it is. And I’m trying to train you for what is going to happen.”
Dax exhaled. He put his hands on his hips and marched away, stopping at the edge of the boat.
“You are strong, Jackson. But your physical strength will only take you so far. You have to learn to fight with what you have up here.” The voodoo priest tapped the side of his head.
“What?” Dax asked. “So you think I’m stupid or something?”
“This has nothing to do with knowledge or book smarts. You must learn to use your mind to sense the presence of the vampires. You have to use your intuition to know where they are so that you can defeat them. You have it in you. The old legend prophesized as much.”
“And what if I’m not this chosen one you speak of?”
“Do you believe me when I say that you are?”
Dax considered the question for a moment. He thought about all that had happened, refle
cting on other things Papa Midnight had said. The incident at the shopping mall shot to the front of his mind, though—he had been frozen, and the voodoo priest had helped him break loose from Serafino’s spell. And he had broken free from the spell, hadn’t he?
“Let’s say for the sake of argument that I do.”
“Then I’d say to put that damn blindfold back on and get over here to finish your training.”
Dax stared out at the river. In the water, he saw the faces of Monica and Darius. He thought about Gabby’s kids next. Of Kevin.
He bit his lip and walked back to the center of the boat. He picked up the oar, tucking it under his arm and tying the bandanna around his head again. He then assumed his fighting position. Again.
Dax waited. His hands gripped the oar tighter as he calmed his mind in anticipation of the old man’s attack. When Papa Midnight swung, Dax raised the oar and deflected it, but the cane still struck the top of his arm. Before he could reposition himself, the voodoo priest caught him with a kick to the shin.
Dax exhaled, cursing beneath his breath.
“Focus, Jackson,” Papa Midnight said. “Let your mind be at ease. Free yourself of thought, and focus on me. Listen to the cane. Visualize the attack in your mind and follow that instinct.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Dax closed his eyes. He emptied his mind, setting aside his thoughts of Monica and Darius. Kevin. His sister. Chloe.
As he cleared his head, Dax began to sense his immediate surroundings. The waves crashed. Pelicans flew above his head. The wind blew gently. The boat creaked as it subtly rocked. He breathed steadily, focusing on more than what he could see.
Papa Midnight swung his cane again, and Dax raised the oar to the left, blocking the blow. The voodoo priest pulled back and struck again, this time going for Dax’s knee. Spinning the oar, Dax dropped it vertically in front of him, and the cane smacked against its wood handle.
Again, Papa Midnight pulled away and came at Dax. He tried a combination of strikes this time, but Dax placed the oar in front of each one, effortlessly blocking the attacks.
The voodoo priest then went for Dax’s left arm, but Dax raised his hand and took hold of the cane. He snatched it away, and in one fluid movement he slipped behind Papa Midnight and put the oar across the blind man’s throat. Papa Midnight laughed.
“See what happens when you free your mind?”
Dax let go and pulled the bandana from his face. He smiled.
“That was incredible. It was really like I could see your every move. How did you know I could do that?”
“Come on,” Papa Midnight said, placing his hand on Dax’s shoulder. “Let us practice some more, and then we can sit down, and I will tell you more of what I know.”
Chapter 30
After hours of training, Dax removed the bandana once again and sat down in a nearby chair. Sweat glistened on his chest. He wiped perspiration from his forehead and checked his wounds. The voodoo priest had connected with a number of blows, leaving cuts and scratches in several places—including a gash on his left bicep that burned, but which wasn’t near deep enough to require stitches.
The old man sat down, as well. He was out of breath, but quickly composed himself. For a man of his age, Dax was impressed that Papa Midnight was in such good health. As a former athlete who’d regularly worked out before the Blackout—especially given that there’d been little else to do in prison, Dax had been tone and fit. And the voodoo priest had managed to keep up with him.
“So, how did I do?” Dax asked.
“You did well. Very well. But there is so much more you need to learn and not enough time to teach it. It is time for you to test your skills against the real thing.”
That would come soon—Dax had to find the children. Tonight. Even if Serafino had used them as a trap, he had no choice. He had already failed Kevin, and he couldn’t allow Darius and Monica to suffer the same fate.
“I still don’t understand how we’re supposed to fight these things alone,” Dax said. “Let’s say that we do manage to get Darius and Monica back, and we destroy many of the vampires in the process. Won’t the army continue to grow? Even if I kill Serafino, you said there were three other Masters. Aren’t they going to spread this disease across the globe?”
“I told you some of the legend, a bit of the prophecy. But I did not tell you the entire story.”
Dax stood and moved his chair to the other side of the deck, closer to Papa Midnight. A rare breeze softened the brutal Louisiana humidity, soothing Dax and cooling him. He leaned in, listening carefully to what Papa Midnight had to tell him.
“The ancient lore states that a cataclysmic fire will ‘rain ash’ down upon the enemies of earth. This poisonous ash will extinguish and bury the undead souls, and return the world to the humans.
“The man chosen to lead us into battle holds the key to bringing forth the storm. It is prophesied that only he can bring the cleansing fire. But if he fails…”
The voodoo priest trailed off. Dax waited for him to complete the sentence, but the finish never came.
“What happens if I fail?” Dax sat up straight, surprised that he had used the pronoun “I” for the first time in this context, essentially admitting his buy-in to Papa Midnight’s claims.
Papa Midnight stood. “I need to show you something, Jackson. Please, lead me to the side of the boat. We need to be facing the city.”
Dax sighed.
What’s he going to do now?
He shook his head and took the blind man by the arm. From the side of the boat, Dax looked out over the quiet city. It was still strange to see it so still. Water had submerged so much of the Crescent City, and the buildings that remained above the water level would be beyond repair by now.
“This is going to hurt.”
“Huh?”
Before Dax could react, Papa Midnight dumped white powder into the gash on his arm.
“Shit!”
Dax jumped back. It felt like the old man had poured rubbing alcohol into his wound.
“What the fuck!”
“Calm, Jackson. I am sorry that I had to do that.”
Dax went to rub his arm, but the blind voodoo priest took hold of his wrist.
“Do not touch.”
“What is this, man?”
“There is something I need to show you,” Papa Midnight said. “And to do so, I must call upon some of my darkest hoodoo magic. You must let the powder settle, and you must be calm.”
Dax grimaced. It felt as though the powder had roasted his flesh. He bit his lip until it almost bled.
“This better be worth it,” Dax said.
Papa Midnight placed his hand on Dax’s shoulder.
“Relax,” Papa Midnight said in a calming tone. “I need you to close your eyes, and do not open them again until I say otherwise.”
Dax sighed, but did as the voodoo priest had asked.
With his hand gripping Dax’s shoulder, Papa Midnight spoke in French. Dax didn’t know what he was saying, but he had to assume they were words from an old voodoo spell.
As the old man chanted, his voice grew louder. He held onto Dax’s shirt tightly. The cut on Dax’s arm became numb. But now he felt something else strange.
The wind picked up around him. The humidity vanished, and the temperature dropped. The water no longer splashed against the side of the boat.
Dax wanted to open his eyes, but he resisted the urge. Papa Midnight had been adamant in saying he must keep his eyes closed.
Papa Midnight no longer spoke next to him.
Dax wanted to call out, but he again suppressed the impulse and trusted in the old man. Moments later, a voice inside of his head spoke to him.
You may open your eyes, Jackson.
He did.
“What the fuck is this?”
Chapter 31
The sky above New Orleans glowed in pulsing bands of orange and red light. The floodwaters had receded, leaving nothing but patches of dirt where the gr
ass had been, and cracked and fractured asphalt in place of the streets and avenues. The air blowing off the Gulf felt unusually cool and dry—it stank with a mixture of motor oil and rotting wood.
Many of the buildings remained, but some, such as Harrah’s Casino, had crumbled to the ground. Its sign lay on top of a stack of stone.
Under Dax’s feet, the boat was gone. He stood on cracked dirt which was below the level of the city streets in front of him. He turned around. Boats lay scattered across the land. Some were still upright, while many more had been knocked onto their sides by an unknown force. Next to him, a dock stretched ten yards out into the water, the end of it broken off and now made up of nothing more than jagged planks.
Dax looked down again at the dry dirt, realizing where he stood—the Mississippi River. Only, the water was gone.
Dax climbed up the steep embankment and looked out upon the city of New Orleans.
“What happened here?”
Moving slowly, Dax walked onto the street. He had walked these streets so many times, and yet he couldn’t tell whether he was on Canal or Poydras. The fronts of buildings had been destroyed, broken glass lying beneath them on the sidewalk that was now sprouting weeds and junk trees.
Stopping in the middle of the road, Dax glanced up.
Gray clouds peppered the sky. Behind them, the once blue atmosphere glowed in shades of orange. The sky looked like Mars in a science fiction movie, and Dax had never seen anything like this. He wasn’t sure where the orange tint was coming from. Scanning the sky, he couldn’t even locate the sun.
The sound of an angry crowd came from his left. Dax hurried to the sidewalk and hid behind a slab of concrete which had likely fallen from the top of one of the surrounding buildings. He poked his head over the top.
People headed his way. They marched down the street in rows that were six people wide—an organized formation, like that of an army. They wore black uniforms, each with a single orange stripe stretching diagonally from the shoulder down over the stomach. The outfits looked more like prison coveralls than military attire.
