Purge of the Vampires (Book 3)
The Night Never Ends
Edgar Bajaña
EdgarBajana.com
Purge of the Vampires (Book 3) The Night Never Ends © 2018 by James A. Bajaña
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Let’s Connect
EdgarBajana.com
For Ellis
Count those ancient stones and you will know who you are. Some are heavier than others, but always remember that none are out of reach.
Contents
Let’s Connect
Part I
1. The Chain Gang
2. A Garbage Bag on the Street
3. The Girl from a Long Time Ago
4. Some Time Between Friends
5. Caretaker of the Dead
6. Barge from the Island of the Dead
Part II
7. When Sirens Sound
8. His Smile was a Mask
9. A Time Before The World Was Turned Upside Down
10. An Animal living On His Hands and Knees
11. Home Before Night Falls
12. The Night Is Coming
13. The Night Took All That He Knew
14. America Limped Along in Pockets, Here And There
15. The Sirens Screeched Across The Sky
16. He Saw Something Special Between Them
17. Through A Field Of Dead Corn
18. The Sun Also Shines At night
19. Feed Him To The Night
20. The Land Carried Our Bodies, But Culture Lifts Our Souls
21. Fear The Night And Survive
22. The Sun Illuminated the Field Of Dead Corn
23. Everywhere The Severed Body Part Went, Blood Spilled
24. Everywhere The Severed Body Part Went, Blood Spilled
25. The Mad Woman Had Disappeared From Sight
26. Every Good Dream Deserved To Live On
27. Her Screams Sent A chill Up His Spine
28. The Moon Shall Rise and We Shall Watch Together
29. The House Upon The Lake
30. The Blade Darkened With The Coming Night
31. The Night Enveloped Everything Upon The Land
32. Within His Heart The Congregation Grows
33. The Birds No Longer Sang In The Forest
34. In The Dark Corners Of The House
35. A Cold Draft Of Air Raised The Hair On His Arms
36. The Sun Also Shines At Night
37. No One Escapes The Night
Part III
38. First Thing Dead
39. The night came in many ways
40. The Night Is Coming
41. The Book Of James
42. The Night Is Coming
43. The World Has Turned
Let’s Connect
Part I
We are all acquainted with demons, aren't we? Sometimes they are more subtle than the Devil in person. They are those things that clutch at us, strangle us, force us to obey them. They control us with great delight, and finally they own us. Demons are certainly as much around today as they were in Jesus' day. They are more subtle, perhaps, and so we think we have outgrown them. Because we call them by other names, we have a way of missing them. But there is still a great force surrounding us that tries to push us into what is not of God.
MACRINA WIEDERKEHR, A Tree Full of Angels
1
The Chain Gang
Before the world was turned upside down, a man named James Night pursued the beast that killed his wife. The beast that would become the terror of the night, the thing that everyone in the world would fear.
Right now, James Night was an inmate from Riker's Island, riding on a prison bus heading to a thin pier jutting into the bay of the Long Island Sound. It was an overcast day when the bus swayed through the trenches of the Bronx toward the neighborhood of Island City.
James was a built man with brown skin, kinky hair and a thick beard. He would have appeared as normal as anyone else in the crowd, if it wasn't for his eyes.
His eyes were the most striking thing about him. They were the kind of eyes that scared all who dared to look into them.
When James was younger, he used to be so embarrassed by people looking at him. As he became older, he learned to hide his eyes. And in turn, he hid a part of himself. It was the part that was the most unique about him.
Back in his room at the Darlington Hotel, his table, desk and dresser were covered with cheap sunglasses and fake contact lenses. They were all the things that he collected over time. The things he used to disguises himself.
Everyday, he thought he fooled the world to get a chance to find the beast. He only needed to find just one of her remains and he would know what happened to her. He would know who took her soul.
When the facade was not enough, there were times when he thought that he could erase the things in his head by drowning himself in a bottle of vodka. During these time, he went to dark places. These were hard times, when he wanted to poke his eyes out and rid himself of his curse, once and for all. But, he knew better than that. Poking his eyes out wouldn't make a difference. He still had his ears. The sad fact was that the curse engulfed all his senses.
Suddenly, the prison bus went over a pothole and everyone jumped in their seats. The inmates spoke in the back of the bus.
"Who cares about his eye?" said Lou.
"They're just weird. That's all. Does anyone know what happened to him."
"No one does." said Lou. "And we're not suppose to talk to him. Remember that."
"I just want to ask him a question."
"Do it and you won't walk for a week."
Throughout their whole conversation, Lou was the only inmate on the bus who kept staring at the back of James head. Lou was a big man with a bald head. Tattoos of crosses and ancient jewish symbols wrapped around his neck. Lou looked at James, as if he were planing to do something mischievous to him, something that could keep James from finding what happened to his wife.
As the inmates blew off steam, James could care less about what everyone talked about on the ride over to the pier. He no longer needed to turn away. There was no reason for him to run or hide from who he really was. That time in his life was over.
All he knew now was that the pier signified the end. Once James found his wife, he could finally let go of his eyes and of her. For the first time in years, the pier felt like the only place where he felt right. He only needed to be patient and she would show. He was sure of it.
Out there, there was no sun skimming along the surface of the water. There was no endless cerulean blue horizon to be admired or witnessed. There was nothing out there.
There was only a haunting white fog that hung over the black surface of the water, where nothing could be seen out there for miles. But to James, the shore was something else. It was more. It was a blank canvass, waiting for him to rewrite his life.
James sat on the bus, looking through the dirty windows, sometimes following the diagonal shapes of the chained-linked gate that held him inside.
Then, he glanced at the guard who sat behind the driver and back out the window.
A moment before the storm, he thought about the day ahead. He thought about what to expect when he arrived at the pier. He was so exited for the day to begin. This was his third day working on the pier and he couldn't wait to search for his wife again.
In the morning, the prisoners
formed a line from the truck to the barge. They spent the mornings moving dead bodies and severed limbs as efficiently as possible. For this kind of duty, the prisoners got paid for their labor. But James did not.
It didn't matter. He didn't care for money. He was there for his wife and only her.
In the meantime, he loved it out there on the pier. He had his favorite spot in the line too. He liked being right by the barge, handing the dead down to the other inmate who stood on the bow of the barge. James was gentle with each dead body he carried down. He was almost reverent. This was the spot in the line where James thought nothing could slip pass him. If she was in that pile on the truck, he was sure of finding his wife. She could be nowhere else. Once her body or a piece of her came down that line, she was sure to follow. They always did.
Throughout the last two mornings, James searched through the piles of dead bodies to find his wife. Several times, he tried to forget her. But, he never could. Her face and shoulders were smooth and light brown. She had such a bright smile and gorgeous curly hair that bounced gently and felt soft.
He no longer had his wife. She had slipped through his fingers. But, he could find her killer, even though she was gone.
On the third day, James was sure that they would cross paths. An old gypsy woman had told him that on the third day, he would find the girl or at least a part of her. When he did, he needed to find a proper place where he and her would rest in peace. He could put this world behind him. And he looked forward to that moment, when all of this would be over and the night would finally disappear and the fear inside him would be quenched.
This morning, James traveled on a prison bus with three other inmates from Riker's Island who talked about him throughout the whole trip. To them, James was a mystery.
"I heard that he wanted to come out here on purpose, Lou."
Lou stayed quiet as the another inmate jumped in.
"I heard that he’s looking for his wife.“
"Who cares. That guy's crazy." said Lou. "That's all."
"Damn right, he's crazy. The water smells like garbage out here. Why would he want to be here? Right Lou? I can't imagine why anyone who would want to be out here. Damn fool."
Lou stayed quiet for a second as the other prisoners waited for him to speak. For a moment, Lou kept his eyes trained on the back to James' head, like a sharpshooter. As Lou turned to look at them, his words fell out of the corner of his mouth.
"He's a freak. That's all. That's why he's here. He's a freak."
"That's too simple, Lou."
"Nope. Not at all."
"Well that's not what I heard."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Talk all you want. He's still a freak. And that's what he'll be to the end."
Lou looked away from the other two prisoners who continued speculating why James was there on the pier. Their voices echoed throughout the metal shell of the bus and James heard every word. Before James looked out the window, he caught the guard sitting behind the driver smiling at what Lou had just said.
But James ignored them all. It was the third day and James was sure that he would find her, tall and thin.
No matter how much he tried, James could not forget his wife. Nothing would stop him from saying good-bye to her.
He would recite her name, only when he found her. Each time, he thought about her, he was reminded of a time when he had someone to love. That was a time when only his wife mattered. She became so important to him in such a short time. She was a special gift and her presence lifted his curse.
Why did he tell her to leave?
As James Night rode the bus, he heard his wife's voice and it felt like a sweet angle by his side.
Do you remember, James?
James remembered walking with her on the streets of New York City. At the time, they were walking away from the Queens Mall and it was late outside. They had just seen a movie and it was night time. But, they weren't afraid of the night. Not back then. Those were the good times, before the world was tuned upside down.
How come you never talk about your past?
Of course I remember, Grace. I was born and raised there.
So tell me.
I used to live on the north side of Chicago. I lived in a tall apartment building made of 28 stories. It towered over the other buildings in the neighborhood. I used to feel like a king on that perch. I lived in a corner apartment on the 3rd floor with my family. The street we lived on was named Grace. Can you believe that, Grace?
"You can tell me, James. When did it all change for you?"
I don't know. I guess I remember living with my parents and two sisters. The apartment building we used to live in had this stairwell that we always used. It was faster than using the elevators. I remember that it was painted a sterile grey and it smelled of urine and pot. I remember the good times, when I went up to the 27th floor with my sister to see the Cubs play in Wrigley Field. The stadium was only a few block away and we could hear the fans go crazy. The sun was high in the sky and the baseball field looked tiny. But we saw a game.
"When did you realize that you were…different, James? It'll be good for you, if you tell me."
James was a kid, walking with his mother down Clarke Street, not too far from where they lived. This evening they were going to the Rainbow Rollerskating Ring for an after school pizza party. On the way there, they passed by a cemetery.
"James, you don't have to live with this by yourself, not anymore. I'm here for you."
Grace stopped him in the street and started to hug him, as people passed around them.
I remember Wrigley Field erupting with noise as we passed the black gates of the cemetery. I think it was at that moment when everything changed for me. In fact, I'm sure of it. It was at that moment when I heard something.
What was it?
I didn't know what it was at first. All I knew was that the sound came from the direction of cemetery. It was as if the wind had a voice of its own. It was weird and I didn't know how to explain it. But, I knew that it wasn't just the wind. Even though, that was what my mother kept telling me.
It was just the wind.
Was that when everything changed?
I was a kid back then and my curse was just starting. If I was older, I would have easily recognized that the sound I heard coming from the cemetery wasn't the wind. If I was older, I would have heard footsteps of an old man walking over the Fall leaves. I would have heard a voice as clear as yours, Grace. In fact, I would have would have seen him. But, I was too young. Instead, I heard only the indecipherable whispers of a mad man spilling out words from the cemetery.
What did it sound like, James?
I remember it exactly. Sometimes, I still hear it today. It's like the same sound that has followed me throughout my life. Until, I met you.
That's sweet James. But the sound?
I heard the voice of an old man who was buried in Graceland Cemetery the day before. As we walked along the fence, he followed us on the other side. His stride almost matched ours. Except, he was a little farther behind. If my curse were more developed at that point in my life, I would have seen the old man walking next to us as if he had never died. I would have seen him stop at his own grave and kneel. I would have clearly heard his voice, as he asked God for forgiveness.
If you couldn't see him, how did you know it was an old man. For the following three days, I dreamed about him.
Did you say anything to your mother about it?
I tried. But, she told me not to worry about it. It was nothing, just the wind? She told me.
The wind huh?
The whole time we walked by the cemetery, I knew that it was not just the wind. That was the first time, I felt the dead. I knew there was something wrong. I remember this part the most. I remember my mother glancing at my face. She gave me a double take and stopped me on the sidewalk. Then, she kneeled before me. She held my head by the chin and she looked all over the surface of my face, examining
it. The whole time, I saw something in her eyes. They felt heavy and burdened. That was the first time, I saw an inkling of fear in her eyes.
What did she say to you?
All she said was, 'Don't worry James. It’ll be okay. Whatever happens in your life, I want you to remember that I love you and that God has a plan for you. I want you to remember that that God gives only to his favorite ones on earth, with eyes made of clouds.
James never forgotten her words and his life was different from that moment on.
James Night's and the other inmates were escorted onto the prison bus by the two guards, carrying a pair of double barrel shotguns.
Like the others, James wore a pair of orange trousers and a white t-shirt, except his shirt was covered in ketchup and pieces of scrambled eggs. The other inmates at the prison had started into him early, during breakfast. He was sick of it. Before, he almost got stuck, a guard pulled him away from the middle of the crowd and placed him on a bus to Island City.
The morning was unusually hot and James's collar and underarms dripped with sweat. The air conditioner on the bus was broken.
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