Guardian in the Dark
Chapter 2
Jolly
The Story Part 1
I can feel the setting sun, and the night slowly covering the land that is being abandon by the sunlight.
I can feel the agony eat at my dead flesh as I force my dead muscles to move. Hell fires race through every inch of my body as I make my way out of my tomb and into the night world that is now my world. I claw my way to the surface. Tonight I greet the waning moon as I break through the earth.
The earth may shield me from the sun every day. But it hates me, and contact with it is like a thousand needles poking at me. It is not exactly painful. Just intensely uncomfortable. One may say, agonizingly uncomfortable. It is the earth's way of saying that it does not want this foul creature in its bosom longer than need be. And likewise I cannot wait to get out of its torturous embrace each time the sun sets.
Yes, it is like that every evening as I awaken. Did I not tell you last night that there were worse fates than dying?
And this pain is nothing compared to my hunger for fresh blood. Not those I steal from the blood bank twice weekly. But the fresh blood in a real live human being. I can hear the warm heart pumping from a distance. I can literally feel and see the full-bodied blood newly oxygenated fresh out from the heart. It calls to me and tempts me like nothing else in the world. And since I always deny my body the natural fresh blood sustenance, the hunger in me tortures me every second of my every waking hour. The pain of this mental wretchedness, believe me, far exceeds the physical pain of each waking.
Do you now believe that there are worse fates than dying?
I made my way swiftly to the house at the corner of Elm Street. Like I did almost every night. To watch them; to lose myself in their humanity. And to guard my brother against the darkness that wanted to take him. I watch them as a family and as individuals, and pretend I am there too with them, trading quips at the dining table.
The advantage of being the creature I am is the few supernatural skills that come with it. I am much faster and stronger than I was before, when I was human. I have much better night vision and a radar-like ability to sense others like me. I learn how to cloak my presence and learn how to use my mental capabilities to weave my way through the human world so that they never suspect what I am. And that skill also allows me to remain undetectable to my family and friends. So I can better watch over them.
I am perhaps most guilty of using it so ruthlessly against my own brother. Oh I know he'd still love me despite what I have become. But my own shame cannot allow me to face him. So I hide from him. And when the desire became too unbearable, I entered his dreams and for that few hours enjoyed the sweetness of a happy and unburdened brotherhood. It regenerates my soul like nothing else, and again I was ready to resume my position as my brother's keeper. Just for a while more.
But God, I am so tired. I am wearied to the soul.
And the joy and fear of Joe's 19th birthday looms invitingly and ominously before me.
I am confused as to what I really want. Does it really matter though? I see my brother live through this, and after that, I shall leave it in God's hands.
I stare longingly at the Bible by my brother's bedside. I wish I could still touch it. I can remember so few of those quotes now…and even so the memory of those words burns and scars my mind each time I recall them. But I force myself to endure the pain anyway, because those few words are a soothing balm to my tormented soul.
Ah, there's my brother out from the shower and ready for bed. This time, however, he pauses and his face screws up in puzzlement. He scans his room intently as if he is looking for something. For a moment, he stares directly at me, and my heart stops. Actually, that is incorrect, for my heart no longer beats. But you get my drift. Then he shakes his head in that usual endearing manner, chuckles, and returns to his homework. Soon he will be abed. Perhaps I may pay a visit in his dreams again tonight.
I miss him so much! Strange is it not, when I am right here watching him?
Hmm…yes, he is definitely coming of age. I think he sort of senses my presence. Maybe it'll be too dangerous to go dream surfing tonight.
I sigh in disappointment, and then proceed to settle myself comfortably into my favorite corner in my brother's room.
Oh, and you want to know what happened, don't you?
Since nothing seems to be happening, I may as well recount the events of the past that led up to today. It may even do my burdened soul some good to share it with you.
It all started a little over a year ago.
You remember the incident I mentioned last night? The one in which I stopped watching out for my brother? Well, it happened as I said, and as soon as I cooled down on the second day I went looking for him to make up with him. After all, I was the one who started the argument. But Joe avoided me the whole day at school. Then he had football training. After that he went off to Vanessa's, and later Mom got a call from him saying that he would be home after dinner. He never arrived.
By ten that night, we were all annoyed that he stayed out so late on a school night. He really ought to grow up and learn not take our quarrels to others. I called the Benders, only to find out that Joe left at half past seven. That was when we got really worried.
He never got home. Our van was found abandoned on Shore Road at eleven-ish, but he was not there. There was no sign of any struggle, and there were no signs that any other vehicle was ever there. There was no sign that the crime scene had been contaminated in any way. And since it was so late at night, there were no witnesses either.
It was the most baffling case – according to both my dad and the Bayport police.
There was nothing, not even the undetectable getaway car.
How the heck did anyone pull that off?
Of course now I know it was not an 'anyone' but a group of 'somethings'.
But now to get back to the story.
I was beside myself with worry. And guilt too. It was me, I told my parents. I stopped looking out for him and he was taken. Of course not, they told me. It was them.
Sadly I was right that time. It was me. You see, in the human world, that argument between me and Joe would have meant nothing. Just a little rift here and there that was so common in any normal relationship. But then, Joe was special, like I said. You'll know what I mean later, when I get to that part of the story. And as I also said last night, God had given me the skills and talents and brains to be his keeper and protector. So when I made that intentional announcement of my own free will to abandon him to his own devices, it also stripped Joe of the protective, spiritual, God-given shield that I had over him, that I did not even know I had. And from that moment on, without the shielding he was fully and vulnerably exposed before he was ready. His presence had shone bright and clear, and THEY had come for him. And they took him away.
We did not know that back then, of course. And so for three days, we waited at home with FBI agents, for a call, or any other forms of contact, for a ransom or something. We also went through all possible enemies who might have the means and motives and also might have been in the vicinity to carry out the kidnapping.
There was nothing. No one was near here, and they all had alibis.
Three days came and went and there was still no contact. The FBI agents packed up and left, and soon they were reassigned to other cases.
Dad worked tirelessly for weeks, going through lists of his former enemies who did not even have any remote chance of being a suspect. I did the same on my side. We even begged Gray from the Network to check up on some Assassins links to see if someone from that end had Joe.
Nothing.
Days turned into weeks.
I was eaten alive by guilt and by worry for Joe. How was he? Was he still alive? Was he in pain? Was he being tortured on a daily basis? Who had him and why? Would I ever see him again? Would I ever have the chance to tell him that I still cared for him and would always be there for him? Or would he die, forever thinking that I no longer cared for him? That last thought was unbearable.
And weeks turned into months.
Two months, one week, and four days to be exact. That was when THEY came for me. And what happened next threw my entire world upside down.
I am sure you know that I am a very logical and practical person. I approach life in a very scientifically methodological manner, and everything in my world has a logical explanation. Yes, I was very much like Dana Scully. And what happened next turned me into a Fox Mulder. Sort of. If you get my gist.
Ah, the sun is rising again.
Well then, this is all I have to say for tonight. Tomorrow night perhaps, if you are still keen to hear my tale?
Should I ask for reviews? Well I suppose - please tell me how to improve the angst element!
