Five Days of Darkness

by Greg Hall

  “And that’s why I came along. To help guide you. But if you go into the woods off of his suggestions, then we are done. We will go our separate ways.”

  Modeste stared at him long and hard. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. She wanted to open Henri’s eyes to the world that people like him would never understand. Make him understand the cruelties that he would never fully understand. She wished he knew what it felt like to be forced into the back of the train like livestock. The feeling of being glared at in every town they visited. How the color of your skin automatically deemed you less than human.

  It was so easy for Henri to accept the help of a slave hunter. This man hunted her people, dragged them back to their captors. Back to the people who raped them, beat them, destroyed them physically and mentally.

  This was not the time to lay it out for him. Henri didn’t understand, and there was nothing, at this moment, that Modeste could say to change his mind.

  “You’ve made your choice,” Modeste said, turning away from Henri. She took a moment and waited in hopes he had anything else to say.

  Henri didn’t say a word.

  Modeste continued on her way. She was heading back to the slums in hopes of catching some sleep. Hopefully her slumber could help calm her down. Henri’s actions caused a pain she hadn’t felt in many years. Henri was a gleam of hope in such a dark world. His words and actions were heartfelt, and she didn’t understand how he could be so blind to why she was hurt.

  A big part of her had hoped that she would hear footsteps following behind her. Hear Henri’s voice calling out from behind and telling her that he wouldn’t listen to the slave catcher. That he had made a mistake, and, even though they had a chance to catch the bloodsucker, they wouldn’t have to surrender their morals to achieve it.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what she was expecting from him. They were from two different worlds, and although they were both desperate to find the bloodsucker, it wasn’t enough to bring them together.

  She heard footsteps behind her, and she paused with hope. She waited and listened, but the steps were moving away from her. She lowered her head and let the hope fade.

  She walked away.

  20

  Henri was stricken with fear as he stepped onto the pathway. There was nothing but black in front of him. He had taken a torch, but the orange glow only illuminated a five-foot radius around him. The glare of his burning torch made it harder for him to see beyond.

  Chirping crickets mocked his every step. A toad croaked and startled Henri, causing him to stumble. Henri knew he shouldn’t have journeyed on the path by himself. He wished Modeste were right there beside him, even though the trail was likely too rough for her to make it.

  He thought about Modeste and what she had said. Henri felt an uncontrollable urge to follow the path and find the bloodsucker. There was a duality playing out in his consciousness. He wanted to run to Modeste and confide in her that he didn’t want to go. He wanted to say to her that there felt like a force pulling him down the path, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He felt stupid for thinking that way, and he knew the only person who would have believed that there was a force pulling him was Modeste. But, Henri left her believing that he left because of the slave catcher who told him to leave. He couldn’t find the strength to admit he was compelled down the path, and the slave catcher simply reinforced his feeling.

  No matter where his mind wandered, his thoughts always came back to the bloodsucker. The shadow beyond the flame had been burned into his memory. The same force was calling him deep into the night. James told him this was the right direction, but Henri already felt it.

  Farther away, he could hear the search party calling out from somewhere. Henri could only see a few feet in front of him, and the brush was growing thicker. His right leg caught a thorn from a blackberry bramble. He thought he must be getting closer.

  The light from Henri’s torch lit the broad side of a derelict building. The boards were rotten down the side from years of New Orlean’s wet weather. There were no windows, and it appeared only to be used as a resting place during the track laying. There remnants of the door hung haphazardly to the right. What was left of it, anyway? It was a single sheet of wood attached with crooked hinges.

  The crickets and toads quieted as Henri stepped closer to the shack. The eerie silence panicked him, just a little. His heartbeat pounded in his throat, and he swore that anyone within earshot could have heard it..

  His torch flickered and went out.

  Henri was engulfed in darkness. He stopped in his tracks. An eerie feeling rushed over him and suddenly he knew he wasn’t alone. It took everything in his power to not run away.

  No matter what, there was no going back now. A cracking branch to his left caught his attention. The sound sent a rising shiver down his back. Now that Henri was standing, unarmed and afraid, he realized he was defenseless against the bloodsucker. Even if he had a weapon, he was still at a disadvantage. He had never used anything that resembled a weapon before. He would have more likely hurt himself than an attacker.

  “You’re late,” a hollowed voice called out. Its voice reverberated around Henri.

  Henri spun on his heels. He tried to see through the darkness, but his eyes found nothing. If he tried to run now, the bloodsucker would be faster. If anything, now was at least the moment where Henri could discover somethiing about the killer.

  “Who are you?”

  “You’ve come all this way, and that’s the first thing you ask me?” the voice responded. “I know you’re intrigued by me. By what I am.”

  “And what are you?”

  “Modeste already told you everything.”

  He knew them. He knew they’d been following him.

  “Where is she, by the way? The trail too much for her?” he said scornfully and let out a slight snicker. The harsh, menacing sound radiated three hundred and sixty degrees around Henri, reverberating down Henri’s spine.

  Part of Henri wanted to see the beast the voice belonged to, but the other part wanted to be kept in the dark. Regret rushed over Henri. He should have never come here alone. He should have tried to convince David to send a group this way. He could have left out the part of the bloodsucker and just concentrated on the killer traveling Louisiana.

  Henri thought of the girl. He realized now, it was too quiet. The only sound was the voice of the bloodsucker. Either she was already dead or unconscious in the dilapidated shack.

  “Where is she?” Henri asked. “Is she still alive?”

  There was no response for what felt like an eternity. The air was crisp around Henri. It was an unfamiliar feeling—a feeling he had never felt during these Louisiana nights.

  “You don’t care about the girl, do you? You didn’t come here for her. You didn’t come here for the bodies I left behind,” the voice said.

  Henri felt the breath of the bloodsucker in his ear. It whispered in Henri’s ear, “You’re here for yourself.” Henri tried to turn toward the voice, but his muscles were locked. His eyes dried, and he couldn’t even blink. If he had a chance to run, that chance was gone. He was just as vulnerable now as he was when he was in front of the fire. Paralyzed.

  “No…” Henri choked out.

  There was nothing but silence. Henri kept trying to move, but his body was frozen on the spot. His mind raced with fear, everything from his life culminating into this moment. He thought about how he was questioning God’s existence, and now, he might find exactly what was waiting on the other side. Most people would have taken this moment to say their final words to their maker, but that thought didn’t cross Henri’s mind.

  The last thought that came to his mind was Modeste. Her face. Her smile, and about the joy they shared while dancing. Henri thought about all three of those things just as the blunt end of something hard struck the side of his head.

  Just before his world went black, he saw young Eli staring back at him.

  Part II


  The Hunt

  21

  The embers of the fire continued to burn.

  Every time Modeste started to drift into sleep, a sound startled her awake and she refocused her eyes on the fire. Her eyes were red with fatigue and heat from the fire. The crowd had long dispersed. A few remained, cleaning up the remnants of what was supposed to be a joyous gathering.

  Franklin remained with the rest of the cleaners, collecting dirtied plates and placing them into a small tray. Modeste could tell that everyone else looked up to him. They would ask him what to do next and where to go. Every so often as he cleaned up, Franklin’s eyes would go to Modeste.

  “There’s a bed inside,” Franklin said as he collected another chair.

  His voice brought Modeste back from another snooze. She gave him a half smile. She didn’t want Franklin to see how much she cared for Henri. She was mad at him, but she was worried about him too. She wished didn’t go alone. He didn’t know the first thing about stopping a bloodsucker, and Modeste knew she didn’t do enough to warn him about what the monster was capable of.

  “I’m alright,” Modeste finally replied, struggling to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t slept much over the previous days, and it was catching up with her.

  “That man likes you, you know.”

  “What are you talking about?” Modeste asked, annoyed that he would even suggest something so foolish.

  “He’s a man of the cloth and he was willing to lay hands on me because he thought I was going to hurt you.”

  “If he cared about me, he wouldn’t have spoken to that man, once he realized he was a slave hunter,” Modeste said with disgust.

  The very thought of Henri taking advice from the hunter turned her stomach. They’d only known each other a short time, but she’d thought Henri was different. He showed her a caring nature that she hadn’t seen in a long time. But she was wrong. Henri was just like rest. He was kind when it benefitted him.

  “Did you expect anything different?” Franklin’s question was honest.

  “I did. I hoped for more,” Modeste said. The words hurt her heart. Modeste opened herself up to him, and he let her down. Most white men shared Henri’s perspective that she was used to. Over the past few days, Henri was opening his mind, showing understanding and kindness. The fact that she had started to care for the man, made his choice hurt so much more.

  “You two are from different worlds. Worlds that can’t seem to work together.”

  “It’s not like that. Sometimes you think you found someone who might be different. I haven’t found a connection like that in a long time.”

  “And he connected with you?”

  “I think so,” Modeste began, then thought about it some more. “I don’t know.”

  Franklin kicked some loose burnt logs back into the pit. The motion tossed the embers and sparks crackling into the black sky.

  Modeste felt the heat warming her skin. The sensation caused her eyes to shut. The temporary relief caused tears to form. She let them fall. The release of emotion felt calming. She had not cried in years. Even when her daughter went missing, she saved the tears. She was determined to keep them until she learned the truth. The tears she shed today were only a ripple of what she had been holding.

  “You know he doesn’t understand. He could never,” Franklin said.

  “Understand?”

  “Understand why using a slave hunter would make you so mad. No matter how you try to explain it to him, he will never understand. His history is different and unrelatable,” Franklin said, then continued, “but his actions were meant to harm you.”

  “I told him. I told him how I felt. I asked him not to. He should know how I feel.”

  “And why did you two come here?”

  “To stop the bloodsucker.”

  “And what is Henri doing right now?”

  “Trying to stop…” Modeste started but quickly realized where Franklin was leading. “Look, I’ll tell you exactly what I told Henri, we cannot surrender our morals just to achieve our goals.”

  “This is different. You both came to find this killer, to stop him from killing more, correct?”

  “Of course.”

  “Neither of you have done this before. He’s a priest, and you’re a healer; not the typical duo to be hunting a killer.”

  “All the more reason to stick together. Utilize what we have to offer each other.”

  “And utilize any help you can from people, no matter how they became an expert,” Franklin said. He had a smirk creeping up the corners of his mouth.

  “So I should surrender my morals?”

  “Not at all. But you’re not becoming friends with the catcher. After tonight, you probably won’t ever see him again.”

  “And how many of our ancestors did he catch? I can’t believe you’re defending him.” Modeste felt the urge to get up and leave, but there was nowhere else to go. She’d already left Henri, and if she were to walk away from Franklin, she would have no one.”.

  “Defending him? This has nothing to do with the slave catcher. It has to do with the missing girl. I would surrender my morals for a moment if it meant that girl comes back alive. And besides, it’s not like there was an arrangement with the slave catcher. He didn’t accept payment”

  “And all those looking for that girl, would they do the same if it was one of us? If it were Kenny?”

  “Don’t say that. Leave Kenny out of it.” Franklin shot back.

  Modeste knew the words were going to have an impact. She was a guest here, so she wanted to make sure she didn’t ruin her welcome. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Modeste began to think back to her talk with Henri. She wished she had stayed and had an actual conversation with him and not walked away angrily. A sudden panic came over her, and she realized that maybe the final moments they had together were shrouded in anger.

  She watched Franklin stand and walk toward the fire. He stared off into the orange glow and appeared to be lost in the heat, almost identical to how Henri stood a few hours previously.

  “Get some rest,” Franklin said, without taking his eyes off of the fire. “It’ll be awhile before anyone comes back.”

  Modeste wrapped the blanket tighter. “I’m going to stay out until Henri returns.”

  Embers cracked and split, releasing sparks into the night above her. Every time one would snap, Modeste would react.. Her nerves were worse than normal. She wasn’t scared of the bloodsucker. At least that’s what she told herself. She wasn’t scared of death, so fear of how her life might end wasn’t something that bothered her.

  A commotion from across the field toward where the white folk had gathered, grabbed Modeste’s attention. She noticed some of the women started to come back to the center of town. They were all watching the entrance to where the group of men had entered the forest. Modeste squinted to follow their line of sight and saw a faint glowing orange coming through the trees. The lights multiplied as Modeste heard the voices of people coming through the trees.

  It was so quick, she thought.

  “So quick? That’s good, right?” Modeste asked, but Franklin was busy with a man she didn’t recognize. The man whispered something in Franklin’s ear, and his face became solemn after hearing the news.

  “They finished their search,” Franklin said in a strained voice. Modeste wondered why it seemed so hard for him to speak. “They found the killer.”

  “That’s great,” Modeste exclaimed. She smiled and thought about how their journey might finally come to an end. “So why do you look so disturbed?”

  “It’s Henri,” Franklin said, then added, “it doesn’t look good.”

  22

  Henri always wanted for his father to be proud of him.

  His father had a temper, and he never knew what would set him off. Sometimes, his father would go weeks without speaking to the rest of the family. Other times, he would simply disappear for days on end. Henri’s mother would remind them that i
t was better that he wasn’t there to lay a beating on either of them.

  For years, Henri wondered why his mother remained by her husband’s side, and never chose to protect her children. But she suffered more than he did. Not only was she physically and emotionally abused, but she had to watch as her only son received the same punishment.

  Henri lost himself in books. Henri loved stories. When Henri landed his hands on a copy of the Bible, he was enthralled. Not only was it full of educating stories, but the book gave him hope. He found hope. He knew the book was his ticket away from his father.

  When Henri was thirteen, and his father left for a few days, Henri grabbed his mother and took her to Saint Landry’s parish. After the civil war, the parish had opened a shelter for women who had lost their family in the war. They took in women from all over Louisiana. It remained open well after the war, and they continued helping women in New Orleans. Henri and his mother stayed there. Henri volunteered and his mother found comfort and salvation.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after that his mother was diagnosed with tuberculosis and lost her life to consumption.

  Henri remained with Saint Landry’s and found his calling. He spent his time with the brotherhood, and finally saw his father one last time while the man had come to confess his sins and wish his son well. It was a nice moment of closure for Henri, but also made him wonder why he ever wanted to make his father proud to begin with.

  All he wanted was to make the Lord proud now.

  Henri didn’t know why he was reflecting on all of those thoughts. He saw his mother. He saw his father. He actually saw everyone who wasn’t involved in his life anymore. In fact, it was all individuals he knew who had passed away.

  He thought about his upbringing as Henri floated down the bayou on a wooden skiff, he saw all the people from his past. The people he loved. The ones he used to hate. There was an endless black abyss that surrounded him as he continued to float past everyone.

  A glowing light appeared at the end of the abyss, but the skiff seemed to stop. Henri saw a vision in front of him. Henri noticed that he was not only surrounded with people of his past, but there were also strangers who were hypnotically staring into the glow.