Birth of Jaiden (17 page)

The feeling that something
was wrong suddenly overcame me with a brute force. With three
rabbits dangling from my closed fist, I began to run as fast as the
deep snow would permit me. Drawing closer and closer to our home,
the smoke became thicker until finally I could see the source of
it.

It was our house. I
dropped the rabbits and ran as fast as I could. Ashes mingled with
the falling snow and then marred the pure white blanket which
covered the floor of the woods.

As I rapidly approached
our small burning shack, I did not take any precaution. I ran
straight into the house without a thought of myself or what may
have been inside the shack. The welfare of my family was the only
thing which drove me.

Inside, the intense heat
almost forced me to stop, flaming orange fingers reached out to
grab my thick clothing, and it was impossible to breath. The shack
was only two rooms. I remember scouring the first room with my
eyes, only to find nothing but the flaming rubble of our
belongings.

The second room…contained
my worst nightmare. Through the smoke, I could see my wife; she sat
in a chair with a thick rope tied around her. Her beautiful red
hair had caught fire and singed off all the way to the scalp which
was burnt and blackened. Her face was so badly burnt I barley
recognized her. Catherine was dead.

Even in death, she had her
arms extended out to my sons who sat tied together at her feet. I
went wild. I screamed and screamed, refusing to believe any of it.
My sons sat hunched together, their heads tilted inward toward each
other. They were also burnt beyond recognition.

The fire grew larger,
suffocating me more with each passing second. I reached down and
wildly fumbled with the rope Catherine was tied with.

Then, without warning, a
burning log from the ceiling caved in beside me, then another. I
knew I had no time to remove their bodies. I had to get out of
there if I wanted to live. But, inside of me…I didn’t care if I
lived; my family was dead.

The fallen logs had
created an even larger inferno for me to get through. I had to find
the baby, though. I thought, maybe, somehow, whoever had done that
horrible thing had spared her. I tried to see through squinty eyes.
The smoke caused my eyes to sting so fiercely that I could not find
my way.

Quickly, I searched the
room for my daughter. I found her lying on the blazing bed of red
hot coals; her small body was black and charred. I reached into the
fire, took her tiny corpse, grabbed it and held her to my
chest.

That’s when I heard a
voice. She whispered all too calmly that I needed to get out, and
that I needed to hurry. I couldn’t help but glance back at the
remains of my wife and sons. How could I just…leave
them?

Then, the voice told me again
to get out if I wanted to live, and again I couldn’t decide if I
actually
wanted
to live. I couldn’t move. I stood there like a stone
statue.

Someone made the decision
for me. A great wall of fire blocked my way out. It was all around
me. But then, I felt a giant push from behind and I was thrown
through the wall of flames, out the front door into the
snow.

The snow outside was gray
with ash. I coughed harshly until I had to throw up. Smoke billowed
up in a large black cloud. Sparks and flames spewed from the
crumbling house and I held my baby’s unrecognizable body in my arms
as if she was still alive.

I fell to my knees in the
snow; I held her to my chest and screamed until I had no voice. I
wanted to die too. I wanted to go with them. I staggered to the
burning remains of the house and threw myself, with her still in my
arms, onto the snow beside the hot coals and flames of
fire.

The only pain I felt was
inside; my family was my heart and they were
gone
. Life simply wasn’t worth living
without them. I held my daughter’s body tightly in my arms,
determined not to let her go, determined to die with
them.

I lay there even after the
fire had died and the house was nothing but a pile of ash. I lay
there for days holding my little girl’s small corpse as close to me
as I possibly could.

I planned to stay there
till I died from hunger and pain. I eagerly awaited the arms of
death.

For the days which I lay
there, no animals came to feast on me and no one arrived to see the
cause of the fire. I was truly alone.

I don’t think one minute
passed in which I didn’t curse God for causing such suffering. We
had been good people and had always lived life for him, yet he had
taken them from me and left me with nothing to live for. Little did
I know at that time but I would feel the emptiness that started
back then for over another hundred years.

Eventually, a friend of
mine came venturing out to visit us and discovered me lying atop a
pile of rubble and ash which used to be our home.

He called out to me,
quickly coming to help. He grabbed my arms and flipped me over onto
my back. When he saw the charred remains of my daughter’s corpse,
he screamed loudly and staggered backward.

Finally, after a time of
vomiting and dry heaving, he gathered his bearings enough to try
and pry her from my arms.

‘
Alexander, you must let
her go,’ he told me. ‘You need to put her down and come with
me.’

That only resulted in him
having to deal with me kicking at him and trying to fight him off.
I fought as hard as I possibly could without letting go of my
baby’s body. He covered his face to avoid the blows from my feet,
and then he stood back and listened to my screams.

Screams for him to leave
and that I wanted to die. That he could go to hell for trying to
take me from my family. He did leave but he came back soon with
more men who pried her body from my arms and then carried me
away.

Soon, I passed out. I woke
to see one of the men’s wives standing over me. She was tending to
my burns. The second my eyes popped open, more screams erupted from
within me. The rest of the household came running and when they
arrived, the wife who had tended to me had pressed herself up
against the closet door in fear.

Without any thought and
dressed in only my underclothes, I jumped up from the bed which and
ran from the house screaming about how they took me from my
family.

I had become a
madman.

I ran for many miles until
I could run no more. Then, I walked sluggishly as if I were asleep.
With no destination in mind, I found myself in a village wandering
about aimlessly.

People on the street
looked at me as if I were an apparition. I still smelled of smoke
and burnt flesh. My underclothes were torn in some places as well.
I must have appeared crazed.

A kind man came upon me
and took me off the streets before I could be arrested. He gave me
clothes and introduced me to the drink they called vodka. I
detested the taste of it but it did return the numbing sensation
which I so desired to feel again.

Before that day, I had
hardly ever drunk but I ignored any voice inside of me that told me
it was wrong.

I felt as if God had
betrayed me. He took away all that I had had in the world.
Twenty-eight years old and I had lost my entire family.”

***

Alex slumped back into his
pillows. Telling his story had exhausted him, and honestly, he
didn’t feel any better for it. It had brought back too many ugly
memories which he didn’t want to remember.

“
Alex,” Chris said, “would
you like to rest for a while?”

“
No, no, there is more to
tell.”

“
More?”

“
Yes.” Alex
nodded

“
Are you sure you want to
go on?” Chris looked skeptical. “We can continue this later. You
don’t look like you feel well.”

Alex took Christopher’s
hand. “I’ll be fine, just let me finish what I started.”

Chris nodded. “If that’s
what you want.”

“
It’s what I want,” Alex
assured him.

19

Before Stewart even opened
his eyes, he knew that he had not been returned home. The sterile
hospital smell was stronger than it had been in the last room they
had him in.

He didn’t want to open his
eyes; in fact, he felt like he couldn’t. Weakness and exhaustion
had crept in and numbed his body.

“
Please, God,” he
whispered, “let me get out of this alive.”

A raspy male voice beside
him announced, “There is no god.”

Stewart’s eyes popped open
despite the fact that they had felt glued shut. Blinding light
penetrated his eyes and he quickly shut them again. Then,
gradually, he opened them again and took in his
surroundings.

The ceiling was made of a
damp looking gray stone. He turned his head to the left, where the
voice had come from, and saw a white curtain. An identical curtain
occupied his right side.

“
If there was a god, then
none of us would be here in the first place,” the voice
continued.

“
What do you mean?”
Stewart asked him.

“
It doesn’t matter. We
will all be dead soon anyway.”

“
What are you talking
about?” Stewart tried to reach out and open the curtain but
realized he couldn’t. His arms were handcuffed to the metal rails
of the hospital type bed which he lay on.

As he scanned his arm
slowly from hand to elbow, he realized that in addition to the
severe cuts on his wrists there was a huge hole in the crook of his
arm.

“
What the…”

Stewart knew something
strange was happening. Why hadn’t they killed him? The man had said
there were more people in there. What the hell was going
on?

It was time to seriously
try to get out of there. Stewart shut his eyelids to close out the
light and concentrate as hard as he could to get himself
free.

Everlasting minutes
crawled by as he chanted different spells which he knew. Nothing
worked. He fell back onto his pillow and let out a long, loud sigh.
He hadn’t realized that he had become so tense while trying to work
his magic.

“
So, you actually think we
would keep you here without making sure your powers were bound.”
Malcolm’s voice boomed in the quiet of the room.

Again, Stewart’s eyes flew
open. That time, instead of a stone ceiling, he was staring at
Malcolm’s smug face.

“
You got someone to put a
binding
spell on
me?”

“
Of course I did, I’m not
stupid enough to let you escape after I went through all the
trouble of capturing you.”

Even strapped to a bed and
completely vulnerable, Stewart remained defiant. “I
will
find a way out of
here!”

Malcolm stared down at him
pitifully. “No, Stewart, you will never leave here. Since you have
decided not to help us, we have other temporary uses for you.” He
flicked his eyes toward the hole in Stewart’s arm.

“
What
is
going
on?” Stewart demanded.

Malcolm removed a key from
within his cape and proceeded to unlock Stewart’s cuffs. “Come, let
me show you.”

Surprised Malcolm had
unlocked him, he tried to sit up but his spinning head forced him
to lie back down.

“
Yes, I know you are weak
and tired. A little movement will help you to feel better. Come
on.”

While he was speaking,
Malcolm also removed the straps which bound Stewart’s feet. Again,
Stewart tried to sit up. He swung his jeans clad legs over the side
of the bed. When his bare feet hit the stone floor, it sent chills
throughout his body. Movement was slow and painful at first but
curiosity kept him moving. He desperately wanted to know what
Malcolm was up to.

The moment they set foot
out of his curtain cubical, Stewart saw a stone isle. On each side
of the isle, the walls were lined with curtains as far as he could
see.

Malcolm began to move forward.
“You see, Stewart, my vampires grow hungrier. With each new
generation turned, their hunger becomes more insatiable. As much as
I
don’t
care, we simply can’t have millions of dead lying in the
streets.”

While Stewart silently
walked beside Malcolm, he stared at the various kinds of people who
lay in the beds. They ranged from young children to very old men.
Stewart kept his face stern to keep from crying.

It was horrible to see
them lying there like zombies. The worst part was the children, the
children who had most likely stopped calling out for their mothers
long ago. Each and every one of them had pale, sunken faces which
resembled the faces of children you see on commercials for starving
children.

Malcolm continued his
explanation. “So, we needed to find a way to supplement this hunger
without causing a plague. I think you know that it
is
possible for a
person to live for a long time with blood being taken periodically
from their body. As long as they are nourished correctly, we are
able to keep our own fed, with fewer dead mortals.”