The Damascus Chronicles (5 page)

“What?”

“Go to Father Paul, and stay there until the police call you. Tell him an old friend of his sent you. He’ll know, now go, you’ll be safe there from the streets,” instructed Michael.

“Thanks,” cried the girl.

“We have to go now!” yelled Serena. The two of them disappeared in the shadows, flying back to his place.

Back at the downtown police station a priest was speaking with an officer who stood next to the young girl.

“Thank you for bringing her in Father, we’ll take it from here.” The officer shook the priest’s hand and the priest left the room.

“What did you see honey?” asked the officer. “The man in black, he saved me,” said the girl. “Who?” The officer asked. The girl could not say anymore; shock had caused her to black out. “Get a medic in here now!” yelled the officer.

Michael and Serena ran into the Michael’s pad, breathless and irritated with each other’s actions.

“You stupid idiot! You could have gotten us both killed!” yelled Serena in anger.

“I couldn’t let
that prick kill that girl, Serena, I couldn’t,” protested Michael. “Pathetic!” Serena spat.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!”

“I said you’re pathetic.”

“You’re a real heartless bitch!” retorted Michael.

“What!” Serena yelled. “We are the shadows, the hidden; vampires do not interact in mortal affairs, do you understand? Never! Even what we witnessed tonight,” yelled Serena.

“Even when an innocent teenage girl is being raped?” said Michael.

“Yes, even in that case, we must not have contact with humans. Doing so could result in us being hunted or killed. Those are the rules for our survival; we are immortal but not invincible.”

“I refuse to follow some ancient code. My life is mine to rule and mine alone,” said Michael. “ You’re mine. I gave you your life.” Serena pushed Michael in frustration. “Without me you would be dead!”

“And I saved yours, or do you forget that without me you’d be riddled with 38 caliber bullets back at Scarfo’s penthouse,” yelled Michael, grabbing her arm with anger, though he dropped her arm as he looked at her. Tears sprang to Serena’s eyes and she dropped to the floor crying. Michael left the apartment, slamming the door behind him; he sped off on his motorcycle, cruising to relieve his stress.

Four hours later he came home, feeling guilty for confronting Serena. The apartment was quiet and dark; however, a light flickered from the living room where a small fire burned in the fireplace. Serena was on the couch curled up in a blanket, half asleep with a few books and a glass of red wine on the table in front of her.

“She couldn’t handle it,” Michael said to himself before walking in. He quietly walked over to her on the couch, leaned over and kissed her softly on the forehead. Serena stirred slightly, happy to see that he came home, unlike all the others that had left her. “Hey,” she said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Michael.

“No, you’re right, it was good to save that girl’s life. I forgot what it’s like to care about others; I forgot what it’s like to be human.” “Serena, I know that we’re expected to be hidden from the world, but please understand, even if we are no longer of this world, we can learn from the mistakes we make. Just because we are what we are does not mean that humanity is removed from us. It’s still in each of us.” Michael gently stroked her hair.

“Do you really believe that? But we take lives.”

“It doesn’t matter, for all the evil that is in any person, a fragment of good survives too.” Serena kissed him. Michael went over to make himself a rum and cola at the bar to try to relax; as he sat down on the couch, Serena wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist, hugging him in guilt. “Thanks,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Michael repeated. They kissed passionately and fell asleep on the couch together.

All of a sudden sharp, piercing pains hit Michael. His muscles became so tense that his veins turned dark blue. His eyes changed to pure white and his ears rang with urgent screams. He saw a vision; he was looking at a man in his thirties, tied up on a chair in what seemed to be an old, abandoned factory. The man, in his late thirties, had brown hair, brown eyes, was dressed in a derby brown hat, brown coat, tan pants, and black shoes, his face bruised and bloody from being beaten. Serena woke in shock. “Michael! Michael!” she screamed, horrified at the sight of her lover having what seemed to be an epileptic fit. In a flash it was over. Michael lay motionless on the floor and then came out of his trance. He was breathing harshly and perspiring heavily.

“I saw him,” Michael panted.

“Him, who’s him?” asked Serena nervously. “Fredricks,” yelled Michael.

“Who?”

At that same moment the telephone rang and Michael answered eagerly. A young man spoke on the other end of the line in panic, “Hello, hello, Michael!” yelled the young man.

“Tommy, is that you man? What’s wrong!”

“Mike, thank God,” said Tommy.

“What the hell is going on?” said Michael. “Mike, they got Danny!”

“Who has him?”

“Two of Frank Scarfo’s guys, I spotted them around the corner of the shop, they grabbed Danny,” babbled Tommy.

”Did you get the license plate number?” asked Michael.

“Yeah, why?”

“I can trace it to them. Quick, give me the plate number.”

“110568. Get to them quick, they’re going to kill him!” Tommy screeched.

“I’m on it!” yelled Michael as he hung up the phone.

“Danny you dumb knucklehead!” Michael said to himself in the car with Serena.

“Who’s Danny?” Serena asked.

“An old friend of the family and mine, damn you! Danny, Damn it! He’s always getting himself into shit! What the hell are you looking at, what’s with the face?” Michael glanced at Serena. “You! I have never seen the gift react that fast to a fledgling,” said Serena.

“What?” Michael asked.

“The dark gift that we possess – normally it takes many years for a fledgling to develop their abilities. Many die after changing. Their human bodies can’t withstand the transformation of being turned,” explained a surprised Serena.

“You mean to tell me that I could have been fertilizer and you kept this from me all this time?”

“Well you came through, didn’t you,” protested Serena.

“Thanks!” Michael retorted. He hit the tracking device on the dashboard as they sped off into the night.

The scanner began to ring with a pinging sounded as they closed in on their quarry.

“We got a signal,” Serena said. Michael stopped the car in front of Scarfo’s meat packing plant. Another car was already parked in the shadows. The back gate was locked tight; so was the whole facility, which was built like a fortress. Michael hit the high beams, and with tires screaming he rammed the car through the gate, crashing right through the main wooden door of the factory. As they sprang out of the car they saw a tall lanky man and a short pudgy man holding Danny Fredricks over a giant meat grinder, the blades spinning fast and sharp.

“Okay pig, where’s the money?” demanded the short, pudgy man.

“It’s in my coat,” yelled Fredricks.

“Get it!”

“What is this? This is 10 grand. Where’s the other 20, you chiseler!” yelled the tall man.

“Aw Al, come on! Would I screw my partners over?” Fredricks asked.

“Yes!” both of them yelled.

“Hey Al, let’s see if this pig can fly!” said the short man, and Al replied, “Let’s, Sonny!”

“I don’t think so, assholes!” Michael leapt onto the platform.

“Waste them!” Sonny yelled, as they opened fire. Michael dropkicked Sonny, knocking him down. In a whirlwind Al grabbed Serena, locking her in his grip. Serena neatly broke his wrist by twisting it backwards.

“AHHHAAHA!” screeched Al. Slipping to the ground he dropped his machine gun, which fell to the floor. Firing as it landed, the bullets cut through the chains that held Danny from being sliced into lunchmeat.

“No!” Danny screamed as the chains broke. Plummeting downward, Serena reached Danny in a graceful acrobatic dive, pushing him away from the grinder blades before the chains fell apart into the activated machine, smashing it to pieces. Sparks flew onto the ground near some old rusted half opened barrels of fuel that was used to run the machines. Some of the barrels had leaks in them as small puddles of fuel began to catch fire.

Scarfo’s two goons ran out of the place with all the others, just before the whole factory blew. Michael, Danny and Serena hijacked Al’s car; Scarfo’s thugs gave chase, firing at them. After ditching the car, they fled to the bullet subway station, Fredricks thanked his two rescuers with a little present: five thousand dollars in cash and a shipping list that had important dates on them.

“You’re still doing cons, you greedy son of a bitch!” Michael exclaimed.

“Come on Mike, a guy has to eat,” said Danny. “Yeah, and I have to bail your ass out of shit every time you mess with the wrong people,” Michael replied.

“Sorry,” said Danny.

“Ah piss on it, man it’s nothing.” Michael winked at him.

“Thanks for your help. Someday I may be able to repay you for being a good friend. Keep in touch; we’ll do lunch.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah right.” He smiled as Fredricks boarded one of the departing trains.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Serena asked. “Fredricks is okay. Now let’s look at that list,” replied Michael.

Serena pulled the shipping list out of her pocket and inspected it carefully. “There are listings of dates and times here for cargo shipment pickups,” she said.

“Let me see that.”

“Here.” Serena passed him the list.

“Whatever Scarfo’s men wanted from Fredricks was more than just cash. This list also contains all the merchandise they plan to move out, as well as the manifest that comes with it. If this information was released to the press, Scarfo could take a major hit to his operation. Danny really hit a big one this time. It’s no wonder they wanted to kill him,” Michael mused. “They’ve got a shipment moving out tonight.”

“What are we waiting for?” Serena asked. “Let’s go,” said Michael.

“Where to?”

“The industrial district.”

They boarded the express train and zipped to the other side of town. From within the old abandoned Bards Bureau Storage Warehouse came angry voices. Below the rafters that were covered in beds of dust and decay, a crowd of men grumbled and bellowed with distaste for one another’s business practices.

“The deal was for 20 million, Garcia, not 30!” Franco yelled to a muscular Spanish man with a twisted black mustache, rugged beard, and knife scars on his face. The Spaniard was dressed in a black leather jacket, army fatigues and wore a machine gun pistol on his belt. His eyes burned like those of Satan himself.

“That was the deal, but you changed it when you dicked me over with only half!” Garcia spat.

“Sonny, kill this fucking wetback,” yelled Franco as both sets of men drew their guns on each other.

“Go ahead, Dago, whop, asshole! Shoot!” Garcia challenged.

“You greasy, bean eating son of a bitch!” yelled Franco.

”By the way, there’s a remote-controlled bomb linked to inside one of the crates. Pull the trigger and this place goes boom!” mocked Garcia.

“You’re bluffing,” Franco fired back, holding his pistol half cocked.

“Am I? Hey! Antonio!” Garcia yelled to one of his thugs. The thug removed a remote detonator out from his jacket pocket.

Franco called off his mens guns. “Tell you what, Franco, I’ll give you the guns back if you cut me a percentage on the take from the dope you got coming into town.”

Garcia coolly replied, “Forget it!”

“You got no choice; I’m your only way to get the stuff in and out of the states safely.”

“Give me a guarantee.”

Garcia tossed Franco a packet of files containing important information.

“You fucking snake!” said Franco as he skimmed through the files.

“Oh yes, we know everything about you Scarfo. Our government is especially looking to protect its image and would go to pieces if what goes on with your country and mine, including this little venture, was released to the public.”

“He has it all – on the organization, shipments, hit lists, Swiss bank accounts, and prison records,” said Sonny.

“Think of it this way, gringo – you do business our way, you protect your ass, we protect ours, and we each get a cut,” said Garcia coolly.