Night Realm (6 page)

Around him crickets were chirping. At the moment the sound wasn’t too bad, but when thousands of them got going, it could get quite overpowering. Toby hoped it stayed the way it was. For the most part he wanted peace and quiet. Somewhere nearby to his right an owl hooted. Its call was answered by another off to the left.

He grinned. Were they planning to mate tonight? Good luck to the little buggers.

Cigar smoke mingled with that of the fire. One of the fresher logs made a snapping sound as the flames licked up its sides. A breeze drifted through the valley, fanning the flames and making the fire g
low temporarily twice as bright. Then the breeze was gone and the fire returned to normal once more. Now that his tea had cooled a bit, Toby gulped it down, sprawled out on his back on an old blanket and smoked his cigar while staring up at the night sky.

He thought of Margaret then. He really missed his wife. One day they would be together again. No more cancer, no disease, no ageing bodies. He genuinely believed that and a part of him couldn’t wait for that day to come.

Toby closed his eyes and reminisced about the good old days. He continued to puff on his cigar at regular intervals as he let his mind wander. Only when he felt the stub burning his fingers did he open his eyes and toss the remains into the flames. He closed his eyes again and relaxed, enjoying the calming sounds of the open fire and the wilderness at night. He soon started to doze and was on the verge of falling asleep when he heard a sound that didn’t quite fit in with nature’s music.

There was the definitive
crunch of twigs snapping under a heavy weight, and Toby could have sworn he heard footsteps slowly coming closer to his camp site.

It wouldn’t be an animal. There was nothing around these parts other than lizards, scrub turkeys, birds and kangaroos. The only one of those that would be heavy enough to make those sounds was a kangaroo
. But kangaroos hopped. They didn’t walk.

Toby
sat up and reached into a knapsack beside him. When he withdrew his hand it gripped a stainless steel knife with a seven inch blade. The blade gleamed with menace in the firelight. He got to his feet and into a crouch, ready to defend himself if it came to that. Could just be another camper out for a stroll. He listened intently. All had gone quiet. Even the crickets had stopped making a noise. Toby held his breath, his heart beating hard against his ribcage.

There was a whooshing sound, like something flying or moving very quickly, only no footsteps this time. It was followed by
a crashing noise in a thicket of bushes somewhere off to the left of Toby’s campsite.

What the hell is it? Toby wondered, starting to feel very anxious. In the light of the fire he could see his knife hand shaking. He put his other hand over it to steady it, but his left hand was shaking as well, so it didn’t really help.

A gust of wind suddenly ripped through the area, causing the flames of the fire to roar and dance around crazily until the wind had passed. Toby brushed hair away from his face and eyes. He started crabbing his way to the left, remaining in a crouch, keeping his centre of gravity low and his senses alert.

Now he heard the heavy footsteps again, this time circling around behind him.

Toby rose to his full height and spun around, expecting to see something emerging from the bushes and coming at him. There was nothing there, though several low branches of a tree just beyond the edge of the clearing were swaying back and forth.

All w
ent dead silent.

Toby held his breath.
He could both hear and feel a rapid pulse beating at his temple. Straining his eyes to see into the darkness beyond the camp fire, he spied nothing but deep shadows and blackness.

What the hell was out there?

Whatever it was, it seemed to be stalking him, toying with him to the point where Toby’s nerves were starting to fray.

Something broke free of the forest to his left and darted across the campsite, moving so rapidly he couldn’t even be sure it had really happened at all. What it was, he couldn’t tell. It was just an indistinct blur of motion, though it was about the average height of a man.

Maybe I’m losing it? Toby thought and rubbed his eyes. Was there some hallucinogenic in that tea? Perhaps dementia was setting in?

He figured it was none of the above when he heard a sound somewhere in the forest just behind the tent. It was those slow, heavy footsteps again. Once more twigs snapped under the weight of whatever was lurking out there shadowing him, and possibly hunting him.

The thought to call the police crossed his mind, but then he remembered there was no phone reception out where he was, no towers nearby to pick up a signal.

No, he was on his own in this.

Something was startled from the trees. Toby heard the faint flapping of wings. When he looked up he saw three bats flying overhead, rapidly retreating from the area. Bats gave him the creeps and he shuddered, the knife jerking around in his hand.

He saw a shadow taking shape between the trees right behind his tent. Toby backed up until his left boot crunched on the hot coals at the base of the fire. He felt intense heat on his leg and realized his pants had caught alight.
Dropping the knife to the dirt, he slapped at the flames with his bare hands, blistering the skin of his palms. The hairs on his calf had all singed off and a severe pain engulfed his entire lower leg by the time the flames were extinguished. He groped for the knife, felt the rubber handle and snatched it up. When he moved, pain shot up his leg, the skin having melted just above the line of his boot.

Sensing something behind him, Toby slowly turned and there it was, standing motionless on the other side of the fire.

It was a man dressed all in black to match his black hair. He was young, maybe early twenties
, and looked very lean and fit judging by his stature. The most striking thing about him, though, was his sapphire blue eyes that seemed to glow brighter than the fire. The man wasn’t smiling, nor was he frowning. In fact his face was completely devoid of all expression.

Toby searched the guys hands, but saw they held no weapon. He held up his lethal-looking knife to warn the intruder that he meant to cause serious harm if he was attacked.
The stranger glanced at the knife, completely unperturbed.

Ever so slowly the
guy broke into a smile. Well, more of a malicious grin, really. Toby watched in the firelight, mesmerized as two fangs started to protrude from the upper jaw. The stranger’s eyes darkened to a deeper shade of blue. They took on a dead look, emotionless, like that of a shark when it attacked and mauled its prey. The man opened his mouth wide and hissed at Toby.

Toby’s heart hammered so hard and fast he feared it might crack a rib. His breathing was shallow and ragged now as fear gripped him
in its iron fist.

Who the hell was this man?

More to the point, what was he?

He felt caught in two minds. Should he advance on the man, threatening attack? Or should he retreat into
the woods and make a run for it?

B
efore he could make up his mind, the stranger disappeared back into the forest in a haze of rapid movement. There were the sounds of branches rustling and debris being crushed underfoot. Then all went deathly silent again.

Toby came to his senses when the pain in his left leg became all-consuming
once more. He seized a bottle of water and poured it all over the burn, filling his boot in the process. The water eased the pain a little, but not much.

Trying to take his mind off the
agony, he thought about what he’d just seen. What on earth was that? A vampire? Were the centuries-old legends real? It couldn’t be! Surely not! But how could he move so damned fast? And those eyes and fangs!

Five
minutes passed without incident. Toby saw and heard not a thing in that time and he hoped and prayed that the man, vampire, whatever it was, was long gone.

But it wasn’t.

Up above he heard that same whooshing sound he’d heard earlier. He looked up in time to see the figure of the stranger swooping down towards him. Instinctively Toby ducked, but all to no avail. The flying man was upon him in a split second, crashing into Toby’s ageing frame and crushing him to the ground. The knife flew from Toby’s hand and the air burst from his lungs; and with the man’s weight on top of him, he found it hard to take another breath.

The stranger looked into Toby’s eyes with his penetrating, deep blue
stare. Once again he saw the life ebb from those eyes as the man opened his mouth, exposing those bizarre and lethal fangs. Saliva dripped from the tips and Toby had the fleeting image of a wolf about to maul him.

Something came over him with certainty then. He was a goner. He didn’t have the strength to fight off his attacker. He was just too young and way too strong; more powerful than any man Toby had encountered in his sixty-two years.
He just hoped his death was a quick one.

In a flash the stranger’s head moved. Toby felt a new pain then as the
pair of fangs pierced his neck. The man on top of him grunted as if in orgasm and made a loud, disgusting slurping sound. Toby literally felt the life draining from his body, and as he succumbed to the everlasting blackness of unconsciousness, Toby’s last thoughts were that of his wife, Margaret. She would be waiting for him on the other side, and that thought alone made death much more bearable.

When he’d had his fill, Michael got up on his knees, gripped the dead man’s head in his hands and twisted so violently that the head ripped away from the neck and rolled into the fire.

There it hissed and sizzled as it was quickly charred by the flames.

Ryan slipped into a light sports coat and headed out the door. He needed to go for a walk. Whenever something was on his mind he either walked or drove. The movement helped calm him down so he could collect his thoughts.

He may have been
very frustrated and somewhat depressed before, but Ryan was never going to leap to his death from the balcony. That wasn’t his style. He wasn’t one to just give up and quit. When the day came that he died, he planned to go out with a little more dignity than suicide.

He strode across the highway dodging traffic, not bothering to wait for a green
Walk
signal at the lights, and headed into town. As he walked he kept his eyes open for his sister. Even if he spotted her he probably wouldn’t approach her. Better to let them both cool down a bit. He really just wanted to know that she was okay, despite the fact that she hated him.

He cut through the Centre Arcade, where the aromas of Asian cooking filled the air. The old arcade was made up of Japanese, Chinese and Korean eateries, and for the most part, only other Asians seemed to eat there.
Although there were plenty of good Asian restaurants in town, the ones in the Centre Arcade had that cheap, dodgy look. Ryan had always steered clear of sampling their wares.

After travelling up Cavill Mall,
he crossed The Esplanade, glanced all about, spotted Chelsea nowhere, then walked down onto the beach.

Shoes were cumbersome in sand, the fine grains tending to slip beneath the flat soles. He walked rather awkwardly down to the water’s edge and onto the firm, damp sand, where he went north and out of the floodlit area of beach.

In a way Chelsea had been right with what she’d said earlier. He
was
partly responsible for the death of their parents, and he felt it. If he hadn’t pressured Dad into coming down that day to sign the documents, they would never have been out driving in that storm, and the fatal collision with the truck would never have happened. He knew it was an accident, but he shouldered some of the blame nonetheless. There was nothing he could do to change things now. He just had to try and get on with life, and so did Chelsea.

Now she wanted to quit school, with only one month to go. That would be such a waste and a huge mistake. Education was so important in the job market in the modern world. The bare minimum now was completing your HSC to get a look-in for employment in most industries. Many required tertiary qualifications as well. He had to find a way to convince her to finish her studies. If she refused to listen to him, then he’d have to find someone she would take notice of. One of her friends maybe
.

Ryan walked and thought for fifteen minutes, then he diverted left and headed back up to the footpath. He turned south and strolled
down toward the mall. As he walked he placed his hands in his pockets. That was when he found it.

He withdrew the lone cigarette from his right pocket and studied it, then sniffed it. It was a little wrinkled and squashed, and probably a bit stale - it had been ages since he’d worn that jacket - but certainly worth smoking.

His mouth started to salivate for a nicotine fix as he continued to examine the cigarette.

“What the hell,” he said and stuffed it between his lips. Now all he needed was a light.
Rather fortuitously a gent walking towards him was smoking a cigarette and Ryan hit him up. “Thanks,” he said, touching the smoke to the flame that was offered him.