The Nightshift

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."