30 Days of Night: Light of Day Read Free

brain. “Yeah,” Mitch said. “And the sun sets in the west and ninety-nine percent of the music played on the radio is utter crap. What else is new?”
    Walker took his seat in front of a big computer monitor. The bank of equipment arrayed on the desk had cost more than everything else he owned combined, but he and Mitch made their living online, so being able to rely on their gear was paramount. “No, I mean yeah, we’ve always believed in them. But I mean
really
real.” He slammed his palm down on the wooden desktop. “As real as this.”
    “You doubted?”
    “Believing in something is different from
knowing
something, dude. That’s why they have two different words.”
    “So you believed, but now you know.”
    “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
    “Because of the stuff Andy sent?”
    “Duh.”
    “It
was
pretty trippy, no shit.”
    It was more than that, but Walker let the understatement slide as he settled in front of the desk and started checking on the status of several auctions. He was distracted, though, thinking about the data Andy had sent out.
    For months, Walker Swanson (and Mitch Morton, although less enthusiastically, but they were partners in business and best friends, so he went along) had been part of Andy’s network. Walker had posted information Andy sent, monitored online chat rooms and message boards, watched the news for signs, and generally did whatever Andy asked, all in the service of informing the world about the reality of vampires. But until the massive data packet he had received three days before, he hadn’t known that Andy was really Andy Gray, former FBI agent. He hadn’t seen actual video of the vampire invasion of Barrow, Alaska, several years ago, or read
30 Days of Night,
the true account of that invasion written by Stella Olemaun, one of the area’s sheriffs, who had been one of the few survivors. He hadn’t been exposed to still photographs of the victims of vampire attacks, or of vampires themselves. Some of the pictures Andy had sent showed close-ups of vampire skeletons, horribly mutated skulls, jaws that swung open wider than any human’s could, jammed with awful teeth.
    The distinction he had made for Mitch had been accurate. He had believed what Andy had said about vampires because he had wanted to, and because Andy made a convincing case. But that belief had been centered in his brain, in his imagination, not in his gut. That’s where it was now that he had seen the pictures and video, read a PDF of the book. Those things had changed belief into certainty, and certainty meant reconsidering everything he had ever thought about the world.
    Walker hadn’t slept much over the past few days and nights. He had spent a lot of time thinking. He took a Snickers bar from his shirt pocket and peeled the wrapper back, took a bite.
    “Breakfast of champions,” Mitch said. “Eat me.”
    He suppressed a shudder—he would have to be more careful about saying things like that in the future.
    “How’s the utility belt doing?”
    “I’m checking!”
    “Okay, chill. Geez.”
    “Sorry, dude. Guess I’m just a little tense.”
    “I guess.”
    Walker took another bite of the Snickers, washing it down with a swig of Diet Coke. He recognized the hypocrisy: diet sodas wouldn’t help him lose weight that he packed on with terrible eating habits. Every now and then he felt like he should do something about his physique, which was more or less that of a snowmanwith legs. That feeling usually passed quickly, swept away by bingeing on pizza or burritos or burgers and fries. He was twenty-five, and figured he would be lucky to reach fifty. On the other hand, life was essentially a long, boring chain of disappointment and heartache, broken occasionally by minor tragedies, so he didn’t really see much value in extending it through healthy living.
    “Utility belt is at two thousand bucks. Little over. Seven hours to go.”
    “Sweet,” Mitch said. “Yeah.”
    The belt had