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?”
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.”
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.