Sands of Time

by Bruce A. Sarte

  “Take your troubles to the Lord. He will take the burden off your shoulders. These are things we were never meant to carry on our own.”

  It was as if she knew exactly what I was thinking and answered my internal question—what do I do? So I smiled and thanked her. Then I did something I had not done in years. I bowed my head and prayed.

  Forty-five minutes after leaving the church in Point Pleasant, we arrived at the Beachwood Country club and pulled into the parking lot. The country club was about two miles from the school, but you could see it up the coastline of the river. It was a perfect spot to park the van and take off from. We all gathered outside the van, and Curtis took over.

  “Okay, the boat is over there, ready to go.” He pointed to a small wooden rowboat. “Here, everyone take a pair of these.” He began handing out green tinted sunglasses. “These are new. Lightweight night-glasses. They’re rechargeable and run off of small watch batteries, so they’re light and easy to conceal, unlike goggles. However, they lack any of the features night-vision goggles have beyond allowing you to see better in the dark. There is no enhancement or targeting. But it is going to be dark down there, and we need to be able to see without flashlights. Okay, everybody in the boat.”

  We all started walking down the dock toward the boat, and the wind began whipping all around us. Curtis continued, “We’ll be able to dock at the school’s old dock and make our way around the front of the building. Remember, they use the old Naval Science entrance as their main way in and out, so be very careful when you pass it. You never know who will be about to come out.

  Everybody armed and ready?”

  Natalie and the pastor nodded, and I stared at him blankly. Were we really about to do this? Did I have any clue at all what I was doing? I quickly decided the answer to that was definitely “no.” But I had God with me, and that was more than enough.

  “Sam? You with us?” Curtis urged me.

  “I’m with you, brother.”

  It had been years since I was on a boat on this river. The last time was just before graduation, when I took Sandy out in a catboat for a sail. The day was sunny, the breeze was light, and she was beautiful. We sailed to the other side of the river and back on that day, and thinking about it, it felt like it was only yesterday. But tonight, we were in a small wooden rowboat and traveling about thirty feet from the shore, doing our best to hug the shoreline without being overly conspicuous. But, hey, who would notice four people all dressed in black rowing up the Toms River at dusk in a wooden boat? Seems totally normal to me. In about ten minutes, we were staring at the old wooden dock of Admiral Farragut Academy. The sunlight had almost completely faded, but it was apparent that mooring at the dock would not be easy. The dock was severely decaying, which made us stop to re-evaluate our landing point.

  “Curt,” I started, “I’m having trouble seeing somewhere that’s safe enough to tie up the boat and disembark. I don’t think the planks will hold our weight.”

  He didn’t answer right away, apparently assessing the situation as well. I could see his mind racing, trying to find a good place, but it just wasn’t there.

  Natalie and Pastor Paul were searching, too.

  “What if we tied up over by the boat house and tried our luck there? The boathouse was shored up a lot stronger than the rest of the dock because the dock master had all sorts of equipment in there.”

  Curtis didn’t respond to me; he looked over at the boathouse and nodded slowly.

  “Sam, that’s the best idea you’ve had in the past ten minutes. You think it’s empty?”

  “Hard to say—they practically gutted the school when it closed. Had a big auction and then people just started taking souvenirs. My guess would be anything substantial would have been removed, but we might find some small things in there.” I paused and then added, “Heck, for all we know, kids might be using it as a hangout.”

  We started to move toward the boathouse, which still looked fairly sturdy from twenty feet away. The dock running from the boat house to shore, on the other hand, not so much.

  “I somehow doubt anyone is using it to hang out in—how would they get there?” Natalie added in a loud whisper.

  “The same way we are going to get out of there,” Curtis said.

  “And how is that?” asked Pastor Paul.

  “The pilings are still perfectly strong, and the supports between them are sturdy as ever—it’s just the planks that cross the supports that might have rotted.

  We will have to walk across the supports to shore.”

  Natalie and I both nodded our heads in agreement, but Pastor Paul didn’t look convinced.

  “Really?” he began. “I’m not sure about this. I’m not really that good with the balance beam.” The boat came up to the boat house, and Curtis stood to take hold of the piling.

  “Sam, grab that piling, pull us in.” I did. Curtis and I both tied the boat securely to the pilings.

  “This puppy ain’t going nowhere without us!” he exclaimed triumphantly— or at least as triumphantly as you exclaim anything in a hushed whisper. Pastor

  Paul still didn’t look very happy about the plan, but didn’t say anything more about it.

  “I’ll go first, then Curtis, then the pastor, then Sam,” Natalie said and deftly pulled herself up onto the crossbeam. She stood and balanced herself with an agility and grace I had not seen in her before. It was impressive and very attractive to watch her shapely legs cross one in front of the other slowly but surely until she reached the next piling. She touched it lightly with one hand and swung her foot across it and onto the next crossbeam.

  When Natalie was securely on the second beam, Curtis pulled himself onto the crossbeam without any resemblance to the swift and graceful motions that moved Natalie. Nonetheless, in a matter of moments he, too, was standing and making his way across the beam. Natalie was now almost to shore, and Curtis was just making it to the second crossbeam. It was time for Pastor Paul to start making his way over.

  “Pastor?” I prompted him, but he didn’t move.

  “Sam, I am deathly afraid of heights. I don’t think I can do it.”

  I took him by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.

  “Believe in the Lord; ask for His guiding hand. He will guide you and be with you, helping you every inch of the way. You can do this.”

  That small reassurance that he was not in this alone seemed to be all he needed to jumpstart his engine and get him moving. He slowly pulled himself onto the beam and moved surprisingly quickly to the piling. Natalie was already ashore and checking her gear while Curtis was only two lengths of the dock away from the shore, and Pastor Paul had paused at the first piling. I sat waiting for him to put his weight on the second crossbeam so I could grab on. I had to wait—I didn’t want to shake the crossbeam and knock him off into the water. The sun had set, and there were only streaks of gold coming from the west end of the river. Daylight had vanished, and we weren’t even on shore yet. We had to move faster.

  Curtis reached shore, and finally the pastor began to make his way across the second crossbeam. There were ten in all, and I had a feeling this was still going to take awhile. When he was halfway across the second beam, I reached

  up and grabbed the piling, pulling myself up onto the crossbeam. It was dirty and heavily weatherworn. Much like the main building of the old campus, this area hadn’t seen any maintenance lately and had been left to decay.

  I began my trek across the beams, carefully putting one foot in front of the other until I reached the first piling. I took hold of it and looked around to take stock of where everyone was. Natalie and Curtis were on shore and looked like they were having a discussion about the building. Pastor was more than halfway to shore, so I continued onto the second crossbeam. I could feel the wind coming across the river and then swiftly up into my face. It was very brisk, and I began to feel a little off-balance. Focus, focus, focus. I had to focus. One foot in front of the other and slowly, very s
lowly, I made my way to the next piling. I looked up to find that Pastor Paul was almost there. I began to step up my pace, one slight step at a time. About three feet from the next piling, I heard a splash. I reached out for the piling for support and then looked up to see Pastor Paul in the water. Natalie and Curtis were rushing to his aid. But instead of flailing in the water helplessly, he was already standing up. The water ten feet from shore was only up to his mid-calf. He was making his way onto the beach, shaking his head in embarrassment. Seeing this made me a little more confident and I was able to quickly make my way to shore, knowing that if I fell in I would barely get wet. You’d think I’d have known that.

  Finally on shore, I joined the rest of the team standing by the padlocked gate that led to the street across from Farragut Hall. I stood on the wrong side of the ten-foot tall chain link gate and stared through it at the building. What was once an ominous symbol of the oppression of slightly off-balance ex-military and petty officers now stood as an eerie reminder that no matter where you go or what you do, the past always comes back to find you when you are at your most vulnerable. The pale yellow and grey brothel-turned-hotel-turned-military- boarding school was now a hot spot for what could only be called a modern day chamber of sin.

  There were no lights on in the building, but I could swear I saw people moving around in the well-secured windows. We couldn’t see the door to the

  Naval Science office from where we stood, but we could see the top of the stairs.

  I could see people—or Caelitus, I guess—coming out into the ever-approaching night. I watched one, a woman with black hair. She couldn’t have been older than 25, and she had a pretty face with high cheekbones. She appeared at the top of the steps and walked with a purposeful stride toward the road. Once she got to the road, she turned left and began running up Riverside Drive, and then she was gone. She ran so fast I couldn’t see her anymore. The Caelitus could move at an incredible speed. It was almost mesmerizing to watch them, one after another, appearing from the steps and repeating the same movements.

  “They’re leaving the nest,” Pastor Paul began. “Soon those who are going out to feed will all be gone, and there will only be a few left. Those are the ones who venture out in the daylight. They are the leaders of the clan. The most powerful among them.”

  “They’re so graceful and fast,” I said in an almost admiring tone.

  “Exactly,” said Curtis matter-of-factly, “and it makes them all the more dangerous. The ones left inside can kill you before you see them. The blood will be running down your shirt before you even realize that they slit your throat with their razor-sharp claws. That is why we have these.”

  And he produced small black boxes that he handed to each one of us.

  “This is the vamprator.”

  “The what? That sounds more than vaguely pornographic, Curt.”

  “Vamprator—it vibrates like a cell phone anytime one of them gets within 20 feet of you. An incredibly useful gadget when you’re stuck in the dark it just happens to have an incredibly silly name. Now, being inside the nest is going to make this thing go off like crazy, so just be aware when it does. It might be a false alarm. It detects pheromones that they give off. Usually, the pheromones serve to lull their victim into passive acceptance of the attention the vamp is showing them. You know, the same way that when a chick is into you, your pheromones keep her interest a hundred times stronger. This device picks the pheromones up and alerts you. It’s not perfect, but better safe then dead.”

  “Yes, yes,” Pastor Paul interjected, “but they won’t necessarily be out to kill us tonight. Especially you, Sam. If their goal was to kill you, you’d be dead already. Either that or…” He trailed off and looked up.

  “Or what?”

  “Or you are the chosen one sent by God.”

  “What?” exclaimed Natalie, a little too loudly. We all ducked down out of sight. Curtis reached down and switched on our vamprators.

  “Pastor, you can’t be serious,” she continued.

  “What do you mean, chosen one?” I asked skeptically. I had never been chosen for anything worthwhile.

  “It is written in the manuscripts that formed the Pius Sacratus centuries ago that one would come who would be immune to the charms of the Caelitus.

  Not only that, but that no Caelitus—or any other species of vampire, for that matter—would be able to kill or turn the chosen one.” I think the look on my face told him that I thought he hit his head when he fell in the water.

  “You know that birthmark you have on your lower back?”

  “Yeah, but wait… how did you know I have a birthmark on my back?”

  “Because I also know that it is shaped like the fish symbol that has been used for centuries to symbolize the marking of the Christians.” I had to think about it for a second, but I guess the birthmark did look like a fish. I hadn’t thought about it before, but here I was on the beach of the Toms River, a couple hundred feet from my old high school-turned-vampire nest, being told that I was the chosen one to eradicate the world of vampires. It was kind of heavy.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” started Natalie. And I picked up where she left off.

  “How did you know about the birthmark? And how can I be the chosen one?”

  Pastor Paul smiled slightly. “Sam, how do we know anything? The Lord just showed me your birthmark. He was telling me that you are, indeed, the chosen one. I caution you, this does not make you Superman. They can still catch you, hold you captive, and you can still be hurt in conventional ways. Your status only keeps you from being bitten or directly harmed by vampires. The Lord is with you and protects you from their evil.”

  Unbelievable was all I could mutter. It all made me want a bottle of Dr.

  Jack Daniels. But he wasn’t here now. It was only me. Me, the Pius Sacratus, and God. I was shaking my head, and I heard Pastor utter the words I didn’t want to hear.

  “It is time.”

  Before I knew what was happening, the lock was cut, the gate was open, and we were huddled across the street at the stairs that led to the building’s main entrance. We all looked at each other, and Curtis motioned us to keep low and make our way around the sign on the corner of Riverside and Radnor Avenue.

  The spot where all the vampires had started their run down Riverside.

  The entrance we were trying to get to was down Radnor and at the back of the building. We would have to keep low and undetected to make it without alerting anyone that we were here. We kept low and made it to the sign, stopping to make sure no one had noticed us. The front of the building was quiet—everyone who was leaving must have already gone. I could hear the waves lightly lapping at the beach across the street and the trees rustling lightly.

  Then I heard something else. I heard a distant and distressed, otherworldly voice.

  “Sam.”

  I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, but there it was again.

  “Sam. Hurry.” Sandy’s voice came through in an eerie monotone that sounded like three people speaking at the same time in a slightly different cadence. She inexplicably knew that I was here and was urging me on.

  The others had already begun to make their way up Radnor Avenue towards a collection of bushes at the back corner of the building.

  “Sam. Hurry. They are waiting for you.”

  The voice held me; I was frozen in place. I couldn’t move. I was staring forward, watching the others take cover behind the bushes. I saw Natalie look back and notice I was still at the sign. She was waving me to hurry and follow them. Her lips were moving, but she was too far for me to hear what she was saying. Sandy ‘s pained voice spoke to me again.

  “Sam, hurry, we are all waiting.”

  I shook my head and ran quickly to the bushes to catch up with the group.

  “What were you doing?” Natalie asked insistently.

  “Sandy knows we’re here—she was talking to me.”

  That got everyone’s attention. Pastor Paul looked
at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.

  “She told me they are waiting for me, and that I have to hurry.”

  “Incredible,” was all Paul had to say.

  “Then we shouldn’t disappoint,” Curtis began. “Okay, the door is just over there.” He pointed to the alleyway that led to the tailor’s door. “It doesn’t look like anyone is around. Keep low, keep quiet, and keep moving. Let’s go!”

  One by one, we made our way to the alley. Curtis, Pastor Paul, Natalie, and then I went. Once inside the alley, Curtis began to examine the door. It looked like it was still the same old wooden door, just with a padlock on the outside. Curtis made quick work of the padlock and slowly opened the door. It creaked loudly as he opened it.

  “Okay, everyone in. I’m going around to set the explosive on the other entrances, then back to the van. Sam, when everyone is out, radio me and I’ll begin detonation of the explosives.”

  We all nodded in understanding. Then, donning our night-glasses, we shuffled into the dark room. I could see racks filled with clothing and tables that had piles of clothing scraps on them. This room looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. The door shut behind us. This was it.

  “There is a door, Sam.”

  Taking Sandy’s cue, I led the team to the back of the room. I looked around and finally saw a door in the corner behind a rack of clothing.

  “Nat, over there,” I said, pointing to the rack.

  “There it is!” she exclaimed. Natalie darted to the rack and moved the clothes out of the way. Pastor Paul and I followed to examine the door. I tried the handle. To my amazement, the handle turned, and the door opened into a dark and musty hallway. Hallway might have been an overstatement; it looked more like a path that led to the bowels of the building, it was lined with pipes and with pitch black. Good thing we had our night-glasses. None of us spoke as we went down the hall, descending into the darkness of the building. There was no sound beyond the shuffling of our feet.

  “The path splits at the end—go to your right,” Sandy’s voice guided me.

  We continued down the path, and about fifty feet later, I saw a wall coming up in front of us. But when we reached the wall, the path stopped. I didn’t see any way to continue.