Chapter Four - The Turning

Bill could hear the sound of his own blood rushing inside his head as he struggled to put one foot ahead of the other. He feared that if he stopped he might never get back up again. Tired, so tired. He had been walking, walking forever it seemed, desperately looking for something in his surroundings that seemed even remotely familiar. Everything seemed so different now. He no longer knew in which direction he was going. The pearly white moon that had guided his way for much of the night had disappeared behind the darkness of clouds. Bill's overpowering hunger combined with a desperate need of water had made him light-headed and confused. But on he struggled when every fiber of his being only wanted to lie down in a soft bed of grass and sleep. But still he struggled onward. His only thoughts were of getting home.

What was that? A house? For a brief moment there was a faint flicker of light, then the moon came out from behind it's cover of clouds. Yes! It was a small, crudely built cabin, just across that clearing behind the grove of trees. Bill forced himself to stumble across the field, crying out in desperation and relief before he had even reached the door. It didn't appear that anyone lived here, at least there was nothing in the yard to give the impression that anyone was there. Bill figured that even if no one lived there, a well must be somewhere close to the house. Just the thought of cool water pouring down his dry, parched throat made Bill summon up more strength than he thought he possessed and began to walk faster. "Please, help me, I am a soldier of the Louisana 28th Infantry and I require help" Bill heard himself say. Nothing. Silence. Desperately, his throat so dry and parched he could barely speak, he called out again "please, I require food and water". Nothing, just the overwhelming silence that drove his desperation into a boldness born of survival. Pushing against the door, he saw that only a piece of rope kept him from gaining entry and perhaps finding food. Bill took his knife from his belt and with a few deft movements cut the rope and went inside.

Bill was overcome with gratitude for the kindness shown to him by this lovely young woman. Such a pity that she was made widow at such a young age. There would be many, many widows Bill knew. As he ate the food she had prepared for him, he began to realize she needed much more from him than his gratitude. But what she asked was more than he could do. He had never lain with any other woman since his marriage vows and he never would. Although the touch of this lovely woman's hand on his face as she gently cleaned the blood and dirt made his loins begin to stir with feelings not felt in a very long time. She spoke of others, others who came and enjoyed the comforts she could give. Bill had not yet appeased his hunger, but suddenly something about her frightened him. An overpowering feeling that evil and danger lived behind those brown eyes. He had to get away.

He was down, down on the floor. How had he gotten there? Something moving across him, moving so swiftly that time stopped. It was her, she was at his throat. Bill felt his life slowly floating away. What was happening? The world around him grew darker. Images from childhood slowly moved across his mind. Bringing home a string of fish, mother smiling and kissing the top of his head and calling him her sweet Billy. His very own pocket knife, there in the toe of a Christmas stocking. The smiling faces of his family as the preacher lowered him into the cold water of the river. He had been washed in the Blood of The Lamb. His soul would live forever with God. Then Tolliver was standing beside him, urging him to get up and come with him. The light, that beautiful brillant light. He should go with Tolliver. But his family, he could hear them calling to him. Calling him home. Sorry, so sorry. Father, mother, so sorry. Caroline, please forgive me. I tried so hard.

Bill slowly opened his eyes. Where was he? A feeling of weight sitting astride him. What had happened to him? He felt nothing. No hunger, no thirst. Bill slowly moved his eyes across the room. The horror of what he saw caused his eyes to widen in shock. As a little girl would proudly display her collection of dolls, this woman proudly displayed the grinning rictus remains of her former visitors. Why is she doing that? Why is she using my knife to cut her neck? Drink she says, drink if you want to live. Oh no, please no. I cannot be one of the undead. Cast out by mankind, lost to God, made to roam the earth in the darkness of night, living on the lifeblood of humans as a wolf devours sheep. But I must drink this blood. I must drink this blood so I can return to my family.

Bill began to suckle the blood from this evil creature, this living dead. Ancient things he saw, things not seen by those who's heart still beat, who's eyes could still watch the glorious dawn break. He saw pyramids, pharaohs, creatures dead, yet alive. Ancient mariners, fangs coming down, feeding on the lifeblood of some unfortunate being deep within the dark bowels of a ship. Other things, things he didn't understand. Men, women covered in fur. Heads thrown back, blood - always blood, howling and screaming as their sharp fangs tore the flesh from tender throats. As the blood of his maker Lorena began to flow through his veins Bill finally understood. What he saw was him, it was who he had become. But she had promised. She had promised he would again see his family.

They were walking, walking so swiftly that Bill thought he was still dreaming. He had no choice but to follow her. He was pulled along by some unseen force, a terrifying, unbreakable bond. In the dark night air he could smell them. He could smell all the living things that had passed this way and left a tangible part of themselves. Breath still lingered from those who's mortal remains had long ago become dust. Creek and Choctaw's, men of Spain wearing helmets of iron, Englishmen sent from across the ocean, Frenchmen with the powerful scent of muskrat hides swirling around them.  And animals, Bill could smell the breath of deer, rabbits and other forrest creatures. Then, they were there. As Bill and Lorena came to the bend in the road that passed by the small Stackhouse farm he saw the cemetery. Yes, yes. He was home. There was his family, on the porch, waiting for him. Bill could see them. He hadn't expected to come upon them as he crossed the yard, but there they were. His Caroline, Sarah - how much she'd grown! And his son Thomas. His hair the color of sunshine and rain. "What do you see?" Bill heard Caroline ask his son. "Papa, I see Papa!" Oh God! His heart felt as it it would burst with longing, his arms ached to feel them. But he couldn't move. He could sense Lorena behind him, hissing in his ear. No, not possible. Never, never would it be possible. He had to go, she was pulling him away. He couldn't bear to leave! Oh please God! Please let me stay. No, not possible.

Tears of grief and loss began to pour down his face as Bill turned and followed Lorena. Turned and left his family to follow his maker to live for the next 143 years, roaming the earth as one of the undead, abandoned by God and hope. A creature of the night, forever doomed to live in the shadows. Dead, but not dead. Alive, but not alive.