2513

Miles found himself sitting at a table at Back 2 Good. Just like the house on Abes drive, everything and everyone there was frozen in the middle of doing something.

Hades sat across from Miles with a cup in his hand. “I love the decorations in this place. I will have to come by more often and visit.”

Miles just stared at him, “Why?”

Hades just shrugged, “I like the atmosphere. It has an almost Cheers like atmosphere. I expect Norm to come in at any moment. Though I never understood why he was on the show. He wasn’t really funny.”

Miles just shook his head, “No. I mean back there.”

Hades took a sip, “You mean back at the house. Don’t know, you tell me.”

“What do you mean.”

Hades slowly put his drink down, “let me tell you a story.”

“Eons ago, I was born, a son of Cronos. To preserve his rule, he swallowed me whole with my brothers and sisters. The youngest, Zeus hidden away and later led a revolt of us siblings to over throw the Titans.

After they were vanquished, Myself, Poseidon, and Zeus drew straws for the realms that we would govern. Zeus, became King of Olympus, Poseidon the sea and me the underworld. Being the eldest, I should have been King of the Gods, but it was not how it was written.”

“Written?”

“Sure, think of every holy book that is out there. Every fable, every myth. There is a story written from a specific point of view.”

Hades paused long enough to take another drink, “Have you ever wondered if it was the work of a God or a writer?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me ask you a question, what is the difference between a God and a writer?”

Miles thought for a second, ’One writes, the other has immense powers and abilities.”

“Let me put it another way. A God can create world’s and set people and objects in motion, right?”

Miles nodded, confused.

“Doesn’t a writer do basically the same thing?”

Miles scrunched his eyes, “One had cosmic powers, the other sits in front of a computer or with pen and paper and scribbles stuff down.”

“How do you suppose holy books are written?” Hades replied.

“Let me put it another way, who created the worlds and the characters in your book?”

“Well, I did.”

“Who gave them life, created personalities and set them on their missions? “

“Me.”

“Do you know anyone that is a vampire in your world? Or a spiritual collections agent?”

“No.”

“How often do you share a drink with a God of the Underworld?”

“Counting this time. Once.”

Hades looked at him. “There you have it.”

“Have what? I am confused here.”

Hades sighed, “You have to spell it out to mortals.”

He took a deep breath, “here, in the pages of this book. You are God. Everything that happens from cover to cover is your creation.”

Hades waved his hand around the room, “This bar, your thoughts made it real. Nick, Matthew, and Jake, once again you. You can rewrite the laws of nature, the laws of physics and the very fabric of the universe, and here it makes perfect sense.”

Hades leaned forward, “So, I ask you again, what is the difference between a God and a writer.”

Miles just looked at him, “In those terms, nothing.”

“In any terms.” Hades answered, “How do you know that the Gods or lore and from every religion are not just writers in their own worlds that wrote about Earth as a means of escape?”

“Could it be plausible that everything you are, everything you know and think to be real is nothing more than words on a page. Written for the amusement of a reader in some other world?”

“For all you know, you only exist on the pages of some book,” Hades went on to explain, “Then again, nothing could exist outside this book and all this, you and even me is nothing more than the over active imagination of a day dreaming child.”

Miles looked at him thinking, “this is all way too deep for me right now.”

Miles looked over at Hades, “What does this have to do with me and the guys stuck back there.”

“Well, maybe they are your champions.” Hades said, “Zeus had Odysseus, The God of Abraham had Moses, and so on. Me, I think the closest I come is Dante. The point is, every writer needs a hero. These are yours.”

Miles just shrugged, “So what do I do about my guys? For instance, Matthew shouldn’t be able to die according to my book, but there he is missing a foot and bleeding to death. He is teamed up with a vampire and collection agent that are being torn apart.”

“It is your call.” Hades said, “What happens next is up to you. You can change the rules to suit you.”

“So the question you need to ask me and yourself is,” Hades finished with a wink, “What are YOU going to do about what happened back there?”

Miles sat thoughtfully for a second, “Okay, just one more question.”

“Okay.”

“Earlier,” Miles asked, “You told me the secret was 2513…”

“Means nothing.”

“What?”

“I could have said purple unicorns and gotten the same result.”

Miles stared at Hades.

Hades explained, “your mind desperately wanted a solution to the riddle of 2513.”

“So much that you constructed an elaborate story to explain the number.”

Miles nodded, “It worked.”

Hades smiled, “Your welcome.”

He stood and looked around one more time at Back 2 Good, “It has a nice atmosphere. I will have to visit more often.”

Miles blinked and found himself in front of his keyboard

He put on his glasses and stared at the words that he had typed for a second. Took a sip of coffee and put his fingers on the keyboard.

“Well, here goes.”

Matthew groaned in pain as he slowly came to. His leg was in excruciating pain and he felt himself being held down. He thought out of his partly closed eyes he could see hands and arms holding him down as another shape sat on him, trying to gouge holes in him. He turned his head to the left to see Nick and Jake in the same predicament. He moaned, partly in pain, partly in despair.

“This is not how I thought it would end,” he thought.

He tried to struggle to free himself but felt weakened. An arm then went around his neck to hold his head in place. Another hand clamped tightly over his mouth to muffle his cries.

“You are the hunter,” a voice in the back of his mind called.

Matthew’s mind had trouble concentrating for a moment, but the voice repeated itself.

“You are the hunter, the chosen of Miles, err, God, to hunt down and destroy the scourge that has been released on this Earth.”

Matthew was not sure if he was hallucinating or if he really heard a voice, but either way, it gave him the courage to act. He bit down on the hand that was over his mouth.

A piercing shriek echoed in his ear and the hand that was holding his mouth and his neck released. Matthew kept his eyes in a squint and could see the shape above him.

He brought his left leg up and brought his knee into the midsection of the creature and was free.

He tried the stand-up, but the pain in his right leg would not allow it. He felt himself growing weak and faint, so he crawled on his hands and knees to the door. He kept his eyes in a squint so he could avoid other Shadow People as the struck.

He reached the door right as something grabbed on to his legs to pull him back. With one last effort, he grabbed the door and slammed it shut.

The room grew quiet.

The Shadow People were no longer in the room. Matthew rolled over to see Nick and Jake slowly pull themselves up.

Jake dusted himself off. “What the hell happened?!”

Nick had no answer, but then saw Matthew and rushed over to him.

Matthew smiled weakly to him, “I think I found my life.”

The room went black.

Six Months Later

Nick and Jake stepped off the elevator at the rehab center in Galveston. They were both curious and cautious at the same time. It had been months since they had dropped Matthew off at the emergency room, having lost his right foot and a lot of blood.

Neither said a word as they made their way down the corridor to the room at the end of the hall and to the left. Neither knew what to expect.

Reaching the door, Nick knocked slowly and heard a muffled “Come in!” from inside. They entered to be greeted by Matthew standing, dressed in a dark blue suit.

“What happened?!” Jake muttered, “your foot?!”

Matthew chuckled, “Amazing thing, prosthetics. It is probably more sturdy than my original foot.”

Jake looked closely at Matthew, gone was his clean shaven look. He now had a short beard and a close haircut. His eyes were no longer one that was looking for an escape, but cold and hard. Jake also noticed that he had bulked up and had a leaner look.

“Working out?” Jake asked. Matthew nodded.

“Nothing else to do. Besides, the hospital food will do that to anyone’s appetite.” He walked over to the bed and grabbed his bag. “Shall we go?”

Nick and Jake followed him to the elevator. Once the doors closed, Nick turned to him.

“So now that you are out of the hospital, what are your plans?”

Matthew smiled. “Glad that you should ask. Since I have a new life to live, I needed a purpose.”

The doors of the elevator opened up to the lobby and they walked out toward the parking garage.

Once outside Matthew continued, “I spent every waking moment concentrating on what we released into the world. All the lore that existed. How to deal with them.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed, “And”

“The shadow people are soul snatchers, it is how they live. And unfortunately, there is only one substance on Earth that can kill them. And I know how to find it.”

Jake looked at him skeptically “The man that was afraid of biting a woman’s neck for fear of a germ or two is going to hunt these sons of bitches?”

“People change,” Matthew said with steel in his voice.

“I can see that.”

Nick looked over at him, “So now that Matthew Andrews is dead. Where are you headed?”

“North.”

They arrived at the parking garage and Matthew walked up to a glossy black 1956 Pontiac Chieftain. He opened the trunk and tossed his bag in.

“Nice ride,” Nick said appreciatively.

Matthew smiled, “I had no need for fuel economy since I am not ferrying souls to the afterlife. And no co-pilot, so I didn’t need a lot of passenger space.”

Jake just took the changes in Matthew. What was a few months ago a desperate man in search of a reason to live was now a determined man on a mission. He just hoped that the all-consuming fire that burned in Matthew’s eyes did not burn him along with it.

“Be careful Matthew…”

“Vanatorul.” Matthew finished, “Matthew Vanatorul.”

Nick looked at him and smiled, “Nice name.”

“It is Romanian for the hunter.”

He opened up the car door and got in. Slipping the key in the ignition, the Pontiac roared to life. Matthew smiled at the sound. “Later gentlemen. I am off to hunt the hunters.”

Matthew backed up and quickly made its way out of the parking garage.

Nick looked over at Jake. “Think we will see him again?”

“Who knows. Tomorrow never knows.”

I am Vanatorul. I hunt those that do not exist. I slay those that hide under the beds, in the closets. The specter that you do not see, but will kill you. I hunt the evil that would steal our souls.

May the gods have mercy on them. For the Vanatorul does not.