Why I Work the Night Shift

By Robert Evans

John becomes something he once believed existed only in myths and make believe. Or has he? Whatever he has become, he must use it to protect his new found friends and himself. Facing battles both within and without, he must rise above his circumstances and embrace the changes he is going through. There is no other way, because the changes offer the only possibility of survival. Especially those things that make him something that breaks his heart. He must become the monster to protect his friends and the one he loves. Feeling he has become something dirty and unworthy of love, still he embraces the changes for the sake of love. If this is the sacrifice required to save them, he finds the cost more affordable than saving himself from what he has become. Yet perhaps, there is still hope. Love can do that.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Evans
• Release date: Mar 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311537706

Robert Evans

No stranger to excitement, Robert C. Evans has spent over 30 years representing his clients internationally. In his travels across the globe, he has always found time to continue reading the works of fiction he loves. From cowboys to werewolves and anything in between, he lost himself in their worlds. The most important parts of the experience for him were believable characters and unexpected twists to keep it exciting. Taking these requirements and becoming the writer rather than the reader, he delivers exactly the kind of book he loves to read. In fact, he is currently working on the second book in the series, because he just can’t wait to see what happens next! Join him on a ride like a roller coaster known to lose the occasional passenger. You’re in for a treat.

Book preview

Why I Work the Nightshift

Robert C. Evans

Text copyright 2015 by Robert C. Evans

All rights reserved.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious and all similarities to real persons, living or dead, is not intended by the author.

Summary: When John begins going through changes he can’t explain, he is faced with decisions he must make based on the needs of new found friends, and his heart.

For my wife, Barbara,

who always believes in me.

Even when I don’t.

Contents

Title

Forward

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Book Two

About the author

One

The sound of my feet as they raced across the ground sounded softer than a cat while at the same time trees and shrubbery passed by faster than I knew was possible. I heard a small animal rustling through the leaves about a hundred yards away, then an owl called out and it was deafening. I seemed to know where I was headed without ever having been in these woods before. I knew these were the same woods I had seen so many times in my dreams. Dreams where I was always left frustrated, seeking some release I needed but couldn’t find. This time was different, the bright glow of the moon and stars danced with a promise of needs that would be fulfilled. Wisps of fog wrapped around low lying areas and seemed to grasp at me with their bonds of darker dreams as I ran by. I grinned into the wind as I ran and started to laugh, my steady pace stumbling to a stop as I heard a howl erupt from my throat. I wondered at the sound, and then became distracted by the moonlit shadows and I was running once again. I raced the wind with no real destination in mind. I was pulled onward by a strong urge, chasing something I could not grasp. I would have run forever, but was suddenly brought to a complete stop by the scent. It was so odd, this riveting scent.

I had never possessed much of a sense of smell, which made the intense feeling brought on by this scent hard to fathom. Yet still it could not, would not be denied. It demanded to be explored and reveled in. I stalked the scent with feet that had become almost silent and the sound of another’s footsteps became known to me. I had by this scent been transformed from a child of the night, laughing and communing with the moonlight, into something much more dangerous. I was a hunter that belonged to the night more than the shadows themselves. I knew I had become something of the night that children would hide from under their covers, understanding the safety of being in bed was a lie. Unsure of what else was hunting in my woods this night, I instinctively knew it was not my friend. I had become the reason people looked over their shoulder in dark, lonely places. I would hunt this distraction down and destroy him for intruding upon my world. I slowly turned; using my hearing to vector his location when the scent intruded again and the desire to find the trespasser was lost with other memories that no longer mattered. I wrapped myself in the scent as though it was a favorite robe, settling into the feel of it. This was new. Scents could now be almost touched, more a part of the physical world than I had ever realized. I was shocked to find that throughout this period of discovery and introspect; I had somehow never stopped my stealthy approach to the source of the scent. My movements were not a conscious decision but simply an expression of what I had become. The scent was maddening, sending my heart racing as my other senses were spinning out of control. I had to own this, possess it, bathe in it. I had to taste it.

Shock. The world slapped into a sharp focus I had never known. In a small clearing she stood facing away from me. The most perfect thing I had ever seen. Every part of my being screamed out as I realized the scent was from a small cut on her left arm. She held a bowie knife in her right hand, the moonlight dancing off of the silver blade as if laughing at such a pitiful weapon compared to what I was. I wanted her, I needed her and there was nothing that could stop me. She was mine and meant for taking. From somewhere deep inside of me there came a storm of remembering who I was and the wrongness of what I was about to do. Clashing with my innate knowledge of what I now was and what I was meant to do, I started to cry out a warning for her to flee even as I understood the fallacy of attempting to flee from me. Flight would have only served to make what I had to do stretch out a few more precious seconds. The confused gurgle from my throat was enough to make her turn to see me approach in an odd stagger. My feet moved in a confusing mix of a perfect assassin’s smooth gliding steps and the dragging step of a man struggling to stop the madness unfolding before him. My head throbbed as I moved from one persona to another, and so perhaps I can be forgiven that I never heard the others approaching me from behind. I realized they were there, thinking oh, there’s two, just before a bright light flashed and then everything went dark. This is all I remember of that first breath I drew as something new. The night was as much a part of me as the blood pumping through my veins. My most defining moment of the night? I remembered what I had been instead of completely embracing what I had become. That was my last memory of that night, the first of many confusing nights to follow.

Two

I awoke in my back yard with the sun beating upon me as if trying to finish me off. I felt disoriented, weak and hungrier than I had ever remembered being in my life. I was also somewhat confused. I was wearing overalls. I didn’t own any overalls. Unknown to me, this was only the beginning of what would become an extensive, troubling collection of overalls.

I slowly stood up and although a little unsteady, made my way to the backdoor of my home. There was no privacy in my neighborhood with the houses crowded upon one another so close it sometimes felt like it was choking me. I didn’t want to explain to any of my neighbors why I had been sleeping in my backyard. Mostly because I had no idea why. Besides, what if these overalls belonged to someone who recognized them? As I walked bare footed across the lawn, it was an odd sensation to feel so much of what was going on beneath my feet. I could feel the blades of grass pressed against the soles of my feet, the moisture of the bruised vegetation felt soothing. I could smell freshly cut grass but I did not see any. I heard no lawn mowers running in the distance, much less close enough I should be able to smell the grass. It seemed as though the smell was coming to me in little puffs of scent. I came to a stop trying to figure it out and I noticed the scent slowly weakening. I took another step and a fresh puff of cut grass filled the air. Suddenly, I understood the scent was from the lawn as I stepped upon it and as this dawned upon me I felt drowned in a rush of other smells while the yard spun and I dropped to the lawn again. As I was overcome by so many smells, one hit as particularly nauseating. A greasy, sweaty smell mixed with stale beer and cigarettes was choking me as I heard, Yo! Buddy! Are you all right? I slowly looked to my left and the source of that terrible smell. Randy was leaning on the fence dividing his yard from mine. He was looking concerned but there was an odd smell under the other smells. I didn’t know what it was until I saw his eyes. He wasn’t truly concerned; he was amused at my predicament. How could I tell from just his eyes? No, it wasn’t his eyes so much as that smell. Somehow he smelled dishonest. It was a pungent smell of sweat mingled with a cloying scent that I realized was fear of being called out on a lie. Fear was a smell? I didn’t know why I knew this, but it was as much a truth to me as the sun would set and the moon would rise. I must have taken too long to reply as I pondered all of this because again, my neighbor intruded upon my thoughts. John! Are you OK buddy? Talk to me bro. Although I had a mad desire to hurt Randy in creative ways, I answered, I’m good, just got a little dizzy. I’ve been coming down with something I think. I struggled back to my feet and flung out, I just need to get inside and rest some more. I disappeared into my house, closing my door behind me to stave off further intrusion, and that terrible smell.

I made it to my couch and sprawled out on it as I started to think about bits and pieces of my dreams from last night. I briefly wondered if I was still dreaming but I could feel the fabric of the overalls, which reassured me until I remembered I didn’t own any overalls. Yes, there was still that. I began to really study the overalls hoping to discern something about my predicament. A popular company logo was embroidered across the chest. The brass colored buttons and hooks seemed unremarkable. No odd stains or markings that I could see. Just a common pair of overalls with the prerequisite number of pockets to carry everything a farmer could dream of. Some of the pockets even had zippers to keep stuff from falling out when you leaned over. Farmers were kind of an odd bunch if you really thought about it, I supposed. The overalls were making me uneasy, and as I was feeling a little steadier, I went back to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. I needed something more familiar, something that didn’t belong to someone else. As I pulled off the overalls I felt a lump in the zippered chest pocket. I wondered how I had spent so much time studying every detail of the overalls and it never occurred to me to check the pockets. It was one of those moments you’re glad to have no one else to share it with. A little embarrassed, I pulled out what appeared to be a page torn from a notebook.

I unfolded the paper and read the simple note. You did well. We will be watching out for you. You don’t need a doctor. The dizzy spells will pass. Eat big meals and drink lots’ of water. I imagined someone carefully penning these words in hopes of reassuring me. It had quite the opposite affect. The right corner of my mouth twitched up, a sign of my frustration. What did I do well at? Who were these people who were watching out for me, and what did they mean by that? How could they know I didn’t need a doctor? Eat and drink? Why did they think anyone needed to be told to eat and drink? Oddly enough, at that point it hadn’t occurred to me to wonder, who dressed me, and why someone had decided I needed overalls. I would have liked to say I seized upon those questions and began to explore the possibilities. However, I had suddenly grown ravenous and very thirsty. I headed to the kitchen.

I went through the kitchen looking for quick and easy. I grabbed the eggs, a package of mild cheddar cheese and a package of bacon. I also reached for the milk, but when I took the cap off of the jug, it smelled wrong. I didn’t have any orange juice, so I just poured a big glass of cold water. I wolfed down six eggs I had scrambled with cheese sprinkled liberally over them, the entire package of bacon I had fried and washed the meal down with four glasses of water. I was barely able to stumble back to the bedroom before I simply passed out.

I woke up again before dinner and phoned in an order of two large pizzas with two liters of coke, delivered to my door. I always drank coke with my pizza. It never seems like I’m really having pizza unless I’m drinking coke. The two just go together. Yet for some reason the coke just wasn’t working for me. I took one sip and set it aside. Instead I grabbed the largest glass I had, filled it with ice and filled it with water from the kitchen faucet. I devoured both pizzas, only stopping to refill my glass several times with water to wash down the second pizza. Standing up, I only made it to the couch before I passed out again. I don’t think I dreamed at all.

When I woke up for the third time that day, it was dark outside. I had slept through dinner, but it was no real surprise to me that I wasn’t hungry. I stepped outside into my backyard and sat on the patio, considering the strange night I had last night, and what it all meant. I must have fallen asleep on the patio, because the next thing I knew, I was dreaming again. It was obviously a dream because no one could run as fast as I was moving. I gave myself over to the dream.

Three

I wasn’t running so much as bounding through the forest. I thought I recognized the woods from the route I drove to get on the interstate from my house. I had never entered these woods before that I was aware of. It was two miles from where I lived but from what I understood, you could get there by walking through a park my neighborhood bordered. It was so exhilarating, moving fast yet not tired or even really exerting myself. It seemed as if I was flying just over the surface of the ground, the air rushing past my face as I moved more gracefully than any professional athlete could dream of. At first, I didn’t even realize why I was running. The simple fact that I was running was all I really needed. I leaped over a creek I had heard gurgling through the underbrush and slipped through the mist building up on the other side. It felt as if the forest had been built for me, as though I had never been alive before this moment. I understood the forest, how it interconnected and why it had grown the way it had. The rolling hills beckoned me to run ever farther and to explore promises of even greater wonders. I danced with the mighty oak trees, rubbed up against pine trees as the sound of my movements disappeared upon the quieting carpet of pine needles. I was the mightiest hunter to ever stalk the forest. I was the shadow running through the forest that no one could see. I was the moonlight gliding across the hills without a sound. I belonged in that moment as I had never belonged anywhere before.

As I reveled in my stealth, a sound more beautiful than any I had ever heard rolled across the starry night towards me. A lone howl that bore an invitation every part of me responded to. I needed that. I was not truly sure what the promise was, what I was invited to, but I knew I needed it. My body checked itself from the direction I had been moving and homed in on this new direction in one fluid movement of grace and raw strength. As I heard the second howl I ran faster with a purpose I had not possessed earlier in my run. I had never howled in my life until last night. Not even howling with laughter. However, erupting from my throat was an answering howl that pierced the night and joined the second howl I heard before it had a chance to die. Behind me and to the distant left I heard another voice calling out, joined by a third that was the closest, behind me and to the right. With a sense of urgency that I must be the first one to make contact, I pressed myself to run even faster and for the first time felt the strain of pushing my body harder than it could comfortably maintain. Yet the prize was growing closer and it seemed as though the others were falling slightly farther behind.

The others then began to gain on me so I was pushing myself even harder when I felt the first cramps. They threw me off stride but I resolved to run through it. She was howling again, I wondered why I knew the voice was female, but never slowed from my race to get to her first. The cramps hit me again and I became nauseous with even the smell of my own sweat making my stomach roll. I was stumbling, losing control but I refused to slow down when a wave of vertigo hit me. I think I threw up but instead of rolling into a heap of tangled arms and legs I suddenly moved into a faster, smoother pace then even before. The two others were rapidly falling back now but I barely noticed because of the sensory overload. I could smell her, she was the same one whose blood I had smelled last night when she had cut herself, but she wasn’t bleeding now. Yet I could still smell her. I could smell everything and seemed to understand what each smell was. It was as though a switch had been thrown. My sense of smell was incredible. My hearing was off the charts as well. I could hear the footsteps of the others falling away even as I could hear her feet loping casually across a meadow. Nearby a fox pounced on a mouse. I heard the impact and almost immediately smelt the blood. Above me I heard the soft whisper of an owls’ wings as it glided over me and I wondered if it was the same one I had heard calling last night. Still moving towards her, I slowed down listening to an oddness I hadn’t really noticed before. The sound, the pattern of her playful run would change back and forth with a heavier gate where she seemed to favor one foot over the other and sometimes an easy gate that sounded like a slower version of how I was now running. I stopped just short of the clearing and completely focused on the sounds I was hearing. It was distracting. One moment I heard the movements of an athletic woman who seemed to favor one foot just a little, then a soft sound I just couldn’t identify which was followed by a very smooth run that echoed my own movements. I was lost in these sounds; trying to visualize them, understand them, when I realized the others were almost upon me.

I heard both of them crashing through the woods towards me. It hadn’t seemed as though they had made so much noise earlier, I suppose they may have been farther away than I had previously thought. Still, it was obvious they knew where I was and had no fear of me. I smiled. I was unafraid and looked forward to teaching them why they should fear me. I silently glided to the right of the one nearest me and kind of crouched behind a tree to pounce upon him. I thought of the fox and mouse I had heard and smelled earlier. Now I was the fox, only bigger, smarter and stronger. I felt my foe was only slightly smarter than the mouse, but I could tell he was at least my size from the sound of his steps. He was moving along in a manner that would present him perfectly to me from my vantage point. I quivered in anticipation. Just as he came into view I leaped on him, or at least I started to. I’m not really sure what I saw, because just as he came into view I leaped and then there was a bright flash.

I don’t remember anything after that. Except my head hurt when I woke up in my backyard, again. Wearing another set of overalls I didn’t own, again. Feeling really woozy, hungry, thirsty and tired, again. Almost dreading it, I reached into the zippered pocket of the overalls and felt yet another folded paper. I had no doubt that I had another note from my new friends, the ones with all the overalls. I dreaded it. The words on the page blurred in and out as I concentrated through a pounding headache to read it. Like the previous note, this one got straight to the point. ‘Eat large meals, drink lots of water and sleep,’ they wrote. The right edge of my mouth twitched up as I wondered, was this note from all of them or did just one of them write it? Would the one who had written the note be in trouble if the others had known about the note? Did I have one friend or a group of them? Well, I thought, I might have no friends since I didn’t really know what they were up to. I returned to reading the note. ‘You don’t need a doctor.’ I felt rather stupid about that. I wondered why I hadn’t seen a doctor already. It seemed fairly apparent I needed help. I looked at the handwriting on the note much closer, noting the curves and flow of the letters written in longhand. No, no way I could have written the note while I was temporarily crazy. Nothing about it looked like my writing. I realized the note looked decidedly like a woman wrote it. The letters scribed with such a meticulous flowing pattern. I would have to be stupid to not get some medical attention immediately. However, I decided to finish reading the note first. ‘If you go for medical attention they will think you’re crazy and detain you.’ That got my attention. How would I explain being locked up in a mental institution? I would lose my job and everything I had worked for. I thought about this and then decided perhaps I could just say I hadn’t been sleeping well and was feeling rundown. No need to bring up the crazy stuff, just get a battery of tests run on me. I read on, ‘Even medical tests might cause problems with questions you won’t be able to answer. As a result, you are being watched. Any attempt to get medical attention could present a great danger to the rest of us. We would have to put you down if you made any such attempt.’ Put me down? Oh, they’re going to kill me if I try to get help. Oddly, that didn’t startle me. Instead, it made sense to me on some level. The note said more, but I had to put it back in my pocket. Well, into someone’s pocket. They weren’t my overalls. I needed to get inside and get something to drink, and something to eat.

The move from the backyard to the kitchen was a little easier this time. No one seemed to have