This solitary boy was Zack Giver. In the past weeks, he’d felt different. This dream was not the first. He had been more distant than normal after each one. There was a longing in him that needed to be filled. Something that he had to do, unknown to him, pulling at his thoughts. There was no challenge at home. He required a calamity. He wanted to get out of his own world and pursue a goal, a hobby, a person worth pursuing. He didn’t want his life to become atrophied. There were too many things that were stagnant as is.
He sat up on the edge of the bed. He reached for his silver rimmed glasses and slowly put them on. He tried to remember the dream again. He knew it was important. He thought he needed to be somewhere. Somewhere in a dream.
The alarm clock on his old mp3 player kicked in with an agenda. It blasted a fast paced song. It was Buckethead. Not a song you could easily ignore. He leaned over to hit the stop button. His concentration drifted. The moment was gone.
Chapter Five
The Lady In The Dark
On the top floor of a nearby hotel, a tall young woman laced up the half-corset of a rather unique outfit. The room was dark. Nothing was cast in any great detail. The shadows let only shades of gray hues paint the room. Her long back exposed the shape of a white angel’s wing. The tattoo was down the right side of her back. A single light from the hall shed a small glimmer of her true figure. She was a vixen in black lace and leather. Her dark hair gathered over her bare breasts. Her face was beautiful. She was a teenage goddess. Her blue eyes glowed from behind her straight flowing hair. She had light, sunless skin.
There was a knock on her open door. A young man in a black suit let himself in.
The young man spoke from the shadows. His face was shielded in darkness. His voice was impatient, “remember, you were the one that asked me for this assignment. They are targets. They are all simply targets. He is a target, nothing more, nothing less.”
The gorgeous half-dressed girl sat on the edge of the dark living room sofa as she answered, “I know he’s supposed to be the next incarnation of a demon, but look at him.” Her voice was commanding yet compassionate. She pointed to a black and white photograph on the large coffee table. It was partially hidden by the poor ambient light. “He’s only a boy. No older than you were when you were turned.”
“And look how far I’ve come in two hundred years. Have you forgotten the story of the child that gave in and awakened the demon? A thousand years meant nothing against merely ten years of pure-blood-lust in its hands. He holds the polar opposite of a true god in his flesh. Remember why you’re doing this, why he needs to die,” the young man spoke with purpose and urgency. He believed what he was saying. The boy’s death was necessary to him. “He is a monster, remember that.”
“I know it’s to save humanity and all. Kill the teenager and save the world or some appalling shit like that. But seeing his face, his expression. He doesn’t seem the type to give in to something like that.” She raised the photo, examining it, “you’re sure Marin will follow through with the assassination order if this all goes bad. You’re sure I won’t have to do it?” she tied up the corset. She laced it up in front. It exposed her delicate arms completely. A white sleeveless dress shirt acted as a slip to the black corset over top her skin.
“Of course, I’d never ask my own daughter to kill someone I was responsible for. However contractually speaking you are the one signing on the dotted line for this. If for some reason Marin doesn’t follow through then it will fall back on you to cause an accident leading to his immediate demise. At the very least you’ll be required to give him some bad advice that could be potentially fatal. At the most, you will have to end his life directly,” the figure in the doorway stepped into the room and opened the kitchen’s refrigerator. The light illuminated his face. He was a young boy himself, no older than fourteen. His short dark hair appeared black in the dim light. He took out a glass of dark red liquid and placed it on the open breakfast counter. He closed the door gently.
“What do you mean? An ‘accident’? Are you serious? Should I tell him he can walk on water and then try to drown him to death? Or some other outlandish attempt like that?” she laughed as she slid a black partially laced stocking up her leg.
The boy returned to the archway next to the hall, “no. I mean that if you are placed in a position where you have vital information about a current situation, you could possibly tell him to travel down the wrong path instead of the safe one. That’s all.”
The young woman pulled the stocking up the other leg, “and about my background?” She unfolded a long white slip, “will the singing position present a problem?”
“No one knows you work there. You never have to tell him about your little hobby,” the boy adjusted his tie. “You can keep that part of your life to yourself. You can meet him outside of a Burger King for all I care. Where and when is your choice, not mine. He goes out so rarely that you’d never run into him on your own, not by chance at least.” He drank the red liquid and licked his lips, “Whatever you do, I shudder to think he’ll be able to look away from you long enough to realize what’s actually going on. You make a very convincing sixteen year old,” he swirled the glass, preparing to drink more.
“I’m only as young as I can afford to be, you know that more than anyone, David,” she put a white slip on.
“I told you to call me father, Kyli. Sometimes I think you are your mother. You’re so similar after all,” David replied.
“But I’m not a drug addict, dad,” Kyli unfolded a long black skirt.
“You’re correct as always,” David continued to swirl the glass in his left hand with a sigh.
“So he’s not going to suspect me at all? This will be nothing like the last time?” Kyli stepped into the opening of the long dark skirt.
“No, there shouldn’t be any issue. I do want to warn you though. He’s quite intuitive for his age. What he lacks in conversation he makes up for in understanding. He hasn’t turned, and he’s already feeling people out. It’s definitely the demon gift. So don’t get on any subjects that are close to home, got it. Stick to the script, and everyone will go home happy and alive,” David sipped from the glass again.
“Except for him, right? Everybody lives and he gets to be the one that picks up the check at the end of the party. Payable upon death for the greater good, right? What a fate for an unknowing random kid. To be the host to a demon of all things and he doesn’t even know it yet. Poor Zack Giver,” Kyli pulled up the skirt and zipped the side.
“It’s sad, but necessary. His death will protect billions in the end. We just have to document it and let their man do the rest,” David slammed back the remainder of the glass. His lips slightly splashed with the dark red color. The liquid absorbed into his skin as he turned back into the hallway.
Kyli gazed at the photograph of Zack on her coffee table. “Too bad, he’s handsome.”
Chapter Six
Waking Back Up Into The World
There was a knock at the door. It was Zack’s father, John.
John Giver was a pool designer that learned to be a landscape architect. With the decline of pools in the greater Gainesville area he found it hard to pay the rent. He was good at his job. Too good in fact to get any repeat business. His pools didn’t wear down. They didn’t need the regular high maintenance of other pool systems.
John had recently turned to Zack to help with rent. It was something that wasn’t a big issue. Zack had helped with rent in the past. He took on odd jobs here and there restoring cabinets at the homes of John’s pool contract jobs. It was a simple thing that he enjoyed doing. It was straight forward work. He’d sand, dust, refinish, and smooth sand followed by a few layers of stain. It allowed him to zone out enough and not think about what was going on in his life at the time.
He exhaled as the last memory of his dream was lost, “coming.”
He didn’t know what type of occupation he wanted to pursue. He was good at r
estoring things. He would always get complemented on his work with cabinets. He thought about what could be and what might be in the future.
He wanted to relax. To go somewhere that he wasn’t used to. He wanted to be alone for a few hours. Where there was no one to bother him. There was a local Gothic night club open at 8pm. It came to mind because of a flier that advertised that it allowed minors. It was a place where a person could just sit and watch the live music for the cost of a soda. He wanted that kind of solidarity. He needed it. He wished to be alone in a crowd of people. The concept sounded nice. Lately he felt he was never alone with just his thoughts.
Physically, he was lean. Although his woodworking skills toned his arms, his shirts were always too loose to show it. Most girls overlooked him passing on the street. He wasn’t particularly tall. He wasn’t muscular, or athletic. But he was attractive. Those who took the time to look into his eyes understood that instantly. He had a gaze that was captivating. A sharp, gaunt face with dark brown eyes and short black hair gave him a stoic look that a few girls could resist once they saw him. His chin was broad. It made a very masculine face. The only problem was that he appeared unapproachable. He was always alone.
“Zack, you didn’t fall back asleep, did you?” John called out into the silent room.
He stared out across the room, “no. I’m up.” He adjusted his round glasses again. They weren’t the most stylish pair. They were an heirloom passed down from his grandfather. His father said that they were made of nearly pure silver. He considered them priceless and kept them in good condition because of it.
John finally walked in. “Zack, I know that look. You can’t remember the address, can you?”
He didn’t say anything.
“You’re going somewhere tonight aren’t you? Do you need a ride?” John offered.
John Giver wasn’t a traditional father. He was more of a friend to Zack than a strict parent. John knew his son, perhaps a little too well. They had been there for each other as friends and family since his mother left when he was two. Without knowing it, he was there for his dad. When he was older, Zack always knew what to say to stop the tears. John chose to never speak of his ex-wife. Only mentioning her when he needed to answer a question of what she was like. Living with a single parent made him more self-reliant in John’s eyes. He was able to stand tall in the face of emotionally damaging events a normal kid might not be able to deal with.
John looked almost nothing like Zack, begging an answer more times than not of what his mother looked like. He was over six feet and had naturally light tanned skin. His very light brown hair and blue eyes were a stark contrast to his son.
“No. I’ll take a bus,” Zack said calmly. “I just want to blend in.”
“The kids at this club are going to be dressed very well. Some will be in elaborate costumes. To blend in, you need to dress accordingly. Trust me. I was your age once,” John had a smile on his face. A sense that he was steering his son in the right direction. “How do you think I met your mother?” John sighed, “put these on. You’ll thank me later,” John handed him some clothes on a hanger and stepped out.
He began to get changed.
“Hey Zack,” John said through the door.
“What is it?” Zack peeled off his clothes.
“Why don’t you go with your friends?” John suggested.
He turned to the door, “you know the answer to that.”
“Yeah, sorry. I keep forgetting they moved away,” John apologized.
He put on the pressed clothing his dad picked out.
John waited in the space between the bedroom corridor and the kitchen of the apartment. The decoration was minimal. It lacked a woman’s touch. The only appealing feature of the whole apartment were the windows. Four large panes covered the entire gap from the kitchen to the far wall where John’s movie shelves were. Their view was of the Gainesville tree line and the surrounding apartment complexes that littered the horizon to the east. The third floor offered sunlight that flooded the living room each morning and a sunset that was perfect every evening.
He opened the door.
“You look good son,” John complemented. “What’s the name of the club you’re going to?”
He didn’t answer. He had planned to catch the bus downtown and then ask where the Goth club was.
John spoke up, “it’s Club Sauger. You mentioned it last week. It’s always better to go out with as much info as you can before you get in over your head.”
Chapter Seven
Another Night Begins
Later that night at the club. She sat at the lit make up booth. She touched up a few things on her face. She retraced her eyeliner and stood up. This would be yet another disappointing night. Or so she thought.
Her gown was long and dark as it always was. Her hair to match. She took the stage as she always did. No nerves to dissuade her performance. She enjoyed singing the same low melodies. It seduced her as much as the crowd. It calmed her to sing. It distracted her from what she really did most nights.
The bass picked up. The drums tapped. She waited a measure. Her eyes were closed to the room. She expected the same old audience. The same old crowd of uninteresting people in front of her. She let the measure play out as she slowly bobbed her head.
She opened her eyes. She was ready to sing. The bass lowered. The drums quieted. She opened her mouth with every intention of singing. But when her eyes met the table in front of her there was no sound. There was someone sitting before her. Someone looked right up at her. It gave her a chill that she didn’t expect. He was young, handsome, and he gazed at her with every ounce of his being. His deep brown eyes were only for her.
She stared back with a gratification that was unfamiliar to her. He was at the lonely table when no one else was. Finally, someone interesting.
Chapter Eight
Scripted Fate
Meanwhile, an hour earlier. Zack studied the bus route to Club Sauger. He told his dad that he’d be back around 10pm. When he got to the stop it was partially filled with people from all ages mingling about. In the distance there was a small group of five slightly older kids pushing around a younger one. He knew that he had a little time. So he wandered over to check it out.
It was a fight. From what it sounded like, they wanted money from the kid, a cell phone, an mp3 player, a portable gaming system, something of value that the kid didn’t actually have. He had stumbled upon a grade school mugging.
As he approached, one of the bullies called out, “hey! Turn the hell back and get lost!” The kid had a short buzzed haircut, like the rest of them. A gray hooded shirt rounded out the look.
He knew what was going on and he didn’t like it. There was a feeling somewhere deep inside him. He wanted to stop this from happening. He wanted to protect this innocent middle schooler from getting his ass kicked. At least that’s what he wanted to tell himself. Somewhere inside he wanted the conflict to come. So he played dumb, “what was that?” He stepped closer. He knew exactly what the guy had said.
“You know him?” another one of the bullies asked Zack. “You know this kid?”
“Yeah, he’s my little brother’s friend.” Zack kept a straight face with the lie.
The two bullies immediately pulled him forward. They held him by the arms and drug him to the rest of the group. They pushed him down on his knees. Another gang member frisked him for anything valuable in his pockets. He had nothing but the bus schedule in his pockets.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he remained calm as he spoke.
The largest one instantly punched him in the side of the face. He went down and they held him to the ground. They were refocusing their attention away from the crying kid. The plan had worked.
“We’re takin’ what you got. You have a problem with that?” the other bully asked with an attitude.
The lack of light hid their faces well, being so far away from th
e bus stop Zack couldn’t make out their descriptions. He had planned on making a full report to the cops later that night on what had happened. The gang all looked like they were over eighteen. That meant felony assault on a minor. That meant jail time for every one of them. That meant the kid would be safe. But that wasn’t going to happen now. It was too dark.
He thought they were smart to pick the location, and that he was too brash to walk into it. His cheek was pressed into the road by one of their shoes.
He looked over to the middle schooler. He was small, round, and about eleven. He was crying his eyes out, “please don’t hurt me anymore. I don’t have any money. I’ve got nothing, I’m poor. Please, just let me go,” the small boy’s voice cracked. It strained under the stress of the situation.
He looked back at the two bullies in front of him, “I don’t have anything either unless you really like to know when the city bus gets here. But I’m not going to let you beat this kid up. Let him go and do what you want to me instead,” he stood up for his morals against the white high top that pressed into his face. It was honorable but it was about to get him killed.
The small gang didn’t know what to think. They stopped kicking the young kid. The thugs looked at the large guy, not knowing what to do next.
“I don’t have all day, I’ve got a bus to catch. What’s it gonna be?” Zack pressed them for an answer while they held him on the gravel median next to the road.
The larger bully huffed and squinted his eyes at Zack, “go ahead. Let him go. We’ll take it out on this guy instead. We’ll make sure he gets to where ever the hell he’s going with a few extra colors.”
The gang let the middle schooler go. The kid ran away crying and flailing his arms. The five immediately turned to Zack. For the next seven minutes, they kicked the crap out of him. In a sick twist of irony, when the bus came, the gang was the one that hailed it for him. They walked him to the steps and shoved him onto the bus. He stumbled up the stairs and walked in with a busted lip, a black eye, and some visible bruises. The gang promptly ran off as the doors closed.