Night Realm

by Darren G. Burton

  Ryan shook his head in utter bewilderment. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He felt on the verge of tears and wasn’t sure if it was from frustration, or guilt, or the fact that his baby sister - someone he’d been so close to while they were growing up - hated him that much that she wanted him dead. Bleary-eyed, he looked out at the fuzzy lights of Surfers Paradise and felt them beckoning to him, drawing him outside.

  Ryan stepped onto the balcony.

  Five

  Chelsea was determined to put the issues with her brother aside tonight and have some fun. Maybe she’d been a bit harsh just now, but who the hell did he think he was? A replacement for her Mum and Dad?

  As she walked into town she received countless whistles of approval from males driving past in cars. Even guys walking by on the footpath couldn’t help but openly ogle her. The attention made her smile. She really enjoyed men finding her attractive and sexy. It gave her chills of excitement and made her feel alive. Not to mention the confidence boost.

  She never glanced back at her apartment building as she headed up Elkhorn Avenue. With all the attention she was getting, her altercation with Ryan was already forgotten about. From her handbag she took a pack of cigarettes, lit one with a cheap plastic lighter and inhaled with satisfaction. Chelsea puffed away all the way to Cavill Mall before flicking the butt into the gutter. The plan was to meet up with her friends at Macca’s, so she made a beeline for the top end of the mall near the beach.

  Town was fairly quiet on a Monday night, but there were still quite a few people around; especially in the restaurants and fast food outlets. Chelsea stepped around a group of little kids and skirted a crowd of onlookers enthralled by the antics of a street performer. The man was currently juggling three swords whilst precariously balancing on a unicycle.

  “The things people do,” Chelsea quipped and strode along the mall.

  When she neared McDonald’s she spied her best friend, Emma, standing outside playing around with her mobile phone. Chelsea’s own phone buzzed. When she checked it she saw that it was a text message from Emma saying: Where are you?

  “I’m right here!” Chelsea called out to her friend.

  Emma grinned when she saw her, her pale green eyes lighting up. The girl was dressed scantily just like Chelsea, only her top and skirt were both black, as was her nail polish and lipstick. Her shoulder-length, raven hair added to the overall dark theme. However, her skin was naturally very pale and contrasted rather starkly with the black. Emma always looked underweight, even though she ate more than most of the guys they hung out with.

  As Chelsea gave her friend a quick greeting hug, Emma’s phone beeped. When she checked it a rather forlorn look crossed her features.

  “Rachel’s not coming,” she reported. “Has to work the night shift at Pizza Hut.”

  “What about Dean?” Chelsea said.

  Emma shook her head and Chelsea felt tinges of disappointment seep through her. She’d been looking forward to seeing him tonight. They’d been friends for years, but just recently she’d started to develop romantic feelings for him. The feelings weren’t strong, but they were definitely there.

  “Don’t look so devastated,” Emma told her. “Dean’s a mate. He’s like a brother. I really don’t think you should go there. If you want a boyfriend, find someone fresh and new and exciting. Dean’s just, well...Dean. Do you know what I’m sayin’, girlfriend?”

  Chelsea shrugged and reluctantly decided that her friend might be right.

  Emma said, “Let’s get some food. I’m starved.”

  They went into McDonald’s and lined up in one of four lines behind about five other people. When they were served, Emma opted for a Quarter Pounder Meal while Chelsea got a Chicken Caesar Wrap and a Coke. They found a free table outside right on the edge of The Esplanade. The sound of the nearby surf pounding on the beach could be heard when there was a break in the slow-moving traffic.

  “How come you weren’t at school today?” Emma asked between bites on her burger. She washed it down with a mouthful of Coke, then immediately took another bite while waiting for Chelsea to reply.

  “I’m thinking of quitting,” Chelsea said, contemplating her wrap, but not yet having taken a bite.

  “You’re what?”

  Chelsea went on to inform her friend of the offer of a fulltime job at Threads.

  “I want to earn money. I’m sick of school.”

  Emma made a face. “But we’re almost finished. There’s only a month to go.”

  “You sound like my brother.”

  “Well, if that’s what he told you, then he’s right. Ryan’s not such a bad guy.” She grinned wickedly then. “And he’s kinda cute.”

  “Don’t even think about going there,” Chelsea warned.

  “He’s single, isn’t he?” She was still grinning.

  “Emma. That’s gross. He’s my brother.”

  “But he’s not my brother.”

  “Emma!”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. Ryan’s off the menu. I’m just stirring you, anyway. But back to the school thing. Can’t you just hang in there for one more month?”

  Chelsea shrugged and ate some of her dinner. She spoke with her mouth full. “I don’t feel like I can go through all those end of year exams. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.”

  “Then don’t think about it.”

  “How can I not think about it?”

  They ate the rest of their meal in silence, their wandering eyes checking out the guys that walked by solo, in pairs, or in groups.

  “That one’s cute,” Emma said after swallowing her last mouthful of fries.

  “Nah.” Chelsea shook her head.

  “You and I have different taste, girlfriend.”

  “Yep. I don’t fancy Ryan for starters.”

  “That’d be a bit hard in your situation,” Emma pointed out the obvious, “but if he wasn’t your brother, you might think differently.”

  “No I wouldn’t,” Chelsea was adamant. “He’s twenty-five. That’s like middle-aged, almost.”

  Emma laughed, almost choking on her Coke. “Bet he’d just love to hear that.”

  Chelsea was still peeved with Ryan. “I don’t wanna talk about my brother anymore.”

  “Okay.” Emma stood up. “Then let’s go for a walk and have a smoke. We can talk about my eighteenth birthday party.”

  Leaving their rubbish on the table, the girls walked across the street and onto a pathway that followed the line of the beach. Floodlights lit up the sand at the end of the mall. A few people sat down there. Others wandered around at the water’s edge. The sound of the surf was quite loud, but soothing at the same time. The girls lit a smoke each and leaned on a handrail to gaze out over the beach.

  Emma said, “Friday night at the Broadbeach Community Centre. Make sure you’re not working. We start at eight. My parents will be there obviously, since they organized the thing. I’ll be allowed to drink, but if you want alcohol, you’ll have to sneak a drink outside. Maybe afterwards a few of us can come into town and go to a club.”

  “Sounds really good,” Chelsea said. “I need something to look forward to.”

  Six

  Toby Matthews squinted his eyes against the rancid smoke as he placed more wood on the campfire. Twigs crackled and snapped as they burned, the flames painting Toby’s face and arms in hues of red, orange and yellow. He hung a can of water from a stick he had propped up over the fire, the ends of the stick resting in the forks of two other sticks he’d jammed into the earth. The water sizzled quickly from the heat and would soon be boiling. Then he could have himself a nice cup of tea.

  Camping was prohibited where he was and fires were strictly forbidden. But he didn’t care. He’d been on this earth for quite a while now and all the modern rules and regulations were a personal pet hate of his. He actually enjoyed bending and breaking the rules, at least in small ways like he was tonight.

  Behind him he’d hitched up a small, two-m
an tent. The nylon was blue in colour with mesh closing in the doorway. He lived in nearby Canungra and he’d walked to his location. He needed to get out into the wilderness once in a while and he enjoyed the exercise it gave him. At sixty-two he was still very fit, but only because he made a concerted effort to stay in shape and not get lazy. Strangely, since his wife passed away two years ago, he seemed to enjoy solitary time more and more. In recent months he’d become a real loner. Some would say it wasn’t a healthy existence, but Toby relished it. Times like this invigorated him and it also made him somehow feel closer to Margaret; like he was connecting with her on some kind of earthy level. It was hard to explain, but he knew what he was feeling.

  He checked on the water just in time to see it start to boil. Holding a grimy rag in his leathery hand, Toby removed the can from the flames and dropped a Lipton teabag into it. Then he sat back and jiggled the draw string, releasing the succulent aroma of fresh tea.

  The night was clear and the stars were like a carpet of fine jewels against the blackness above him. He scanned back and forth, admiring the heavens and wondering what it would be like to be up there in one of those space shuttles. Those astronauts had the life. Big money, exciting journeys into outer space. How did one get a gig like that? he pondered.

  When the tea was brewed he added half a sugar for taste and just a dash of milk. The mix was stirred with a stained spoon, then he held the cup in both hands and brought it to his lips for a sip. It was delicious. From his pocket he removed a rather crumpled cigar. He bit off the end, jammed it between his yellowed teeth and lit it with a stick from the fire. He tossed the burning stick back into the coals and puffed tenaciously on the cigar to get it burning nicely. The flavour was strong and pungent, but he liked his cigars that way. Some people just puffed on them. Toby preferred to draw back on cigars like a cigarette. To him that was the only way to smoke them. He took a long drag, then chased it down with a sip of tea.

  Around him crickets were chirping. At the moment the sound wasn’t too bad, but when thousands of them got going, it could get quite overpowering. Toby hoped it stayed the way it was. For the most part he wanted peace and quiet. Somewhere nearby to his right an owl hooted. Its call was answered by another off to the left.

  He grinned. Were they planning to mate tonight? Good luck to the little buggers.

  Cigar smoke mingled with that of the fire. One of the fresher logs made a snapping sound as the flames licked up its sides. A breeze drifted through the valley, fanning the flames and making the fire glow temporarily twice as bright. Then the breeze was gone and the fire returned to normal once more. Now that his tea had cooled a bit, Toby gulped it down, sprawled out on his back on an old blanket and smoked his cigar while staring up at the night sky.

  He thought of Margaret then. He really missed his wife. One day they would be together again. No more cancer, no disease, no ageing bodies. He genuinely believed that and a part of him couldn’t wait for that day to come.

  Toby closed his eyes and reminisced about the good old days. He continued to puff on his cigar at regular intervals as he let his mind wander. Only when he felt the stub burning his fingers did he open his eyes and toss the remains into the flames. He closed his eyes again and relaxed, enjoying the calming sounds of the open fire and the wilderness at night. He soon started to doze and was on the verge of falling asleep when he heard a sound that didn’t quite fit in with nature’s music.

  There was the definitive crunch of twigs snapping under a heavy weight, and Toby could have sworn he heard footsteps slowly coming closer to his camp site.

  It wouldn’t be an animal. There was nothing around these parts other than lizards, scrub turkeys, birds and kangaroos. The only one of those that would be heavy enough to make those sounds was a kangaroo. But kangaroos hopped. They didn’t walk.

  Toby sat up and reached into a knapsack beside him. When he withdrew his hand it gripped a stainless steel knife with a seven inch blade. The blade gleamed with menace in the firelight. He got to his feet and into a crouch, ready to defend himself if it came to that. Could just be another camper out for a stroll. He listened intently. All had gone quiet. Even the crickets had stopped making a noise. Toby held his breath, his heart beating hard against his ribcage.

  There was a whooshing sound, like something flying or moving very quickly, only no footsteps this time. It was followed by a crashing noise in a thicket of bushes somewhere off to the left of Toby’s campsite.

  What the hell is it? Toby wondered, starting to feel very anxious. In the light of the fire he could see his knife hand shaking. He put his other hand over it to steady it, but his left hand was shaking as well, so it didn’t really help.

  A gust of wind suddenly ripped through the area, causing the flames of the fire to roar and dance around crazily until the wind had passed. Toby brushed hair away from his face and eyes. He started crabbing his way to the left, remaining in a crouch, keeping his centre of gravity low and his senses alert.

  Now he heard the heavy footsteps again, this time circling around behind him.

  Toby rose to his full height and spun around, expecting to see something emerging from the bushes and coming at him. There was nothing there, though several low branches of a tree just beyond the edge of the clearing were swaying back and forth.

  All went dead silent.

  Toby held his breath. He could both hear and feel a rapid pulse beating at his temple. Straining his eyes to see into the darkness beyond the camp fire, he spied nothing but deep shadows and blackness.

  What the hell was out there?

  Whatever it was, it seemed to be stalking him, toying with him to the point where Toby’s nerves were starting to fray.

  Something broke free of the forest to his left and darted across the campsite, moving so rapidly he couldn’t even be sure it had really happened at all. What it was, he couldn’t tell. It was just an indistinct blur of motion, though it was about the average height of a man.

  Maybe I’m losing it? Toby thought and rubbed his eyes. Was there some hallucinogenic in that tea? Perhaps dementia was setting in?

  He figured it was none of the above when he heard a sound somewhere in the forest just behind the tent. It was those slow, heavy footsteps again. Once more twigs snapped under the weight of whatever was lurking out there shadowing him, and possibly hunting him.

  The thought to call the police crossed his mind, but then he remembered there was no phone reception out where he was, no towers nearby to pick up a signal.

  No, he was on his own in this.

  Something was startled from the trees. Toby heard the faint flapping of wings. When he looked up he saw three bats flying overhead, rapidly retreating from the area. Bats gave him the creeps and he shuddered, the knife jerking around in his hand.

  He saw a shadow taking shape between the trees right behind his tent. Toby backed up until his left boot crunched on the hot coals at the base of the fire. He felt intense heat on his leg and realized his pants had caught alight. Dropping the knife to the dirt, he slapped at the flames with his bare hands, blistering the skin of his palms. The hairs on his calf had all singed off and a severe pain engulfed his entire lower leg by the time the flames were extinguished. He groped for the knife, felt the rubber handle and snatched it up. When he moved, pain shot up his leg, the skin having melted just above the line of his boot.

  Sensing something behind him, Toby slowly turned and there it was, standing motionless on the other side of the fire.

  It was a man dressed all in black to match his black hair. He was young, maybe early twenties, and looked very lean and fit judging by his stature. The most striking thing about him, though, was his sapphire blue eyes that seemed to glow brighter than the fire. The man wasn’t smiling, nor was he frowning. In fact his face was completely devoid of all expression.

  Toby searched the guys hands, but saw they held no weapon. He held up his lethal-looking knife to warn the intruder that he meant to cause serious harm if he was
attacked. The stranger glanced at the knife, completely unperturbed.

  Ever so slowly the guy broke into a smile. Well, more of a malicious grin, really. Toby watched in the firelight, mesmerized as two fangs started to protrude from the upper jaw. The stranger’s eyes darkened to a deeper shade of blue. They took on a dead look, emotionless, like that of a shark when it attacked and mauled its prey. The man opened his mouth wide and hissed at Toby.

  Toby’s heart hammered so hard and fast he feared it might crack a rib. His breathing was shallow and ragged now as fear gripped him in its iron fist.

  Who the hell was this man?

  More to the point, what was he?

  He felt caught in two minds. Should he advance on the man, threatening attack? Or should he retreat into the woods and make a run for it?

  Before he could make up his mind, the stranger disappeared back into the forest in a haze of rapid movement. There were the sounds of branches rustling and debris being crushed underfoot. Then all went deathly silent again.

  Toby came to his senses when the pain in his left leg became all-consuming once more. He seized a bottle of water and poured it all over the burn, filling his boot in the process. The water eased the pain a little, but not much.

  Trying to take his mind off the agony, he thought about what he’d just seen. What on earth was that? A vampire? Were the centuries-old legends real? It couldn’t be! Surely not! But how could he move so damned fast? And those eyes and fangs!

  Five minutes passed without incident. Toby saw and heard not a thing in that time and he hoped and prayed that the man, vampire, whatever it was, was long gone.

  But it wasn’t.

  Up above he heard that same whooshing sound he’d heard earlier. He looked up in time to see the figure of the stranger swooping down towards him. Instinctively Toby ducked, but all to no avail. The flying man was upon him in a split second, crashing into Toby’s ageing frame and crushing him to the ground. The knife flew from Toby’s hand and the air burst from his lungs; and with the man’s weight on top of him, he found it hard to take another breath.