Dead of Night: The Nephalem Files (Book 3)

by Douglas Wayne

  Anger filled me and I ran at the bars, trying, futilely, to budge them even a fraction of an inch. I wanted so bad to get out of this cell. To follow him down the hall and take him down. It took every last ounce of my self control to stay behind the bars and to let him walk.

  He was just trying to goad me. Force me into making a move that will get me locked up for good. An attempted escape would be considered an admission of guilt, not to mention another charge in itself. I knew that I only had to stay in here one night. It wouldn't be pleasant, but I knew there wasn't the slightest chance that the police had a case on me. The best they had was reckless endangerment with a vehicle which wouldn't even garner any jail time as there wasn't anyone around me when I drove on the grass to avoid the car lined road.

  I plopped down on the bed, laid my head on the brick hard pillow, and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't like I had anything better to do. Before I could drift off to sleep, the door opened and footsteps filled the room again.

  "I told you. You can take your deal and shove it."

  "Perhaps you should look before you speak."

  - 11 -

  I sat up and stared out the bars to the cell, right at the police officer that had locked me in here in the first place. He had a serious look on his face as he set a folding chair just outside of my cell and sat down on it. "The only deal I'm looking for is information. If you cooperate with us, we are willing to reduce the charges before they even get to court. I can't promise the DA will give you a decent plea bargain, but they usually do. With the right attitude, you could be looking at six to twelve months probation."

  "And with the wrong attitude?"

  "We hit you for everything we got. Right now we have two felony charges of vandalism, reckless endangerment, attempting to flee the scene of a crime..." he looked up from his paper. "Do I need to continue."

  I shook my head. "Look. I told you. I'm just here investigating the case for Pine Ridge. Nothing more than that. I just flew into town two days ago. In my hotel room I have the ticket stub as proof. Shoot, you can call the hotel and ask them when I got in."

  "You could've swapped hotels, or found someone else's ticket stub."

  "What are the odds that another person with my name was on flight here two days ago?"

  "Slim," he admitted. "But not impossible."

  "I don't know what else you expect me to say. I'm innocent, and you know it."

  "Innocent doesn't run when they draw the attention of the cops."

  "Yet I'm still here behind bars."

  "What are you implying, Mr. Gilmore? That you can escape?"

  "Something like that."

  He chuckled under his breath. "Why do I get all the stupid ones?"

  Before I could blurt out an answer, the lights in the cell began to flicker. "What's that?"

  "Probably just a storm."

  "There wasn't a cloud in the sky when we got here."

  "I've been to Missouri a time or two. Even I know how fast a thundershower can pop up under the right conditions."

  As much as I wanted to believe him. That the lights flickering was just a storm, but my gut was churning, telling me otherwise. Something was going on here. Something bad. And unless I was willing to break myself out of this cell I was going to be caught smack dab in the middle of it.

  There was a steady tapping on the door to the cell room. The officer and I turned our heads towards the racket as the lights glowed bright enough I had to shield my eyes. I swore they were about to explode when they went out in a flash, plunging the room in complete darkness.

  "That's odd!" the officer said, taking a step towards the closed door. "The emergency lights should've come on."

  Backup systems would be designed to come on if the power went out due to a storm or other natural disaster, but if someone had sabotaged the lights, or even the breakers, they wouldn't turn on at all.

  There was a low, almost guttural moan coming from the other side of the door. I heard the officer's footsteps trailing away, right for the door. Before I had a chance to stop him, he opened the door.

  The moan turned into more of a roar as the door opened. If I had to guess, they had the room insulated to keep the noise down, in order to keep the rest of the precinct quiet if they had an unruly inmate who was hell bent on causing havoc. The same system that failed to warn us about trouble right outside that very door.

  The officer took a few frantic steps backward. Through his frantic footsteps, I heard him drop something to the ground. His notebook, I imagined. Probably to free his hands for the gun.

  As if in answer to my thoughts, the muzzle flare of gunfire filled the room. Near the door I caught a glimpse of a woman who was entering the room. Her face was pale and her hair was about as thick as a strand of silk from a spider's web. Whoever she was, she took the gunshot like a champ and just kept moving in, her growls growing even louder as she closed in.

  The room filled and emptied of light rapidly, as the muzzle flare from the officer's weapon created an effect that reminded me of a strobe light. Behind the woman there were nearly a dozen other people entering the room. All of them were pale, but nearly half weren't pale because of their light skin. They were pale because there wasn't any skin.

  There was one last flash of light as the woman in front reached the officer, biting him on the neck as the shot failed to take her down.

  I leaned back against the wall, carefully avoiding the floor around the toilet. As the lights flickered back on, I watched in horror as the things I could only describe as people tore into the fallen officer. His mouth was open, looking like he was screaming, but I couldn't make out the noise as my ears were still ringing from the gunshots. Within moments, the officer was covered by the people, each taking their time devouring the flesh from his body.

  I must've made a noise because three of the people looked up from their evening meal and looked at me behind the bars. An older man, wearing a tattered gray suit with matching tie stood up, reached his arms between the bars, desperately trying to grab me. His mouth open and shut rapidly, causing the long silver hairs on his upper lip to wiggle with each movement. As the fallen officer stopped moving, the other people stood up and joined the old man in his attempts to push through the bars.

  I tried to think of something, of some way to get out of here in one piece. I tried to draw in essence, but my attempts hit an invisible wall.

  A dark reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I was going to die here. If these people had made it this far into the precinct, that means they had made it through the heart of the station, probably killing every living soul on their way through. Even if these were the only ones in the building, the woman was able to get to the officer, even as he unloaded his magazine into her. If they couldn't be taken down by a gun, what chance did I have without my magic.

  If there was one thing that gave me solace, it was knowing that I was safe behind these bars as they didn't seem to have a form of super strength or even flexibility to make it past. Of course, that also meant that I was going to die a slow death. It could take days for me to die by starvation. That meant I would be drinking water out of the toilet to keep hydrated, but even that sounded better than the alternative.

  I leaned back against the wall, staring at the people on the other side of the bars. In my life, I'd seen enough zombie movies to know what I was looking at. But I also knew that every fictional event that could cause the zombie apocalypse was just that, fiction. There isn't a rogue satellite, worldwide pandemic, or even genetic mutation that could cause the dead to walk the earth once again. That means they were being reanimated by magic, meaning the caster was nearby. But pinned against the wall, cut off from any supply of essence, I wasn't in any condition to find the culprit and bring him down.

  There was only one logical explanation. It had to be Cedric. He just left here a few hours ago. I wasn't sure if he had the ability to animate the bodies of the dead like that, but I doubted it was something he would boast about if he could.


  Everything was beginning to make sense. Cedric went into the cemeteries, not to unearth the tombs, but to create an army of the dead. The only thing that didn't make sense was why he would want to do that in the first place. For starters, he seemed to be the prissy type that valued how he looked above and beyond anything else. As big of a jerk as he could be, I just couldn't see him willingly wanting to wander around with these things in tow. Not only did they look like death, they smelled like it. Almost worse than it. As much as I didn't want to admit it, it didn't really fit his MO. But if he wasn't the one controlling the dead who was?

  Before I could get lost in my thoughts, I heard the door to the room creak open as the ringing in my ears had started to subside.

  "Great," I said. "Guess I get to smell even more of them." Before I could stand up for a better look, I saw a person walking behind the group of dead at my cell. He was dressed in all black, including wearing a black ski mask to mask his face. He was definitely short and thin, but I wasn't about to protest. Unless it was the person controlling the dead.

  If they had any idea he was behind them, they didn't show it as they continued their failed push towards me. The man held up a finger to his lips as he pulled a sword out of a sheath on his back. With one smooth motion he swung the blade, removing the heads from over half of the dead. It took him three more swings to drop the others, their lifeless bodies fell helplessly to the floor. I looked down at one of the heads that rolled into my cell, half expecting the mouth to move like Hershel's did in that episode of The Walking Dead. It didn't which sort of disappointed me. Being completely honest.

  "Thanks for the save," I said, moving slowly towards the bar.

  "Save it." The voice was definitely feminine and French, which was obvious now that the horde of the dead were no longer blocking her body. Her black outfit was rather form fitting, accentuating her almost perfect body as she slipped the sword back in its sheath. "There are hundreds more scouring the police station as we speak. Even if I wanted to get you out, I doubt I could."

  "You look capable enough." I glanced down at the bodies on the floor. "Just remove the head?"

  "Or sever the brain. The neck is a lot easier to penetrate than the skull."

  I nodded. "They probably have my staff in evidence. If we can..."

  "A staff does us no good."

  "Even if it conceals a sword?"

  "Not worth the risk."

  "Then what do we do?"

  "We," she emphasized the word, "don't do anything. I'm getting you out of that cell. It is up to you from here."

  "I'll last all of ten seconds without my sword," I took in a deep breath, trying to fill my body with essence and hit the invisible wall again. "Or without my magic."

  "Magic?" she asked, seeming suddenly interested in me.

  I nodded. "Earth magic mainly."

  "And you allowed yourself to be locked up? Very strange."

  "Very strange indeed," I added. "Look. It seems like we are both on the same side, at least for now. It makes a lot more sense to stick together than to separate."

  "I'm here looking for the one controlling the dead."

  "Me too," I reached my hand out, offering a handshake. "What do you say."

  She slapped my palm with the back of her hand. "We work together, for now."

  "Great," I said. She seemed a little stuffy for my tastes, but I didn't have a better option. She had a sword and I didn't. And without my magic, I didn't stand a chance either. When she darted over the bodies and back towards the door, I had little choice but to follow.

  - 12 -

  "I didn't catch your name," I said, trying to keep the pace.

  "I didn't tell it to you."

  As much as I would've loved to know who I was working with, it wasn't as important as getting out of here in one piece. Against her better judgment, she led me across the precinct to the evidence locker where I believed my staff was being held. I didn't want to tell her that there was a chance it was still on the floorboard of the rental car, but I figured there would be something for me to use to get us out of here.

  We reached an intersection in the hallway and came to a stop when she held up her right hand. "There are more around the corner, can you hear them?"

  I shook my head. "Ears still ringing."

  She huffed as she pulled the sword out of its sheath and looked back at me. "I cannot push this group forward and protect you as well."

  "I understand," I said, cracking my knuckles like I was going to be worth a darn if it came down to a fist fight. If I had access to my powers, it would've been a different situation, but whatever was blocking me from drawing in essence was still in full effect keeping me shut away from my magic.

  "One more thing. Don't let these things bite you."

  Having seen more than my fair share of zombie movies and shows, I knew where she was going with this. "I turn if I get bit?"

  "Normal people, yes. You, however, I am not sure about. There is a chance that whatever magic these foul creatures possesses will not effect you in any way. The real risk isn't you being turned. It's that your reanimated corpse will regain its ability to cast again. Even if it just accesses your ability to use earth magic, the effects could be devastating for miles."

  "I'll keep that in mind." Never once had I even considered what would happen in the unlikely event I found myself in the zombie apocalypse. Sure, I expected a bite to make me sick and eventually turn me, but I hadn't even thought of what would happen if the dead version of me could access my abilities. I had to admit, the whole concept was rather unlikely, but I wasn't going to take that risk unless I absolutely had to.

  She closed her eyes briefly before darting around the corner, leaving me all alone behind the false safety of the corridor wall. Not wanting to be outdone, I followed her around the corner, right into one of the dead who had circled around behind the woman. This one looked young, not a day over twenty though to be fair, the amount of decay on his scalp and arms was making it difficult to judge. As I came around behind the man, I leaned in, placing my shoulder in the small of his back. The impact jarred the man, snapping his head back sharply with an audible pop as the body fell to the floor.

  I tasted blood in my mouth as I got up. Figuring I bit my tongue on the impact, I reached in my mouth and found that to be the case. It wasn't bad enough to need stitches, but it was going to bleed for a little while.

  The dead man's head moved sharply, trying to bite me from its unnatural angle. Without proper support from its neck, it wasn't able to do more than rock from side to side. I took a few steps back and launched myself forward and punted the head of the dead man across the room. It slammed into a metal file cabinet before skittering across the room on the floor.

  The egotistical part of me wanted to celebrate taking one of them down, especially since I did it using a method not seen on the small screen or in the Walking Dead comics. But as I scanned the room, I noticed the bodies of ten more lying on the ground motionless. The woman stood up from behind the counter, wiping her blade off on a discarded coat.

  She was good. So good, that I didn't want to risk getting on her bad side. I believed she would be able to cut me down well before I was able to draw in a breath, let alone do anything to protect myself. If she was jumping around, cutting them down from the air, I would call her Crouching Tiger, instead she was more like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. Still awesome in her own right, but in a different way.

  "The evidence room is right behind this door. There is a dead officer to your left. He should have the keys."

  I looked down and saw the body of the officer lying on the ground. Where his head used to be, was a growing pool of crimson blood. The other bodies in the room didn't have a pool around them, having had it removed well before the body was buried. I reached into the fallen officer's pocket and pulled out a set of keys. The keyring was enormous, easily weighing a couple pounds. "Which one?"

  She shrugged. "Not one of the small ones."

 
I sighed. The small ones were handcuff keys. Didn't exactly take a genius to figure that out. I walked across the room and to the door labeled evidence and started trying the keys. The door opened after the third.

  We walked inside and I flipped on the light switch, illuminating the room. There were dozens of shelves in the room, all lined with various objects that had tags or stickers attached to them. Most of the objects inside were weapons. Mainly guns though I guessed the ammunition was kept in the locked case in the back of the room.

  My staff was right inside the door, propped up next to one of the shelves. I retrieved it and ripped off the tag which had my name and I guessed my case number on the side allowing them to find it quickly if I were to ask for it later or if the matter went to court. Neither was going to happen at this point, but I decided to slip the tag into my pocket to destroy later.

  I pulled the blade out of the staff and strapped the wooden part to my belt, opting to keep the sword in my hand from here out. "Where are we going now?"

  "Can you access your power?" she asked.

  I attempted and failed once again to draw in any essence. "Nothing."

  "She is close."

  "She?"

  "I'll explain later." She rushed past me, back into the corridor we came through to begin with. We hooked a quick left followed by another right, leading us into a room with two large garage doors. Inside there was a small box trailer, a few tool boxes, and a shelf with different cleaning supplies on it. The floor was slick sealed concrete I almost slipped on when I hit a nearly transparent oil slick in the middle of the room.

  She ran across the garage to a small man door between the two large roll up doors and tested the lock, shaking her head when she couldn't turn the handle. I searched the room looking for another way out. Along the wall, just to the side of the large doors was a control panel with two buttons. Up and down, I assumed, as I pressed the top button. The large bay door sprung to life, clinking and clanging its way to the top.