The Legend Of The Christian Zombie Vampires

Chapter 6

The Book of Shiloh/Moonlit Plans

Halloween Night 20 years ago.

As he walked down the stairs from Gregg and Darius’s apartment Shiloh gazed up at the moon and smiled. It was Halloween, one of his favorite holidays, and he had spent it among friends. Immune to the drama that occurred just moments ago in apartment 46. He paused halfway on his descent and removed a black hair pick with a silver fist for a handle, then began to comb his huge black afro. Shiloh was a tall man, athletically built with a thick black mustache. He continued down the rest of the stairs as he reached the bottom and made his way to his silver Honda Accord. Shiloh paused, turned around, and made his way towards Diane’s apartment.

Shiloh knocked three times on Diane’s door then opened it as he had done countless times before. He noticed Darius laying on the couch eating a roast beef sandwich and watching television. Darius’s eyes lit up.

“What up Loskie! Diane and Kathy started trippin’ and we had to cut that party a little short.”

Shiloh shrugged and looked around. Darius sat up and brushed the bread crumbs from his hooded sweatshirt. Shiloh asked

“Where’s Diane is she alright?”

Darius kind of shrugged and pointed to her bedroom door.

“When we got here, she said something about burning chickens up or some shit, and then she stormed into the room. She’s been lighting incense and cursing Kathy. Have at it my brother I’m out.”

Darius stood up, waved his sandwich at Shiloh and walked out the front door.

As the front door closed Shiloh walked towards Diane’s bedroom door, he knocked once and opened the door. Diane was facing a shrine on her windowsill. There were three small figurines on the shrine, a goat, a skull, and a dog, then there were small pieces of bone on the sill, smoke from the incense filled the room. Diane appeared to be in a trance as she chanted incoherently and danced around the room.

Shiloh sat on the bed he did not interrupt the ritual. He pulled a package of cigars from his pocket and grabbed a bag of weed off Diane’s nightstand. He removed a single cigar, smelled it, then split it open using the long fingernail on his pinky. He emptied out the tobacco and began to roll the weed into the freshly hollowed paper. Diane continued her ritual as if no one else had entered the room. Shiloh lit the newly rolled blunt, took two puffs, exhaled a cloud of smoke and finally broke his silence. He chuckled and asked.

“Diane what the fuck are you doing?”

Diane turned to look at Shiloh and with tears in her eyes screamed.

“I’m gonna get that bitch you mark my words. How she gonna try to tell me that I can’t go on that side of the apartment! Bitch, who do you think you talkin’ to? Oh hell no I’m gonna go next level on that bitch! Straight from the depths of hell on her fat ass!”

Shiloh stood, passed the blunt to Diane, and put his arm around her.

“Diane baby you gotta let that go! Now come on hit that and give me a smile.”

Diane smiled and took a hit of the blunt. She laid her head and put her right palm on Shiloh’s chest and said,

“You always know how to make me feel better. Do you want me to make you something to eat?”

Her hand slowly made its way down Shiloh’s chest, and he grabbed it right before it hit his belt buckle. Shiloh laughed.

“Stop girl. You gotta stop getting yourself all riled up. Alright babe, I gotta get going.”

Shiloh left the apartment and got into his car.

Later that night he found himself drinking at a hole in the wall bar in the middle of Old Mesilla called El Patio. The long wooden bar was empty, and the room was dimly lit except for the glow coming out of the jukebox in the corner. Shiloh sat and sipped his Hennessy and coke as he stared at the various carved messages on the countertop The door opened and a tall exotic looking blonde woman with green eyes walked in. She was shaped like an hourglass and wore a tight red dress.

She sat down next to Shiloh but he did not look up. He continued studying the carved phrases on the bar top. Every once in a while he would smile or laugh. The woman leaned over the counter and motioned for the bartender. She put up two fingers and then pointed at Shiloh’s drink. The bartender brought two glasses of Hennessy and coke and placed them in front of the woman.

She slid one over to Shiloh and spoke.

“Hi, I usually don’t do this… but I just moved here, and I don’t have any friends. My name is Nosferati.”

She extended her hand, finally Shiloh looked up at her.

“Damn! You are like…damn. You are so fucking beautiful! I’m Shiloh but my friends call me Loskie, or you can just call me whatever you want!”

She giggled and they began to converse. Before they knew it, the time had come for the last call. Nosferati was giggling, she put her hand on her chest and said.

“You ready to get out of here? We can go to my place if you want?”

Shiloh happily agreed and they made their way to a long purple car. Shiloh exclaimed

“Damn girl you are doing it like that? You have your own limo?”

The driver was a tall pale man with slicked back jet black hair and a monocle in his right eye. He got out of the car and opened up the back door for Nosferati and Shiloh, he asked.

“Where to this evening madam?”

She took her hand, then gently caressed the man’s face as she entered the vehicle and replied.

“Just take us somewhere private where we can watch the moon.”

The man entered the car and adjusted the rearview mirror. He saw Nosferati open a bottle of champagne and fill up two glasses. Shiloh sat back and noticed the man checking him out in the mirror and felt a moment of tension.  The woman handed Shiloh a glass and put her hand on his thigh. Shiloh looked at her then asked

“What’s up with your man? You better tell him to quit eyeballing me!”

The woman gave a sultry look and moved in close , her lips mere inches from Shiloh’s ear and whispered

“Don’t concern yourself with him honey.”

Shiloh kept his eyes fixated on the mirror. He did not trust the man who drove the car, because there was something odd about him that could not be expressed by words. He began to tighten up, feel isolated, and vulnerable. He wanted to get out of the car and as far away from the man driving as possible. He snapped

“Where the fuck are we going? What’s way the fuck out here!?”

The woman rubbed his leg, laid her head and his shoulder, and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t worry baby we are almost there. Trust me it will be worth it.”

As they drove further out into the desert, she began to nibble on Shiloh’s ear, but his gaze remained in the rearview mirror. The driver kept his eyes locked forward on the road. She began to nibble on Shiloh’s neck. He finally gave in and began to kiss the woman passionately. She jumped up and began to straddle Shiloh. Nosferati grabbed the straps of her dress and slipped them off of her shoulders. The top half of her dress fell, exposing her voluptuous breasts. She grabbed Shiloh by the face and began violently kissing his neck. Shiloh was surprised and yelled out.

“Damn girl chill out.”

She replied.

“Sorry you are just so fucking sexy.”

Shiloh agreed and they resumed making out.

As they kissed her eyes began to glow red, her fangs began to grow and sharpen. Nosferati bit down on Shiloh’s neck. Blood began to gush out on to the purple seats, and black tinted windows. He struggled for a while and then gave out his body going limp.

When he came to Shiloh was surrounded by darkness, and his hands were bound. He was stuck inside a coffin and began to wriggle in a half-hearted attempt to escape. The door opened and Shiloh was in the middle of a candle lit brick room.  He was wearing a purple cloak. He sat up in the coffin and saw a tall pale man with slick black jet-black hair in front of him. To the right of the man stood Nosferati. There were nine women in long red cloaks standing in a circle around the coffin. The women chanted.

“Welcome, welcome, join us, join us!”

The man with pale skin handed Nosferati a golden chalice, then nodded towards Shiloh. She took the cup over to him as he remained seated in the coffin. She whispered in Shiloh’s ear

“Drink this and we can be together forever. I’m sorry darling. This was the only way.”

Shiloh drank from the cup and red liquid began to drip down his chin. He officially joined the ranks of the undead.

*****

Shiloh picked up Father Rahm and slung him over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry padre we are going to get you fixed up. Hey um…do you have a car?”

Father Rahm whispered.

“Pulpit.”

Shiloh grabbed the keys and took Father Rahm out the back door to his white Ford pickup truck.

He placed the priest in the passenger seat and closed the door. He got in the driver’s seat and put the keys in the ignition. Father Rahm whimpered

“Are you my guardian angel?”

Shiloh started the truck and replied

“Naw I’m Loskie. Look it’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the way.”

He put the truck in drive and began making his way toward the hospital.

“Satan is trying to break the curse and roam the earth freely. You know all of the bad shit in the bible. They sent his son to kill a priest to, I guess, tip the scales of evil.”

Shiloh looked over at the weakened, bleeding priest. His fangs began to grow but he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a blunt. He lit it and his urge for blood began to dwindle.

“Sorry about that Padre.  I’m a fucking vampire.  Ain’t that about a bitch. I was making a deal with my man Azrael; you know the angel of death? Why am I explaining this to you? You’re a priest. Anyway, I’m done serving the dark side. If I can stop him then maybe I can get my Heaven Hood Pass.  Azreal let me have this badass sword, so I can kill the motherfuckers who did this to me. But that’s just icing on the cake. You’ll be glad to know that prayer shit really works he sent me here as soon as you called. I guess that does make me your guardian angel. Ha! Get the fuck outta here!”

Shiloh smiled and continued driving. Eventually they reached a hospital. Shiloh parked in the front of the emergency room entrance and opened his door.

He looked at the priest and smiled

“ Looks like we made it homie. Sorry I can’t stay. Oh yeah, before I forget, the big guy says get your soldiers ready. I gotta go, but I set the wheels in motion. Find Kathy.”

Shiloh disappeared into the night. Father Rahm opened the door, stepped out of the truck, and immediately fell to the floor. The emergency room staff rushed outside and put him on a gurney. As Father Rahm looked up at the night sky, he closed his eyes and prayed silently.

“Oh, heavenly father thank you for saving me.

Please guide me and let me know what is to be done.

In Jesus name we pray.

Amen.”

*****

Fires deep in the pits of Hell burned bright, heating Earth’s ground, though nobody knew. Summer was nearing its end and the days were still hot, but the nights began to cool. The axis of the Earth’s spin brought the moon close and let the demons walk in the shadows of an hour of night not allowed in the Spring or Summer. Hours, you see, are not allowed by the sun. Not allowed by the goodness of God. See, the year, like the cross, has a divide. That divide, to humans, is marked by the seasons. The seasons, marked by temperatures, marked by colors of the leaves or lack of them in the time of Evil. Marked by sunshine and the growth called Spring, in the time of Good.

Autumn would come within days and Satan saw something in mankind that gave him hope. As a fallen angel himself, he yearned for glory. He craved with immortal power, victory in his quest to rule Earth without challenge.

Satan though, having lost a son and seeing that the goodness in the world dwindled,  was torn inside. He was on a path. His path was that of what Captain Hook had once described as “A Great War”. Satan’s War, in victory, would mean that he could leave the chambers of Hell.  He could once again roam Earth without the binding misery of his work. Deep inside, he was still an angel. Like so many historic figures of darkness, he was scorned and cast away into what his greatest fears were when he was mortal.

Satan was now immortal and visions of torturing angels for his years as The Dark Lord, filled his head. Oh, the torturous fate he envisioned for the angels and their false glory were burning his thought.  He was coming to his full strength. He was soon to have the hour in which shadows would protect his attack.

The only thing Satan was missing was the thing God had always had. That, was… A perfect son. Satan mourned his son with tears that burned his already scaled and crooked face. As he cried, the glare from the fires of Hell glistened. The salt pockets in his eyes opened like floods of mythical books that were known as good. Good to everyone but Satan. The joke was on him and when he lost; when he hurt, the majority celebrated. They celebrated a perceived goodness and in the case of his lost son, this was a cruelty that the child inside of him could not bear. The shine from the tears reflected to the world and the leaves turned red. The leaves weakened and began to fall. As they fell, they turned yellow and crisped away under the footsteps of petals who knew nothing. Over and over again, throughout time, Satan lost something or someone of meaning. This fall would mean a turn though. This fall… this fall, there will be a rise. Satan wailed painful moans mixed in with a laughter that let out from deep inside of his evil gut.

“He is risen. He is risen… he had to fall to rise. His Kingdom. It was given to him. The people of earth… they hated him. They crucified him for his truth and praised him only after his death.”

Satan walked into a chamber that was dark. He looked up to the skies above earth from a hole that went deep enough to spare him a bit of light. The light gave a view of a box. The box was big. The box was wooden and stained. The box was a coffin. Not a coffin for a vampire. A coffin fire-proofed so it could be stored away as a constant visual reminder to The Dark Lord. A reminder that his path was the most brutal. Sympathy was never to be had. Empathy could not be truly felt. Remorse for his son caused a stabbing pain right through his heart. The same heart that people so easily called his “black” heart.

He looked at the cloud filled sky. His projected emotions caused foamy gray sky boats to swirl overhead. His heart, filled with pain, slowed and he breathed in the smoke that came along with living in fire. Funny to think that Satan couldn’t cool off. He needed to, and he knew it. His thoughts of evil tormented his mind. For having endured this spell by God, that cast him away, he felt depressed. He physically fell to his butt as well.  Knees folded up near his abdomen and arms clutching one another, near his heart, he continued to cry.

The raw passion in his tears shot waves of sadness that could be felt by all alive and dead. Heaven shook. Hell crumbled in ruins. But it was Hell and these things happen. Satan fell asleep with tears flowing as powerful as the lavas of Pompei.

The baby clouds way above earth opened up and dropped masses of life into the soils. The soils in turn dripped down into the coals that lined the level of purgatory that Satan lay asleep in. They fell down, most of them evaporating into steam streaks that fell like bullets on the club who occupied Hell. They fell onto Satan’s salt riveted face and lit a smoke that woke him. He walked in his darkness towards the coffin. His son lay just underneath the lid to that fire-proofed box, and he could not bear to look. He had to though. He heard dogs barking viciously. The sound grew nearer. The barking and sounds of chains pulling, stretching without the discipline of restraint but the power of will built a new energy.

From a dark, dry passageway, led by hounds, came Diane. Nipples dried and burned. Her skin, black as bruised with a soul light percentage of absolute zero. She had no pupils. She had not shaved.  She stunk of the fecal matter she constantly walked through that was constantly on fire. She stopped at his majesty and knelt.

Satan spoke no words but grabbed Diane by her tiny shoulder. He lifted her like a toy and shook her with abusive force. In ancient doing, he roared words that needed no translation. He wanted to know how this could have happened. Diane did not react as the bones in her arms released the flame-covered chains. The dogs cowered away, and a snap of her wrist bones popped bone out from her skin. Her flesh did not bleed. She let off a puff of breath as he slammed her down on the hard concrete like floor.

Diane scrambled to get up off the floor as Satan’s fists came down like hammers onto her ribs, taking away her breath. She lay lifeless for the moment. Her body, which had gone through so much, was now rotten, dead and even more beaten.

Satan turned his back. He took steps towards the coffin of his son. He placed his fingertips in the top and bottom corner ends of the coffin and lifted it open. He did not immediately look to see the son who had fallen victim. He stood with his arms lifting the coffin open.  He kept his eyes shut and whispered in the gentlest of voices,

“If I give you my best effort, will it lead me to a path that includes you? Would you do the same if it led to me too?”

One final tear rolled down and fell on his lifeless, precious son.

As the tear hit the body, a spark lit in Satan’s eyes. A glare was shown to his eyes from within the coffin. He looked closer.

Underneath Satan’s son, just by his arm, lay two small items.

1. A monocle.

2. An afro pick. It was black with a silver fist.

Satan did an about-face and gently lifted Diane to her feet. She trembled in her skin. She urinated down her legs a piss the same color as the leaves at the end of fall. Her dog, Aldo, came to her aid as Satan stood clutching the two unexplained objects.

“Take Aldo. Bring me The Woman. Bring me the Father of Nothing.” He spoke.

Satan was not only volatile and vulnerable. He was now desperate and angry. He was vengeful and he had a plan.

As Diane walked behind Aldo, she heard a whimper from her beloved hounds. Satan flung the carcasses over her head. Then he threw their heads. She ran to gather the members of The Council of Doom.

*****

Hell’s Gates opened and an entourage passed through. Demons, goblins, and tortured lost souls stood in awe of the event. The Woman came through first. She wore a flowing red dress. The crowds in the entrance way to the gate spit and hissed. They booed her relentlessly. She walked with her head high. The crowd began to stand in her way. She lifted a palm to the moon and shook her fingers in the air. The crowd, not knowing why, dispersed.  Then came The Father of Nothing.

Dressed in a red suit, top hat, and white shirt, a white handkerchief with matching alligator shoes. His brood of women walked behind him. The man snapped his fingers and one of the women came and removed his hat. He did not acknowledge the crowd keeping his eyes fixated on the woman. The crowd maliciously booed The Father of Nothing, but his distrusting stare remained locked on the woman. They made their way through the mob on their way to Dracula’s old castle.

The two entered the castle. Hugely oversized gates swung open by the guide of Dracula’s spirit. He was not there in person, but they were in his home. Mysterious and legendary as it was, they followed the path he chose. This power of his, only applied in his castle. On the South side of Hell.  He led them to a table. The legs were thick and sturdy wood. A mere mortal might call the wood “unbreakable.” They sat and there was wine. The bottles featured were bottles from the days of Sodom and Gomorrah. The Woman reached out and lifted her cup to the spirit of time’s greatest villain. She took a sip. The berries and grapes in the ancient spirits clung to her lips and the fermentation was delicate yet exquisite.

The Father of Nothing was not as at ease in the home of his former rival. Although bound together by the brotherhood of blood suckers, they often clashed on issues within the council. He could feel the coldness from the spirit as they passed each room. The man knew he had to be even more sly and cautious than usual. He felt as if his slightest mannerisms were being scrutinized. He remained calm, cool, and vigilant. He ignored the wine; this was not a time of celebration in his eyes.

The powers within the mighty castle did not let anyone in who was not scheduled to be there. The conundrum of magic whispered away. Footsteps from the stairs beat down on the wood. It was Satan. They walked with purpose to the table and sat. He too sipped the wine. Under his suit, he held in his pocket, the monocle and the silver hair pick. He looked at the Father and began the impromptu meeting.

(To be continued)

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