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

by J. Thorn

“Yeah, I got you.”

  Cliff set down his shotgun and walked down the porch steps. His eyes blazed as he looked at Dax. He stopped a few feet from Dax and looked him up and down.

  “I’m going to check you for weapons. And I don’t recommend that you try anything stupid. Sam up there could knock the sweat off a pig from the other side of the track. You feel me, fella?”

  “Yeah,” Dax said. “I feel you.”

  Cliff patted Dax down, starting at his waist and checking his legs, back, and chest—everywhere. He, of course, found nothing. Cliff then stood straight up and stared into Dax’s eyes.

  “You believe me now?” Dax asked.

  “I’m not sure I got your name.”

  “Dax.”

  “Never heard a name like that around these parts.”

  “Ain’t from around these parts. I’m from Louisiana. Heading north because New Orleans is gone.”

  Cliff turned to Sam and the two men shared a look. He then refocused on Dax.

  “Gone?”

  Dax nodded.

  “Well, that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing on my property.”

  “We have an injured woman.” Dax thumbed toward the road. “She was thrown out of the back of the truck. We think she might have a concussion, and she’s bleeding. This is the first place we came across since it happened. We were hoping we could stay here for a little while and fix her up. We don’t need any medical supplies you might have. We aren’t asking for any food or water. Just a safe place where we can patch her up and let her rest a little.”

  Cliff exhaled. He looked at the ground, then back at Sam. When he glanced back to Dax, he still looked unsure.

  “Please,” Dax said. “Give us an hour or two, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  A woman walked out of the front door. She was in her forties and wearing a white farm dress over a shapely figure. She had pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail to reveal high, sharp cheekbones.

  “Go back inside, Isabelle.”

  “Listen to him, Cliff,” Isabelle said. “They need our help.”

  “I said to go back inside. I can handle this.”

  Isabelle walked across the porch and down the stairs. Sam stood up, but Isabelle just held her hand up to him, signaling for him to leave her be. Dax’s eyes darted from Isabelle to Cliff, and then to the front porch and the guns.

  “You’re not the only one living here,” Isabelle said.

  “But I’m in charge. And I say who we let in and who we tell to hit the road.”

  “Let’s go, Dax,” Zoe said from the truck. “These people don’t want us here.”

  “Yes, we do,” Isabelle said. “I’m welcoming you into our home.”

  “No, Isabelle,” Cliff said. “We can’t trust—”

  “Enough of that, Cliff,” Isabelle said. She turned her attention to Dax. “I’ll get a bed set up for your hurt girl. Cliff and Sam here will help you get her inside.”

  Dax looked at Cliff, nodding. “I think we can handle it.” He then stuck his hand out to Isabelle. “Thank you.”

  She made direct eye contact while shaking his hand, squeezing hard and holding it long enough to let Dax know she wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything.

  Isabelle headed up the stairs then, hitching up her long skirt as she went, and Cliff and Sam both gave each other confused looks accompanied by shrugs.

  Dax returned to the truck, shutting the passenger door. The window was open, and Alex was still in the driver’s seat, still looking straight ahead.

  “Hey,” Dax said.

  Alex turned to him.

  “Everything’s okay. Let’s go in now.”

  Without a word, she shut off the truck and climbed out, walking to the back to help with Saw.

  35

  Isabelle prepared a room on the first floor of the expansive farmhouse.

  Dax carried Saw into the house by himself. She weighed only around a hundred and twenty pounds, and was therefore easy to carry even though Dax had been weak from lack of food.

  Several layers of blankets topped the bed. When Dax entered the room with Saw in his arms, he stopped at the foot of the bed. The first-floor room had been decorated with posters on the purple walls, smiling images of One Direction and ponies. The open window invited a gentle breeze inside. It didn’t help much, but it was something.

  “It’s all right,” Isabel said. “Go ahead and set her down. We have plenty of blankets, so it’s okay if you get blood on them.”

  Dax set Saw down and she let out a sigh as she landed on the cool comforter on top.

  “Goddamn. This is like lying in a pool full of pillows,” Saw said. “I forgot what a real fucking bed feels like.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Alex said.

  “I’m bleeding out of the side of my head. Cut me some slack, would ya?”

  “I understand,” Isabelle said. “You’re in pain. But if you wouldn’t mind, please do watch your language. Especially with taking the Lord’s name in vain. We have children here, and this is a house of God.”

  “Yeah,” Saw said softly. “Sorry.”

  “It’s quite all right, dear.” Isabelle picked up a small bag off the table. “I’ve left some medical supplies in here. There should be some stuff to help with the cuts.”

  Dax waved his hands. “You really don’t have to give us your supplies if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s fine. We have plenty. I’ll also have someone bring the girl some water. We need to make sure she stays hydrated.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said.

  A girl entered the room. She appeared to be around fifteen and had Isabelle’s eyes. Dark curls framed her face, resting on the child’s high cheekbones.

  “This is my daughter, Mary. She can help tend to this girl’s wounds. That cut on the side of her head needs stitches. Mary can help.”

  “Great,” Saw said. “I need stitches, and I’m getting them from a farm girl.”

  “Would you prefer to try stitching yourself up?” Isabelle asked.

  Saw said nothing.

  “All right then. My daughter is fully capable. She has helped doctor our pigs in the past. And the pig’s anatomy and physiology are like ours.”

  Dax raised his eyebrows, fully expecting a snarky comment from Saw, but the Casket Girl held her tongue. Her shirt was off now, and she was left wearing only a sports bra. Despite her injuries, he couldn’t help taking a glance at her toned stomach and muscled arms. She looked like no pig Dax had ever seen.

  “She’s in good hands with Mary,” Isabelle said. “Would you like to join me out here while she tends to your friend?”

  “I’d like to stay here with her,” Zoe said.

  “We’ll join you,” Dax said. He looked at Alex, and she nodded. While she had appeared angry outside after the risk Dax had taken, she seemed to be coming around. Isabelle had brought them into her home, given Saw a clean bed, and insisted on using their medical supplies on her. Even still, Dax couldn’t blame her for keeping her guard up.

  They followed Isabelle into the living room. Cliff and Sam had been waiting for them, both men pacing. Sam stopped in front of a brunette woman wearing a flannel shirt. Two kids stood behind the woman, a boy and a girl each appearing to be approximately ten years old. Cliff blushed as he stepped into the middle of the room and extended his hand to Dax.

  “I’m sorry about what happened out there.”

  Dax shook his hand. “Don’t be. What you did was smart. You’ve gotta be cautious.”

  “There’s a fine line between cautious and rude,” Isabelle said.

  Dax smiled, and she shrugged.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Cliff is my brother.”

  “How many of you are living here?” Alex asked. She took a seat in a recliner and Dax sat down in a love seat. The others took places on a long couch.

  “This is everyone. A few travelers have come and gone, but we’ve kept our core group together here at this house.”

&nb
sp; “How have you managed to do that?” Alex asked.

  Isabelle smiled and stuck her arms out, palms up. “Look around, dear. We’re on a farm. We have goats for milk. Chicken for eggs. We raise catfish out there. Even without power, we have the ability to self-sustain.”

  Dax could feel Alex staring at him, but he didn’t look at her. He knew he was thinking the same thing she was.

  They don’t know about the Screamers.

  Isabelle must have noticed their faces, because she asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “Um,” Dax said, clearing his throat. “Do you think we could talk for a minute?” He glanced at the children. “Alone.”

  Isabelle glanced at the couch and nodded to Sam.

  “Come on, kids,” Sam said. “Let’s run upstairs for a little while.” They marched out of the room, and only Isabelle and Cliff remained with Dax and Alex. Cliff took a seat on the sofa next to his sister.

  “Now what seems to be the matter?” Isabelle asked.

  Dax studied both their faces. They really seemed to have no clue about the Screamers.

  “You haven’t seen anything strange pass by your little farm? Or heard anything?” Dax asked.

  “I don’t know what you mean by ‘strange.’ The grid has been down, and the power hasn’t come back on yet. Stranger than that?”

  Alex looked at Dax again. “They don’t know.”

  “Don’t know what?” Cliff asked.

  Dax drew in a deep breath. “The world is being overrun by Screamers, these creatures that steal your life force. Leave you like a zombie or an intelligent vampire. They’ve completely overrun New Orleans, and we’ve seen them on the highways south of here, too.”

  Their faces remained blank until Cliff laughed.

  “That’s funny,” Isabelle said, chuckling along with her brother.

  “But it’s true,” Alex said. “They aren’t like Hollywood vampires. They have the ability to control your mind. They’ve been hiding on Earth for several hundred years.”

  Cliff hissed, his chuckle now caught in his throat.

  “Their eyes glow a bright orange,” Dax said.

  Isabelle paused, but then she grabbed Cliff’s shoulder, and he looked at her with wide eyes.

  “You remember when we were looking out the bedroom window one night last week and we saw those flashes of light.”

  “Yeah,” Cliff said, shrugging. “They were flashlights. People finding their way in the dark. So what?”

  “I told you they were too strange to be flashlights.” She turned her attention to Dax and Alex. “These flashes of light moved in the distance, but they didn’t bounce up and down as they would if someone had been walking with one in their hand. They moved in straight, horizontal lines.”

  “Which way were they heading?” Alex asked.

  “North,” Isabelle said.

  Dax clinched his fists. Isaac, he thought.

  “This all sounds ridiculous,” Isabelle said. “How do you know?”

  Dax explained everything he knew, with Alex interrupting to fill in the gaps. He told them how New Orleans had fallen—how most of the city had been flooded, burned to the ground, or both. He even told them about his fight with Serafino, and his encounter with the biker gang.

  “I was right to question you,” Cliff said.

  “Yes, you were. You all need to be very cautious.”

  By the time Dax had told them everything, Isabelle and Cliff had leaned back on the couch, their faces long. An hour had passed since they’d first sat down.

  During the lull in the conversation, the bedroom door opened and Mary walked out, followed by Saw. She had a bandage taped to the side of her head, and another wide one wrapped around her waist.

  “That was fast,” Alex said.

  Saw patted Mary on the shoulder. “This little girl sure can sew.”

  “Good to see you’re feeling better,” Isabelle said. Glancing at the others, she added, “I think you all should stay for a meal.”

  “I’m feeling pretty good,” Saw said. “I can hit the road whenever.”

  “No,” Dax said, looking at Isabelle. “I think we should stay for a little bit longer.”

  36

  Dax was on his way to the bathroom when someone took hold of his arm—Alex.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Why aren’t we leaving?”

  “We’ll be fine staying here for a little bit longer. Aren’t you starving? They’re going to feed us.”

  “It won’t matter if that horde of vampires catches up to us.”

  “We’ll be fine, Alex.”

  Her forehead creased. “I hope you’re right.” She walked into another room.

  Dax sighed. He shook his head as he went into the bathroom and shut the door. He looked at the sink and then the shower. What he wouldn’t give for a five-minute shower. The plumbing drew water from a private well, but the pump had stopped working when the power went out. They had a generator, but Isabelle had told him they’d run out of gas and hadn’t had a chance to leave the farm to look for more. Dax had told her going to gas stations would be pointless, and that they’d be better off trying to siphon gas out of abandoned vehicles on the highway—though he’d found many of those to have been emptied, as well.

  He spotted a container of wet wipes on the counter, and that was better than nothing. Leaning his hands on the counter, Dax looked into the mirror. He hardly recognized the face that looked back at him. Dust and dirt covered his cheeks, and several cuts on his face had scabbed over and would become scars. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes. An image of the convict flashed over the mirror, superimposed on his reflection. For a moment, Dax stared at the hardened, tough prisoner he had left behind when the world ended. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had been beaten and worn down since leaving prison, his body in worse shape than it had been when he was locked up.

  Dax took off his shirt. He grabbed a wet wipe and began with his chest, wiping off the dirt. With a fresh one, he rubbed under his arms and then used a third to wipe his stomach. As he started on his face, the disinfectant on the wipe burned his pores. He groaned, but pushed harder to scrub off the grime. He had cleaned off half his face when a pulse of energy shot into his head. It came hard and fast, and he slammed his hands down onto the counter to brace himself, hard enough to almost knock one of the candles onto the ground. He groaned, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

  A knock came at the door. “Everything all right in there?” It was Sam.

  “I’m fine,” Dax said, gritting his teeth.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” Dax said, spitting the word from between tight lips. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I’m okay. Really. Just a little hungry and tired—that’s all.”

  “All right then. Well, food’s almost ready.”

  “Great. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Dax listened to Sam’s footsteps on the hardwood floor as he walked back toward the kitchen. Sweat ran down his face, and the noise in his head intensified.

  Keeping a grip on the sink, he threw his head up. He shut his eyes tight enough to strain the muscles in his cheeks, and the visions came to him.

  He stood in a darkened hallway. Lit torches sat in sconces, but the light from the flames struggled to penetrate blackness. The stone walls had been decorated with strange symbols. Dax had never seen anything like them. He took a torch off the wall and used it to illuminate a corner, and in the near distance, he saw a lit room.

  He walked to the threshold. A hundred candles or more burned and the ceiling stretched as high as twenty feet. Some of the same strange symbols had been carved into the stone walls. A single bed sat in the center of the room, the only furniture in it—and a woman lay on top of the bed with her eyes closed.

  Dax walked to her, his legs seeming to propel him along whether he wanted them to or not. He knew even before he stopped at t
he edge of the bed that this red-headed creature he’d seen before was one of the Masters.

  She wore a long, black dress, flared at the bottom, but tight around her waist and chest. It looked like a queen’s garment from the 17th century. Her eyes remained closed as she lay there, her hands resting on her stomach—as if positioned inside of a coffin.

  Dax looked around the room again, holding the torch up.

  “Where am I?”

  A hand grabbed onto his wrist, and he looked down. The Master had awoken. Her eyes were wide and flickering with unholy flames.

  “I’m coming for you, Dax.”

  Dax yanked his arm free. And now he was sitting on the floor of the bathroom against the tub. The door flew open, hitting his legs.

  Alex kneeled down next to him. Others arrived behind her, peeking in from the hallway.

  “He said he was all right a minute ago,” Sam said.

  “He is all right,” Alex said.

  “Don’t look like it to me.”

  “Please, give us a minute.”

  The others hesitated for a moment before heading back to the kitchen. Zoe and Saw remained in the hallway.

  Alex grabbed a wet wipe from the package and reached for Dax’s face. He grabbed her wrist.

  “Let me,” she said, pushing his hand down gently. “You’re overheated, and this is the closest thing we’re gonna get to a cold, wet towel.”

  Dax let her. The wipe brought an instant of chilling relief before the alcohol stung the cuts and scrapes on his face.

  “You had another vision.” Alex didn’t present it as a question. She knew what had happened.

  “This time I was in some sort of dungeon. There were strange symbols everywhere, and it all led to this tall room. All that was in it were candles and a bed. A Master was there.”

  Alex looked back at the other two girls.

  Zoe said, “My God.”

  “You saw her lair,” Alex said, shooting a quick glance at Zoe that Dax caught, as well. “It’s the only place where a Master vampire can be destroyed by conventional weapons. Unless you’re the Angel. Are you the Angel, Dax?”

  Despite the serious nature of the situation, Dax saw her smirk as she asked the last question, knowing that he was not the Angel Papa Midnight had talked about. But he might be the only human able to find the Angel.