by Bera, Ilia
Before entering the mountain pass, Zelda made a stop at her old family home. The house had been sold at a police auction to a young couple. The money was intended to be given to Zelda when she turned eighteen—a responsibility given to the Clarksons. Suffice to say, that money, along with the rest of her intended inheritance, had been squandered on expensive wine, Italian furniture and other brand name luxuries, which never graced Zelda’s life.
No one was home, so Zelda let herself in. None of the relics of her childhood existed in the house—none of her family’s furniture, none of their pictures which once hung on the wall. But it may as well have. All of the new family’s furniture was positioned the same, the young couple’s pictures hung in the same spots, and Zelda’s old bedroom was now the bedroom of another young toddler, just a few years older than she was when it all happened.
Zelda picked up a photo of the family’s child—a child whose smiling lips nearly touched the cusps of her ears. Zelda wrapped her fingers around the photo and prepared to scrunch it into a tiny ball. Instead, she placed the photo back down.
After stealing a few snacks and a couple of water bottles, Zelda returned to the Mustang. She popped the trunk to stash her haul. Then, she discovered Kane’s deadly arsenal his lifetime collection of vampire-related news and literature.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-TWO
NEVER THE SAME, NEVER CHANGED
The following few weeks were quiet ones as the sun returned to the Snowbrooke skies, staying a little bit longer and rising a little bit higher each day. The snowfall became light, the ploughed highways remained ploughed, and power remained on.
Philip didn’t speak a word after his arrest. He refused representation, got The Chair within the week. He became “The Vampire of Snowbrooke”. His face made the cover of every newspaper the country over.
The headline in Snowbrooke: The Face of Evil.
The cover contained nothing but the bolded headline, and the most unflattering photo of Philip’s old, weathered face. Companies called the paper and asked that their ads be withheld from the issue, so to not be associated with The Face of Evil. Philip would go on to be remembered as one of history’s most horrid serial killers. Last I heard, Hollywood was planning to make a movie about it, starring Matt Damon as the brave rookie cop, and Ben Afflek as The Vampire of Snowbrooke.
Philip’s arrest marked the end of the killings. Vanessa dropped the Riley from her name, and she left Snowbrooke, catching the first bus out after the highways were cleared. I like to think that Peter tagged along, but according to the cops, his body was found in the snow, along with twenty-eight other escaped inmates. The surviving inmates were caught and locked back up—at least according to the media and the police.
Unfortunately, I can only speculate as to the whereabouts of the rest of the players in this tiny portion of life’s play. As I said before, most of what I know I overheard in the quiet corners of late-night bars, the basement dwellings of intimate parties, and the private whispers in school hallways, long after classes were out.
I do know that the charges against Vish Mumbar were dropped after Riley’s arrest—I was surprised to read about it on page thirty-two of The Face of Evil edition of the local newspaper. It only got a tiny paragraph, which is more than most uplifting news gets these days, unfortunately.
As Fate would have it, Tarun’s arrest did come with a silver lining: A warrant was put out for the arrest of the Walkers in India for forging legal documents. They were dragged back to Snowbrooke, and given the option of a five-million dollar bail, or ten years in prison. The money-loving family was reluctant to take the bail option—but they didn’t want to go to prison.
They paid the bail, and then they were flat broke. Vish Mumbar was kind enough to offer them a trade, though. The Walkers moved into their old apartment building, which was in even worse shape following the police raids.
Vish was on a plane back to India before the start of the New Year. Tarun didn’t tag along, nor did he stay in Snowbrooke.
I asked everyone I could about Tarun, to find out where he went after his father went back to India—but no one knew. I managed to get into contact with Vish, but Vish—the cheeky old man—told me he didn’t know where Tarun was. I could hear his goofy smirk through the telephone. He did give me a little roundabout peace of mind: “Wherever he went, I am sure he is very happy. By the way, have you heard about the ground-breaking work being done at the National Space Center?”
I found the article Vish was referring to in a science journal: “Undergrad Physicist Couple Develop Fuel-Free Propulsion System Using Microwaves. Works in a Vacuum”. I would be lying if I said that I understood the contents of the paper, but that is more or less irrelevant. The physicists were one Peter Gold-Mumbar and his wife, Brittany Gold-Mumbar. The article’s only photo was of a brass chamber with wires running in and out of it—there was no photo of the young couple.
But it didn’t take an astrophysicist to put two and two together.
Tourists streamed into town, fascinated with the stories behind the Wilkinson house, stories which were published in the popular tell-all book, A Most Curious Town written by police officer turned writer, Constable Hendricks. In his book, Hendricks claims that he was pressured into early retirement after he questioned the arrest and quick sentencing of Philip Riley. His debut book was a bestseller—a cult favourite among conspiracy theorists.
As the weeks passed, Snowbrooke saw its share of aspiring mystery writers and one very famous paranormal sceptic working on a “Top Ten Most Haunted” book. Inspired by Hendricks’s book, the investigator was determined to prove the whole tale a sham. He was the first to spend a night in the house, after the city converted it into a tourist attraction. The night was uneventful, but something else caught the investigator’s interest—something that ended up making the first spot in his anticipated book—
It was around three in the morning, when the famed paranormal writer noticed a glimmer from the attic window of the supposedly haunted home. Across town, he could see a strange glow emanating from the top of the town’s clock tower. The famous sceptic spent the next four days observing the mysterious glow and investigating the tower. On the fourth day, when he saw the ethereal light, he entered the tower and climbed the steps. The details of what happened after were left out of the book, and the former sceptic refused to recount them in any interview. His famous words would go on to immortalize Snowbrooke—
“There are many things of which I am sure. Angels exist. Of this, I am sure. Demons exist. Of this, I am also sure. Sure too am I that one of each exists at the top of that tower.”
It was at the end of January that a new English upgrading class began. I enrolled, and found myself sitting in that same corner desk, watching as a new group of students showed up for their first day. A part of me expected to see Hanna and Connor show up for the class, but they did not. The class was comprised of strangers. Some of the students I vaguely recognized from high school; students who I passed in the hallways hundreds of times without considering that their lives may one day become intertwined with my own. They would—but that is a story for another day.
One of the students in the class was a pretty, younger girl named Cassie—Cassie Fenner. I asked her what had happened to Connor on the night of the big blizzard. She didn’t know.
“I remember waking up when the power went out. I could hear something downstairs—like a loud bang. I thought our generator blew up,” Vanessa said. “I got up to get my mom, but the moment I was out of bed, the power was back on. This ball of light shot out of our house. I looked out the window, and I swear that I saw Connor running out of the house, without a coat! Just in shorts and a T-shirt. I’m sure it was a dream, though—I mean, an hour earlier, the guy couldn’t even sit up, never mind run like that. It all seemed so real—But I’m sure it was just a dream. I don’t know what actually happened to Connor.”
No one had seen Connor or Hanna since that night. I have my own theories
as to what happened—where they went.
I heard Nightfall is a really great place for a couple of young vampires.
As for me—there’s nothing terribly exciting to mention. I’m still just a fly, moving from wall to wall, watching the world spin around and around. I can’t complain. The view is great from here. I’m able to just sit back and watch the world around me. Day by day, I get to watch an epic tale unfolding right before my eyes. Like the elaborate underground of a thriving metropolis—Endless tunnels and corridors—abandoned subway lines and sewer systems—all passageways to lives you would never know existed. Life itself is an incredible story, so meticulously structured that every single word—every single syllable is as important as the entirety of the fiction itself.
THE END
(Back to Table of Contents)
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ILIA BERA
Ilia Bera is a young writer from the golden prairies of Alberta, Canada. Ilia’s schooling years were spent absorbed in a fantastic imagination land, writing everything from screenplays and comic books to short stories and novels.
Ilia spent years working in the film and television industry as a screenwriter, as well as on the set of big budget films across various departments. When not writing, Ilia likes to relax with the better-half in their little house on the beach, with their adorable Ridgeback.
Please leave a review letting me know what you thought. I’m always striving towards making my work better and better.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Navigator
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
About the Author
