The warehouse opening rushes past us as we enter it moving faster than any living creature has ever moved. If there were traps around the doorway, we are moving too fast for me to notice them or care. Turning left as I approach the metal wall, I see that Chadwick has constructed a massive labyrinth inside the warehouse. A rat's maze that he is expecting me to have to fight through in order to get to him. It's rather ingenious, and I'm sure on any other night it would have proven formidable. But this is not any other night. Tonight we bring Death with us, and he is in a hurry to make a new friend.
Running through the tight passageways he has created, I let the Darkness make the decisions on which paths to take and which to avoid. Time never speeds up around us, and I don't want to even think about how much energy is being used up by this level of exertion. Or maybe the Darkness doesn't consume much energy, and it was just my resistance to it that wore me out. I don't know.
As we travel the corridors, I can hear the slight clicks of catches being released and traps being sprung, but they all happen behind us. Way behind us. Too far behind us to worry about. And the Darkness never falters in its path. It never backtracks. It has a singular purpose, and it knows how to get there. The Darkness operates on a level that is even beyond my understanding, and I have to respect its power. I can't help but think about what I could have accomplished if I had chosen to embrace the Hunger as opposed to quelling it. I could have been capable of so much more.
After what feels like an hour of running through the maze's many paths (But I realize couldn't have been more than thirty seconds of real time.), we come to a long well-lit hallway with thick glass along the sides and top. And at the end of the long hallway I recognize the form of Chadwick Morrin standing behind my sister. A very scared and visibly shaken, and also most definitely alive, Leyna Perez. She also appears to be unhurt which relieves me.
Stopping at the entrance of the hallway, I stare down the hundred or so yards towards the man who has caused me such pain and heartache tonight. The man that we have brought Death to. The man I am intent on killing.
But seeing Leyna standing in front of me unharmed after what I had been listening to is disconcerting and confusing. It shakes me, and it almost hits me like a physical slap. Is he messing with my mind again? How could I have been listening to her being tortured if I can see that she is fine with my own eyes? It doesn't make sense.
And the Darkness begins to pull at us again. Getting here has used up almost everything we had stored up, and I need to feed soon. It isn't something I can ignore much longer. But the end of the labyrinth couldn't have come any sooner. With barely anything left in our tanks, I couldn't even sprint down this hallway if I wanted to. I'm going to get to him; I have no doubt about that. But it's going to be at normal speed. And after tonight's journey, what are a few more moments of waiting. It's nothing.
Looking down the hallway at Chadwick's distorted image, I have to smile. The entire length of the hall between us has thick glass partitions sticking out of the sides in an alternating pattern. It means I couldn't sprint straight towards him even if I had wanted to. Or thrown anything at him. I can see him and it may be a blurry image, but it is most definitely him. The glass might slightly obfuscate my sight of him, but it can't mask his smell. And his smell is rich. His final little obstacle might slow me down, but it is far from able to stop me.
"Well that was slightly disappointing," I hear him calmly say over the speakers, and I immediately notice it doesn't have even a tinge of the crazy I had heard earlier. "I spent a lot of time building that obstacle course for you, and you barely took any time at all with it. That was almost rude," he continues and laughs.
Doing my best to ignore his voice as we move, we begin weaving our way past the partitions and towards him. It's a slow process as he's given us barely a foot of clearance in places between a partition's edge and the opposite wall, and the glass is thick. As much as it would be nice to just punch our way through these walls and make a straight path towards him, we don't have the strength to muster that kind of attack. Our retribution will just have to wait a few moments longer.
"I did my best to try and motivate you, Cat. I had more plans I wanted to put into place for this meeting, but your sister kind of accelerated the time table with her fit tonight. I hadn't planned on us getting together for months yet, but it is what it is. You understand, don't you?"
Continuing to ignore him, we move forward partition by partition.
"Catarina, dear, I don't believe I have your full attention. And that's just rude. Do I need to find a way to get you to focus?"
His sudden change of tone from placating to slightly aggravated does get us to finally look up at him (Only about fifty yards away now.), and we can see that he has brought out a long shiny object and is pushing it into Leyna's side. Even with the distance separating us, we can tell it's a knife that he is using to slowly perforate my beloved younger sister.
We don't have the energy to answer out loud, but we do stare at him for a moment and do our best to make eye contact through the plethora of glass walls. The shiny object withdraws slightly and Leyna's frantic squirming subsides.
"Thank you, dear. I appreciate that," he coos at us in an obnoxiously superior voice. His tone tells us he still thinks he is going to win. "Even without the extra time to finish my project, I still think I was pretty ingenious with what I set up. But you barely took any time at all to appreciate it. And I doubt after tonight you'll take the time to go back and give it its due, either," he says and then gives out a hearty, fake sigh. "What a waste."
Doing our best to maintain the eye contact, we continue to move and close the distance to the end of the hall. He can talk all he wants. It isn't going to change anything. If these are what he wants as his final words, then so be it.
The closer we get to Chadwick and my sister, the more overwhelming the scent of their blood becomes. The Hunger is bucking in my stomach, and the desire to satiate it nearly staggers me. Each step I take is one closer to the sweet relief that drinking will bring me. It doesn't matter what words leave Chadwick's mouth now, he cannot prevent his own destruction. It is coming for him one glass wall at a time.
"I apologize for the overhead recording earlier," he says while watching us get closer to him. He doesn’t attempt to flee and we can now see his eyes well enough to recognize they are following our every movement. "I might have gotten a little carried away with some of that, but I wanted to make sure you weren't taking time to think your actions through. That was important for what's about to happen. I needed you completely focused on me. I hope you understand that."
Our body is moving more slowly now that I'm almost out of energy, but we've closed the distance to less than twenty-five yards and we can see him clearly through the glass. There are only six more glass walls to get through, and then we will get to taste the sweet embrace of vengeance.
"The recording may have been a tad theatrical," he continues in that annoyingly confident voice. "But there was still truth to it. And do you know what that truth was?"
Clearing another two walls we push our body to hurry and get to him. Even the Darkness is tired now, and it's getting desperate. It will feed one way or another. Then as we clear the second wall, I realize something the Darkness had been ignoring. Chadwick's tone of voice. It just went past annoying and touched on 'satisfied'. He feels victorious. But why would he feel like he’s winning, when we are so close to him. It doesn't make sense. We bring his Death. Doesn't he know that?
"That truth was," he says and he can no longer keep the smile from his face as he speaks. "That you will watch your sister die tonight." And with those words, I watch as his hand with the knife slips up and slides across her throat. Her eyes go wide, but she doesn't scream and for the first time I notice the tape on her mouth. She can't even say my name as he releases her and she slumps forward. A red spray of blood drenches the glass wall in front of them obscuring my view. A view I can’t believe I’m seeing; the most precio
us thing in the world to me dying.
"This is your doing, Catarina," he says simply and through the maroon haze that separates us we watch him step backwards through a door we hadn't been able to see previously. And with a whooshing CHUNK the door slams shut, and he is gone. Leaving us alone in the hallway with the whimpering sounds of our sister echoing to us past the remaining partitions.
His actions may have stunned us, but the sounds of our sister, no! my sister, spur us into action. The remaining two dozen or so yards blip past us in the blink of an eye, and we are standing over my sister looking down at her as she gulps in air and tries to breathe using a throat that no longer works.
It is the most horrifying thing I have ever seen in my life, and all I can do is cry and curl into a ball and wish for it to be over. My sister is dying and I can do nothing to stop it. She is dying because of me.
And then this punishment Chadwick has chosen to inflict upon me becomes infinitely worse. In a way he never could have expected or foreseen, and it is something I will never be able to forget or forgive myself for.
For I had bargained with the Darkness in order to get this far, but now the Hunger needs to be fed. It cannot be ignored. And the Darkness knows no mercy. Not for anybody. Not even for me.
The Darkness’s insatiable desire for blood finds a ready source, and I am too weak to stop it. Horrified at what I find myself doing, I bend down to my beloved sister and inhale the sweet aroma of the red liquid that covers her. The scent is irresistible and its pull numbs some of the pain. But only some.
And in that hallway, powerless to resist the Darkness's desires, I became the Monster I always feared. Chadwick had been more correct in his prediction than he could have imagined. Catarina Perez did die in the hallway tonight.
But I was born.
And I am the Darkness.
EPILOGUE
I spend every free day I can watching him now. He feels safe, but he isn't. He believes I can't get to him, but I will. He thinks he has found refuge in the one place I won't be able to get to him, but the Darkness cannot be stopped. Not by the likes of him. Or any other mere human.
While Catarina died along with her sister that night in the warehouse, I was unaware of what was occurring only a few feet away on the other side of that door. In an attempt to flee my retribution, Chadwick chose to escape from me by hiding in plain sight. On the other side of that door was a squadron of police cars that he had called down upon himself so that he could turn himself in.
He knew I would chase him wherever he would go, so instead of hiding away he figured he would go where I can't get to him: prison. He confessed to enough crimes to get himself locked up for decades. But since he turned himself in and willingly confessed the information, he was able to manipulate the situation. He got the plea deal that he wanted: protective custody in the center of a federal penitentiary. He is behind large stone walls and gates and there are hundreds of guards between us.
They’re impressive, but they’re not enough. Not anymore.
At one point in my life, I thought I had control over what is happening to me. I thought I could be the good in a world of evil. I thought I had a choice. But I don't.
I am not the light on a dark night guiding the lost to a place of safety. I am that Darkness. And I know no mercy. And I am hungry.
Acknowledgments
Second novel completed, and a hearty “thank you” to everyone who helped make that possible. Two years ago I never thought I would be able to complete my first novel (which seemed to be an overwhelming obstacle looming in front of me on a daily basis), let alone complete another one less than twelve months after that. But I have learned so much about the process in the last twenty-four months that now being able to produce a book a year doesn’t seem so dauntless.
I have to thank my wife and children first for allowing me the time to sit and work on my dream: my books. Their patience with me as I retreat from all stimuli in the house in order to concentrate and write has been life-saving. I couldn’t be as creative as I am or productive as I have been without their support. They are the reason I can do what I do.
A big thank you to my students and other fans of my writing who made my first book seem like it wasn’t a waste of time. If I didn’t have people enjoying what I do, then there never would have been a second book. The students who constantly came up to me to ask questions about the characters, or tell me how much they enjoyed the book were what motivated me to do it all over again. I wrote my first book for me. I wrote this one because others believed in me.
Of those fans, I have to say a special thank you to Madeline Snipes who once again was one of the first people to read the new manuscript and give feedback on it. Her guidance and solid critiques go a long way with me. I hope every writer has someone like her to fall back on for guidance. She has earned “first eyes” on every one of my books from here on out. Thanks.
And a special thank you to Madison Schade for both encouraging me to keep writing and being an incredibly supportive fan of my writing. Everyone should have a fanboy who overhypes what they do, especially writers. It is frighteningly easy to doubt one’s self and see what you do as a waste of time. Madison helped push me through some of those dark spots with her advice and adoration of Catarina. Not only did Madison help push this book to be created, she also inspired the cover. It was a random picture from Pinterest that she sent to me that was the impetus for what I finally came up with for the front of this book. It wouldn’t be nearly so eye-catching without her influence.
My brother, Nick, was a late addition to my fan base, but he was an incredibly avid one once he joined. His late texts of excerpts from the book that he really enjoyed as he read an early copy kept me excited to churn out more. I can’t thank him enough. And someday I hope to feature his artwork on a book’s cover.
The only people more excited for me to become an author than myself were my parents. Writing, creating and producing my own novel was exhausting but fulfilling. And then seeing my parents’ reaction to what I had accomplished made it all worthwhile. And an especially embarrassing thank you to my mother for purchasing dozens of my books and then randomly handing them out to strangers in an attempt to promote me. Nobody could have a better PR person than my mom.
As odd as it may seem, I would also like to thank Amazon for making this process so easy. Writing a book and getting published today is not what it once was, and that is mostly due to Amazon’s presence in the world. EBooks are changing the world of publishing for the better, and the safety net of knowing I could get my words out via them eased many a self-doubt. Amazon wants more books and authors out there, and my existence as a writer in this world owes them a debt.
And a thank you goes out to Kevin Smith and Ralph Garman. Two men I have never met personally, but who helped make my writing possible. Kevin through his inspiration to other artists to just go out and create and not worry about the consequences. An artistic twist on Nike’s “Just Do It” campaign. He was usually referring to the creation of more podcasts, but I think the intent works for novels, too. Ralph kept me smiling with his humor on the Hollywood Babble-On podcast. Since I gave up watching television to write, listening to podcasts became my main source of entertainment, and his and Kevin’s HBO was my favorite. It helped me find the funny when I was exhausted. Thank you gentlemen.
Finally, thanks to the editors of my book who pored through it pulling up every last mistake they could find. Having other sets of eyes aside from my own see my book before it becomes official only made it better. I can’t thank them enough for taking their free time to read through the book and logging all the mistakes that I had made. Their fingerprints are all through Catalyst. I am in your debt Tony Sturgeon, Kevin Stumpf and Grace Haza.
Thank you to all my readers who took the first journey with Catarina in Catharsis and returned for this one. Your desire to come back to the world I created means everything to me. I do this for you.
And thank you to my new readers. I ho
pe you enjoyed your stay.
Whenever you ever read a great book, whether it is mine or another author’s, please go out on Amazon or Goodreads and give it a review. Your opinion out there in the digital world makes a big difference to writers as we find the motivation to give up television, free time, reading books or whatever else is out there in order to create. Your kind words and reviews are always read and appreciated.
D. Andrew Campbell
July 2014
Questions with D. Andrew Campbell
What is up with Catarina and her reference to “The Darkness”? Are they one person or two completely different identities? Or is this Cat developing a split personality?
The "Darkness" is essentially the disease taking over her body. I see the "vampirism" as being a contagious illness like the flu. Except Catarina hasn’t found a cure, and it isn't nearly as communicable. It can be passed, but she hasn't figured that out, yet. I’m thinking it might be a major plot point in the final book, though.
One of the side effects of her disease is a desire for the blood of humans. It is what drives the disease. Cat is personifying this desire as being another entity within her because that drive is so strong. It is essentially an addiction in and of itself. Humans are addicted to food, and she is addicted to blood. Her addiction is also strong enough to force her to do things she doesn't want to do. This is similar to junkies who rob their own families to pay for their drugs. She is doing things she doesn't morally believe are right, and blaming them on the addiction. It is how she is trying to remain sane. She is separating her "good self" from her "addicted self". As long as she can blame “the darkness”, then it gives her a focus for all the bad things she is doing. It allows her to distance herself from it. Essentially, it is just a coping mechanism to keep her from accepting what she is doing and losing her mind.
Catharsis (Book 2): Catalyst Page 22