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NightLife Stories:

Get Acquainted With The NightLife Back Story

The Stranger Pt. 2

(4 Days Later)
     The stranger was difficult to track though the desert; this was not the Boy Scout tracking of Pedro Luiwanis' youth. The terrible sand storm had ended as soon as it passed Checkpoint: Saqqara. It was now four days later and the stranger did not seem to mind Pedro Luiwanis following it. At night fall, the stranger sat and meditated in the sand until the morning came, and Pedro Luiwanis was still alive. Everything about this made Pedro Luiwanis even more curious. Pedro Luiwanis could never have kept up if the stranger did not wait.
     Where was the stranger headed? Where did the stranger come from? Why was the stranger letting Pedro Luiwanis follow? These and more questions filled Pedro Luiwanis' mind as he passed out from exhaustion.
(7 Days Later)
     Still on hot on the trail of the stranger, no pun intended…  Pedro Luiwanis was thankful it was finally night fall, where could they possibly be headed? Pedro Luiwanis did not even know what direction they were headed any more. The only thing Pedro Luiwanis knew was that if they did not reach an oasis or an town in the next two days, Pedro Luiwanis would have to approach the enigmatic stranger. Pedro Luiwanis was completely out of his supplies already. He had tried to stretch them as far as he could but he had only brought so much.
(3 Days Later)
     Burnt, blistered, and cracked Pedro Luiwanis’ lips would have leaked puss or blood if there had been any liquid left in his body. He could feel the sand like blood struggling to pass though his veins. Pedro Luiwanis collapsed into the now cooling sand. Slowly Pedro Luiwanis looked up at the moonless sky, he was forced into a terrifying ultimatum. Approach the deadly stranger or perish in the desert from the elements.
     The choice was simple; Pedro Luiwanis had no desire to die. Pedro Luiwanis was far too popular with the simple folk to be found in the desert, dead from his own poor choices. Pedro Luiwanis had no other option but to approach the stranger. Struggling, Pedro Luiwanis pulled his broken body from the near burning sand. Slowly, he stumbled towards the meditating stranger.
“COME!” sung forth from the strangers lips. With a voice like an angle he spoke, “Drink of my waters, Child.”
     Pedro Luiwanis knelt before his new god. Slowly he felt himself rise rising above the desert floor. Eyes gazing at the stars, he rose towards the heavens.
.

The Stranger

     Pedro Luiwanis, famed news journalist,  had been at the Saqqara for  over a month now. Still he had had no story. No one would talk about , well, anything. Everyone involved in this "UN" theater, seemed to be special opps. No one's name checked out, no one would say where they'd been, or what they had done. It was a reporters worst nightmare. The only thing he had to report on so far was how everything kept getting stranger. Strange sounds, strange lights, strange weather, none of which made for good news. Pedro Luiwanis knew this first hand, as he use to be a weather man. What a miserable life that had been.
     Today was no different from the rest of his experiences, as he was briefed for the day the commander said a large sand storm was in bound. Great, Pedro Luiwanis just loved sand in between his ass cheeks. Pedro Luiwanis would defiantly need a vacation after this story, if he ever got one.
     A shadowy figure appeared on the horizon, obscured by the extreme amount of sand in the wind. Pedro Luiwanis was shocked to see any one approach the UN checkpoint from inside the zone.
     The wind was picking up with the approach of the monster storm, howling loudly like a banshee.     Confusion consumed the soldiers that manned the check point. The closest men leveled their rifles. Pedro Luiwanis could see the soldiers shouting towards the trespasser, but he could not hear the words over the unforgiving weather.  As if in a surreal dream, the figure did not waiver. Blurred by the weather, it continued to close. One of the soldiers panicked. Squeezing the trigger of his rifle, several slugs flew true to their target.
     The figure halted. Raising its head, its eyes pierced the souls of the check point guards, paralyzing them with fear. Slowly it lifted its right hand.
     Overcome by fear Pedro Luiwanis dove behind a concrete barrier, covering his head.  The storm over took the checkpoint.
     Pedro Luiwanis awoke in darkness. Slowly Pedro Luiwanis dug himself out of the newly formed sand dune, coughing and expelling sand he had inhaled.
     Finally, Pedro Luiwanis was free. He surveyed his surroundings. The check pointing looked as if it had eroded from the storm.
     Suddenly, Pedro Luiwanis realized that all the soldiers were dead. Their bodies bloated , and leaking sand from every visible orifice. The guards uniforms were worn and torn now, slowly soaking with blood from places were the sand had ground though their now ragged flesh.
     Pedro Luiwanis scanned the horizon, there was no sign of the stranger in any direction. This was the story Pedro Luiwanis had been waiting for. If no one who entered the zone wanted to talk about it, maybe someone who came from inside the zone would speak  about it. Pedro Luiwanis returned to camp, and quickly packed his gear. The military wouldn't like this, so Pedro Luiwanis decided to neglect to tell them of his plans.
     Immediately, Pedro Luiwanis headed out walking the same basic direction the stranger had gone. Pedro Luiwanis hoped he could catch up, after all he did do 30 minutes on the Stairmaster every day, when he was at home.

Larry the Dock Hand was Late.

     Larry the dock hand was late. This was not like him. He had been so vague when he spoke on the phone.
     “Meet me where I like to drown my sorrows, I got something you need to see…” he had said. No hello, no welcome to town, it had only been two years since they had last seen each other. Well, maybe he had just been busy. Lord knows things had been crazy lately, and Larry worked at the new aerofoil dock that had sprung up over night.
     Finally, Larry entered the bar. Slowly he approached the table.
    “Damn! Man you don’t look so good Larry.” He was pale, and shaky, covered in some kind of grime. Guess the dock could be a dirty place to work.
     Larry extended his hand from inside his jacket. He held a box like shape, wrapped in a dingy cloth, bound with twine.
     “I’m so sorry…” Larry gasped. Turning around, Larry walked back to a large man dressed in an expensive black suit and sunglasses (odd for this time in the evening), now standing by the bar’s door.
     Looking down at the parcel, something was scratched into the outside wrapping with dirt or mud.
     “RUN”.
    Bursting though the front door, the man in the suit was noticeably waiting, standing next to a bench across the street. Larry was nowhere to be seen, where could he have gone so quickly? No matter, there were places to be, and people to meet.
     The suit was definitely following. This was not good.
     Fortunately there was a small walk way between the buildings right ahead, it was doubtful someone with such a stature as the suit had could fit down it. Then some light could be found to see what this trouble was all about. The City of the Ancients was not known for being well lit.
     Once under some light some more detail could be made out. That wasn’t dirt that spelled out the letters… That was blood. Like a ton of brick realization strikes. Larry wasn’t dirty, he was beaten to hell. What the fuck was going on here?
     “There he is!” came shouting out of the darkness. Guess the alley wasn’t that great of a hiding spot.
     With a squeal, lights came piercing down the alleyway.  A limousine with dark tinted window closed off any hope of escape. As the car slid to a stop the back doors flew open. The suit and an equally intimidating individual stepped out of the vehicle. The suit reached into the limo and pulled something out.
     “Noooo!!!” screamed Larry. His body was flung down the alley by the suit. The impact of his body sent the parcel skidding into the stream of the headlights.
     The suit and his accomplice drew weapons from under their designer jackets. With the abrupt flash of the barrels, blood sprayed up onto the alleyways walls.
     Quickly the suit retrieved the parcel, and return into the car. The limo retreated as suddenly as it struck.
     Larry’s lifeless eyes stared back, as life slowly drained into the street.
    

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