| The Night Walker |
| By Katie Anderson |
The night is warm and humid, but still cooler than the day. I lean against my car while I stare at
an old church graveyard that’s across from my house. It looks centuries old, but the
tombstones range from 1936 to 1940. What’s depressing is the birth years are close to the
death years—young children. The youngest was barely a year old. An epidemic, I suppose. I
don’t know. Never gave it thought until now.
I light up a cigarette and blow smoke towards the sky. Twelve-thirty in the morning and once
again I can’t sleep. I hear my wife coughing inside, a terrible cough. They say she’s dying. The
love of my life slipping away, and not a damn thing I can do about it. Death surrounds me, both
inside and out. I wish I could exhale the problems in life as easily as I exhale the smoke from
my lungs, but I guess in the end the tar remains.
I study the ground. Hearing her cough and moan makes me feel like I’m not even a man. You
have no idea what it’s like to watch the only person you’ve ever loved, the only person who’s
ever loved you, die before your eyes. Every day, every night, she’s dying of cancer and I’m out
here smoking.
God, I’m such an ass, such a wonderful husband… stupid idiot.
A movement catches my attention from the corner of my eye, but when I look there’s nothing
there. Stir of the trees, I guess. I stare at the graves, believing there has to be something I
haven’t thought of, haven’t tried, but deep inside I know I’ve done everything I can.
I flick what’s left of the cigarette into the yard and walk back inside, my head hanging down. I
pour a drink of water and stand by the kitchen window, still looking at those damned graves.
There’s a person out there, among the tombstones—I can see him now. He stands in front of a
grave staring at it, but then he kicks the tombstone and knocks it over. He moves to another
grave and does the same thing.
I set my drink down on the table and run outside. I shouldn’t do this. I should just forget about it
and sleep but I can’t. Somewhere between that asshole disrespecting the dead and the anger
of having to watch my wife die, I’m enraged.
“Hey!”
He turns and looks at me.
What now? What else can I say? I thought he would scare and run off but…
Oh, shit. He’s walking towards me.
an old church graveyard that’s across from my house. It looks centuries old, but the
tombstones range from 1936 to 1940. What’s depressing is the birth years are close to the
death years—young children. The youngest was barely a year old. An epidemic, I suppose. I
don’t know. Never gave it thought until now.
I light up a cigarette and blow smoke towards the sky. Twelve-thirty in the morning and once
again I can’t sleep. I hear my wife coughing inside, a terrible cough. They say she’s dying. The
love of my life slipping away, and not a damn thing I can do about it. Death surrounds me, both
inside and out. I wish I could exhale the problems in life as easily as I exhale the smoke from
my lungs, but I guess in the end the tar remains.
I study the ground. Hearing her cough and moan makes me feel like I’m not even a man. You
have no idea what it’s like to watch the only person you’ve ever loved, the only person who’s
ever loved you, die before your eyes. Every day, every night, she’s dying of cancer and I’m out
here smoking.
God, I’m such an ass, such a wonderful husband… stupid idiot.
A movement catches my attention from the corner of my eye, but when I look there’s nothing
there. Stir of the trees, I guess. I stare at the graves, believing there has to be something I
haven’t thought of, haven’t tried, but deep inside I know I’ve done everything I can.
I flick what’s left of the cigarette into the yard and walk back inside, my head hanging down. I
pour a drink of water and stand by the kitchen window, still looking at those damned graves.
There’s a person out there, among the tombstones—I can see him now. He stands in front of a
grave staring at it, but then he kicks the tombstone and knocks it over. He moves to another
grave and does the same thing.
I set my drink down on the table and run outside. I shouldn’t do this. I should just forget about it
and sleep but I can’t. Somewhere between that asshole disrespecting the dead and the anger
of having to watch my wife die, I’m enraged.
“Hey!”
He turns and looks at me.
What now? What else can I say? I thought he would scare and run off but…
Oh, shit. He’s walking towards me.
I walk backwards, not knowing what else to do. The black
figure walks towards me. Moonlight shines off the blade he
pulls, six inches of steel gleaming in moonlight.
I run. Hard as I can, back to my house. The ground is so wet
from humidity I slip, falling and screaming.
Sharp pain burns my leg and I grit my teeth, digging fingers
into the ground as the bastard cuts me from knee to ankle. He
grabs my wrist and drags me into the house.
Oh, God. Katherine.
“No, please don’t hurt her. I’ll kill you if you touch her, you
bastard. I swear I will.”
He leaves me lying on the living room floor, while he walks
back toward the bedroom. I find the strength to drag myself
forward, grit my way through pain as I struggle to reach my
wife. She hasn’t screamed yet.
figure walks towards me. Moonlight shines off the blade he
pulls, six inches of steel gleaming in moonlight.
I run. Hard as I can, back to my house. The ground is so wet
from humidity I slip, falling and screaming.
Sharp pain burns my leg and I grit my teeth, digging fingers
into the ground as the bastard cuts me from knee to ankle. He
grabs my wrist and drags me into the house.
Oh, God. Katherine.
“No, please don’t hurt her. I’ll kill you if you touch her, you
bastard. I swear I will.”
He leaves me lying on the living room floor, while he walks
back toward the bedroom. I find the strength to drag myself
forward, grit my way through pain as I struggle to reach my
wife. She hasn’t screamed yet.
Katherine quits coughing.
I reach the partially closed bedroom door, push it open. I’m in complete shock from what lies
beyond the threshold. He sits beside her on the bed. Her chest and stomach are cut open,
pulled apart. He’s reaching inside, pulling out long strands of darkened and rotting internal
organs. He eats them.
I want to throw up, but instead pure anger causes me to scream as loud as I can. He turns
toward me with a bloody strand of Katherine’s intestines hanging from his lips. I throw myself
on him, no longer feeling pain in my leg, trying to kill the monster that has not only destroyed
my wife, but is eating her.He grabs me by the neck with his free hand, bringing me close. The
bright red of my wife’s blood stains his pale face. He looks like an ordinary man except his
eyes; they appear bright and dark simultaneously, the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever
seen. Those mysterious eyes make me feel a strange tranquility.
He hurls me across the room. My head hits the wall and it becomes dark, so dark. I begin to
pass out.
“Katherine.”
###
I wake the next day to the sun in my face and pain in my leg and I scream. I start to cry when I
remember what happened.
Katherine… I’m so sorry.
Hands touch me. I start to fight but I can’t see, blinded by sunlight.
“John! John! It’s alright.”
Katherine’s voice. My vision clears, and I see her hovering over my bed—the same bed where
I’d seen the monster eating her. The sheets are clean, spotless, save for around my leg.
“Katherine? But how? It’s not… it’s not possible.”
“It’s okay, honey. I’m fine, but we need to drive you to the hospital. Your leg is hurt.”
We sit in the car, Katherine driving, and I can’t take my eyes off her. Once we arrive at the
hospital, Katherine brings out a wheel chair. The doctor stitches my leg as my wife is ex-rayed
to see if the commotion has caused her cancer to flare up. I’m in the waiting room driving
myself mad, thinking about what happened last night.
It has to be real, doesn’t it?
If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have the cut in my leg. We wouldn’t be here. The doctors come
out with my wife, holding her medical files, and they sit us down to tell us the news. I cry.
###
It’s been a year since that night. We now live in New York. After what happened, I just couldn’t
stay there. It’s New Years and as the ball drops, shouts are made and confetti falls from the
sky. I pull my wife close to me and kiss her.
“Happy New Year, baby.”
She smiles.
Oh, God! That gorgeous smile.
It happens without warning. She develops convulsions. I think cancer, but I realize it’s a lot
worse than that when I gaze into her darkening eyes.
It’s happening again.
The change begins and I know I have to get her out of Time Square, away from these
thousands of partiers. I support her, pushing through the crowd and the thousands of people
who have come to celebrate the joyous holiday. It takes awhile, but (delete the previous
phrase - unnecessary) We finally reach the car and I help her inside.
The only (one - delete - unnecessary) destination on my mind is David’s house. I drive high-
speed. Hopefully I’ll make it in time. I look at my wife as we pull into his driveway, and I see
Katherine’s eyes have changed to that calming blue just like. . .
I help her to the front door and knock.
“Is she drunk?” I nod to David as he helps me move her inside. “Good to see you, guys.”
David and I sit in the living room while my wife glides back to his wife in the back bedroom.
Rebecca is dying of liver disease. David has become close to me during the past year,
bonding over losing a loved one to cancer, having met at the cancer ward. I give him the best
gift I can—his wife.
“Why is Katherine back there, John? Rebecca’s not even conscious.”
“She wanted to see how Rebecca was doing,” I lie, “so we came over.”
“John, if not for Katherine and you, I don’t think I’d be able to do this. I know you understand
better than anyone. You can relate.”
“Yeah, I understand. Completely.”
Katherine screams as the final stage of the change takes hold, a God-awful screeching. It
makes me shiver each time I hear it. The only thing is David hears it, too.
“What the hell is that?”
“That was Katherine, David.”
“Oh my God, Rebecca!”
“No! David!”
He runs to his wife’s room and I give chase. If he interrupts her, steps in the way, she’ll attack
him. Katherine still hasn’t learned how to control it.
I make it to the door where David watches Katherine as she cuts Rebecca open with a large
kitchen knife. His jaw is open, his eyes wide. Rebecca is as good as dead if Katherine is
interrupted. I always made sure no one was around when this happened, but I knew David
would be here. This is my gift to him.
“My God.”
“It’s alright, David.”
“What the hell is happening, John!” He trembles, his voice hysterical. “What the hell is she
doing? She’s killed her. She killed my Rebecca.”
“David, just come back to the living room and I will explain.”
“Like hell I will!”
He starts after Katherine. I grab a vase from the side table and hit him over the head. It does
the job. I drag him back to the living room laying him on the couch then wait.
He finally comes around after thirty minutes, his face white, eyes practically bulging out of his
skull. He starts to shake. As he sits there, inching his way down the couch away from me, I
start to explain to him about Katherine. Not only what she’s doing but how she became that
way, how she was cured of her cancer, how his wife will be cured of her disease.
“You can’t be serious, John,” he says, holding an ice pack I fetched against his head.
“You saw for yourself what Katherine was doing. You saw her eyes.”
“So now my wife will become what she is? A monster?”
“Katherine isn’t a monster. The man who cured her of cancer wasn’t a monster. It’s gruesome,
I admit, but it’s the only way. You said yourself the doctors can’t help Rebecca—Katherine
can.”
“But I don’t want my wife to become what Katherine is.”
“I don’t know if she will become what Katherine is. I don’t know how it works, David. I just know
this way, she won’t die. You said you wanted more time with your wife. I thought I was doing
you a favor.”
“Turning my wife into a cannibal isn’t exactly what I consider a favor.”
“I just wanted to help. It’s like you said: I do understand what you’re going through. I didn’t
want you to have to go through it any longer. I was just waiting for Katherine to change.”
He sighs and asks, “Do you have a cigarette?”
We break out laughing. He laughs until tears stream down his face, and we smoke while
waiting.
It’s finished an hour later. Katherine comes out, back to her old self like the other times. Her
clothes are clean, not even a drop of blood. She doesn’t remember what happened. She sits
next to me on the couch, asks how we came to David’s house. I explain, leaving out the finer
details, saying she drank too much. I don’t want her to know what she has become—I don’t
think she could handle it.
“I’m glad Rebecca is doing better, David,” she tells him.
“She’s not,” he says, his face wet with tears as blue cigarette smoke swirls around his face.
“What do you mean? We were just talking. She seems fine to me.”
“She does?”
David walks back to the bedroom, hesitates at the door, then walks inside. I follow. He is
hugging his wife when I enter. She stands on her own. She wasn’t able to do that before
Katherine visited her. He cries, kissing and holding her tight as if he won’t ever let her go.
Katherine and I leave.
Back at our house she traipses to bed, exhausted. “I feel like I just ran ten miles.” She doesn’t
even change into her nightwear. “Goodnight.”
I don’t follow her to bed. Instead, I start preparing once more. I keep knives in each room, in
the car, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. It will happen again. Katherine will change.
Thankfully, it’s not every night.
I did some research and found a people who I thought would profit, who I thought deserved to
live. I have to prepare for this or Katherine will feed on whoever is around, including me. It’s
not what I enjoy doing, or knowing, but at least I still have her… the love of my life.
Three days later, I receive a call from David. He asks me to meet him at a park not far from my
house. I see him sitting alone on the bench as I enter the park.
“What’s going on, David?”
“She’s cured.”
“I know.”
“The doctors used the word ‘miracle.’”
“I know this isn’t a burden I should have put on you. But this was the only way. I’ve been doing
some thinking, and perhaps I shouldn’t have done this to you. It’s possible Rebecca can
become like Katherine. They don’t make instruction manuals for these situations.”
“You haven’t cursed us; you’ve helped us. Rebecca isn’t going to die. You saved my wife’s
life… and mine. I don’t know how to repay you for this, John. I wasn’t ready to watch my wife
die and now I don’t have to—at least not for a long time from now. Thank you, John.”
“If Rebecca turns into whatever these creatures are, you’ll have to be ready to handle it.
Katherine isn’t a monster, David. She saves people. Rebecca might be able do the same thing.
Time will tell. If she becomes whatever Katherine has become, she will save the hopeless.”
“What are they?”
“No one knows for sure. I’ve done research to try to find the answer but it’s vague. What I do
know is that they appeared in medieval times and then disappeared, learned how to lay low, I
guess.”
“Are they vampires?”
“I don’t think so. Who knows? Perhaps they're what the story originated from. Whatever they
are, I’m thankful they're here.”
"What are they called?"
"The only name I found relating to them was Daemon Teras, which means Demon Monster. I
call them the night walkers."
"So what happens now?"
"We prepare for it to happen. That way, if Rebecca does change, we'll be ready."
"So we wait."
"Yeah . . . we wait."
I reach the partially closed bedroom door, push it open. I’m in complete shock from what lies
beyond the threshold. He sits beside her on the bed. Her chest and stomach are cut open,
pulled apart. He’s reaching inside, pulling out long strands of darkened and rotting internal
organs. He eats them.
I want to throw up, but instead pure anger causes me to scream as loud as I can. He turns
toward me with a bloody strand of Katherine’s intestines hanging from his lips. I throw myself
on him, no longer feeling pain in my leg, trying to kill the monster that has not only destroyed
my wife, but is eating her.He grabs me by the neck with his free hand, bringing me close. The
bright red of my wife’s blood stains his pale face. He looks like an ordinary man except his
eyes; they appear bright and dark simultaneously, the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever
seen. Those mysterious eyes make me feel a strange tranquility.
He hurls me across the room. My head hits the wall and it becomes dark, so dark. I begin to
pass out.
“Katherine.”
###
I wake the next day to the sun in my face and pain in my leg and I scream. I start to cry when I
remember what happened.
Katherine… I’m so sorry.
Hands touch me. I start to fight but I can’t see, blinded by sunlight.
“John! John! It’s alright.”
Katherine’s voice. My vision clears, and I see her hovering over my bed—the same bed where
I’d seen the monster eating her. The sheets are clean, spotless, save for around my leg.
“Katherine? But how? It’s not… it’s not possible.”
“It’s okay, honey. I’m fine, but we need to drive you to the hospital. Your leg is hurt.”
We sit in the car, Katherine driving, and I can’t take my eyes off her. Once we arrive at the
hospital, Katherine brings out a wheel chair. The doctor stitches my leg as my wife is ex-rayed
to see if the commotion has caused her cancer to flare up. I’m in the waiting room driving
myself mad, thinking about what happened last night.
It has to be real, doesn’t it?
If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have the cut in my leg. We wouldn’t be here. The doctors come
out with my wife, holding her medical files, and they sit us down to tell us the news. I cry.
###
It’s been a year since that night. We now live in New York. After what happened, I just couldn’t
stay there. It’s New Years and as the ball drops, shouts are made and confetti falls from the
sky. I pull my wife close to me and kiss her.
“Happy New Year, baby.”
She smiles.
Oh, God! That gorgeous smile.
It happens without warning. She develops convulsions. I think cancer, but I realize it’s a lot
worse than that when I gaze into her darkening eyes.
It’s happening again.
The change begins and I know I have to get her out of Time Square, away from these
thousands of partiers. I support her, pushing through the crowd and the thousands of people
who have come to celebrate the joyous holiday. It takes awhile, but (delete the previous
phrase - unnecessary) We finally reach the car and I help her inside.
The only (one - delete - unnecessary) destination on my mind is David’s house. I drive high-
speed. Hopefully I’ll make it in time. I look at my wife as we pull into his driveway, and I see
Katherine’s eyes have changed to that calming blue just like. . .
I help her to the front door and knock.
“Is she drunk?” I nod to David as he helps me move her inside. “Good to see you, guys.”
David and I sit in the living room while my wife glides back to his wife in the back bedroom.
Rebecca is dying of liver disease. David has become close to me during the past year,
bonding over losing a loved one to cancer, having met at the cancer ward. I give him the best
gift I can—his wife.
“Why is Katherine back there, John? Rebecca’s not even conscious.”
“She wanted to see how Rebecca was doing,” I lie, “so we came over.”
“John, if not for Katherine and you, I don’t think I’d be able to do this. I know you understand
better than anyone. You can relate.”
“Yeah, I understand. Completely.”
Katherine screams as the final stage of the change takes hold, a God-awful screeching. It
makes me shiver each time I hear it. The only thing is David hears it, too.
“What the hell is that?”
“That was Katherine, David.”
“Oh my God, Rebecca!”
“No! David!”
He runs to his wife’s room and I give chase. If he interrupts her, steps in the way, she’ll attack
him. Katherine still hasn’t learned how to control it.
I make it to the door where David watches Katherine as she cuts Rebecca open with a large
kitchen knife. His jaw is open, his eyes wide. Rebecca is as good as dead if Katherine is
interrupted. I always made sure no one was around when this happened, but I knew David
would be here. This is my gift to him.
“My God.”
“It’s alright, David.”
“What the hell is happening, John!” He trembles, his voice hysterical. “What the hell is she
doing? She’s killed her. She killed my Rebecca.”
“David, just come back to the living room and I will explain.”
“Like hell I will!”
He starts after Katherine. I grab a vase from the side table and hit him over the head. It does
the job. I drag him back to the living room laying him on the couch then wait.
He finally comes around after thirty minutes, his face white, eyes practically bulging out of his
skull. He starts to shake. As he sits there, inching his way down the couch away from me, I
start to explain to him about Katherine. Not only what she’s doing but how she became that
way, how she was cured of her cancer, how his wife will be cured of her disease.
“You can’t be serious, John,” he says, holding an ice pack I fetched against his head.
“You saw for yourself what Katherine was doing. You saw her eyes.”
“So now my wife will become what she is? A monster?”
“Katherine isn’t a monster. The man who cured her of cancer wasn’t a monster. It’s gruesome,
I admit, but it’s the only way. You said yourself the doctors can’t help Rebecca—Katherine
can.”
“But I don’t want my wife to become what Katherine is.”
“I don’t know if she will become what Katherine is. I don’t know how it works, David. I just know
this way, she won’t die. You said you wanted more time with your wife. I thought I was doing
you a favor.”
“Turning my wife into a cannibal isn’t exactly what I consider a favor.”
“I just wanted to help. It’s like you said: I do understand what you’re going through. I didn’t
want you to have to go through it any longer. I was just waiting for Katherine to change.”
He sighs and asks, “Do you have a cigarette?”
We break out laughing. He laughs until tears stream down his face, and we smoke while
waiting.
It’s finished an hour later. Katherine comes out, back to her old self like the other times. Her
clothes are clean, not even a drop of blood. She doesn’t remember what happened. She sits
next to me on the couch, asks how we came to David’s house. I explain, leaving out the finer
details, saying she drank too much. I don’t want her to know what she has become—I don’t
think she could handle it.
“I’m glad Rebecca is doing better, David,” she tells him.
“She’s not,” he says, his face wet with tears as blue cigarette smoke swirls around his face.
“What do you mean? We were just talking. She seems fine to me.”
“She does?”
David walks back to the bedroom, hesitates at the door, then walks inside. I follow. He is
hugging his wife when I enter. She stands on her own. She wasn’t able to do that before
Katherine visited her. He cries, kissing and holding her tight as if he won’t ever let her go.
Katherine and I leave.
Back at our house she traipses to bed, exhausted. “I feel like I just ran ten miles.” She doesn’t
even change into her nightwear. “Goodnight.”
I don’t follow her to bed. Instead, I start preparing once more. I keep knives in each room, in
the car, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. It will happen again. Katherine will change.
Thankfully, it’s not every night.
I did some research and found a people who I thought would profit, who I thought deserved to
live. I have to prepare for this or Katherine will feed on whoever is around, including me. It’s
not what I enjoy doing, or knowing, but at least I still have her… the love of my life.
Three days later, I receive a call from David. He asks me to meet him at a park not far from my
house. I see him sitting alone on the bench as I enter the park.
“What’s going on, David?”
“She’s cured.”
“I know.”
“The doctors used the word ‘miracle.’”
“I know this isn’t a burden I should have put on you. But this was the only way. I’ve been doing
some thinking, and perhaps I shouldn’t have done this to you. It’s possible Rebecca can
become like Katherine. They don’t make instruction manuals for these situations.”
“You haven’t cursed us; you’ve helped us. Rebecca isn’t going to die. You saved my wife’s
life… and mine. I don’t know how to repay you for this, John. I wasn’t ready to watch my wife
die and now I don’t have to—at least not for a long time from now. Thank you, John.”
“If Rebecca turns into whatever these creatures are, you’ll have to be ready to handle it.
Katherine isn’t a monster, David. She saves people. Rebecca might be able do the same thing.
Time will tell. If she becomes whatever Katherine has become, she will save the hopeless.”
“What are they?”
“No one knows for sure. I’ve done research to try to find the answer but it’s vague. What I do
know is that they appeared in medieval times and then disappeared, learned how to lay low, I
guess.”
“Are they vampires?”
“I don’t think so. Who knows? Perhaps they're what the story originated from. Whatever they
are, I’m thankful they're here.”
"What are they called?"
"The only name I found relating to them was Daemon Teras, which means Demon Monster. I
call them the night walkers."
"So what happens now?"
"We prepare for it to happen. That way, if Rebecca does change, we'll be ready."
"So we wait."
"Yeah . . . we wait."
