Soul Eater and the Hunter

By David Knote

Michael Gunner could not imagine the horror he would recall once his memory returned to him. Protecting his wife Carol and his daughter Trish is what he's determined to do. With an evil Alien force after him, a secret society ready to kill him for his knowledge, and the realization that there are still gaps in his memory, how will he survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Knote
• Release date: Oct 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463874196

David Knote

My passion for writing has given me a place to give my viewpoints on how I see the world as well as create fiction to entertain. I love writing in all genres. As a fourth-year creative writing student, I've found inspiration in writing stories not so much about the plot but about characters. After my near-death experience in a fire that killed one person, I realized that I had to follow my gift to tell stories about what people go through in their personal lives with an exciting plot. My stories are meant to inspire on some level, which in turns inspire me to write more. I'm a father of three boys, in which two are grown, and when I'm not writing I'm studying, and when I'm not studying I'm enjoying a movie or television program. I love to travel with my family and see new places I can write about. When I finish my law degree I plan to travel to ancient places to give me the inspiration to write great fiction. I live in rural midwest where small-town culture and ways seep into my storytelling. Although I do not have any writing awards as of yet, my award comes from readers enjoying my work.

Book preview

Chapter 2

October 1, 2030

Friday 1:30P.M.

Michael Gunner wasn't chasing suspects anymore. He was now chasing his wife in a sensual playfulness they had been missing in their marriage. Though Gunner's youthful days had passed, and his dark goat-tee had a hint of gray in it, he still had a yearning for his beautiful wife Carol. He loved her witty personality, the way she curved the left corner of her mouth when she had something funny to say. He loved the way her brown eyes narrowed whenever she smiled. And her laugh; he loved her infectious laugh; but now, Gunner could only think about her lips, her slender body, her dark flowing hair, and her youthful sandy brown skin. The couple's daughter was gone on a trip for school. Caroline decided to dress up in a sexy turquoise and black lingerie for Michael.

Upstairs, Gunner looked at the walk-in closet of the master bedroom where he knew Caroline would be. It had been so long since they had played like two young people in love. His work had pulled him away for many weeks, but Gunner wanted to make up for it. Like the detective he used to be, he knew exactly where to find his wife. He looked towards the walk-in closet. Her perfume drew him there.

He stood in front of it about to open it when: Caroline burst out of the closet after Gunner. She collapsed on top of him, making him fall onto the king-sized bed behind him. Gunner's blue shirt was already off, showing his muscular chest. Caroline rested her head on his chest as they laid there laughing. Romantic music still played downstairs from where they had started their playfulness. Caroline tried to wrestle Gunner's arms over his head as they smiled. Her eyes glanced over his tattoo on his right arm, that had unusual letters she'd never seen before that almost looked like Chinese handwriting if she would describe it. A tattoo that added to Gunner's mysterious life.

Gunner allowed her to subdue him for the fun of it. After Gunner let her subdue his arms, he saw her look down at his striped boxer shorts. The boxer shorts she hated.

You've been out of practice too long, she said smiling. Gunner wasn't the type to wear sexy underwear for any reason. He was old school.

What's wrong with my boxers? he said with his arms still over his head.

They're great to sleep in but not good for romance, said Caroline.

Would you rather I cut them like Tarzan shorts and yell while standing on the bed?

Are you gonna beat your chest? said Caroline jokingly.

I can be your Tarzan, said Gunner. He started nibblingly her earlobe. Caroline giggled from the ticklingly of the pinch. It was her favorite spot and Gunner knew it.

Caroline pushed him back from her ear.

It was a setup and Michael didn't know it.

We need to talk... said Caroline.

Gunner was shocked. Were they gonna make love, or did someone just die in the family, by the look on Caroline's face?

Talk? Now? he said as Carol released his arms. She sat up, straddling his stomach.

Yeah. Now I got you where I want you. We need to talk, she said knowing she could never get him to stop working long enough to have a needed conversation.

You're joking, right? said Gunner. He tried to pull her to him to kiss her.

Caroline pushed him away again.

I'm serious. We need to talk first.

About what?

About your career. About what happened. Trish and I can't take anymore. You have to promise me that you will quit being a P.I., and forget about what happened to that boy and forgive yourself. I want the man I fell in love with back.

Gunner was struggling to deal with what had become his painstaking life.

I promise. Now can we please continue... said Gunner smirking.

I'm serious. I want us to move forward...

We are moving forward, honey. I'm trying...

But I want you to try harder. It's been long enough. Let what happened go... let the department go... enjoy being a husband and a father... you're not a cop anymore. And stop the drinking.

Gunner nodded, though, what he was dealing with was something he knew Carol could never understand. There was a deep pain in his past, as well as a stabbing splinter in his brain of some unknown crisis he couldn't explain.

I promise you, he said, wanting to end their conversation. He wanted to focus completely on their time together. For at least that moment, he wanted to forget about the demons in his life he had to fight. He wanted to explore her body. In the back of Gunner's mind, he couldn't stop thinking about what he saw the night he accidentally shot the teenage boy. He thought his eyes were deceiving him when he saw what was standing behind the boy. It appeared in an electrical form. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared in front of him. Gunner thought he was going insane until he saw it again in the park, murderously attacking a woman. He couldn't bring himself to tell Carol that something unearthly was after him. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because of what he saw. How could he tell his wife he had one more case to solve?

I promise honey, said Gunner before pulling Caroline close to his body, absorbing her passionate warmth against his. Their lips embraced in a tangle of passionate love, and their minds faded into a lovemaking bliss.

*********************************************************

Michael Gunner engaged in weekly sessions with his therapist; It wasn't something he looked forward to. He had been receiving therapy for two years since he had lost his memory. It happened before he was a cop and before he met the love of his life Carol, who had already had Trish their daughter from a previous relationship. He had been in a horrible wreck that left him with patchy memories of his past that came to him as dreams. Some of the dreams he was having were too strange and hallucinogenic for him to believe it had anything to do with his past. The military thought he wouldn't recover, so they used unconventional means to bring him back. Though flashes of memory often returned every now and then, he couldn't remember ever serving in the military, but that's where the government said he had served. They insisted he had a therapist until he remembered his time served as a decorated soldier. They needed him for very important information from a mission he served, which entailed spying on another country and retrieving intelligence of a potential nuclear threat. A disk drive had been procured by Gunner and hidden from all prying eyes. It contained technologically advanced information, with which China had planned to use on the U.S. if the U.S. control of China's waters continued. Secret CIA agents were in danger. The technology was one of a kind and couldn't be reproduced by anyone else, since the astrophysicist that produced it was killed. It was the smallest nuclear bomb ever made, the size of a grape, but it could destroy an entire city. Where they had received such advanced technology was a mystery in itself. Through Gunner's continued therapy, it was decided that Gunner should serve in law enforcement as a way to help him remember. He had the training and demeanor for that type of work. The military recommended him with honors. It was a perfect fit.

Gunner's therapist had him lie on the couch inside his office.

Evelyn Peek handed Gunner a liquid drug prescribed by a physician the military provided. It was an experimental drug that at first Gunner was opposed to taking, but he wanted his memories back, so over several weeks he grew into the idea of taking the concoction.

Just relax Mike, said Evelyn Peek. Lay back on the couch, close your eyes...and try to think back as I ask you questions.

Evelyn Peek had dark flowing hair, a beautiful smile, and green eyes that seemed to glow.

The medication started to take effect. It was designed to help Gunner go into the dream realm, without going completely to sleep. He would be able to answer all of Evelyn's questions from the deepest parts of his brain.

Tell me what you remember about the wreck? she asked in a hopeful tone.

Gunner thought back. He forced his brain to at least remember the impact of the crash. Evelyn blamed the impact for his misjudgment the night he shot the teenager; She also blamed his alcoholism on it as well.

Just relax, Mike. It takes time... she said helping him to relax.

Gunner knew it would take more than time.

Can you remember flying? she asked. You were in a crash. Do you remember?

Gunner remembered it was an aircraft. He saw it in his dreams many times.

Evelyn Peek's voice was soothing like no other woman's voice. The way she spoke her words and the melody in her words put Gunner in a hypnotized state.

I see it, said Gunner. The purpose of his therapy was to make him see his life before the wreck. Long before the wreck. His superiors wanted to know what happened to him. Did he complete the mission?

Tell me what you see Gunner? she said.

Images came to him in quick shots of pictures, flashes of places, and actions that felt like he had dreamt it before. It was the furthest his mind had gone so far.

I'm inside an aircraft. I'm chasing something through the air. I don't know where I'm at. I'm pushing buttons but I don't know what type of aircraft it is.

Gunner had a strained appearance on his face as he laid on the brown leather sofa inside his office, struggling to remember what they told him he had to remember.

I don't know the type of aircraft I'm operating. Tell me please...

Evelyn was told not to tell Gunner about the aircraft, or anything his superiors knew about his crash. It was better he was told nothing so that they would know if he regained his memory.

I don't know, Mike. You tell me about the controls you had to operate. Can you tell me that?

Evelyn wanted Gunner to remember the controls of the aircraft before she had him remember what he was doing before the crash. She knew that finding familiarity was essential before she could move backward through the events that had happened.

Try to look hard at the controls and tell me what each one does. Can you do that for me?

Gunner strained to remember. The visions inside his mind were blurry, and every time he tried to remember the functions of the controls his brain would simply fall apart.

I don't know what the controls do. I only remember flying through the air. In my dreams, I'm chasing someone. Why am I chasing someone?

Do you see yourself chasing someone now?

Yes. I'm speeding in an aircraft and I'm chasing someone. I don't know if it's from my dreams or if I really did this.

The drug took a deeper effect on Gunner. He could feel himself fall into a deeper state. He could recall a little more of the nightmarish event, but he still wasn't sure if it was from his dreams or reality.

Okay, MIke... why did you get inside the aircraft?

To chase something, Gunner said quickly.

Evelyn knew it was coming to him faster than in the years past.

But why? Why chase it? she said.

To kill him.

Kill who?

Gunner's face strained hard. He looked like a person that was having a bad dream. He was trying to remember.

I don't know.

Was he after the disk?

Gunner strained again. A sudden flash of his aircraft crashing into the ground hit him. Gunner threw up his hands as if trying to block something. Inside his head, he saw himself smack his head on the control board and then he blacked out.

Mike? Stay with me, Mike!

Evelyn walked over to Gunner and tapped him on his face.

Mike, you're okay. You're here with me, not inside the aircraft.

Gunner opened his eyes. He looked like he just woke from a bad dream.

You did good Mike. You're starting to remember more.

It's just dreams, Gunner said disagreeing. It's the same one that wakes me up in the middle of the night at least once a week.

No, it's really what happened. Your brain is making you think it's dreaming to deal with the trauma. We now know you were chasing something that made you crash. Maybe that has something to do with why you hid the disk drive.

Is that what you're going to tell your boss? Gunner said sitting up on his brown couch disappointed.

I have to tell them everything, Mike. That's the way this works. But what you get out of this is closure.

I'll get closure and probably a straight jacket along with it, he said, rubbing his face out of frustration. The look on his face showed discouragement.

Evelyn shook her head and gave a smirk.

All they care about is the disk. Your crazy dreams and visions are the least of their worries.

But what about you? Do you believe what I saw? asked Gunner, referring to the transparent figure standing behind the teenager he accidentally shot. The same creature in the park that had killed a woman in front of him before it disappeared. The creature he had dreams about chasing after him. The thing he felt was hunting him now.

I believe you think you saw something. I told you that that's one of the side effects of your head injury. You have to tell yourself it's not real.

The death of that woman was real, he said, referring to the woman in the park.

You said it yourself that you could barely see his face. You said you felt like passing out. When you opened your eyes he was gone.

Gunner remembered feeling like passing out. He felt an unusual energy come from the creature standing in front of him, and it somehow made his mind confused, dizzy. Something radiating from its skin made Gunner unable to focus.

No, I said when I opened my eyes he vanished, said Gunner.

Listen...we're wasting our time talking about it. Whatever you saw won't help you get your memory back before the crash. Are you still taking the pills I gave you for the hallucinations?

Yes...

And they're working, right? What you saw hasn't returned, right?

No, It hasn't. But I know what I saw.

If you say you saw it then I believe you. But I'm here for the disk. So the next time you see the thing you saw, ask it if it knows where the disk is....

Gunner shook his head. That's not funny, Evelyn.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so insensitive. But your memory before the crash is top priority. I can help you deal with whatever else is going on later. One step at a time.

The steps aren't what I'm worried about, said Gunner as he stood up and walked out his office. Evelyn followed.

Gunner didn't know if he was losing his mind, or if he really did see what he saw. Was it really a man that had gotten away, or was it something else? Was it his mind that he was loosing because of the crash? Or was it something ominous that had appeared twice before his eyes, on two different occasions, that had marked him for death.

CHAPTER 3

October 1, 2000

Chicago, Illinois

9:07P.M.

Crisp brown leaves drifted along with the wind down the darkened streets.

Bare skeletal trees lined the curbsides of the narrow sidewalks.

The night was like a dark pit, with a half moon flirting behind thick clouds, peeking out every once in a while.

Michael Gunner's house on the outside was quiet. He lived in an old neighborhood that took pride in their Victorian-style homes, large lawns and close neighbors. The white porch was decorated with two white, wooden rocking chairs, and the skirt along the porch was outlined with flowerbeds, flowers, and green bushes guarding the edges of them.

Near his home, something ominous landed. Amidst thick boisterous lightening came something that landed on its feet, with translucent smoke pillowing from its gray skin. It needed new clothes fast. It had been living among the filth of vacant buildings for the last four months, waiting for its chance to kill his enemy. It regained its energy after killing the scientist at the lab and had been feeding on humans for two years now. What it found inside the basement of the building reminded it of its species back home, and it knew it had found its creators.

Just across the street from Gunner's home stood an old greenhouse, where the Alien had set its eyes upon it. The Alien manipulated the lock on the door with a thin metal instrument, before entering. He shut the door behind him. He could smell the old man inside the house at the point of the kitchen retrieving a snack. A small television was on with a horror movie playing. The Alien marveled at the movie as it waited for the old man to return to the couch.

The smell of popcorn lingered in the air from the kitchen. The smell of another human was absent from the room, which meant the man lived alone. A picture frame sat on a coffee table in front of the couch: It was a picture of the old man's deceased wife.

The old man returned, unaware that something was waiting for him.

The Alien disappeared into a glassy form and grabbed the feeble man by the neck with its large gray hand as the man entered the room. It stared into the old man's dim blue eyes with its black eyes and marveled at how weak the man was. The Alien's grip was tight enough to pierce the man's skin, coursing blood onto its large grayish hand. The man was wearing a striped, white and blue pajamas, now painted with his own blood. The Alien brought its face close to the man's mouth and inhaled with its mouth opened, sucking all the life force from the man's body. A grayish, white mist surfaced from the old man's mouth and funneled into the Alien's mouth like cigarette smoke until the man's body mummified. The Alien threw the old man's chard carcass to the hardwood floor. He wanted something specific inside the old man's home. He didn't kill unless there was a purpose. The Alien sniffed in the air looking for something. He looked towards the closet near the front door and found it. He needed concealment. It walked over to the closet and opened it. He reached inside and grabbed what he wanted. The Alien took the man's clothes. He loved the man's brown trench coat he saw and the brown hat. It could now roam as humans do. And he would do plenty of roaming, as he fed on most of the city. His feeding was just to sustain him; his true mission was to call for an invasion, but before the invasion he wanted revenge. The Alien went to Michael Gunner's home.

CHAPTER 4

Inside of Michael Gunner's home, around midnight, when the storm took on its strongest form, something entered, as the rain fell heavy from the sky. Michael was upstairs asleep, still tired from his late-night surveillance. Usually, a pin could drop and he would hear it, but now, he heard nothing creeping around downstairs. If it wasn't for his Labrador Retriever, he wouldn't have heard his wife leave the bed to see why Maxi was barking. Michael woke and didn't see Caroline next to him. Gunner called for Carol, but there was no answer. He called for Maxi who had stopped barking. No answer. Gunner didn't keep his gun close, because now it had become a symbol of disaster, and he decided to only grab it when absolutely necessary. He used to be a gun toting, gun slinging cop before, who thought he could do good in the mean streets, but it wasn't the gun as much as it was the person behind the gun.

He called for Carol again.

No answer.

Gunner jumped from the bed and he grabbed his nine millimeter from the nightstand. The black gun felt cold and evil in his hand. Inside his heart, he felt dread but didn't know why. It wasn't the death of the teenager by his hand alone that had him feeling that way, or the absence of his memory, but something much more sinister; as if something ominous was waiting to cause destruction in his life.

The loud crash of a table overturning with the sound of a vase smashing echoed upstairs. It was the vase his wife's mother gave them as a wedding present. An expensive vase. An investment as she had put it.

Michael eased downstairs. After the crash, the house had never been so quiet --- ever. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember when his house had been so still. The floorboards creaked, the roof made noise when it rained, and the frame growled on occasion. Something, or someone, was making the house noiseless.

He eased downstairs in his blue and white boxers, his white tee-shirt, with his silver nine in his right hand. He had the same sinking feeling in his stomach before, that's why he brought the gun. The nightmares he'd been having, with the boy's face etched into his mind, reminded him of why the gun was a symbol of pain and not protection. He hated it. He carried it like a heavy rock. He clutched his cell phone in the palm of his other hand ready to make an emergency call.

Carol...? he whispered as he eased downstairs. He knew Caroline liked ice cream at night when she couldn't sleep and a good suspense novel; but the sudden barking from his dog Maxi, then an abrupt silence, made Gunner suspicious. Carol didn't come downstairs for ice cream, but because of a noise --- because of Maxi. Straight down the long, carpeted stairway, he came to the living room --- and that's when he saw it! Maxi was at the foot of the stairs on her side, bleeding from her stomach and her guts were protruding. She wept and moaned under the pain. She was dying a slow death. Who did this! Gunner thought to himself. He wanted to help her. He wanted to shoot her in the head to stop the pain ---