The Sanctuary (Union Cross Park Series Book 1) Read online

  Union Cross Park Series

  The

  Sanctuary

  Felicia F. Leibenguth

  The Sanctuary Copyright © 2018 Felicia F. Leibenguth

  www.FeliciaLeibenguth.weebly.com

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:978-1718698895

  ISBN-10:1718698895

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, businesses, places, events, 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.

  For my readers that

  Requested something on the darker side,

  This one’s for you!

  Union Cross Park History

  The Sanctuary takes place at Union Cross Park, which is located on Union Cross Road in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. This popular park was once known as the Winston-Salem Air Force Radar Station and was home to the soldiers of the 810th Radar Squadron.

  The Air Force Base was first operational on December 1, 1956. It included a 5-story radar tower made of solid concrete, thick enough to possibly withstand an atomic bomb. The radar dish was powerful enough to reach off the coast of North Carolina searching for threats.

  As of July 31, 1970, the base was abandoned by the Air Force and sat vacant until the Forsyth County Parks and Recreation Department took ownership of the land. On April 5, 1974 Forsyth County opened its first public park, known as Union Cross Park.

  Some buildings of the old base were preserved and are still used today, a few being the parks adjacent drug and alcohol rehab known as the

  ARCA. The small grocery store across the street from the park was also in use during the time of the base. Today it’s called B&T Grocery.

  The radar tower still stands strong within the park as a reminder of the past. Its radar dish was three times as wide as the building, but has since been removed.

  The base was active during the Cold War and is a Cold War Heritage Site. It is on the Historical Marker Program Priority List, but has yet to receive the Historical Marker commemorating the parks history and service to its country.

  Union Cross Park today.

  (View from atop the Radar Tower.)

  Resources:

  https://winstonwatchman.com

  www.Forsyth.cc/parks/UnionCross/history.aspx

  http://www.nineveh-junction.com/810th/

  Chapter 1

  The full moon shines brightly above, creating the darkened shadows I lurk within, as I near one of my favorite perches. The young oak tree gives me the perfect coverage, and a good vantage point to find my next victim. Leaping into the tree along the chain-link fence, I land on the thick branch and settle in to watch the nearby humans. I glare in distaste at the group of humans sitting and smoking under the covered pavilion as they chat and nibble on junk food. Humans are such social creatures, easily reminding me of cattle.

  Movement catches my eye and I grin darkly. Guess not all of them are as social. A single female is meandering along the enclosed fence line of the facility. She’s acting restless and uncomfortable, constantly intertwining her fingers, and scratching at her skin. She keeps looking at the group, then shaking her head as if telling herself she isn’t ready for group interactions. She must be new, one of the unclean.

  Her brown hair looks as though she hasn’t washed it in well over a week and the shortness of her sleeves shows the damage she has inflicted upon her body. The scars of many suicide attempts cut across her wrists, and the multiple needle marks in the crevice of her elbows, scatter across her skin. Her face, masked in multiple wounds, and her lips chapped, seemingly beyond repair.

  As she edges closer to the shadow of the tree, I drop myself onto a lower branch going unnoticed. Once she’s shrouded in the shadows, I plummet from the tree. Landing behind her, I swiftly cover her mouth with my hand to muffle her screams. She struggles with more strength than I’d give her credit. There is a fire inside her. Good… I enjoy the feisty ones.

  I stretch my jaw, allowing my fangs to extend, and then sink them into her pale flesh, entering her juggler. I draw the flow of blood pooling from her body into my mouth and over my tongue. The sweet, salty taste, with an undertone of cocaine, flows throughout my body, replenishing my energy and power… the power… my body trembles with it.

  She fights harder and I growl, draining more of her blood, trying to silence her. I’m reminded of a cheetah pouncing on its prey, biting into the neck of a gazelle, trying to suffocate it. The gazelle struggles, but the cheetah bites harder, growling with irritation until the gazelle perishes.

  After a moment, her fight becomes frail and useless. I’m taking a lot of her blood, but I will not let the rest go to waste.

  When I finish taking what I need, I lick the wound stopping the flow of blood, leaving no scar behind. She is unsteady on her feet and collapses to the ground. I catch her in my arms before she hits the dirt, and with a swift motion; I throw her limp body over my shoulder.

  Before taking my leave with the female, I look at the other humans under the pavilion. I know at once they have seen nothing as they continue on without a care in the world. Repulsed and drawn simultaneously, I head back to my sanctuary. My body is already twitching from the drugs I absorbed from this female, but that is the only consequence of feeding off the drug addicts at the rehab facility, only a mere hundred yards from my home. It’s a convenience to have an easy food source so close.

  I take my leave with the female and already know the cops will come, and an investigation will be done, just as they have in the past. Depending on this female’s history, that will determine how they go about looking for her. But seeming to be new to the drug rehab, the chances of them listing her as a runaway is pretty high. But no matter the label, or how hard they search for her, they will never find her.

  I bring her back to my 5-story concrete building and jump with ease onto the roof. I lay her unconscious body on the cement and grab my victim bag from the trap door leading into my home.

  Unzipping the bag, I pull out several blood collection kits that I acquire regularly through shipments to my PO box, using an alias. I hate going into public and do so only when necessary.

  Plunging the needle into the female’s vein, she groans slightly and lolls her head to the side in her weak state. I ignore her, knowing that groan will be the last sound she ever makes. I watch with fascination as the blood flows freely through the tube and into the collection bag. When that pint is full, I repeat the process, filling as many bags as possible before her heart slows to near silence. Two and a half pints later, her heart is barely beating and threatens to stop any second. Not wanting to waste a drop of her addictive liquid, I sink my teeth into her neck and drink until there is nothing left but a dead body to be rid of. Leaving my blood supply, I lift the body over my shoulder once again and step off the five story building, landing gracefully onto the ground.

  At lightning speed, I cross Wallburg Road, and continue across the massive, unused field to the safety of the tree line, where I stop and toss her body to the ground with a thud. Grabbing the shovel from the above tree branch, I dig a hole big enough to fit her small frame in the fetal position. Placing her in the ground next to my other countless victims, I throw dirt over her body, filling the hole. I smooth out the surface, making sure to cover it with leaves and other ground debris.

  Another victim… already forgotten.

  Chapter 2

  Atop my five-story concrete building, I quickly head through the trap door in the roof, and down the old steel ladder into my home. I place the blood
bags in my refrigerator for later use then return to the roof. I lay on the flat, concrete surface and look up at the stars. Something I do often to quiet my racing mind. The concrete is cool against my skin, but not uncomfortable, so I place my hands behind my head and relax. I lay unmoving for some time allowing the drugs to run through my system.

  My body quiets down as I watch the night pass. The humans eventually go to bed leaving me in the peace and quiet I desire.

  When the moon disappears and the sky breaks into morning light, I hear the humans at the rehab calling out a woman’s name, seeming to search for her. Knowing full well things are about to become hectic, I take my leave into the solitude of my home, my sanctuary. Besides, the humans will invade my space soon anyway, and I have no desire to mingle with them.

  My home sits inside a property the humans call Union Cross Park. The seventeen-hundred foot long gravel walking path caresses the edge of my building. The children’s playground sits just to the left with a large covered pavilion and randomly placed picnic tables under the trees. Not far from the playground, sits my favorite spot for a quick meal. The drug rehab is separated from the park with a chain-link fence, enclosing the entire facility.

  Straight out from my home sits a basketball court, tennis courts, and several baseball fields that spread across the rather large property.

  Along both edges of the park lay two roads. To the right is Wallburg Road, and to the left is Union Cross Road. At the far end of the park, creating a point, they come together making an intersection with a stop light.

  No one knows of my existence in this building. There are no windows and the walls are solid concrete, thick enough to take on a bomb. The heavy steel doors on the first floor are welded shut so no one can enter and disrupt my solitude.

  The first three floors of this abandoned radar tower remain as it did when it was abandoned forty years ago by the Air Force. The only floor that has been completely remodeled is the fifth floor. I did some subtle upgrades, but most of the items I use are original to the military. I found the furniture throughout the building and maneuvered a lot of it to the third floor for easier access. Over the years, I’ve added to the chaos with some of my own items that I no longer want or need.

  The fifth floor, I have called my home for the past twenty years. It resembles that of a human home with black leather furniture, TV, solid white area rugs in the living room and bedroom, while white tiles lay in the kitchen and bathroom. The walls are a light grey and a few original paintings by Van Gogh and Picasso hang in the living room and bedroom. I had the paintings commissioned before both artists died. Only I know of their existence. The only difference between my home and the new age of the human home is that I have no cell phone, computer, or tablet, as I have no use for them. Technology is nothing but a waste of time and money, both of which I have an endless supply of.

  The fourth floor, I slightly remodeled to suit my captive food source needs. I haven’t been down there in a few years, but I know the chains and old military mattresses still remain. Keeping my victims alive became too cumbersome as they needed food to survive. It forced me into the human world and that’s the last place I want to be. I do not like being in the public eye as I enjoy my solitude.

  My nights are short and the days are long. I need little sleep, but I rest a lot during the day as the humans run the park. I do not mingle well with others… especially humans. I don’t even like to be around my own kind. Many live in covens, trying to live like the humans they feed on, but I… I am a solitary creature with no desire for a companion or friend. I am a bloodthirsty monster, capable of the most merciless crimes in history. I prefer to be alone, solitary… confined by day, released at night to feed… to hunt…

  This park… this building… is mine and mine alone at night. Those who have trespassed after hours have found themselves to be my play toy, my meal. I enjoy terrifying humans, compelling them not to scream, and then take chase, playing cat and mouse with them.

  With some of my victims, I compel them to return to me every three months. It gives their system plenty of time to replenish the blood I need before they return.

  This method has worked nicely for me as it keeps enough of a fresh blood source coming, without having to hunt for it. I also don’t have to deal with live captives like I have in the past.

  Once a week, a compelled, human slave comes to me soon after midnight. I either play cat and mouse, or I fill two blood bags with their fresh blood. It all depends on how many trespassers have crossed me, or how many addicts I’ve fed from during the week. When I finish feeding from them, the cycle continues.

  My blood slaves, I should have thought of that many years ago.

  I don’t kill often anymore, not like I used to. When I do kill, it’s simply because I want to.

  I try to keep a low profile and avoid drawing attention to the area I live in. But still, humans would call me a mass murderer if they knew. I am a vampire after all… a killer… a monster… a being unnatural to this world, condemned to live for eternity in this unrelenting hell.

  Chapter 3

  Sitting on my black leather couch, I hear a thumping on the walls of my building… my home. Thump… thud… thump…

  A human would never hear it, but I am not a human. The sound is muffled, but impossible to ignore. It’s an erratic, un-synchronized thudding, and after five minutes of the sound, I am going mad. My nostrils flare and my hands clutch the arms of the sofa, with my nails nearly penetrating the thick leather.

  Suddenly the noise stops and I relax on the sofa once again.

  Thud… thump… thump…

  Having enough, I stand with ferocity and head for the ladder that leads to the roof. Once on the roof in the blazing sun, I walk to the edge making sure I remain un-noticed. Humans rarely ever look up… a faulty trait they possess, but one I commonly use to my advantage.

  Peering over the edge, I see two children playing with a soccer ball, kicking it onto the side of my building with each pass. I notice no one else is in the park yet this morning, so I know these two came from the housing track down the road.

  I take a step off the edge and land gracefully in front of the two young boys. They stop in their tracks and glare at me in petrified terror. One runs away while the other remains paralyzed in fear. Such cowardice…

  I jump in front of the running boy, and he halts falling flat on his back. An evil grin spreads across my lips. The joy their fear brings me…

  I grab the boy by the shirt and drag him behind me toward the other boy still paralyzed with fear. I throw him to the ground and demand he picks the ball up and hands it to me. He does as he’s told, then he stands close to his crying friend. With a swift movement, I pop the ball with my nails and throw it at the boys.

  I enjoy their fear a moment longer before I compel them to forget me and to never return to this park. They leave without a word and I return to my sanctuary… my home.

  The rest of the day remains quiet. Being a weekday, many humans are at work. I scoff… work… I’ve never needed to work a day since I transitioned two-hundred years ago. I always get what I want or need without a fight. Everything comes easy and sometimes I get bored with it all. So, I cause havoc, sending the police into a frenzy trying to find the killer of the latest homicide. News channels flood with the stories of my latest kill.

  Eventually, the story disappears and the dead are left forgotten.

  Humans believe vampires are works of fiction. That we sparkle or turn into bats. Or that we protect the innocent and only kill humans that are evil…

  That is not the case… I am not the case.

  I hate humans. I hate that they are so weak and frail. I hate that I am forced to feed on them to ebb my thirst, my hunger. That I need something so insignificant to survive… me… a powerful creature that can destroy humanity at any time… I am tied forever to the humans I hate, and that irks me.

  I cross the living room, heading into my oversized bedroom and lay across the bl
ack silk comforter. There is no use in covering up, I don’t get cold. I am the cold… I am the shivers sent down one's spine that prickles in fear.

  Shutting my eyes, I plunge into darkness… my only friend.

  Chapter 4

  Upon waking, I know night has fallen. It’s my time to escape… to feed. I quickly head to the roof and look out over my domain. The park has not closed yet as there is about an hour left until the park employee throws everyone out. I blend into the night and climb into the largest oak tree within the park, as it stands about fifty feet tall. I climb close to the top, giving me the best vantage point to watch the amateur basketball game that happens a few nights a week. It entertains me for a while until the employee comes around on his golf cart and tells everyone to get out.

  I crack my neck and loosen my muscles. Tonight I want to find fresh blood, not one of the unclean at the rehab. There haven’t been many trespassers the past two weeks, and addict blood gets old after a while. My blood slave isn’t due for several more days, so to get fresh blood I desire, I have to leave my park. It has been a while since I left the boundaries of the park… has it been weeks? Months even? I do not keep track of time as it does not pertain to me.

  Once the gates to the park are locked and everyone is gone, I head to the small B & T Grocery shop across Union Cross Road, off to the left of the park. The store is reminiscent of an old gas station. Maybe the owner can give me what I’m looking for.

  Upon entering the store, I notice a female at the register paying for her items. I watch her with curiosity as I smell the air. Her blood is nearly clean, but the residual odor of meth still lingers in her veins. She’s another from the rehab facility. Shame… she would have been more fun to play with than the man behind the counter.