THE
NIGHTSHIFT
My name is John Garret and
today I check into my very first station over at Bay Springs. I'm
told I'll be attached to the security section; handling parking
passes and monitoring the general area. Being fresh to the force and
there being more experienced men there already, it did not come as a
surprise to me when they also told me I would be taking the night
shift. I don't mind though. I'm not married or have kids so taking
nights wasn't such a downer.
"There is only one rule here: Don't fall asleep
on post. Other than that, you'll be fine.", says my section
chief Mr. Hayes. He introduces me to the whole section and we do our
"Heys" and "How you doings". I stick around after
everyone leaves to get a general brief from Jerry, the guy working
tonight's night shift, so I make sure not to screw anything up on my
first day tomorrow.
"Alright, basically you sit by this desk, keep
an eye on the monitors here and listen for the radio if anyone calls
up something. There'll be guys coming in needing to check out their
weapon. Have them check in the log out book and issue them the
weapon. Any questions?"
I shake my head left to right and proceed to go home
to get a good night's sleep.
It's around seven o' clock when I relieve Zack to
start my post. I sign my name in the "Duty Logbook" and
prepare for an extremely exhausting 12 hours. The first couple of
hours seem to fly by with people coming in and out asking for this
and that. One of the many people to come by was Jerry. He had
forgotten his phone charger and decided to keep me company for a
little while. We talk about the usual things strangers tend to talk
about when they're getting to know one another. Then out of nowhere,
he says "You do know there used to be a serial killer in this
town, right?". He catches me so off guard by the question that
all I offer him is a blank stare in return, followed by a gravely
"Excuse me?".
"Francis Fabien Falkner was his real name but
the media coined him the name 'The Sower' because he would slit his
victims' necks and then sow them back together. Also, he would carve
a reverse pentagram, a symbol associated with the Devil, across the
faces of his recently fresh cadavers and leave a note saying "We
are eternal". It was said he did this to put a sort of curse on
them so that they wouldn't know they were dead and that their spirits
remained, always to haunt the very place they died."
Horrified at the gruesome story just told to me, I
manage to ask "How did they catch him?".
"One of our own saw suspicious movement around
the Camping Area one night and sent a patrol car to investigate. When
they arrived, he had already claimed another life. He was told to
drop his weapon and get on the ground but instead he took his blade,
put it to his throat and said his final words 'I AM ETERNAL'. In the
report, he was described as average height and weight with long,
black hair and get this-completely white eyes. The only other notable
feature was the reverse pentagram scar on his face.". There's a
long pause followed by Jerry getting the rest of his belongings and
walking out.
It's around eight-thirty or nine when I notice the
familiar sound of rain falling down outside. I twiddle away at my
thumbs, doing anything I can to pass the time which is moving
painfully slow. I watch as the seconds go their circular path to
nowhere, hypnotizing me in my war to stay awake. Tick tock tick tock
tick tock.
Now I cannot say for sure at what point I had zoned
out but I glance up to check the time---two hours??? I, for the life
of me, don't remember a thing after around ten to midnight. I get up
out of my chair to go grab a drink of water, thinking maybe that will
keep me focused. I return to my seat, a little more energized than
before, and listen to the madness that is silence. There's a
repetitive dripping noise coming from the second floor, each little
pitter patter pounding away in my head. Random thumps make their way
down the hall joined in by the clattering and clanking of metal doors
mocking me with their annoyance, laughing at the very thought of
putting me in an unease state.
The screen on the surveillance monitor goes black,
as it does every minute or so, so I press the space bar and a close
up shot of something red oozing fills the screen. I don't really
think anything of it. It's just a malfunction. No I don't think about
it at all, that is, until my radio starts going off. It's filled with
static like whoever is sending the transmission is too far for a
clear reading. There are a couple of breaks in the static and the
faint sound of a voice can be heard. Suddenly, the static dissipates
and the voice, filled with an airy, coughing rasp, comes in clear.
"Have you ever had the edge of a blade glide
across the curvature of your throat, greeting you with death? "Do
you know the how it feels gasping for every breathe while you watch
your life splatter over the walls, staining them with your memory?".
My attention returns to the reddened screen, slowly zooming out to
reveal the mystery of the ooze. I sit in pure horror as the image of
a red river gushing out of the neck of someone I can't quite make out
just yet. The camera still zooming out, the persons face is starting
to come into view. Some of the flesh is black and pale from the
effects of the years rotting it away, but there is still enough there
to show the scarring remains of a symbol I remember very well: the
reverse pentagram. "I assure you that you'll know all too well
by the end of the night.". I check the monitor to see where the
feed is coming from. It reads "1st Deck Lounge". "I'll
see you soon.". The screen goes black and the radio's silent.
I jump up and unholster my pistol. Hesitantly, I
make my way around the front of the desk, inching closer to the door
going to the hallway. The lounge is the last room on the left. I
clear out every room to make sure nothing sneaks up behind. Every
step closer to that room shortens my breath and the air gets thinner.
I've approached my final stop. I charge through door prepared for
what awaits. Empty??? There's nothing in here except your everyday
kitchen appliances and an empty oval table in the middle of the room.
Thinking it all just a late night hallucination, I head towards the
door when a forceful thud stops me in my tracks. I'm almost too
frightened to test my curiosity but something tells me to check. On
the oval table that once was empty is a piece of paper impaled by a
bloodied knife, inviting me to read it. I remove the knife and unfold
the stained mystery.
"You'll get yours personally"
Confused, I crumple the message and throw it on the
ground. Honestly at this point, I am tired of the charades. I leave
the lounge and head back to the front desk. When I open the workspace
door, I notice my chair is occupied with the body of the person
facing opposite to me. "Excuse me sir, you can't be back
there.". I receive silence. Irritated from how my night has gone
so far, I am in no mood for this. I rush over, put my hand on his
shoulder and turn the chair. Slowly, I'm face to face with myself but
it can't be. I'm...I'm dead. My throat slit and sown shut, a reversed
pentagram marking my face. Suddenly, I feel a chill run down my neck.
"Now John, YOU are eternal."
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