The Gallery of Night: After the Fall

By Chad Peterman

The Gallery Hotel stands tall in the ruins of the San Jose skyline; a reminder of what things were like before the world fell. In its halls dwell vampires, ghouls, and other creatures of myth and legend, and they're all that stand in the way of dark forces bent on taking this world.

Nathaniel Hiller, the Gallery's maintenance man, and someone who is more than he seems, is in the crosshairs of fate. A face from the past has resurfaced, and something seems to be hunting him. Now the survival of the hotel, Nathaniel's friends, and the lives of all who survived who the end of the world, are in his hands.

But what exactly is hunting him, what does it have to do with this bleak new world, and what does the strange woman called Grayse know about it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chad Peterman
• Release date: Oct 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301465330

Chad Peterman

A production assistant working for a cluster of radio stations in San Francisco, Chad spends his days working with sound, and his free time playing with the written word. He lives in San Jose, California with his wife Jean and their betta fish Isaac.

Book preview

The Gallery of Night, Book I:

After the Fall

By

Chad Peterman

Cover Art by Andy Drake

Copyright 2013 Chad Peterman

Published by Chad Peterman at Smashwords

C H A P T E R O N E

She ran over the broken streets, trying to keep her balance on the loose sheets of rain slicked asphalt. A series of earthquakes had broken the storefronts, toppled some of the buildings, and reduced the once proud city of San Jose, California to a broken caricature of itself. Anyone who had known the layout of the city would have gotten lost, so it was no surprise that a complete stranger wouldn't know where she was going. So she ran, and hoped that she could shake her pursuers and still be able to find her way out of the maze of ruins that surrounded her.

The rain had gotten worse, as if the skies themselves had broken open and were releasing a solid wall of freezing water on the streets below, soaking through her shredded clothes and chilling her to the bone. But still she ran, and still she heard the taunts of those following her. Her heart pounded in her chest with fear, making her run faster. But the faster she ran, the more her lungs burned, and the tighter every muscle in her legs felt. Each step became excruciating, and every tendon felt like it was going to snap, but she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop.

Come on, baby doll, a slimy sounding voice from behind her said. It was dripping with cruelty and hunger. We won't hurt ya too bad. You might even enjoy it.

Yeah, honey, a second voice, this one female, added. We need ya in one piece! The masters won't want you if you're not in one piece!

She sped up and took a quick right turn into an alley, and almost ran face first into a cracked brick wall. She quickly spun around just in time to see two figures come to a skidding stop at the mouth of the alley, blocking her only way out. Gotcha now, a voice belonging to an emaciated looking man with grimy hair and jaundiced looking skin said. His clothes were filthy and took on a sludge-like appearance from the rain. He had an Egyptian crook and flail tattooed to the right side of his neck. He pulled a knife from his belt while his female companion, who was just as filthy looking as he was and had an identical tattoo, pulled out a hook and chain.

She took a step back, and slipped in a puddle of standing water. She hit the ground hard, and a shock wave went up her spine and rattled her teeth. She started to grope around the ground, feeling for the energy of the ground beneath her, but she was too tired and hungry to work even the most rudimentary of defensive spells. Don't do this, she pleaded.

Oh, but we gotta, the skinny man said. Even if things hadn't gone to shit, you're on our turf, baby. You gots to pay the toll.

The frightened young woman continued to grope wildly around her for something, anything that she could defend herself with. What do you want from me? she demanded, attempting to stall for time.

Lots of things, her female pursuer said. She started to swing her chain around. Her dirty blond hair was very thin looked like it hadn't been washed in years, her jeans were shredded, and her leather jacket looked like the sleeves had bitten off by a beast with enormous jaws. She had the same skeletal build and yellow skin as her companion. We'll have a bit of fun with ya, then give you to the masters.

Finally, the young witch's left hand came across something long, heavy, and solid. No! Get away from me! With what strength she had left she swung her weapon against her male attacker, catching him upside the head with a sturdy steel pipe. His head shot to the side with a satisfying crunch.

In almost cartoon fashion, he readjusted his head, and his neck made a sickening series of pops and snaps as the vertebrae realigned. His skull had been partially caved in where the pipe hit him, leaving a deep dent in the side of his head, and making his eye bulge out of its socket. Before the witch's eyes, the dent in his head popped out like an inflating balloon, and his eye settled back into position. She had seen this kind of healing ability before, twenty years prior. She knew she was dealing with ghouls, and she knew that nothing she could do would stop them.

Shouldn't have done that, bitch, the female taunted in a sing song voice. We were gonna hand you over to the vamps in one piece, but now we're gonna have some real fun with you.

She told you to get away from her, a gruff voice from behind her calmly said. If you don't want things to get unpleasant, I suggest you do what the lady said. Now! The voice belonged to a man who was slightly shorter than average, but whose large muscles more than made up for his stature. He was wearing all black, including a black jacket that flowed slightly in the light breeze like a short cape. The rain was running off his shaved head. He reinforced his threat by cracking his knuckles.

The female ghoul looked him over like he was another predator come to steal her kill. Then, suddenly, she began to sniff at the air. A disgusted look crossed her features. You don't need her, ya stinkin' birthie, we do!

The male seemed intrigued by the new arrival. A birth ghoul, huh? We were gonna turn this cow over to the masters for a fix. But maybe we should give you to them instead! He made a lunge at the stranger, only to be swatted away like a fly. He hit the wall head first, the force of the impact snapping his neck like a twig. The ghoul's head was hanging limply from his shoulders, bobbing around as he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

The second ghoul, apparently the smarter of the two, ran off, leaving her injured companion behind. The large man looked down at his fallen foe, who was now desperately trying to realign his head before it healed that way.

You want a word of advice, blood junkie? The stranger reached for his adversary and started methodically breaking bones in strategic spots. When a woman says no, she means it. Oh, and don't fuck with a birthie. You'll lose every time. He left his crippled foe in the pouring rain and made his way to the fallen witch.

Don't worry, I won't hurt you. His voice had softened. He sounded almost familiar to her, like a voice from the past. And she could swear she had seen those almost forest green eyes somewhere before. The strain from the extreme hunger and the stress of her ordeal finally overtook her. She blacked out. Great, he muttered.

He took a close look at the would-be victim. She seemed to be about his height with shoulder length dark brown hair. Her blue jeans were torn and muddied, and her brown jacket was almost totally shredded. He could swear he'd seen her somewhere before. On a whim, he reached into her pocket and found that she still had her wallet. Not surprising, really. Ever since the string of earthquakes had struck and society went to hell, money had become totally worthless. He wasn't robbing her, though, just looking for ID.

Son of a bitch, he said in surprise when he saw the name on her driver’s license. Tara Louise Marshall from Grass Valley, California. The man gently scooped Tara up into his arms and carried her off. Don't worry, little sister, he