Night: Final Awakening Book Three (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by J. Thorn

  Glancing into his side mirror, Dax saw the girls a few car lengths behind him. Saw’s head stuck out over the top of the pickup. Her hair blew in the wind as she held up the crossbow and scanned the fields. Zoe was driving and talking to Alex.

  While he was still worried he was putting them in danger, Dax was glad the Casket Girls had insisted on joining him. He’d never seen anyone fight the way they had—man or woman. Not even in prison. They would be powerful allies against the Screamers, and they had known Papa Midnight, which meant he could trust them with his life.

  Dax thought about the voodoo priest when a ringing began in his head. It sounded like the wind, and he ignored it at first, thinking that’s exactly what it was. But when it came again, he knew for sure the noise was inside of his head.

  His vision blurred and the breeze-like noise turned into a high screech, almost like a siren.

  Dax swerved, nearly laying down the bike. He squeezed the brakes and overcame his blurred vision to pull off the side of the road. He’d almost come to a complete stop when the bike hit the dirt and slid from under him, sending him crashing to the dirt.

  Alex slammed the brakes and the truck’s doors opened.

  Dax lay on his back staring at the sun as the three girls stood over him.

  But their faces soon disappeared, and he suddenly wasn’t lying on his back looking up at the sun.

  He was somewhere else—a cold and dark place.

  Across the room sat a woman. She had her red hair up in a bun you’d see on a 50s pin-up model. She wore a sleek black dress with a leather jacket over the top. And her eyes glowed.

  Another figure in the room stood next to her. Like the seated redhead, this man had glowing eyes. And when the female vamp’s mouth moved, Dax could hear what she said.

  “We have to act fast. The human has already demonstrated his growing power by defeating the soldiers I sent to capture him. The ‘biker gang’ thing didn’t fool him. He’s smart.”

  “What will you do, Master Bronwyn?” the male vampire asked.

  “Ambrose thinks we have formed an alliance. But I will orchestrate a better deal with Jing and Jaraca. We’ll use Ambrose’s army to find the human, but then we are going to destroy the North American Master. It shouldn’t be hard. Jaraca is weak, and Jing already wants Ambrose destroyed. And with Ambrose gone, there will be no question as to who the most powerful vampire in the world is, and I can have Jing and Jaraca at my side as I become the one true leader. A god, if you will. It will be—”

  Dax heard the screech intensify, and his mind was yanked from the vision. He was looking back up at the sky again, the sun blocked out by the Casket Girls standing over him.

  Coming to, he sat up.

  “What the fuck was that?” Saw asked.

  Alex kneeled in front of Dax and cupped his chin with her hands. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  Dax blinked several times, placing his hands over Alex’s and looking into her eyes. “I don’t know. I heard this high-pitched noise in my head and my vision blurred. Then when I fell, I saw something.”

  “Saw what?”

  “I was somewhere else. A dark room. And there were people there.”

  “Who?”

  “I think it was the Master vampire who’s coming after us.”

  24

  They’d only made it fifty miles before Dax had nearly dumped the bike and blacked out to eavesdrop on the conversation of the Master vampire trying to hunt him down. After he’d recovered, Alex decided it was best to find a place where Dax could rest for a bit, although he’d said he wanted to keep going.

  He was riding in the cab of the truck when they pulled up to the farmhouse a quarter of a mile down the highway. A single vehicle sat in the driveway, and Dax wondered if someone was inside.

  Saw pulled up beside the truck, letting the motorcycle idle. Of the three girls, she was the only one who had ever ridden a bike, so she’d been the one to follow them on it.

  “I’ll check it out to make sure it’s clear,” Saw said. She pulled her crossbow off her back and crept toward the house, the arrow locked and her finger on the trigger.

  “How are you feeling?” Alex asked Dax as Saw went around the side of the house.

  “Better.”

  His head felt foggy—as if he was coming off a nice buzz. He had heard something important, and yet he still had so many questions. Why had he been pulled into that vision? And was he seeing visions in real time now, live, or had that been a conversation Bronwyn had already had? Or was he seeing into the future, ‘hearing’ the conversation before it took place?

  A crash at the front of the house pulled Dax from his thoughts.

  Saw’s boot stomped down on the ground as the door swung back toward her. She had apparently come back around to the front of the house and decided to kick the door down. She entered the house, her crossbow still raised.

  “She got a few screws loose?” Dax asked.

  “Do normal people take their nicknames from tools?” Zoe asked.

  Dax smiled, letting out a laugh.

  “Her parents weren’t around when she was younger,” Alex said. “Her uncle raised her. All he knew was fixing cars and hunting. So that’s what Saw became.”

  “And what about you? What’s your story?”

  Alex looked away, twirling a lock of hair on her finger. “I—”

  Another crash came from the house. From inside.

  “Saw,” Zoe said.

  The two girls jumped out of the truck and Dax followed. Together, they ran up the stairs and bolted through the front door.

  “Saw!” Alex screamed, looking around the living room.

  “Over there,” Zoe said, pointing into the kitchen.

  Through the doorway, Dax could see Saw’s boots on the floor, her toes pointing to the ceiling.

  They hurried into the kitchen, where Saw lay on her back.

  “Oh, God. Saw,” Alex said, kneeling down next to the girl.

  Dax saw her chest rising and falling slowly, her face pale and her eyes blank. Alex slapped her lightly across the face, but Saw didn’t react.

  “There’s someone in the house,” Dax said. “We’ve got to find them.”

  He took a step toward the stairs leading to the second floor.

  Zoe used her arm to bar the doorway. “You stay here with her. We’ll go look.”

  Before he could protest, Alex and Zoe were out of the kitchen, one of them heading upstairs and the other checking the rooms downstairs.

  He turned his attention to Saw. She hadn’t moved, and her breathing appeared to have slowed.

  She’s dying, he thought.

  Dax opened drawers until he found a towel. He reached into his bag and retrieved a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, he poured water onto the towel even as he folded it and kneeled next to Saw. Pressing the rag against her forehead, he took her hand.

  “Hang in there,” Dax said, realizing how stupid the words sounded at the moment. “Keep breathing.”

  As he looked at her, though, he noticed something strange—no apparent injuries, no blood. He carefully slid his hand underneath the back of her head and felt for a bump or a cut—nothing. By this time, Saw had stopped breathing and her eyes remained open in a blank stare.

  “I think she’s dead,” he whispered.

  Saw’s right arm shot out and she grabbed Dax by the throat. A gurgling sound came from her throat then, and she let go of him.

  “Shit!” Dax said, scampering away until his back slammed into the kitchen cabinets.

  The strange noise coming from Saw morphed into a snicker. She rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach and laughing.

  Dax furrowed his brow. “What the fuck?”

  Alex and Zoe appeared in the doorway, both sporting grins.

  “Oh, shit,” Saw said. “You should have seen your face. It was classic!”

  Standing up, Dax balled his hands into fists. “What the fuck is this? I thought you were dead. Is th
is some kind of prank?”

  “Not a prank,” Alex said.

  “Hell yeah, it was,” Saw said, still laughing and rolling around on the floor.

  “Fuck this, and fuck y’all,” Dax said. He stomped out of the kitchen and headed for the front door. He was down the stairs and halfway to the motorcycle when he heard feet hit the front porch behind him.

  “She was playing possum,” Alex said.

  “No shit.”

  “It’s a trick Papa Midnight taught us.”

  Dax stopped and turned around. “What are you talking about?”

  Alex walked down the stairs and onto the lawn, stopping in front of Dax. “Look, I’m sorry we did that. It was my idea. I thought that if we could fool you, this technique would work on the real enemy, human or otherwise.” She opened her hand to reveal a mix of leaves and powder.

  “What’s that?” Dax asked.

  “It’s a concoction that Papa Midnight taught us to make. Combined, these leaves and powder slow down your heart rate. It makes you appear dead.”

  Dax looked at her hand again, then shifted his gaze to her face. “You mean this can trick the Screamers into thinking you’re dead?”

  Alex smiled and nodded. “Saw only took a little bit, so the effect didn’t last long. We wanted to show you how it works—and test it, too.”

  “Well, you could have told me first.”

  “Yeah, but we needed to see your honest reaction. Now we know that it works—for sure.”

  Dax sighed. “How much of it do you have?”

  “Plenty.”

  “Good. I’m sure it will come in handy.”

  Saw walked through the front door with a smile on her face and stood next to Alex with her hand out to Dax. “You forgive me, big guy?”

  “Yeah,” Dax said, giving her a quick side-five. “But don’t go ‘testing’ shit on me again. I almost crushed your fucking face in.”

  “Pretty me? Nah, you wouldn’t do that.”

  Dax shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

  Alex put her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go inside. You can rest before we hit the road again. We’ve still got plenty of daylight left, but we need to make sure you’re good to go.”

  25

  Dax lay on his back, staring up at a lacerated sky—bloody red streaks through shades of gray. The dark grass surrounded him. Sitting up, he saw an open field. This dreamscape looked different than every other one where he’d met Papa Midnight. Those previous worlds hadn’t looked as sick as this one.

  He glanced around, searching for the tree and the voodoo priest. But he didn’t find either of them. Turning all the way around, he spotted a tattered barn with light creeping from the partially open door.

  Where am I?

  Dax pushed himself to his feet. Puddles of blood were pooled on the dirt path leading to the barn. This felt different… like he knew he was sleeping, but he wasn’t going to talk to Papa Midnight this time.

  He approached the barn. The paint on the wooden slats had faded and chipped at the edges, many of the nails pulling away from the support beams. Dax caught a whiff of something, a smell like mildew and rotten eggs. The closer he got to the door, the stronger the stench became. The odor made the dream seem too real.

  Dax opened the door and light spilled to his feet. Someone had lit dozens of candles inside of the barn, but the burning wax couldn’t disguise the smell. Meat hooks hung from the ceiling, most of them suspending human bodies in the air. The hooks that were empty had blood dripping from their tips.

  “What the fuck is this place?” Dax wasn’t even fully aware he’d spoken out loud.

  “This is your future.”

  The voice came from a shadow moving on the other side of the room, its tone familiar, coming from a not-so-distant part of his past. A figure moved into the light, revealing his face.

  “You son of a bitch,” Dax mumbled.

  Isaac stood in the middle of the barn, several steps from Dax. He clasped his hands behind his back, and he grinned.

  “Son of your Master, I think you mean.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Isaac’s smile grew wider. “How do you think this will end, Jackson?”

  “I know exactly how it will end.”

  “Then humor me.”

  “You’re going to die a painfully slow death, and then I’m going to destroy your Master.”

  “You really think that?”

  “You killed Chloe. And I don’t give a damn if Serafino made you. You still did it. And you’re going to pay for it.”

  “Ambrose will kill you, Dax. You need to give up. Surrender, and perhaps he’ll let you live.”

  “And what? Be some human slave? Is he gonna put me on one of those hooks?”

  “That is how he will keep you alive if you don’t cooperate. He’s powerful, and he has convinced the other three Masters to join him in their quest to hunt you down.”

  Dax thought of the vision from before—the one with the redheaded vampire known as Bronwyn. It was all starting to make sense now. While Ambrose thought he had united the Masters, this Bronwyn had conspired behind his back. Dax had knowledge that Isaac didn’t.

  “They’ve got to find me first.”

  “And how long do you think it will take them?”

  “That Bronwyn bitch already sent a group after me. She thought she was being smart by disguising them as bikers, but did she tell you what I did to them?”

  Isaac tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

  “She didn’t tell you and Ambrose,” Dax said. “Did she?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We will find you.”

  “Not with turmoil within your own. Those four factions will turn on each other before they get to me.”

  Isaac took a few steps forward. “Don’t do this, Dax. I can assure you that you will suffer if you don’t give yourself up. If you give in, I might be able to persuade Ambrose to only—”

  “Fuck you,” Dax said, taking a step forward to move within inches of Isaac’s face. “Don’t pretend like you and I are friends. We never were. You despised me from the moment we met. Because Chloe loved me, and you couldn’t handle it.”

  Isaac grinned. “Very well. Then prepare to join her.”

  Isaac turned around, and as he did, two of the hooks swung. He walked by them and headed for the other side of the room as the bodies on the hooks turned all the way around to face Dax.

  Gabby and Chloe looked back at him.

  “Jackson,” Gabby said faintly.

  Dax ran to her. He put his arms around her, trying to lift her off the hook, but she wouldn’t budge. He then stood in front of Chloe, trying to do the same for her. She also didn’t move. Dax looked up into her face as tears streamed down his.

  “Chloe, I’m so sorry.”

  “You have to listen to him, Dax. I can’t bear to watch you die.”

  “I’m not going to.”

  “There’s no way you can win,” Gabby said.

  Dax nodded. “But I can. I’m the one to end this.”

  “Just because the voodoo priest believed in you doesn’t mean you can win,” Chloe said. “Give up the fight. Come be with us. Come be with all of us.”

  Other hooks rotated, and more recognizable faces appeared—Barb, Marie, Neil, Chuck.

  Dax backed away. He kept his eyes on Chloe as he shook his head.

  “It’s nothing but a trick,” he said. “Chloe would never tell me to give up, and neither would my sister. No one believed in me in the way you two did.”

  Both girls laughed, the sound morphing into a deep, low resonance like the growling of an angry tiger.

  Dax turned and walked out.

  The door exploded behind him as he stepped outside. He flew through the air and out of his nightmare, screaming into the night.

  26

  Bronwyn crept from her room soon after the sun went down. She’d slipped into a silk red dress with a slit in the back and a deep V that ended at her belly bu
tton. She had curled her hair, and she let it cascade over her shoulders while slipping into a pair of stilettos to accent her toned legs.

  She sauntered down the hall like a serpent eyeing its prey. Around the corner at the end of the hall, two guards stood on each side of a carved, mahogany door. They stepped in front of it as she approached. Did Ambrose really think they would stop her?

  Using her strengthened telekinesis, she entered their minds. The two guards stepped out of the way, dropping to their knees. As she walked between them, she patted each on the head.

  “Good boys.”

  She entered the room, shutting the door behind her.

  The large, open room looked like an old brothel. The chest of drawers, mirrors, and bed had the worn finish of late nineteenth-century craftsmanship. The gaudy gold trim on the bed net represented everything she hated about New Orleans—colonials doing their best to be posh.

  Out of the bathroom came Ambrose, wearing a blue robe.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Bronwyn shrugged. “I needed something to do.”

  “Well, I’m a little busy at the moment.” Ambrose looked the European Master up and down, his eyes pausing in all the right places. “That is, unless, you’d like to join me.”

  Bronwyn moved to where she could see past Ambrose and into the far corner of the room where the light couldn’t reach. A girl of about eighteen years old stood in front of the wide vanity—her face blank and her eyes slightly illuminated.

  “Feeding? Where you sleep? I didn’t see you as such.”

  “Would you like some?” Ambrose asked.

  Bronwyn ran her finger over her lips and swayed her hips as she went to the young girl. She was thin—too thin for Bronwyn’s taste. A blonde streak highlighted the girl’s auburn hair. Although she was skinny, Bronwyn could see why Ambrose had hunted her.

  “She is beautiful,” Ambrose said. “But full of fear and carrying a broken past. See for yourself.”